Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Gar.”

He snored softly in bed, covers pulled up to his chin, mouth slightly open. She smiled as she watched him.

“Garfield.”

There was a momentary pause in his snores, but they quickly resumed. He snuggled his face into his pillow and let out a contented sigh.

With the frayed hem of her sweater sleeve, she tickled the tip of his nose.

“Garfield Mark Logan.”

His eyes fluttered open and he itched his nose by burrowing it into his blanket, then he looked at her blearily. The corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile, only the top half of his face visible.

“Good morning, sweetie honey schmoopie,” he mumbled, his voice muffled.

She smiled and bent over, returning to his line of sight with a small tray containing a teaset and assorted cookies. “Want some breakfast?”

He eyed the tray, tilting his head. “When did you make all this?”

“Well, I made the tea about five minutes ago,” she said, “and I bought the cookies yesterday.”

He stared at her, half of his face still concealed. “What’s the occasion?”

She frowned. “It’s June fourteenth,” she said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

Gar grinned and pulled off the blankets with a flourish—she stared open-mouthed at him. He was wearing a baby blue tuxedo, complete with a corsage and dress shoes.

The tea tray hung limply in her hands as he draped his hand provocatively on his knee.

“Are you ready for a full day of lovemaking, Raven?” he purred, and she finally burst into laughter, turning her back and setting the tray down on the desk. He stood up and hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle and snuggling into her shoulder.

“You are the biggest dork I’ve ever met,” she told him, and he chuckled. He pressed a kiss to her neck.

“And yet here you are, making me breakfast for our anniversary,” he mumbled against her skin. “I was being serious about the lovemaking, though. Just leaving that on the table.”

“When did you even put that thing on?” she asked, turning around to face him. His smile was inches from hers and his hands settled on her hips.

“When you made the tea.”

“You were fake sleeping that whole time I was trying to wake you up?”

“No, no,” he said. “I woke up as you left the room, got dressed in my Sunday best, brushed my teeth, got back into bed, and then I legitimately fell back asleep. I wasn’t messing with you there.”

“Good, because you were drooling a little. It wasn’t very flattering.”

He blinked and checked the corners of his mouth, then gave her a knowing smile. “You sly dog, you made me look.”

A sigh pulled itself from her lungs, but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “The tea’s getting cold.”

“Is it?” he asked, closing the distance between them. His warm lips moved with hers, immediately igniting a smoldering fire in her belly. Her hands crept into his hair of their own accord, and then she paused.

“You used my toothpaste?”

He crinkled his nose and nodded. “Mine is gone. Believe me, I didn’t want to.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a wimp.”

“It’s too spicy,” he whined, but he was rubbing circles on her hips with his thumbs. There was a gleeful light in his eyes.

“It’s invigorating,” she corrected. She hooked her hands in his white frilled collar and brought him down to her for another kiss. His fingers drifted upward to her ribs, carrying the hem of her sweater up with them.

“What kind of cookies did you get?” he murmured.

“That British kind with the jam in the middle.”

“God, I love you,” he groaned, taking her lips with his own.

“And I brought some soy creamer for the tea.”

“You’re trying to seduce me,” he whispered, kissing her again, his hand snaking into her hair. He swiped his tongue teasingly along her bottom lip and she tasted her own cinnamon toothpaste.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing with the tux?”

“Mm, you’re saying it’s working?” he grinned.

“I never said that,” she said, but a blush crept up her cheeks.

“You like a man who’s all dressed up.”

“Yeah, not one who looks like he’s about to ride his bicycle to the prom in the year 1970,” she chuckled. He broke away from her mouth and peppered kisses along her jawline, eventually landing on her pulse point and swirling his tongue there—she bit her lip, her eyes drifting closed.

“It’s a tandem bicycle, built for two, baby,” he purred, “and I’ve got a seat with your name on it.”

“God, why is this working?” Raven hissed.

He chuckled and grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin of her neck; goosebumps trickled over his skin at the hitch in her breath. She tugged lightly at his hair and he met her lips again, deepening the kiss without hesitation. The tea tray rattled as they bumped into the side of the desk, and he kept going, walking her back and pressing her against the wall.

They both froze when they heard a tiny, insistent knock at the door.

They frowned at each other, then Gar sighed with a weak smile and bowed his head on her shoulder exasperatedly. He let go of her and they both straightened their clothing hastily.

“Come in, Mar’i,” he called.

The door opened and a small girl of about three hobbled into the room, her shining, jet black hair falling into her bright green eyes. She beamed at both of them.

“G’morning!”

“Good morning, Mar,” Raven smiled. The girl tugged at Raven’s pajama pants and, after a moment’s hesitation, she scooped her up in her arms. “Where’s your mom and dad?”

Mar’i seemed to consider the question seriously, then she shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I want the kitty,” she told Gar, flashing her crooked baby teeth in a grin.

He and Raven exchanged a glance, and he smiled at the little girl. “What’s the magic word?” he asked, ruffling her soft hair.

Mar’i looked up at Raven confusedly, then back at Gar. “Azara Metrion Zindos,” she answered.

He laughed. “The other magic word, Mar’i.”

“Please!”

Gar was gone in a wink; in his place, an adorable green kitten lounged contentedly on its back on the floor.

Mar’i began to struggle out of Raven’s grasp; she was surprisingly strong, and Raven set her on the floor before she could hurt herself.

The little girl buried her face and tangled her small fingers in the soft green fur, giggles bubbling up from her belly when Gar’s sandpaper tongue scraped her cheek.

Raven leaned out the door and looked both ways down the corridor, then she closed her eyes; she sensed that Dick was exiting the stairwell, heading in their direction.

He saw her when he rounded the corner, and relief transformed his worried features. “Do you guys have her?”

“She and Gar are having a cuddle session.”

“Jesus,” he breathed, slowing his pace as he approached. “I put her down to play with her toys for a minute and she was gone. We’ve been looking for her for half an hour.”

They entered the room and found Mar’i wrestling with a green panda bear cub—and winning.

Dick beamed and joined her on the floor. “Mar, honey, be careful—I don’t want you to get fleas.”

Immediately, Gar morphed back into a human and fixed Dick with a reproachful stare. “I find that highly offensive.”

“Now be the puppy!” Mar’i requested gleefully.

Dick’s eyes widened as he took in Gar’s appearance. “What the hell—” He glanced at his daughter. “What the heck are you wearing?”

Raven buried her face in her hands while Gar grinned smoothly, gesturing down the length of his blue-clad body. “It’s the most important day of the year, Dickie. Raven requested that I wear this little number.”

“I absolutely did not,” she argued.

“Well, not with words, per se,” Gar teased. Raven reached onto the tea tray and tossed a cookie at him, but he caught it in his mouth.

Wordlessly, Mar’i clambered into Dick’s lap and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out his communicator and tapping randomly on the screen. He took it out of her hands gently.

“Mar’i, remember, we don’t take things that don’t belong to us,” he told her. The communicator began to ring and he answered it, keeping it out of Mar’i’s reach. “Hey, I found her,” he said. “Yep. She was playing with Gar… Yeah, they’re here…” He paused, looking at them. “Star says happy anniversary.”

“Thanks, Star, we’ve got the entire day planned,” Gar said, loud enough for Starfire to hear. Raven threw another cookie at him; this time he caught it in his hand and offered it to Mar’i, who munched on it happily.

“She’s asking if you’re still planning on dinner,” Dick said. Mar’i offered him the last, slobbery bite of her cookie and he popped it into his mouth. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Welcome, sweetheart,” Mar’i replied.

Gar and Raven looked at each other blankly. “Dinner?” Raven asked.

“With Vic’s new girl,” Dick reminded them.

“That’s tonight?” Gar groaned.

“I can tell him you made other plans,” Dick offered, then paused. Listened intently to his communicator. Gar could hear Starfire’s frantic voice on the other end. “Ohh. Right, I forgot about that. Okay, babe, I’ll tell them.” He closed his communicator and looked at them with a shrug. “Okay, yeah, no. You’re coming.”

“What’s this girl’s name again? Lindsey?” Raven asked, taking a bite of a cookie.

“Lindsey was four months ago, this one’s Sarah,” Gar sighed, flopping down on his back. “And a month from now, it’ll be someone named Kristy or something. Cy is just being a—” He looked at Mar’i— “a cock block,” he mouthed, overemphasizing the words so they could understand. “Scheduling it tonight, of all nights.”

“Or maybe he really likes this girl and he cares what we think of her, and this was the only night we were all technically available,” Raven considered, and Gar shot her a withering look.

“That’s exactly what he wants you to think. You’re eating out of the palm of his hand, Rae.”

Instead of replying, she rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Dick. “Who’d you get to babysit?”

“Wally and Jinx.”

Gar scoffed and sat up. “This Sarah girl better be worth it. Remember the last time they babysat?”

“Garfield, could you please not talk about stuff like that around my kid?”

“What! I didn’t say anything bad,” Gar muttered. “Those two are like bunnies. As soon as they get Mar’i to sleep—” He snapped his fingers. “We’ll have to burn our sofa again.”

“Bunny? Gar, I want the bunny! Please,” Mar’i said sweetly.

The three adults exchanged a glance.

“Maybe later, kiddo,” Gar said with a shudder.

“And with that, I think we’re gonna leave you two alone,” Dick smiled wanly, standing up with Mar’i in his arms. She gave a delighted squeal at the change in elevation.

“Daddy, fly!”

Dick broke into a light jog toward the door, bouncing Mar’i in his arms with each step.

“No, Daddy, fly!”

“I can’t fly, sweetheart, that’s Mama,” he reminded her, waving a hand at his friends as he and his daughter exited the room.

They looked at each other.

“That was…” Raven shook her head with a chuckle. “That was unexpected.”

“Eh, it’s good practice, right?”

Suddenly, the air around her felt too warm; she turned and felt the side of the teapot. “I think the tea’s still drinkable.”

Gar gave her a small smile. “Then let’s drink it.”

She set the tray on the floor and sat beside him. “It’s just a plain gumboot,” she told him, pouring and passing his cup; he streamed sugar and soy creamer into it.

He slurped it delicately and gave her a wink. “Nothin’ plain about it.”

His head tilted as he watched her prepare her own; just a brief tilt of the sugar and a few stirs with the spoon. “Any interesting dreams?”

A dim memory churned through her mind, but she shook her head. “Not really.”

“Not really? C’mon, Rae.” He flicked her knee lightly and leaned closer, a gentle smile on his lips.

She hesitated, then sighed. “Um… Well, I had a dream that I was running along this country road,” she said, becoming quiet as she thought. “It was pitch black, and… I couldn’t see anything, but I had this feeling like wherever I was just went on for miles. Like there was nothing around me. No one. I don’t know if I was running toward something or away from someone… And then I tripped—I tripped on something,” she said, gazing into her tea unblinkingly. “And I looked back, and there was just a little bit of moonlight shining… and it was an owl. A dead owl. That’s what I’d tripped over. And I remember thinking…” Her voice faded away. She took an absent sip of her tea.

Gar shifted. “What were you thinking?” he prompted gently.

Her eyebrows knit together. “I remember thinking, ‘How did I manage to go this long without tripping over any owls at all?’ And then I looked around, there were hundreds of them. Thousands, all dead on the ground. And then the dream ended.” She blinked as though coming out of a trance; Gar was watching her carefully.

“That is… a very interesting dream,” he concluded. “Do you think it means anything?”

She shrugged. “Probably. But I really don’t want it to.”

“Yeah, a thousand dead owls is never a good sign,” Gar said with a soft smile.

“But it’s our anniversary,” she said quietly. “So I’m not going to think too much about it. Everything’s going to be fine.”

His smile grew, but there was still a glimmer of concern in his eyes. “Speaking of, I got you a present.”

“That suit doesn’t count as a present,” she told him silkily, but he just chuckled and shook his head.

He hopped to his feet and went over to the closet, rummaging around for a moment and pulling out a small gift wrapped in wrinkled paper.

She stared at it with wide eyes, her mind racing. It was about the size of a—

“It’s not a ring,” he said with a smile. “When I ask you to marry me, you’ll know.” He sat down next to her again and handed it over, leaning back on the heels of his palms as he watched her.

She discarded the shoddy wrapping paper to reveal a small cardboard box; when she removed the lid, she blinked.

“I got the crystals from that witchy store you like, down the street from Tea Person. It’s peridot,” he explained hastily. “It’s supposed to be good for nightmares and good vibes, I guess—that’s what the witchy lady said, and I know you haven’t been sleeping very well lately. I mean, obviously, with that weird owl dream. So… then I took the crystals to a jeweler and… yeah. Do you like it?” he finished quietly.

“Gar, it’s beautiful,” she breathed, her smile glowing. He took it out of the box and placed the bracelet on her wrist, fiddling carefully with the clasp until it was secure. He then held her hand in his, and they both gazed at the gleaming green gemstones set in silver. “I love it. I love you. It’s perfect.”

His eyes twinkled. “It’s just been a really awesome four years, and you’re awesome, and I love you, too. I hope it helps a little.”

She smiled at him. “I got you something, too.”

“Little old me?” he asked in a thick Southern accent, grinning as she padded over to the dresser. She gripped something small in her hand and hid it behind her back as she sat down beside him again.

“Are you ready, Gar?”

“I am so ready, Raven.”

She held out her hand; a small key lay in her palm.

He tilted his head as he looked at it. “What does it unlock?”

“It doesn’t unlock,” she said. “It starts.”

“I’m not one for riddles, Rae,” he warned her as he took it out of her palm. He held it up close and inspected it—his eyes widened. “Raven,” he breathed. “A Tidwell 1960?”

She nodded. “It was pretty beat up when I bought it, but Victor and I restored it. It runs pretty smoothly now.”

He blinked away tears. “Where is she?”

“In the garage.”

“The only place I’d never think to look,” he said sagely. “You know me well.”

She leaned forward and he met her in the middle, kissing her softly. Then he pulled back. “Can we go see her?”

She nodded. Her eyes roamed down to his tuxedo. “And then maybe we can get rid of that thing.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “In a sexy way?”

As an answer, she brought their lips together again, and he responded enthusiastically. A quiet sound came from his throat and he placed a warm hand on the small of her back.

He grinned and pressed his nose to hers. “I knew this tux would work.”

***

Warm light and soft string music surrounded them as they entered the restaurant; Gar gazed around and whistled lowly. “Vic’s paying, right?”

The hostess approached them with a smile, her ponytail bouncing merrily with each step. “Three guesses which table you’re sitting at!”

They laughed politely at her joke and she led them to a private room in the back of the restaurant, where their friends and one stranger were sitting.

“Sorry we’re late, Gar crashed his new moped,” Raven announced to the group flatly.

“What!” Victor looked horrified. “Man, we spent a month on that stupid thing!”

“I didn’t crash it, I very lightly bumped it into a parking meter,” Gar defended, taking Raven’s jacket off her shoulders and pulling out her chair.

She sat down and laid her napkin in her lap. “He destroyed a parking meter,” she corrected pointedly, “right as one of those parking police Jeeps drove past.”

He sat next to her with a huff. “It wasn’t destroyed,” he told them all firmly. “It was just dinged up a little bit.”

She looked at the group. “It was destroyed. And the moped’s front axle came off.”

“Easy fix,” Gar said with a wave of his hand and a winning smile.

“Whatever you say, dear,” Raven droned, then she met eyes with the stranger at the table. “Sorry—I’m Raven,” she said, holding out her hand.

The woman had curly brown hair and kind, green eyes; her smile was so full that it made Raven smile too. She shook Raven’s hand with a firm grip. “Sarah Simon,” she beamed.

“I’m Gar, the one who crashed the moped,” Gar said, and Sarah shook his hand as well.

“It’s nice to meet you both.”

They all settled into their seats, and Raven took a sip of water. “So, how did you two meet?”

Victor smiled at Sarah softly. “Sarah works with the football league sometimes. She’s a social worker.”

Sarah nodded. “A lot of the kids I work with have disabilities, so I always encourage them to join. I’ve seen how much Victor helps them.”

“Aw, shucks,” Victor grinned, his cheeks tinting darker.

Gar reached over and pinched Raven’s leg; when she looked at him, he was staring at the new couple with utter amazement in his eyes. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “She’s the one.”

The waiter came over and took their drink orders, then disappeared again.

“Where are you from, Sarah?” Dick asked; he was wearing his mask, so it was hard to read his true expression, but he was smiling politely.

“Kansas City.”

“Kansas City, Kansas?” Gar asked. “Or Kansas City, Missouri?”

“Kansas.”

“Kansas is better,” Gar told her with a secretive wink, and she laughed, a clear, musical sound.

“I’ve always thought so, too,” she nodded.

“Tell me, Sarah, by what means did you acquire your prosthetic arm?” Starfire asked—everyone’s eyes widened. Starfire continued gazing at Sarah with a sweet, oblivious smile.

“Let’s stop drilling the poor woman with all these questions,” Victor chuckled awkwardly, but Sarah waved her right hand dismissively. For the first time, Raven noticed that her left arm was made of flesh-toned plastic.

“Pshh, Victor, it’s not a big deal. I got in a car accident when I was a teenager,” Sarah said simply. “Drunk driver.”

“Oh,” Starfire said, genuine sadness etched on her face. “I am very sorry to hear that.”

“You shoulda seen the other guy,” Sarah joked, then shifted uncomfortably. “He—um, he died on impact.”

“That is awful! However, I am glad you survived. I am already very fond of you,” Starfire said.

Sarah smiled. “Ditto, Starfire.”

The waiter returned and passed around their drinks; then he took their food orders and hurried away.

Sarah took a sip of her gin and tonic and set it down, blushing at the silence of the table.

Starfire noticed it, too; she gulped down her eggnog and looked around at them all, contemplating something. Then she blurted, “Would you like to hear how I acquired my prosthetic leg, Sarah?”

“She already knows, Star,” Victor said quietly.

“I’d love to, Starfire—let’s see if your story is better than mine,” Sarah grinned.

“Well, several years ago, we encountered a large, mysterious cube in the center of downtown,” Starfire explained. “We dispatched it and thought the ordeal was finished, but that night we discovered that our powers had been switched! I was very badly damaged, because I had acquired Victor’s abilities. I am not of Earth, and so my body was poorly equipped to deal with his prosthetics.” She started ticking off her fingers as she went through the list. “Garfield and Raven acquired each other’s abilities, Nightwing acquired my own, and Victor acquired Nightwing’s—which is to say, he no longer had any prosthetics at all.”

Everybody listened; nobody moved. Sarah glanced around at the Titans’ tense faces.

“To make a long story into a short one,” Starfire continued, “we ascertained that Victor’s father had orchestrated the incident with the cube in order to return Victor to his original state, and give him a second chance at life. It is all very sentimental when you think about it,” she said. “A father going to such lengths for his son.”

Dick’s eyes were trained on his water, his mouth set in a line. “I need to use the restroom. Excuse me.” He stood and laid his napkin on the table; Victor’s eyes followed him as he strode out of sight.

“Where was I? Oh, yes—”

“Make it a little shorter, Star,” Victor muttered.

Starfire blinked and nodded. “Mr. Stone was able to return our powers to us, but each of us was left with a souvenir of the experience. In Garfield and Raven’s case, they retained a small amount of each other’s abilities,” she smiled. Then she knocked on the metal of her left calf. “This was my souvenir. And that was Victor’s,” she added, pointing to Victor’s left arm, which brought his lager up to his lips for a prolonged sip. Condensation dripped down the glass and over his fingers; he wiped his hand on his napkin.

“Wow. That sounds like a lot to handle,” Sarah said kindly. “For all of you. It’s healthy to talk about these things.”

“Gar loves to talk, don’t you, Gar?” Victor tried. “Say stuff!”

“For sure,” Gar agreed hastily. “Sarah, did you know it’s our anniversary?” he asked, hooking an arm around Raven’s shoulders.

“Wow, congratulations! How long have you been together?”

“Four years,” Raven said.

“But they’ve acted like a married couple since they were kids,” Victor added.

“Got any siblings, Sarah?” Gar asked.

She nodded. “An older sister. She lives in Metropolis.”

“Ooh, has she ever met Superman?”

“No, but she loves superheroes. I told her I was meeting you all tonight and she flipped her lid.”

“What’s her name?”

“Esther.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a nurse.”

“How old is she?”

“Thirty-three.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. How old are you?” Sarah asked.

Gar grinned. “Thirty, flirty, and thriving, baby.”

“I love that movie!”

“Me too! I like to think I’m the Jennifer Garner and Raven is the Mark Ruffalo.”

“That fits,” Sarah mused, looking between them.

“Thank you! So, where did you go to college?”

“I told you Gar was good at talking,” Victor said proudly.

Dick returned quietly and sat down next to Starfire. He took a sip of his water; Starfire whispered something in his ear and he nodded, patting his breast pocket.

“I got my bachelor’s from the University of Kansas and my master’s from Gotham U.”

“Hey, Nightwing is from Gotham!”

Sarah smiled at Dick; he couldn’t help it—he smiled back. “Did you live near the university?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t afford that area—I’d have to sell my other arm,” she chuckled, and the Titans laughed along with her easily. “Nope, I lived in The Cauldron.”

“That’s a rough neighborhood,” Dick probed, and she nodded.

“A lot of really desperate people,” she said. “But a lot of good people. It taught me more about my job than school did.”

Dick leaned forward in his chair. “This is a longshot, but do you know Yoshi?”

Sarah chuckled and nodded. “He used to sneak me extra wasabi!”

“Man, I thought he only did that for me!” Dick grinned. “He was the best. I miss him.”

“He was this little old man who ran a sushi stand across from the public library,” Sarah explained to the group.

“And he had this little parakeet named Sprocket,” Dick added.

“He had a different one called Pixie by the time I lived there,” Sarah told him sadly, and he raised his glass.

“To Sprocket,” Dick said solemnly.

They all mirrored him. “To Sprocket.”

***

Raven settled back in her chair and let out a contented sigh; she eyed Gar as he reached his spoon onto her plate and stole a scoop of her mango sorbet. She flicked his hand as he brought it up to his mouth and he grinned—then he licked the spoon clean.

“You’re the worst,” she muttered, picking a loose piece of string from his collar.

He laughed, lifting up his chin for her dutifully. “And yet here you are, grooming me,” he said, his eyes dancing.

“Speaking of this fairytale love story we’re all witnessing right now,” Dick began, taking a small envelope out of his breast pocket. “We got you guys a present for your anniversary.”

Gar snatched it out of his fingers with a flourish. “What’s this?”

“Please, open it and find out!” Starfire beamed.

Gar tore open the envelope and pulled out a decorated card, then squinted at the words written on it. He pushed up an imaginary pair of glasses and cleared his throat. “‘To Gar and Raven,’” he started. “They got it right so far, Rae.” Then he let out a huff and handed her the card. “You take over—I’m too excited.”

She picked up where he left off. “‘We are all very happy that you don’t fight as much as you used to.’” She smiled at them blandly. “Gee, thanks, guys. ‘In honor of your anniversary, the team is gifting you a relaxing week away to—’”

“Oh my god,” Gar gushed. “Hawai’i? Cancun? Bora Bora?! Stop me when I’m getting close, Rae—”

“‘Cutthroat, Wyoming,’” she finished. “‘Love, Star, Vic, and Little Bird.’”

Gar stared at her and took back the card, inspecting it closely. “Cut—what the heck is Cutthroat, Wyoming?”

“It’s a small town on the Green River. Named after the trout. Nothing sinister,” Dick explained. “There’s a family cabin up there.”

Gar gasped quietly. “A Batcabin?”

Dick chuckled. “It’s not what you’re picturing, I guarantee it.”

“That’s still exciting, though! Right, Rae?”

“I’ve never been camping before,” Raven smiled. “It sounds nice.”

“Yes, it will be lovely for you both to reconnect to nature!” Starfire said.

“Yeah, man, you guys deserve a break,” Victor agreed.

“We’re trying to keep it somewhat under wraps,” Dick said. “I don’t want a bunch of reporters flooding in and bothering everyone in town. So we got you a rental car to get there. Nothing fancy.” He hesitated, then turned to Sarah. “Sarah, I just want to make sure—”

“Don’t worry,” Sarah smiled. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Esther.”

Victor leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “My girl is trustworthy as hell,” he gloated, and a bright blush colored her grinning face. “But, hey, if somebody does figure out they’re in Wyoming, I don’t think it’ll be anyone’s fault.”

Dick frowned. “What do you mean?”

Victor gestured at them bluntly. “Raven’s got purple hair, and a rock in the middle of her forehead. And Gar is green. Only way they could be more conspicuous is if they were half robot.”

“He’s right,” Gar shrugged. “But if anyone gives us trouble—” He karate chopped the air and gave them all a cool smile and a wink. “I think we can handle ourselves.”

Dick stared at him, his lips pursed. “Yep. Nothing to worry about.”

The image of an owl, limp and staring at the moon, surfaced in Raven’s mind, and she shifted slightly in her chair.

Gar’s hand found hers under the table; when she looked at him, she saw silent concern in his eyes.

Around them, easy conversation flowed, laughter bubbled, and glasses clinked together.

She gave him a smile and raised her glass; he did the same.

“This will be good,” he told her quietly, touching his glass to hers. Under the table, his thumb caressed the back of her hand.

“Yeah,” she agreed; when he said it, she couldn't help but believe him. “Yeah, it’ll be great.”

Chapter Text

A small cow bell jingled flatly as they pushed open the door; the moist smell of soil met their noses. Gar took a deep, contented breath.

“Smell that, Rae? I can almost hear the earthworms writhing in their styrofoam containers.”

“What a lovely image,” she droned, peering around the tiny shop and pulling her tee shirt collar away from her neck; the weather was pleasantly warm outside, but the air in here was stale and stifling.

The cashier’s desk was empty, but Raven sensed a presence in the bathroom and smelled a hint of old-fashioned, floral perfume in the air. Many of the shelves were mostly empty, but there was brightly packaged food littered around the place; Gar grabbed a large bag of pickle-flavored potato chips, a jar of peanut butter, some M&Ms, and a box of lime soda, and placed them on the counter.

“What else do we need?” he asked, and Raven snorted.

“You’re saying we need all the things you just grabbed?”

“You’re saying we don’t? Raven,” he smiled and shook his head. “Sweetie honey schmoopie. We’re camping! Camping is for eating crap that you shouldn’t eat! Oh—could you grab a loaf of bread?”

She found one and tossed it next to his selection, then continued to wander. “I thought it was about reconnecting to nature,” she said, bending down to open a mini fridge and finding stacks upon stacks of styrofoam bait containers. She straightened up again and closed the door hastily.

“Yeah, it’s about that too,” Gar said dismissively. “But mostly, it’s about eating bad food and getting eaten alive by mosquitos and staring into fires. Speaking of fires…” He returned to the shelves and began to dig around.

Raven watched him patiently. “What are you doing, dear?”

The bathroom door opened and a woman of about seventy-five came out. Her wiry grey hair was cropped short, and she wore a bright pink visor and a tattered yellow tee shirt that read Yellowstone National Park. She hobbled slightly on a sore hip and watched them out of the corner of her eye as she made her way behind the counter.

“Hey, ma’am, you wouldn’t happen to have any vegan marshmallows, would you?” Gar asked, kneeling down to look on the lower shelves. He sniffed the air a few times, then, unsatisfied, returned to his search.

The woman stared at him flatly. “Marshmallows are vegan. They’re made of marshmallow.”

“Well, they have gelatin in them,” Gar explained politely. “And gelatin is made of—”

“I know what gelatin’s made of,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “We only got regular marshmallows. Sorry if that’s not good enough for you… coastal people.”

Gar straightened up and smiled. “Hey, I’ve been called a lot worse.”

The woman glared at him for a few more seconds, then cracked a reluctant smile.

Raven pulled out her communicator, then sighed and fiddled with it. “Do you have a signal right now? I want to call the team and tell them we’re here.”

Gar pulled out his own and checked the screen, then shook his head. “I got nothin’.”

“Only place in town with a signal is Boyd’s Bait Shop,” the woman told them. Raven looked for a nametag, but she wasn’t wearing one.

“You sell bait too,” she said blankly.

“Most places around here do, ‘specially this time of year. Boyd doesn’t have a monopoly on worms. His place is up the hill a ways, so that’s where you’ll get a signal.”

“Well, then, we’ll give you our money and get outta your hair,” Gar said charmingly.

The woman began to ring up their items with a dented price gun, then she paused. “You aren’t in town for somethin’ bad, are you?”

They looked at each other, then at her.

“Bad?” Raven asked.

“Well, it’s not too often people like you come through here,” she explained, eyeing them carefully. “This town is full of good, normal, hardworking people. I just wanna make sure there won’t be any trouble followin’ you.”

“We’re just here for a little vacation,” Gar said. “No trouble at all.”

“It’s our anniversary,” Raven added.

“Hm,” the woman said. She glanced at the small digital screen with their total. “That’ll be eight twenty-nine.”

Gar’s eyes bugged. “In Jump City that woulda been, like, thirty dollars! Rae, we should move here!”

The woman looked at them apprehensively, and Gar gave her a conspiratorial grin.

“I was mostly kidding,” he said. “This really is a beautiful little town, though.” He handed her a ten dollar bill and she gave him his change.

“Well, thank you. I think so, too.”

“We won’t be a bother, we promise,” Raven said, and the woman shook her head.

“You seem nice enough. Just don’t get too comfy.”

***

The windows were spotless, and clear morning sunlight beat down on the dark green carpet. Richly stained wood paneling, recently redone, covered the walls; Gar and Raven could still smell the lingering fumes. The shop was fully stocked with a million kinds of glittering fishing lures, along with poles, hooks, and line; razor-sharp fillet knives hung in a glass display case with a lock on the door. A baseball game crackled from an ancient radio behind the counter, and a man in his fifties sat next to it.

He gave them a smile as they came in. They smiled back.

“What can I do for ya?” he asked. He had a thick walrus mustache that should have been grey, but had yellowed from years of smoking; his baseball cap should have been white, but was now grey, and the seams were fraying. He wore a neon pink tee shirt with sweat stains, and an ancient pair of Levi’s. Printed on his faded shirt were the words Patricia Tompkins Memorial 5k Run/Walk 2012.

“You’ve got a really nice little shop!” Gar smiled. “Is that pine?”

“You’ve got a good eye!”

“Good nose,” Gar corrected, tapping his nose proudly.

“Ayup, I just refinished ‘em about a month ago.”

Gar whistled lowly. “Very nice.”

“Are you Boyd?” Raven asked.

“The one and only,” Boyd said. “You folks are Titans, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, and we’re trying to get a hold of our team. The lady down the hill said we could get a signal up here.”

Boyd chuckled. “She still sellin’ those second rate worms?”

“Oh—well, I didn’t look in the boxes, but they smelled normal,” Raven said politely, and Boyd laughed.

“You got a good nose too, I guess. Yeah, when I was growin’ up she always told me, ‘Boyd, y’know what would be a good business in this town? A bait shop. A real, bona fide bait shop.’ And then, soon as I open up my business, she goes and buys a mini fridge and starts diggin’ up her own worms to sell. Talkin’ about breaking up monopolies and all that. I tell her, ‘Ma, owning a business ain’t the same thing as having a monopoly.’”

“She’s your mom?” Gar asked.

“She didn’t tell ya that?”

They shook their heads.

“Ayup, that sounds like Ma. Anyway, now, if you two need to use the phone, I got one right here,” he said, patting an old rotary phone on the counter behind him. “Otherwise, the back room near the window has the best signal for cell phones.”

“You’re okay with us being in the back?” Gar asked, and Boyd quirked an eyebrow.

“I can trust a coupla Titans, right? And if ya do steal somethin’, I’ll be able to give a pretty good description of you to Greg.”

“Who’s Greg?”

“The cop.”

Raven blinked. “The cop? Like, the only one?”

“Well, there’s him and Carl,” Boyd shrugged. “But Carl’s a dumbass. Excuse my language.”

“You’re excused,” Gar grinned.

Boyd waved a hand at the door leading to the back room. “In ya go, then.”

“Thank you, sir!” Gar chirped as they closed the door behind them. He beamed at Raven and tugged her into his arms, planting a kiss on her cheek; when he pulled back, he was still smiling. “This place is awesome.”

She chuckled. “It’s no Jump City, that’s for sure.” She opened her communicator, then drifted over to the window, remembering Boyd’s advice. “Here we go… two bars.”

“Guess it’s gotta do,” Gar shrugged as she tapped the screen. She selected Dick’s name and waited; Gar huddled close to her so the camera could capture them both.

After a few rings, Dick picked up. He was wearing his mask; there was a commotion in the background and grey dust hung heavy in the air. “Hey—you guys make it?” he yelled over the din.

“Yeah—dude, what’s happening over there?” Gar asked.

“What?”

“What’s happening?” Gar shouted—in the stuffy silence of the back room, they both flinched.

“Oh—Cinderblock is out,” Dick shouted back, ducking a large chunk of concrete as it soared over his head.

“Again?” they both groaned.

“Dude, how hard is it to build an effective cell for that asshole?”

“Apparently, extremely hard,” Dick grimaced. “The drive was fine, though?”

“Long, but fine,” Raven said. “We listened to It on audiobook.”

“Didn’t even get halfway,” Gar said.

“Great, that’s good,” Dick called absently, throwing a few punches and dodging more concrete. “You weren’t followed, were you?”

Gar rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “Actually, that’s the thing—we were involved in a low-speed chase across the entire state of Nevada,” he said. “You may have seen it on the news.”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“You’re sure you’ll be fine without us?” Raven asked, and Dick nodded.

“We can handle it. You guys just relax and take some time off.”

“Okay—hey, listen, this town has no signal at all except for one room in one guy’s bait shop,” Raven said. “So if you call us and we don’t answer—”

“I won’t,” Dick shouted over an explosion with an exasperated smile. “Guys, really, we’ll be fine.”

Gar leaned in. “Tell Gar Junior we said hi, alright?”

“Stop calling my kid Gar Junior, man,” Dick said, backflipping through the grey dust. “It wasn’t funny three years ago and it’s not funny now. Raven, punch him.”

She smiled and punched Gar lightly on the arm, and he clutched it dramatically.

“Gotta go,” Dick said suddenly; they could see a raging fire blazing behind him. “You kids have fun.”

“Okay, boss, see ya later,” Gar called. Raven waved into the camera and closed her communicator with a click.

When they came out of the back room, Boyd was reading a weathered Theodore Roosevelt biography, a thick pair of glasses clinging to the tip of his nose. He peered up at them over the rims. “Everything okay in there?”

“Everything’s fine,” Raven said. “Thank you for your room.”

“Anytime—except Sunday. Sunday’s my day off, just like the Lord above.”

Gar smiled and pointed at Boyd’s book. “Is that any good?”

Boyd frowned at it, then set it down on the counter. “I’ve been chipping away at Teddy for about two years. Hoping to finish it before I’m sixty. I’m more of a fiction reader, but it’s good to learn a little somethin’ sometimes.”

“I think, if I started that book today, it would prolly take me till I’m sixty to finish it, too,” Gar joked.

“You’d be surprised how quickly sixty sneaks up on ya,” Boyd said, itching his mustache. “Life really does fly right past when you’re not payin’ attention.”

“If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it,” Gar agreed with a wink, and Boyd laughed.

“There ya go, Ferris. You folks need anything else?”

Gar glanced around at the various types of fishing bait Boyd sold, then grabbed two boxes of worms and placed them on the counter with a smile.

On their way out to the car, Raven eyed the styrofoam containers. “Are we going fishing?”

“What? Oh,” he said, glancing down at them. “I felt bad not buying anything. He was really nice.”

***

Raven watched Gar with amusement as he unpacked his oversized suitcase. The cabin was small, and the bedroom wasn’t a true room but rather a loft overlooking the living space below. There was one dresser and one clothes rack for them to share. Warm light shone from an antique floor lamp and painted Gar’s face yellow.

“You’re planning to wear all that in one week?” she asked as he refolded a shirt that had become wrinkled on the journey.

“I like to have options,” he smiled. “And, y’know, I thought it would be good, just in case we decide to stay a little longer.”

“You told Boyd’s mother you were joking,” Raven reminded him, and he winked at her.

“I said I was mostly joking,” he said, pulling open a drawer and layering his clothes haphazardly.

“You would really stay here?”

He glanced up, then shrugged. “I grew up camping all over the place, and I always imagined myself settling down in a little cabin. Y’know, after my crime fighting days are over.”

“Hm,” she said. After a moment, she refocused on her own suitcase, starting to hang up a few of her nicer tops. She could feel Gar watching her.

“What about you?” he asked.

She met his eyes briefly. “What about me?”

“When you’re done being… what we are,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“There’s always going to be some kind of crime to fight,” she shrugged, staring into her suitcase for her next task.

“Yeah, but we don’t always have to be the ones fighting it, right? We’re gonna get old someday.”

“Someday, I suppose,” she considered, color creeping up her cheeks. She avoided his eyes.

“And, to be honest, I don’t really wanna wait until I’m old to stop being a Titan. I’d like to enjoy life a little before I end up needing adult diapers.”

She put on a smile and gestured around the room. “That’s what we’re here for, right? To enjoy life?”

He watched her with a knowing twinkle in his eye. “You’re really good at avoiding questions.”

She sighed. “Gar, I’m not…” She trailed off, hoping he would keep talking, but he didn’t. He closed his drawer and sat on the edge of the bed. Rested his jaw in his palm. Waited.

She sighed again. “What was the question?”

“What do you want?” His voice was quiet.

“I want to go start that bonfire,” she said, a tight smile pulling at her lips.

“Raven…”

“I want to be campers and I want to just enjoy our time off together. That’s what I want, Gar.”

He bowed his head, staring at the plaid blankets. “Are you…” He trailed off. Shook his head. Met her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just would rather be here and now with you than think about some future that might not happen.”

Concern etched itself into his face. “What do you mean, it might not happen?”

“I don’t mean…” She sighed. “I just mean I don’t really like to think about my future,” she said, grabbing a handful of socks and tossing them into the top drawer of the dresser. Her cheeks burned as she grabbed another handful of clothing at random.

“Well, I know you don’t, but I don’t really get why,” Gar said gently.

She huffed and looked at him. “You really have to ask?”

“Yes,” he said, not an ounce of anger in his voice. “I do. I want to hear your answer.”

She almost laughed. “I dunno, Gar, I was born to bring the apocalypse, remember? My entire purpose was to destroy the world. Thinking about my future has never been fun for me.”

He nodded slowly. “But you already did that,” he said. “You already destroyed the world. And you already saved the world from that same destruction. And that was, like, half a life ago, Rae.”

“But it’s still there,” she said, clutching a pair of socks in her hands. “The… the stain of it.”

“I know,” he nodded. “But… I feel like you’ve never given yourself permission to move on from it. And you deserve to move on, Rae. It doesn’t matter what you were born for, because it already happened. Right?”

She gazed at him with a blank expression.

“I know it’s scary to think about a future without any prophecies, where anything can happen, but isn’t that kinda beautiful, too?”

She let out a breath and placed the socks with the others in her drawer, then gripped the wood tightly. “It’s mostly scary.”

He stood up; she turned to face him. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and she walked into his embrace, his strong arms hugging her close. The tightness in her chest began to loosen.

“I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. Okay?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Your future’s not gonna be all darkness and death and destruction. I’m sure of it.”

Everything in her wanted to relax completely into his touch, but she couldn’t. “What if I can’t give you the future you want?” she whispered.

He pulled back slightly, his eyebrows knit. “Raven—what?”

“I see how you are with Mar’i,” she explained, her eyes swimming. “I know how much you want kids, Gar. And you deserve to have kids—you’d be such a good dad.” Her voice broke at the end and a tear escaped. “What if I can’t give you that?”

“Raven, you don’t have to—to give me anything,” Gar soothed, cradling her face in his hands. His eyes burned as he gazed at her, willing her to understand. “My god, honey—I love Mar’i, and I would be a kickass dad—” She cracked a smile, and he relaxed slightly. “And you’d be a kickass mom! And… yeah, I mean, at one point, I did want kids. When we first got together, and we thought… for those few days, that you might be…” He shook his head. “I was a little excited,” he admitted. “But our lives are way too complicated to have kids. With all the enemies we have, I don’t know how Dick isn’t having a panic attack every four seconds thinking about Mar’i’s safety. For you and me, it’s better this way.” He brought her into his arms again, and his warmth surrounded her. Her senses were filled with the soft glow of his presence. “I like our life. Okay? You don’t owe me anything, Raven.”

Somehow, even though he was holding her tightly, she needed more; she needed to be closer to him. She walked them back until they were spilling onto the bed. Laid her head on his chest. Draped a hand on his warm stomach. Intertwined their legs. Her eyes closed as he traced circles on her shoulder blade with his fingertip.

Her voice was muffled in the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiled. “And I want you to start thinking about your future, for real. You don’t have to want the same things as me—I’m not expecting that. But I just think it would be good for you to let yourself think about it.” He paused. “That’s your homework.”

She chuckled. “Who are you, Mad Mod?”

Her head bounced on his chest as he laughed. “That’s right, my ducky,” he said in a ridiculous British accent. “Ol’ Moddy has an assignment for ya!”

“When is it due?”

The accent disappeared, and he carded his fingers through her hair. “No due date. Just lemme know when you think of something. And no failing grades either,” he added. “Whatever you think of will be what’s best for you, because you’re smart as hell.”

She burrowed into his chest, taking a deep breath; his warm, woodsy scent filled her up. “I am smart as hell,” she agreed.

“You’re my genius, smokin’ hot, super-powerful girlfriend,” he said smugly.

She looked up at him. He kissed her softly; her lips welcomed his.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” she muttered.

He shook his head. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She kissed him again; once was never enough. His fingers tickled along her waist. “Did the worms like their new home?” she asked.

He grinned. “They loved it. They have a new lease on life. I’m their god now.”

Chapter Text

Raven awoke to bright sunlight beating through her closed eyelids and painting her whole world crimson. The smell of coffee and toast met her nose, and she sat up and stretched with a satisfied groan. The sun felt nice on her bare skin, and she glanced around for something to wear; eventually, she settled for a pair of underwear and one of Gar’s oversized Hawaiian shirts.

She climbed down the ladder from the loft and turned around to find him watching her, his eyes roaming admiringly down her body. Then he smiled.

“Aloha! Coffee?”

She sat down on a barstool behind the counter and nodded, and he pulled a handmade ceramic mug out of one of the cupboards. He took the percolator off the stove and poured, then scooped some powdered creamer and swirled in the sugar. He slid it across the counter and handed her a spoon.

“How did you sleep?”

She thought for a moment as she stirred her coffee. “Actually, really well. I feel good.”

“Yeah, you weren’t tossing around at all,” he smiled. “You think it’s the magic bracelet?”

“Maybe,” she said, looking down at the peridot on her wrist. “But it could just be the fact that we’re on vacation. It feels good to be away.”

“I hear that,” he nodded. Paused. “Any interesting dreams?”

“None at all. Possibly the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.” It was the truth, and her smile was genuine—but apprehension stirred in her gut all the same. A feeling like she was standing in the middle of a railroad track, her feet planted into the ground.

He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Do we think that may be due to the extracurricular activities we performed last night?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Nope, it was definitely because of the magic bracelet,” she joked. The coffee was perfectly sweet and the warmth of it spread through her. “Where did you find all this?”

“Well, we’re actually pretty well-stocked,” he said. “Lotta non-perishables around here. And there’s a shitload of firewood.” He gestured to the woodstove in the corner, which was glowing merrily; despite the heat outside, the cabin was cool, almost chilly. Two pieces of toast popped out of the toaster and Gar put them on a blue metal plate. “Peanut butter?”

“Yeah, but I’ll do it.”

He adopted an offended expression. “You don’t like the way I do it?”

“You always slather it on really thick,” she admitted. “It gets stuck in my throat.”

“That’s what the coffee’s for, dear!” Gar tore off a large chunk of his own toast, swallowed it with some difficulty, and took a swig of coffee, grimacing as it went down his throat. Then he forced out a satisfied sigh. “See? Washes it down like a dream.”

“Wow. I never knew it could be that simple,” she droned. He slid the jar of peanut butter and the toast across the counter with a flair and twirled around, grabbing two more pieces of bread for himself and popping them in the toaster. Then he tossed her a butter knife, which she caught easily.

He rested his hands on the counter and fixed her with a playful expression. “So! Whatcha wanna do today?”

She shrugged and began to carefully spread the peanut butter onto her toast. “I want to do something classic. Something everyone should do on a camping trip.”

He thought for a moment. “Well, there’s hiking, swimming, canoeing… I found some board games in the cupboard… We could go fishing, but I freed all of our bait yesterday. Plus, we don’t have a fishing license. Also, I don’t really like fishing.”

“How about we rule out fishing, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” Gar said.

“I like the idea of hiking,” Raven said thoughtfully. “And we could bring a picnic with us.”

Gar grinned. “That sounds awesome.”

“Let’s just stop by Boyd’s first and check in on the team,” she suggested, trying to keep her tone light. “Just to make sure they’re okay.”

He looked at her carefully; the fire crackled gently in the living room, and flickers of it bounced off of his cheekbones. “You sure you’re feeling alright?”

She nodded and gave him a smile. “I’m great. I just want to make sure.”

An exasperated smile crept onto his face. “Fine, but they’re gonna start to think we miss them,” he warned.

***

Boyd looked up from his book and smiled as they came through the door; he placed his bookmark carefully in the crease of the spine, then set his book on the counter. Quiet country music played from the old radio behind him.

“Hi, Boyd,” Gar said with a wave.

“Hey, kids, how did the worms treat ya?”

“Oh—they were fantastic!” Gar chirped.

“Well, you’re in luck—I just restocked ‘em,” Boyd said cheerfully.

“We might have to buy some more,” Raven smiled.

“I wouldn’t be mad if ya did. Do you need the back room again?”

“Yes, would that be okay?”

“No problem at all. Help yourselves.”

They closed the door behind them and went to the window; Raven waited for two signal bars on the screen of her communicator and called Dick.

It rang for a minute or so, then went to voicemail.

“Hm. Weird,” Gar said distractedly, straightening the collar of his Hawaiian shirt—the same one Raven had thrown on that morning.

Raven frowned and felt a tendril of fear tickle the back of her mind, but quashed it down. She tapped Victor’s name instead.

He picked up after two rings.

“Sup!” He was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap; the sun gleamed behind him in a cloudless sky. He hunkered down so that Sarah was in the frame with him; they were walking side by side.

“Hey, guys!” She waved a chocolate ice cream cone excitedly, her smile taking up her whole face. One of her eyes was closed to block out the sun, and her curly hair blew around wildly. She held up the ice cream for Victor, who took a lick from it.

“Hi, Sarah,” Raven smiled.

“Are you guys at the pier?” Gar asked.

“Yup!” Victor said, raising his voice over the commotion of the carnival rides and flocking crowds. “I’m about to win her a teddy bear!”

“What a gentleman,” Raven teased. “Sarah, are you going to win him anything?”

Sarah looked at Victor curiously. “What do you want?”

He thought for a second before his face lit up. “I want a goldfish.”

“How do I win you a goldfish?”

“One of those ring toss games,” Victor said, brushing Sarah’s wild hair out of her face for her while she licked the ice cream.

Sarah chuckled, then shrugged at Gar and Raven. “Guess I’m gonna try to win him a goldfish!” She turned to Victor. “You have to hold the ice cream, though.”

“I’ll do what I gotta do, I guess,” Victor said grimly, but he could only hold the dark expression for a moment before his radiant smile broke through again. “So, what you guys need?”

“We were just checkin’ in,” Gar said. “Making sure everything’s good.”

“Never been better, baby,” Victor beamed.

“Where’s Nightwing? We couldn’t get a hold of him,” Raven asked.

“When I left, he was taking a nap on the couch with Little Vic. That was… maybe an hour ago,” Victor shrugged. “I just let him sleep. The man needs a nap every once in a while, y’know?”

They both nodded.

“Tell me about it, dude.”

“And Starfire? Where is she?” Raven asked; Gar laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

“She had to go to the Yarn Barn. For more yarn.”

“What’s she making?”

“Last I saw, it looked like a big, lumpy blanket shaped like some kind of tumor,” Victor said with a frown. “Who knows what’s goin’ on in her noggin, man.” He tapped the side of his head pointedly.

“So everyone’s good,” Gar concluded.

Victor gave an exaggerated nod. “All good here, y’all. Right, babe?”

Sarah was in the middle of a large lick of ice cream, but nodded hastily. She wiped her mouth on her shoulder and smiled. “All good! How’s the vacation going?”

“Vacation couldn’t be better,” Gar grinned. “We’ve really reconnected to nature.”

“That’s wonderful!” Sarah chirped.

“Well, you guys go be on vacation and quit worryin’ about us, okay?” Victor told them firmly. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

“Okay,” Raven said reluctantly. “We’ll let you go. Good luck on the games.”

“Don’t need luck, Rae!” Victor flexed his muscles, and Sarah burst into laughter. “Later, y’all!”

Raven let out a sigh as she closed her communicator; Gar wrapped her in a warm hug, and she returned it.

“See? Everyone’s fine,” he said gently. “We can relax.”

Raven closed her eyes. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“I’m always right, dear,” Gar whispered, pressing his lips to her hair.

She pulled away from him with a resolute smile and held up her hand in a scout’s honor. “I promise to stop worrying and just be on vacation with you now.”

“How about this—today’s Saturday,” Gar began. “Let’s check in on Monday and see how everyone’s doing. Till then, let’s just chill out, max, relax, all cool. Okay?”

She smiled. “Do we have to shoot some B-ball outside of the school?”

“When a couple of guys, they were up to no good—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” she chuckled.

“Started makin’ trouble in my neighborhood!”

“Gar,” she said, laying her hand over his mouth. A wicked light danced in his eyes and she snatched her hand back. “Were you about to lick me?”

“I got in one little fight—”

She kissed him fiercely; he held her waist without hesitation and pulled her closer. He parted her lips with his tongue and she met him with her own, letting herself be swept into the motion of it all, her toes tingling. Then, with great difficulty, she broke away, holding his gaze.

“Are you finished?”

He steadied his breath and grinned. “Is that how I get you to make out with me at any given time? I can just start rapping until you shut me up?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I can’t believe it took me four years to crack this code,” he marveled. “How many other secrets are yet to be discovered?”

“Zero, if you keep annoying me.”

He took her hand and they exited the back room together, then paused at the sight that greeted them.

Boyd sat tensely on his stool, his thumb rubbing absently against his chapped forefinger. His yellowed mustache twitched. A man on the other side of the counter, wearing a police uniform, was rolling his eyes at something Boyd had just said. The cop also had a mustache, but it was more rectangular, and with more remnants of red flecked in the grey.

“Everything okay here?” Gar said lightly, still holding Raven’s hand, and the two men looked at him. He maintained a bland smile.

The cop’s eyes roamed over him, and his mustache bent into a frown. “What the hell are you?”

“Carl, you jackass,” Boyd groaned.

“What! Why’s he green? What the hell’s he doin’ here?”

Gar let go of Raven’s hand so that he could offer Carl a handshake. “I’m Gar. This is Raven. We’re on vacation.”

“From where, the goddamn Flying Circus?” Carl said, but he shook Gar’s hand anyway.

“They’re good kids,” Boyd said, giving them both a smile. “Ma likes ‘em, too.”

Raven blinked. “She does?”

“Bullshit,” Carl said flatly. “If Ma had met people like them, she’d’ve told me.”

“Ma doesn’t tell you everything, you self-important twit.” Boyd rubbed his back tenderly. “Everything okay on the home front, kids?”

“Everything is fine,” Raven said. “Everyone’s doing well.”

“How long are you in town for?” Carl asked.

“Just for the week,” Gar answered pleasantly.

“Not causing any trouble, are ya?”

“No, sir.”

“Hm.” Carl gave them a calculated look. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen Ray Haggerty’s catalytic converter, would ya?”

“I dunno what that is,” Gar said blankly.

“We haven’t seen it,” Raven said. “Sorry.”

Carl shrugged. “Just askin’ around. If you see anything suspicious, you let me know. Okay?” He heaved a sigh, leaning against Boyd’s counter. “That’s what Ray gets for buyin’ a goddamn Prius.”

Boyd nodded sagely. “Those converters are sellin’ like hot cakes.”

“The kids in this town… I tell ya. Shit eatin’ thieves,” Carl muttered. “You oughta start lockin’ this place up, Boyd.”

Boyd looked deeply offended. “I lock up every night!”

“I mean a real, bona fide security system,” Carl said. “Not just a lock on the door and a slap on the ass.”

“Slap on the ass,” Boyd muttered. “You can give yourself a slap on the ass, officer. And it’s your own damn kid you oughta be worrying about.”

Carl glared at him, but before he could reply, his walkie talkie bleeped from its sheath on his belt and a gravelly voice spilled out of the speaker. “Officer Tompkins, this is Officer Dufresne, over.”

Carl rolled his eyes and started for the door, pressing the button on his walkie. “I’m comin’, Dufresne, keep your pants on.” He tugged the door open and trudged into the sunlight, making his way to an aged but pristine cop car.

The door drifted closed with a jingle.

“Sorry about him,” Boyd sighed. “I told you he was a dumbass.”

“You didn’t say he was your brother,” Gar said, and Boyd shrugged.

“If he was your brother, would you go around advertising it? Six years younger than me and he’s always swingin’ his dick around—sorry, Raven—acting like he knows best. Comes in here talkin’ about security systems—he leaves his damn keys on his driver’s seat!” He took off his greyish baseball cap, inspected it, and replaced it on his head, exactly as it had been.

“Is that true, about the kids around here?” Raven asked.

Boyd sighed. “My nephew included. Not much to do around here for the young people. Lot of ‘em have problems. The expensive kind.”

“That’s too bad,” Gar said sincerely. “Anything we can do?”

“Not really. ‘Specially if you’re leavin’ in a few days.” The chapped radio behind Boyd hissed out some static and he muttered to himself as he thumped it with his fist; after a moment, a Johnny Cash song crackled back to life.

“But I shot a man in Reno… Just to watch him die…”

Boyd hummed along, tapping his boot on the carpeted floor. “Anyhow… You folks need any more worms?”

They glanced at each other; Raven grabbed two more styrofoam boxes and placed them on the counter with a smile.

Boyd tilted his head. “You two must be very… liberal with your worm usage,” he managed. “Y’know there’s a hundred or so worms in each container?”

“I like to put at least three on the hook before I cast out. Don’t like them to be lonely,” Gar said smoothly.

“Mhm.” After a long pause, Boyd shrugged his shoulders and brought out a small paper bag for the containers. “Welp, who am I to judge? That’ll be six-fifty.”

Chapter Text

The cool running water trickled over the rocks, making a kind of music that harmonized with everything else in the forest. About ten feet to her left, she could hear a small animal burrowing through the rich soil. The breeze rustled the vibrant leaves quietly. She placed her hands on her knees, palms facing up, and her mind began to drift into that familiar in-between place.

“Ah, fuck!” Gar’s voice was hushed but insistent, and she heard a thwack that made her eyes pop open. “Sorry, Rae, it’s these—fucking—mosquitos,” he muttered, waving them away. He settled back down on the picnic blanket and closed his eyes, resting one hand on his stomach and the other behind his head. “Carry on.”

Her eyes fluttered shut again and she concentrated on the trickling water, the digging animal, the rustling leaves. She started to sink back into the quiet.

Thwack.

“Jesus, how are you not getting eaten alive right now?! This is discrimination,” Gar fumed. “They’re only going after me! They did the same thing on the hike yesterday, too—” He clapped his hands, opened his palms expectantly, and let out a frustrated huff.

She kept her voice quiet and calm. “I brought bug spray for you. It’s in my bag.”

She heard him rummage through her drawstring bag, pull out the bottle, spray a cloud around himself, and settle back into his napping position with a sigh.

“Okay,” he said. “Sorry. Carry on. Connect to nature and your center and all that.”

She let out a long breath and fell back into the stillness, whispering the words to herself over and over: “Azarath, metrion, zinthos.”

The next thing she knew, she was on the ground. Gar was shaking her shoulders.

“Raven! Rae, wake up,” he begged.

“What—what?” she managed, blinking hard. The sunlight hurt her eyes. “Are you okay?”

He balked. “Am I okay? Raven, you were screaming,” he said, laying a hand on his chest as he tried to steady his breath. “I thought you were having a seizure or something.”

Her heart thudded and she sat up weakly; he took her hands, but she wrapped her arms tightly around him instead, burying her face in his shoulder. He hugged her back, his face a mask of confusion.

“Raven—you’re shaking,” he said, carding his fingers through her hair.

“We need to get to Boyd’s, we have to—to call Dick,” she mumbled against his skin.

“What? Why, what’s wrong?”

“Something awful is about to happen—or maybe it already has—we need to go,” she stammered, breaking from him and scrambling to her feet. Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs as she looked around, then she stooped down to pick up her bag.

“Boyd won’t be there, it’s Sunday,” Gar told her, but she was unfazed.

“Then we’ll break in.”

“Raven, what did you see?” Gar urged helplessly, tugging on his shirt and tying his hiking boots haphazardly. Then he stuffed the picnic supplies into the basket.

She slung her bag around her shoulders and paused. “I don’t know.”

He started to carry the picnic basket over to the green canoe resting in the riverbed, but then he stopped moving. Stared at her. The basket hung limply in his fingers. “Why are you lying?”

“Gar, please, please, hurry up,” she pleaded. “Just leave the basket. Leave everything.”

“I’m not just going to litter.” He pulled the canoe further into the sand so that it wouldn’t float away, then he morphed into a pterodactyl and hooked the basket handle with his claws. Gave her a curt nod.

She took off from the ground and flew toward town.

With a rush of his wings, he followed her.

***

The lights of Boyd’s Bait Shop were dark; the door was locked. A cheerful sign in the window reminded them of Boyd’s, and the Lord’s, day off.

Raven reached to unlock it with her powers, but Gar held her wrist. When she looked at him, he was frowning in concentration.

“Do you smell that?”

She did. And she felt it, too.

He set the picnic basket on the ground and straightened up.

“Be ready,” she murmured. She turned the lock easily; as soon as the door opened, the smell of blood singed her nose. The ancient radio behind the counter played quiet music for nobody: the same Johnny Cash song from the day before.

“But I shot a man in Reno… Just to watch him die…”

She searched the premises with her mind and felt no living presence around them.

Gar walked through the doorway and made a beeline for the darkened counter. He knew what he would find, but a small gasp still escaped his lips at the sight.

Boyd was lying in a mote of sunlight, his skin ashen, his eyes dull and staring. The dark green carpet was stained black with dried blood. A trench had been carved into his throat from ear to ear, so deep that Gar could see a glimpse of white bone peeking through the severed meat. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at that glimpse of white before Raven touched his arm—then he flinched and turned away from Boyd’s body.

“He’s been dead at least twelve hours,” he murmured, gazing at nothing. “Probably stayed late to do some bookkeeping.”

Raven opened the door to the back room, hand crackling with black energy as she readied for anything or anyone waiting for them, but it was empty. The window was open and a pleasant summer breeze flowed from it. “Whoever did it broke in through there,” she said.

Gar’s gaze drifted to the knife case, which had been shattered. He sighed, but a small sound came from his throat and his eyes became glossy. “This is our fault, Rae. Whoever did this was looking for us. We shouldn’t have come here—Boyd’s mom was right. To think we could have a normal fucking vacation—how stupid are we? Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed. He shook his head slowly, then stilled. “We’re not regular people,” he said, giving her a bitter smile.

Raven cast her eyes to the floor. “We need to call Dick,” she said quietly.

“We need to call the cops. Carl.”

“He’s not—” Her voice was too loud; she took a deep breath, and when she continued, she sounded calm, even though her heart was pounding. “He’s not going anywhere, Gar,” she said gently. “We’ll call them after we call Dick.”

Gar stared at Boyd’s body for another beat, then followed her numbly into the back room; the breeze kissed his skin gently. He stared out the open window at the softly swaying trees.

“He was a really nice guy,” he said, his voice breaking.

She opened her communicator; after a moment that felt like hours, two bars of signal appeared on the screen.

A moment after that, notifications began to flood in.

“Oh my god,” she breathed.

Gar’s eyes widened; their shoulders brushed as he looked at the screen. “Jesus—thirty-one missed calls? Jesus,” he said weakly. He sounded nauseous. A shaking hand came up to cover his mouth. “Somebody’s dead. Somebody has to be dead.”

She said nothing as she tapped the screen and called Dick; Gar ran his hands through his hair roughly and took a lap around the room, his breath heaving.

Dick answered immediately; his blue eyes were bloodshot.

“Dick, what—”

“Where the hell have you been?”

Gar’s heart sank, and he stumbled to a stop—Dick didn’t sound angry. He just sounded tired. Somehow, that was worse. “Where’s Cy and Star? And Mar’i?”

“We’re all okay. Neither of you are hurt?”

“We’re fine,” Raven said hesitantly, her eyes flitting to Gar.

“We’re not fine,” he argued flatly. “Somebody’s dead because of us.”

“What? Who?”

“The bait shop owner,” Raven answered.

“You need to get out of there—get the fuck out of there, now,” Dick said, standing up suddenly. “Leave town.”

“We will, but—Dick, what happened?”

“Jonathan Crane broke out of Arkham,” Dick said. Raven and Gar frowned at each other; he moved by her side again.

“Scarecrow?” he asked. “Is Bruce okay?”

“Bruce is fine—it’s not that,” Dick hurried. “Scarecrow’s got—I don’t even know how many people are working for him. Speedy and Herald are both missing. Titans North just went into lockdown. Someone is after you,” he said, enunciating the final sentence forcefully. “Get out of there before anyone else gets killed.”

They looked at each other and nodded.

When they looked back at the screen, it was dark.

“Did he hang up?” Gar murmured.

She tapped the screen insistently, but it was useless. “It turned off. I don’t know—”

Goosebumps pricked at the skin of her neck and she glanced around; Gar did the same.

“Someone’s here.”

***

“You need to—hello? Raven? Gar?” He tapped Raven’s name, but her communicator was offline. “Fuck.” He tried Gar’s instead, with the same results. Regardless, he kept trying, beginning to pace the living room. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Starfire walked in with Mar’i in her arms, her green eyes dull with exhaustion.

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Mar’i asked, reaching a pudgy hand up to touch Starfire’s cheek.

Starfire gave her a tight smile and made her way over to the kitchen. “Nothing, my little bumgorf. All is well. Are you hungry?”

Victor came in through the sliding doors with a grim expression. “Just got off the phone with Bumblebee—they’re still looking. They got no leads.” When he saw Dick’s face, he stopped. His heart sank. “What is it?”

“They’re gone—I lost them,” Dick mumbled. He wanted to throw his communicator across the room and watch it shatter against the wall, but instead he closed it carefully and slid it into his pocket. He held his breath, then let it out slowly. “I was talking to them and they cut out.”

“Maybe they just lost service,” Victor suggested. “You said they only got reception in one guy’s little shop, right?”

Dick shook his head slowly. “They just found that guy dead. Someone’s after them. And now they’re completely fucking alone.”

“And they’re too far away for us to do anything,” Victor said. He absently cracked the knuckles of his left hand, then reached it across his chest to stretch the muscles. “I gotta get Sarah. She’s not safe out there.”

“Perhaps I can assist Garfield and Raven,” Starfire said, peeling a tangerine for Mar’i. “I can get to Wyoming far faster than any plane or automobile.”

“No,” Dick said. “No, none of us is going anywhere.”

“We’re no good to anyone if we just hide up here in the Tower, man,” Victor said.

“We have no idea what the situation is,” Dick argued. “We don’t know why people are going missing, or where they’re taking them, or how many people are working for Scarecrow—we don’t know if we’re the next targets or not. We have to trust that Gar and Raven can fight, and that they’re gonna be okay.”

“Dick, that is silly,” Starfire said. “If I have the ability to help, then—”

“Star, that’s not the point. This isn’t Cinderblock, or—or fucking Mumbo Jumbo,” he said. “This is Scarecrow. He’s smart. We have to be smart, too.”

Victor pursed his lips, then shook his head. “I’m gonna get Sarah. Bring her back here.”

“Vic… we don’t know that we can trust her,” Dick said hesitantly.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You already ran a background check on her, didn’t you?”

Dick’s mouth was a thin line. “Yes.”

“Then you know she ain’t got no connections to anything, man. She’s just a regular person, and she’s in danger because she knows me. I gotta make sure she’s okay.”

Dick frowned. “Wait, you ran a check too?”

Victor scoffed. “Man, you think you’re the only one around here with trust issues? I ran a check on her before we even went on a date.”

“We should not argue,” Starfire said hollowly. “It will help no one.”

“Right,” Victor said promptly. “Well, if we’re done, I’m gonna call my girlfriend.”

The doors closed behind him, leaving Dick to stare at nothing while he thought about everything.

“Daddy, want a slice?” Mar’i called.

A tired smile tugged at Dick’s lips briefly, but it couldn’t overpower his haggard expression. “No thanks, sweetheart. I have to work.”

“Perhaps a cup of coffee,” Starfire offered. “I know that I could use one.”

***

His black coffee had been tepid for a long time, but he gulped it down anyway. He sat at the central console in the living room, and his eyes glazed over as he watched the sunset over the calm ocean. Then, after a moment, he blinked and refocused on his work—monitoring Gotham CCTV footage for signs of Jonathan Crane.

Starfire entered through the sliding doors wearing an oversized purple sweatshirt and pajama pants; she made her way to the coffee pot and poured herself a fresh mug, then splashed some banana-flavored milk into it and gave it a stir.

“Mar’i has fallen asleep,” she said, sitting in the chair next to his. She sipped her coffee and watched the screen unblinkingly. “Victor and Sarah are conducting research from his room. Have you heard from Garfield and Raven?”

He shook his head, his eyes trained on the grainy footage. “I’ve been calling every ten minutes or so. But they haven’t answered.”

He could feel her watching him. “It was a mistake for me not to go,” she said calmly.

Quiet desperation etched itself into his features. “Yeah. It probably was.”

“I could have provided them with assistance. I should have gone. I do not know why I stayed.”

He looked at her. “Because we have a daughter,” he said simply.

“That should not change anything,” Starfire said. “Should it?”

“Well, it certainly makes things more complicated,” he sighed.

Her eyebrows knit together slowly. “I am a coward.”

“That’s not true, Star.”

“If it were not true, I would be in Wyoming right now, fighting alongside Garfield and Raven.”

He buried his face in his hands, then slid his fingers through his hair and stared at the computer monitor again. “I can’t lose you, Starfire. I can’t risk it.”

“Who is to say that you would?” she said, standing up and placing her hands on his broad shoulders. “I am stronger than I look, remember?”

His hand covered hers, and he rubbed his thumb over her skin. “It doesn’t matter how strong you are. Nobody’s safe if Crane is free.”

It was quiet for a long time; Dick continued to scan security footage. Starfire returned to her seat and searched the news for Cutthroat, Wyoming.

“The bait shop owner has been found,” she said. “No suspects have been named thus far.”

“Anything about Gar and Raven?”

She skimmed the text. “‘… Reports of strange out-of-towners… theft around the community…’ There is an interview with the shop owner’s mother… But it does not mention our friends by name.”

“They must not have been there by the time the cops came,” Dick murmured.

“Perhaps they left town?”

“Not by choice,” he said darkly.

“But… Perhaps they are alright, and they have merely vacated as you instructed,” she tried.

“They’ve been offline for four hours, Star. They would have had a signal to call by now.”

“That part of the country is sparsely populated, with very few cellular towers,” she countered. “You may be mistaken.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah. Maybe.”

His cell phone rang and he checked the screen; a shrouded expression unfurled over his face.

“Unknown number.”

“Answer it,” Starfire urged, scooting her chair closer. “It may be our friends with good news.”

He reached into his pocket and fitted his mask over his eyes. Then he answered the video call.

Starfire gasped quietly at the face on the screen.

It was Raven; she was alone. There were dark circles under her eyes. A large, blackened bruise covered most of the left half of her face. There was a cut on her upper lip, and a gouge of flesh had been ripped out of her chin. A trickle of blood dripped from the red gemstone in her forehead.

They stared at her, wide-eyed, lost for words.

Finally, Starfire spoke. “Raven, are you… where is…”

Raven’s gravelly voice was a dry husk. “Gar is gone,” she whispered. “They took him.”

Chapter Text

Azarath, metrion, zinthos.

Pain smoldered deep in her mind. She kept her eyes closed, but they were nearly swollen shut anyway; somehow, the bruises and swelling on her face had gotten worse over the last twelve hours. But even through her discolored eyelids, the flash of cameras blazed continuously; she hoped the windows were as tinted as they seemed. Her heart ticked rapidly in her chest, and every beat took her further away from Gar. He was an island shrinking into the distant horizon, never to be found again…

Azarath.

The shouts of reporters on the other side of the glass were muffled, but they rose and swarmed together in an unintelligible mass of sound and syllables.

Metrion.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate on his presence, that kind energy that radiated from him, but she couldn’t feel him anywhere. Every time she tried, sharp, burning pain burrowed deeper in her mind like a tick taking root in the skin.

Zinthos.

The sleek, black car slowed to a stop; she put her hood up and ducked her head.

She reached for the door handle, taking care not to look out the window at these strangers who only wanted a story, but the door opened before she touched it—at first, she had a wild thought that her powers had returned. Then, she tensed as the possibility of an extra tenacious reporter surfaced in her mind, and she ducked her head lower.

A gloved hand touched her shoulder, strong and steady, and after a momentary flinch, she glanced up; it was Dick. He was wearing a mask the same color as his eyes, not that any of the reporters were aware of that fact… and he gave her a smile, so slight and subtle that she was certain she was the only one in the swarming crowd who even knew what it was.

“Can you walk?” His lips barely moved when he asked the question.

She nodded and began to slide gingerly out of the car, and the flash of cameras swelled; she adjusted her hood to cover more of her face. Above the chaos, the morning sky was just beginning to turn from dappled pink to clear blue.

“Look over here, Raven—”

“Raven, can you—”

“What were the last words Changeling said to you, Raven?”

“Why are they here?” she asked quietly.

“They’re always everywhere they shouldn’t be, right?” He straightened up and projected his deep voice: “Back away, everyone. Give us some space.”

There was a half-hearted shuffle of the crowd, and Dick took advantage of it; he kept a hand on Raven’s shoulder and guided her through the rift in the middle of the chaos.

“Raven, do you have a statement—”

“Nightwing, what measures are your team taking to apprehend—”

“Raven, do you think Changeling is still alive?”

Her eyes widened and she glanced around for the source of that question, but the faces and voices merged to form a shapeless blob of nonsense, and the pounding, cutting pain she’d been feeling returned—accompanied by a swirling dizziness. She tried to take a deep breath but her lungs felt shallow—her feet crossed over each other and she stumbled slightly.

Azarath, metrion, zinthos.

Dick’s grip on her shoulder tightened, and thousands of camera shutters clicked, and she cursed herself for being so weak in front of so many, and tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away immediately. She adjusted her hood again. Recited her mantra. Tried to make herself believe it was helping.

Another voice whispered underneath her own, creeping like ice in the back of her mind.

How long did you think your peace would last?

She pushed that voice further away. But she could hear its frozen laugh echo through her mind.

Finally, they reached the door of the Tower, and Dick laid his hand on the security pad—they hurried inside and closed the door before anyone behind them could follow.

Before she could process a single thing, she was being enveloped in a tight hug from Starfire (with some hair pulling from Mar’i, who was squished between them). Starfire’s strong arms elicited a hiss of pain from Raven, the bruises on her torso crying out from the crushing pressure, and her friend released her immediately.

“I am sorry to have hurt you, friend,” she said, and Raven noticed tear tracks on her cheeks.

She found herself unable to reply with words, so she merely shrugged.

Victor was next, and he was surprisingly gentle for his size and metallic makeup—but when he released her, she saw that his face was a blank mask. Worry hid deep beneath his eyes.

For a moment, it looked as though he was burning to ask her something, but all that came out in the end was, “We’re gonna find him, Rae.”

Once again, words failed her. She shrugged and nodded.

Finally, Sarah Simon brought up the rear, holding a large loaf of golden, braided bread in her hands.

She held it out awkwardly. “I made bread,” she tried.

Nausea bubbled up in Raven’s stomach at the thought of eating and she swallowed thickly, teetering on the edge of politeness and apathetic dismissal, letting the silence stretch around them.

Sarah shuffled on her feet. “I know you… probably don’t feel hungry right now,” she said, “but I’m guessing you haven’t eaten in a long time?”

Raven blinked. She hadn’t eaten since the picnic with Gar yesterday. It felt like years ago now.

“It’ll be here if you want it,” Sarah smiled. “I mean, like, in the kitchen. I’m not gonna be holding it the whole time.”

“I’ll take some,” Raven said in a damaged whisper.

Sarah tore off a piece and handed it to her—it was still warm. The smell of it should have made her mouth water, but her stomach turned again; still, she took a small bite.

“It’s good,” she mumbled.

“Here, take some more,” Sarah urged, tearing off a much larger piece.

“Please, may I have some as well?” Starfire asked, and Sarah smiled her bright smile and obliged. Starfire, in turn, gave a small piece to Mar’i, who popped it into her mouth without hesitation.

Victor moved closer to Sarah and tore a piece for himself, and they all looked at Dick; his mask made him look permanently annoyed, but he shrugged and nodded. He took his piece with a quiet thanks.

“We need to start looking,” Raven said softly.

They all nodded and, very soon, were huddled around the main computer monitor in the living room. In the kitchen, Sarah was making soup in a large stock pot she’d brought from home.

“What kind of car was it?” Victor asked.

Raven thought hard. Her head pounded. Her vision swam. “It was… small. And I think it was black.”

He pursed his lips… then huffed. “That’s all you got?”

“Vic,” Dick said quietly.

Victor glared at him. “I’m just trying to figure this out, that’s all.”

“I woke up in the back seat. Not the best place to figure out what kind of car you’re in.”

“Logo on the steering wheel?”

She began to shake her head, then paused. “I think it was an H.”

“Honda or Hyundai?”

“I don’t know.

“Rae—”

“She was drugged, Victor,” Starfire reminded him quietly. She bounced Mar’i gently in her lap; the little girl’s eyes were fluttering, so she took her to the corner and laid her in her cushioned pen, which also housed several realistic stuffed animals. Gifts from Gar.

Raven stared at them.

Everything you touch, you destroy.

Shut up, she thought back. Just shut up.

Victor sighed. “Okay, so it was a small, black car. Either Honda or Hyundai.”

“I don’t know if it was black,” Raven corrected, her pain arching. Her hand drifted to the gem on her forehead and she squeezed her eyes shut briefly. “It was dark out.”

“Jesus Christ,” Victor muttered. “He could be dead. And this is all we have.”

“Hey,” Dick said, raising his voice slightly. “Gar is alive until proven otherwise. Are we clear?”

Everyone nodded, even Sarah.

“It’s a small town,” Dick continued. “Let’s start looking at residents with criminal records. See what cars they drive. Then we can cross reference plates with CCTV.”

***

Empty bowls and glasses were stacked around them; Dick and Starfire shared the main monitor while Victor sat a short distance away with a bright blue laptop. Raven scanned the footage from the couch, her legs folded underneath her. Her soup bowl was on the coffee table, untouched and now completely cooled. Sarah was rolling chocolate chip cookie dough between her palms and placing the balls in neat rows on a baking sheet.

Victor brought a sudden fist down on the table—Raven watched numbly as her soup sloshed back and forth. “This is ridiculous. There has to be some other way.”

“There’s not a whole lot of CCTV in rural Wyoming,” Dick muttered, his eyes trained on the screen.

“Yeah, okay, while we’re on the subject—what the fuck were you doin’ sending them to Bumfuck Nowhere for a vacation? I mean, really, Nightwing, what the hell?”

“Victor, you’re not helping anybody,” Sarah piped up from the kitchen as she slid the cookies into the oven.

Victor sighed and a look of shame crossed his face, but stubborn anger replaced it once more. “I just wanna know how the fuck a couple of Wyoming hicks managed to kidnap a fuckin’ Titan. Two Titans. And then toss one out of a moving car and live to tell about it? Nah. This is fuckin’ stupid. And now they’re just—gone. We can’t find shit.”

“Perhaps we could alert the Wyoming police to search for a black Hoonday?”

“I already did. But they may have switched cars,” Dick reasoned, nibbling absently on his thumbnail.

Victor almost laughed. “Wonderful.”

“We will locate Garfield soon,” Starfire assured him.

“And this isn’t just a couple of hicks,” Dick added. “Scarecrow is behind it. Remember that.”

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Victor turned, and the rest of the team followed his gaze to Raven.

She stared hollowly back at him. “Sorry I’m not my usual chipper self, Victor.”

“You didn’t see the guys’ faces at all?”

“I already told you, they were wearing masks.”

“No weird accents?”

“No.”

“No name slips? Nothing?”

“Vic, lay off, man,” Dick told him quietly.

Victor sprang to his feet and began to pace. “Y’all seem real calm about this shit, and you shouldn’t be. He could be—”

“That’s enough.” Dick’s sharp voice sliced through Victor’s, and everyone in the room stilled, glancing between them. Dick took a deep breath. “Just… take a walk,” he said, his voice low and barely controlled.

There was a heavy pause, and Victor strode out of the room. After a moment, Sarah cleared her throat and looked at them regretfully.

“He’s just worried,” she tried, shuffling on her feet. For a moment, she was in between words. “Can you… keep an eye on the cookies?” Then, before anyone answered, she followed Victor out the door.

They’re fighting because of you, Raven.

Starfire touched Dick’s shoulder gently, but he just sighed and shrugged it off, sliding a hand through his dark hair.

He looked at the time displayed on the computer monitor. “Raven, when was the last time you slept?”

Raven continued to stare at the computer monitor, a distant, haunted look in her bruised and sunken eyes.

“Raven.”

She blinked; slowly, her gaze drifted up, but she stopped just short of meeting his eyes. “What?”

He straightened up. “You should sleep.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

“Truly, Raven, some rest will help us all to think clearly,” Starfire said.

Dick nodded. “We’ve been at this all day with nothing to show for it.”

“I won’t sleep anyway,” Raven argued softly. “What if he’s being tortured? Or—or beaten, or drugged, or…” She swallowed thickly. Stared into a middle distance. “He could be dead,” she admitted in a whisper.

Dick sighed. “I don’t think he’s dead.”

“How can you be certain?” Starfire asked.

His mouth became a straight line, and he hesitated before speaking. “This is Jonathan Crane. He’s… a man of science,” he said bitterly, his voice dripping with irony. “He’s not just going to waste a good test subject by killing him. At least not right away.”

Raven’s mouth twisted and she stood up suddenly, swaying on her feet—Dick’s eyes widened behind his mask.

“Raven—shit, I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.” He caught her elbow as she teetered, then exchanged a grim glance with Starfire as he guided Raven back to her seat.

“Raven, you must sleep,” Starfire urged gently.

Her eyes burned. Her voice was a mere whisper. “Would you be able to sleep? If Dick were taken from you?”

Silence. Starfire dropped her gaze.

“I already feel useless enough without my powers.”

“Raven…” Dick sighed. “I don’t want to order you around. But whatever they drugged you with, it’s still in your system. That’s why your powers aren’t working. The best thing you can do for yourself—and for Gar—is to sleep it off.”

The silence dragged on until Raven’s bruised face fell into defeat.

***

She followed Dick silently down the hall. Above them, a fluorescent light buzzed and flickered. The sound of their footsteps was like a metronome in her head. The pain seemed to worsen with exhaustion, and right now it radiated through her skull from the epicenter of the gem on her forehead. Gar’s face filled her mind, but the only image she could conjure was the last time she’d seen him. His green eyes, calm on the surface but terrified underneath. His smile, gentle and kind even with a split and bleeding lip, reassuring her that everything would be okay.

Tears brimmed her eyes and she focused on keeping them at bay, at least for now.

Azarath, metrion, zinthos.

She almost ran into Dick when he came to a stop in front of her door.

He laid a hand on her shoulder, but she avoided his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, you know,” he said gently.

“He could be anywhere,” she said, her voice still damaged and raspy.

“So we’ll look everywhere.”

The tears threatened again. “I just feel so worthless,” she managed, and he pulled her into a hug. Her arms hung limp at her sides.

“I know,” he murmured.

She pulled out of his embrace, staring at the cold concrete floor.

“This is my fault.”

“Raven…” Dick took off his mask and rubbed his face tiredly. When he looked at her again, his blue eyes were filled with regret. “None of this is your fault. Okay? None of it.”

She blinked slowly, heavy exhaustion weighing down her eyelids.

He sighed. Put his mask back on. Pursed his lips. “Get some rest. I’m gonna stay up for a while. Things will be better in the morning.”

***

A pair of tiny lips pressed into his forehead; his eyes fluttered.

“Daddy,” Mar’i whispered.

“Hm.”

“Wake up.” She touched his cheek—he opened his eyes and frowned.

“Why is your hand sticky?”

“Can we go to the zoo?”

Dick sat up with a groan and held Mar’i loosely in his lap. He glanced over and found Starfire snoozing soundly, her face buried in her purple silk pillow.

“Daddy, can we go to the zoo please?”

“Not today, sweetheart,” he whispered.

She crossed her arms in a huff. “We never go to the zoo.”

The window showed a darkened landscape, a black ocean. The clock on Starfire’s bedside table was in Tamaranean, so it took his foggy brain a moment to translate; it was 4:33 in the morning. He’d been asleep for less than an hour.

“What are you doing up, Mar?”

She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I woke up.”

He nodded, and a yawn pulled itself out of him; Mar’i followed suit.

“Are you tired?” he whispered.

She shook her head. “I wanna go to the zoo.”

Dick sighed. Blinked slowly. “We can’t go to the zoo, Mar’i.”

“Hm,” she said, contemplating the situation deeply. “Hm. Gar? Where’s Gar?”

His heart dropped; he looked down at his lap. “He’s… not here right now.”

She waited for more, sucking gently on her first two fingers. “Where?”

“He’s not… he’s gone, honey. But he’ll be back soon.” It felt like a lie, and his mouth twisted like he’d eaten something sour. “Let’s get your teeth brushed, okay?”

“Brushed ‘em.”

He tilted his head. “Smell your breath?”

Her mouth clamped shut, her green eyes dancing in the moonlight.

“Uh huh,” he said, a small, tired smile creeping onto his face. “C’mon.”

***

Mar’i rattled his shoulder insistently. “Faster! Faster!”

“Mm,” he agreed absently, but he kept the same pace as before, his mind elsewhere. She began to squirm in his arms and push away from his chest and he set her on the floor—without pause, she took off down the hall, each bounding step taking her about three feet in the air.

She turned the corner and Dick heard the doors to the living room slide open, then his daughter’s tiny voice: “G’morning, Raven!”

He sighed and forced himself to pick up speed.

Mar’i leapt onto the couch next to Raven, who didn’t seem to notice; the little girl clambered closer across the squashy cushion and Raven flinched, retreating into herself, hunching her shoulders.

“Mar’i, leave her alone,” Dick murmured, scooping the toddler up quickly in his arms. While he struggled to keep Mar’i contained, he had a chance to look at Raven closer; his breath caught in his lungs at the sight.

Her pupils were too big. There were dark circles under her bruised, blackened eyes. With every movement there was a slight tremor; she brought a large mug of black coffee up to her hopelessly chapped lips, and Dick was afraid for a moment that she would drop it.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked quietly. Mar’i struggled in his arms again and he put her down on the floor again; she toddled away, distracted by something new.

Raven set the mug back down on the coffee table. “They found an abandoned black Mazda in Cheyenne,” she muttered.

“A Mazda?”

“I thought the logo was an H but I was wrong. This is the car.”

“Are you sure?”

She glared at him.

“Huh. It usually takes a while for anyone to report an abandoned car.”

Raven shook her head curtly. “It was in bad shape. The windshield was blown out. The back seat was shredded. Possible blood on the floor.” The corner of her mouth turned up, a look of quiet pride hiding under the stark bruises on her skin.

“You think it was Gar?”

“I think he put up a fight.”

“But there’s no sign of him,” Dick ventured.

There was a long pause. “Not yet,” Raven said finally.

“CCTV?”

She moved the computer mouse with a trembling hand and clicked. “Look.”

The footage was grainy night vision, but he caught a glimpse of the Mazda driving erratically down the middle of a darkened street. There was a commotion inside the car, but it was impossible to see exactly what—or who—was in it. Dick watched as it exited the frame of the camera, then waited for more.

“Is that it?” he asked hesitantly.

Raven looked offended. “That’s more than everything we found yesterday combined.”

“When is this footage from?”

“Early yesterday morning.”

Dick pursed his lips.

“I know,” Raven sighed. “I know it’s not fresh. But it’s something.”

He nodded slowly. “Nothing else though? No other car leaving the same way?”

Her mouth fell closed and she rewound the footage until the car was back in the middle of the frame. She enlarged the image, but it only became harder to decipher. Out the window of the Tower, the ocean was turning from black to grey. “It was him,” she breathed.

“If that was in Cheyenne, they were either headed for Denver or Omaha.”

“Denver’s bigger, more central,” she said.

“Scarecrow is more of a city boy,” Dick agreed. “Let’s send out an alert to both places, plus any other major cities they could’ve gone to from there.” He pulled out his phone; Raven watched him intently.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking Twitter for sightings of Gar.”

“There’s nothing,” Raven said. “I keep looking.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You have a Twitter?”

Normally that question would have elicited at least a small, reluctant smile, but Raven only stared at the grainy footage as it rolled on a loop. Her voice sounded far away. “I just use it to keep track of things sometimes. I don’t actually twitter.”

“Tweet.”

“Yeah.”

He glanced down at his phone and sighed. “Yep. Still nothing.”

She didn’t reply. Dick could see the footage reflected in her glassy eyes.

He took out his communicator and, just to see what would happen, pinged Gar’s location. He hadn’t expected anything, but he still couldn’t help the flare of fear and worry in his stomach when there was no response.

“I think we should broaden our search to include Speedy and Herald too,” he said, shaking off the unrest and beginning to pace. “They were in Miami and Steel City when they were taken. Metropolitan areas. More chances to be seen.”

“I think we should go out and look for him,” Raven murmured.

“What?” Dick stopped pacing. “Raven—”

“He would do it for us.”

“We can’t,” Dick said. “We’re all in danger. I’m not risking anyone else.”

“No one else has disappeared.”

“It’s been less than two days,” he said, keeping his voice gentle.

“They would have taken more of us by now if they were going to.”

“Or maybe they’re just waiting for us to slip up, go off on our own,” Dick countered. “We can’t give them the chance.”

“I’m not just going to sit here,” Raven muttered.

Silence stretched; Dick watched the first signs of sunlight tinge the edge of the sky. “Your powers aren’t back?”

She shook her head slowly, barely moving. “Whatever they gave me still hasn’t worn off.”

“Do you think—” Dick stopped himself, but Raven gave him a dangerous look.

“What?”

He pursed his lips. “Do you think your emotions might be blocking them?”

She glared at him. Then her gaze fell, and she glared at nothing. “No.”

Dick was about to say something, but the look on Raven’s face made him stop. Instead, he waited for her to continue.

“If my powers aren’t working because of… because of me, then anything that happens to Gar is my fault.”

“I think it would be good for you to—Mar’i, honey, don’t touch that.” He hurried over to his daughter, who was reaching a pudgy hand toward the electrical outlet behind the television. She pouted as he picked her up, but he just rounded on Raven again, unfazed by his daughter’s grumpiness. “You should meditate,” he finished. “If there is an emotional block, maybe you can work through it.” He peered at her. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried. I had a nightmare.”

“What was it about?”

She tucked her legs underneath her; her hands rested on her knees, and her chipped fingernails scratched lightly at the pale skin there. “I was in a basement, or… something. In a little room. The light was yellow. I was alone, and my… my stomach hurt. And my neck. I heard someone screaming. Then the door opened, and I woke up.”

The lights above them suddenly flared red, and Dick swore under his breath.

“Bad word, Daddy.”

“Sorry, baby,” he muttered. He pulled out his communicator and sighed. “Bank robbery. Four hostages.”

Raven tensed. “It could be a trap for us.”

“Could be,” Dick shrugged, “but not for you. You’re staying home.” Raven looked about to argue, but Dick held up a hand. “Your powers aren’t working. You haven’t slept. Your emotions are all over the place right now. You’re not coming.”

Raven fumed silently but said nothing. Dick set his daughter on the floor and she tottered away.

“Take my communicator for now—I’ll activate a new one for you later. Just keep looking for Gar. Call Bumblebee; we should start to collaborate on this. And keep an eye on Mar’i.”

***

“Well, at least it was quick,” Dick grumbled as the door closed behind him. “They weren’t professionals, that’s for sure.” He ran a gloved hand through his hair and winced slightly. He didn’t think anyone would notice.

“What is the matter?” Starfire asked sharply, scanning him up and down. “Why are you in pain?”

Further down the hall, Victor stopped and turned halfway toward them, shuffling on his feet. He spared a glance toward the elevator at the far end of the corridor, but stayed where he was.

“I’m fine,” Dick told her soothingly. “It’s nothing.”

“What is nothing? Show me,” she demanded.

Dick sighed and showed her an oblong, shallow wound on the back of his head, hidden underneath his thick hair. “Bullet grazed me,” he explained.

Shock first, then anger flared in her features. “Why? Why would you let that happen?”

Victor strode closer and inspected the wound hurriedly. “Only just got him. Barely bleeding. He don’t even need stitches, Star.”

“Only just is still too close!”

“Babe, really. I’m okay. I forgot it had even happened until I touched it.”

She stood there and gnashed her teeth for a moment, then sighed. “Very well. Then let us rejoin the effort to find Garfield.”

Victor was pushing the call button for the elevator before she had even finished her sentence.

***

As soon as the door to the living room slid open, Dick knew something was wrong. It was too quiet. Too still.

Dread pooled in his stomach.

Sarah was kneeling on the floor, gingerly picking up pieces of shattered ceramic and placing them in a plastic shopping bag to throw away.

On the couch, sitting with her legs folded underneath her, her back unnaturally straight, was Raven. She was silently mouthing unknown words, and Dick’s heart sank deeper. Before he could ask the question, Victor did.

His voice was hushed. “What happened? Is it Gar?”

Raven stopped. Looked at them. Once again, Dick was struck by the stark, black bruises on her pale face. She murmured something unintelligible.

“Raven, what happened?” Dick echoed quietly.

The silence was suffocating. The only sound was the quiet clinking of ceramic shards as Sarah gathered them up carefully. Raven’s face seemed to cycle through terror, grief, numbness, back to terror. She continued to mouth unknown words, pausing occasionally and listening intently as though someone was speaking back to her.

“Raven—”

“Speedy,” she said finally, holding up Dick’s communicator. “Speedy is dead.”

Chapter Text

In the corner, Mar’i slept in her cushioned pen, blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding her.

“What? What did you say?” Victor said—the words all seemed to spill out at once. He found himself massaging the smooth skin of his left arm. His gaze seared into Raven’s, but all she did was mouth unknown words rapidly and silently while he stared at her.

“Are you sure? Are they sure it was him? Who told you that?” Dick demanded.

“Rae,” Victor said, pausing to take a breath and close his eyes briefly. His heart hammered away at his ribcage. “What about Gar? Did they say anything about Gar?”

Raven didn’t reply. She didn’t move.

“Raven, for fuck’s sake!” Victor shouted. Panicked breath tore through his lungs and he turned away from the group.

Sarah straightened up, the bag of ceramic shards loose in her fingers. She stared at Raven for a moment with sadness and worry etched into her sweet features. Gave the same look to Victor. Sighed. “They’re still missing,” she told them. “I was making breakfast when the call came.” Then her eyes widened and she dashed for the stove, where a griddle full of pancakes was on the verge of combusting. She turned off the burner and took a moment to catch her breath. “I think it was Bumblebee who called. She said it was an overdose.”

Dick’s eyes flashed behind his mask. “Overdose of what?”

“They didn’t know. And Raven… sort of hung up on her before she could say more.”

Victor shook his head quietly but said nothing.

“She was calling you,” Sarah said to Dick. “She’ll probably still want to talk.”

He nodded and gently pried his communicator out of Raven’s stiff hands. Then he gave them all one more glance and walked out the door, already dialing Bumblebee.

The room was quiet. Everyone looked at everyone else, yet nobody looked at each other.

Finally, after a few unbearable minutes, Starfire moved closer to Raven and placed her hands firmly on her shoulders. “This does not mean that Garfield has suffered the same fate,” she told her gently.

Raven blinked a few times, like she was waking up from a dream. She focused on Starfire slowly, as though her mind were playing catchup with her ears. “You don’t know that,” she said quietly.

“No,” Starfire admitted. “No, I do not. But I have hope. You must have hope.”

Raven retreated again, listening intently to something no one else could hear. She nodded minutely… then shook her head. “You don’t know that,” she repeated, but it was quieter. Angrier. Like she was speaking to someone else. Someone she hated.

“Raven, did you sleep last night?” Sarah asked tentatively.

“If one more person tells me I need to sleep…” She didn’t finish the threat, but it was enough for Starfire and Sarah to exchange a worried glance—if Sarah was at all intimidated, she hid it well.

Victor laughed bitterly. “What are you gonna do, glare at them?” he muttered.

Sarah looked at him steadily. “Victor, can I talk to you in the hall?”

Reluctantly, he followed her through the sliding doors and into the hallway; she kept walking and opened a random door on her left, which turned out to be a musty broom closet.

The door closed with a quiet click and enveloped them in darkness.

She began to probe along the wall blindly. “Where’s the—”

He turned on the light.

Sarah’s kind eyes met his. She took his left hand with her right. Caressed his skin with her thumb. Tears rose and pooled in his eyes, not quite spilling over just yet.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” she said softly.

“I’m… I feel… I don’t know,” he mumbled. His eyebrows knit together tightly.

“He’s your friend,” she probed.

“He’s my best friend.”

“You must be worried.”

“I’m angry,” he said, and blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. He felt too hot suddenly—the light was too bright. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Her green eyes were gentle. Unwavering. “Why?”

“I don’t…” He huffed and flicked the lights off. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she whispered. “Keep talking.”

He held up a hand to his face, but thick darkness was all he could see. Sarah’s hand was still closed over his, still rubbing his skin. “I’m angry because it feels like… like the only way to get out of this life is to die.”

“We don’t know that Gar is dead,” she reminded him gently.

“He will be soon. And he’s the…” Finally, hot tears began to spill. “He’s the best dude, he’s so good, it’s like—like if I could talk to Scarecrow, and tell him—tell him what a good guy he is… if I could tell the fuckers who took him that he finds injured animals and brings ‘em home and nurses ‘em back to health… One time he found three ducklings with no mother and they imprinted on him and refused to leave when they were grown…”

He heard Sarah chuckle and joined her, but a sob spilled into it and he wiped his eyes roughly. “Like if these people only knew that, that he’s just a person, and he’s part of a family, and he has people who love him, they wouldn’t pull this shit,” he whispered. “I know that sounds naive, but I can’t stop thinking it.”

“It’s not naive,” Sarah said quietly. “It shows that you still believe they’re capable of good.”

Her words lingered in the air for a moment, and he sighed. “I just wanna find him, and Raven is having a fuckin’ breakdown over there, muttering to herself, and I know, I know, she’s goin’ through it a lot worse than I am, I know she got her own shit, but it just feels like she’s given up. Like she’s given up on him.”

“Maybe she just needs your support,” Sarah suggested.

“I gave her a hug!”

“Victor,” she said softly. He felt her hand leave his… then she cradled his jaw in the darkness. “I think there’s a lot more happening inside Raven’s head than we can see.”

“I know. Believe me, I’ve been there.”

He could almost see her frown in the dark. “You’ve been…?”

“Long story.”

“I’ll hear about it later,” she said. “But maybe it’s not Gar she’s given up on. You know? You should try to be patient with her.”

Victor sighed. Leaned into her touch. “How are you right all the damn time?”

Her musical laugh, muted in the darkness, brought a smile to his face.

“I’m your girlfriend,” she answered. “Girlfriends are always right.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” he said, then sighed. “Nightwing’s prolly back by now. We should go.”

“Okay. Hey,” she said softly. He felt her move closer and he eagerly wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shoulder. She smelled like citrus shampoo and chocolate chip cookies. Her right arm pulled him even closer, and the knot in his chest loosened a little. “What do you need from me right now?” she asked.

He shook his head slightly. Took a deep breath. “Just this.”

***

When they returned to the living room, they found Starfire bouncing a sleepy Mar’i in her lap on the armchair; Raven hadn’t moved from her perch on the couch.

Sarah squeezed his hand, then went into the kitchen and restarted breakfast—although it was now more of a brunch.

Victor sat down next to Raven. She didn’t seem to register his presence at all, other than a slight wince in her face.

“Raven?”

Her mouth kept moving noiselessly, endlessly; the cut on her lip had split open again and a drop of blood was creeping down her chin.

He frowned at Starfire, who appeared as confused as he felt; he touched Raven’s shoulder. “Raven—”

She jumped—blinked—met his eyes. “What?”

“You doin’ alright?”

“Oh,” she said distantly, tucking her hair behind her ears and adjusting her posture. “Yes.”

He grabbed a napkin off the kitchen counter and returned to her side.

She stared at it. “What is that for?”

Victor pointed to his own chin and her hand drifted up to hers; she gazed blankly at the smear of red on her finger. “Oh.” She took the napkin and pressed it to her lip.

The sliding doors opened and Dick took long strides to meet them—the look on his face was grim, but it changed to hesitation when he caught sight of his daughter. “Star, can you put Mar’i in her pen? I don’t want her to hear this.”

“Come, my little bumgorf,” Starfire cooed, bouncing the girl as she crossed the room. Mar’i began to whine, pushing away from Starfire’s chest like she’d done to her father earlier, but Starfire held her steady and deposited her gently into the playpen. “Just for now, yes? Play with Little Silkie.” She picked up a plush toy, custom-made to resemble the team’s old pet, and Mar’i calmed slightly.

When Starfire had rejoined the group, Dick laid his hands on the back of the couch and hung his head for a moment.

“It was him,” he said grimly. “It was Roy. He was found this morning in Steel City Harbor. Dead for about twelve hours.”

“Cause of death?” Victor asked quietly. “Was it an overdose?”

Dick nodded. “They need to run more tests, but it seems to be something new. Some kind of hallucinogen, but nothing like Scarecrow’s old recipe.”

“How are the rest of the Titans East?” Starfire asked.

“Not good. Bumblebee sounded… a little dazed, I guess. Garth was the one who found him, so he’s...” Dick cleared his throat softly. Shook his head.

“They dumped him in the water,” Victor said. “In his own city. That was ballsy.”

“They got a plate on CCTV, a stolen car from Tennessee registered to…” He glanced at the screen of his communicator. “Malcom Garfield.”

“Well, that cannot be a coincidence,” Starfire said.

“No, it can’t,” Dick agreed. “He reported the car stolen three days ago. They’re taking him in now for questioning.”

“How long was Roy in the water?” Raven asked quietly.

They all looked at her, surprised.

“Bee said maybe four hours,” Dick said, watching Raven carefully.

She quieted again, but they waited for a moment more before continuing.

“They’re going to do a full autopsy,” Dick continued, and the word made Victor’s heart thud in his ears. For a split second, before he could stop himself, he saw Gar, stiff and ashen on a table in harsh fluorescent light. Then, as quickly as he could, he threw a blanket over the thought and turned desperately to a new one.

“This could be a lead,” he said. “Let’s search for other combinations of their names, see if we get a hit for any other stolen cars, criminal records, whatever.”

Dick nodded decisively. “Raven, who was the car in Cheyenne registered to?”

“That’s true,” she murmured.

The group stared at her; even Sarah paused mid-pancake flip at Raven’s strange words.

Dick touched her arm and she blinked dazedly—then focused on them and straightened up. “What?”

“Who was…” He tilted his head as he watched her; it was like she wasn’t there. She looked him in the eyes but she was seeing someone else entirely. “Who was the car in Cheyenne registered to?”

“Wayne Tompkins. Age twenty-four. Cutthroat, Wyoming.”

“Tompkins,” Starfire said. “The bait shop owner was named Tompkins, was he not?”

Dick said nothing, but the shape of the man’s first name formed itself on his lips: Wayne.

“Hold up. What car?” Victor asked.

Dick glanced at Raven to see if she would answer, but she had that distant look in her eye again. He sighed. “A car was found yesterday in Cheyenne, in pretty bad shape. Possible blood on the floor. Raven says it’s the car they were taken in.”

Dick showed him the footage; Victor nodded slowly. “Did she find this?”

Raven stilled and focused on something impossibly far away. In her lap, her hands twisted and gripped at each other. “Yes, she did,” she answered absently—then focused again. “I did,” she corrected.

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out,” Victor admitted. “You okay?”

She closed her eyes briefly, shook her head, and stood up. “I have to go.”

“Whoa, wait—where?” Dick asked, alarmed.

“My room.”

“Rae, you can’t just leave right now,” Victor tried. “We got work to do.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” Starfire asked kindly.

“No,” Raven said sharply—then flinched at her own volume. “No. I need to be alone.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dick probed. He had to stop himself from holding out his arms like a goalkeeper.

She closed her eyes again, but he saw a flash of red before she could hide it. Memories of those same gleeful crimson eyes shimmered in his mind, and he felt the ghost of the rage he’d felt on that particular day stir in his stomach.

“I’m fine. I need to think,” she muttered.

When she opened her eyes again, they were their normal deep blue. She looked at him calmly.

Dick’s face was a stone mask. “Don’t be gone too long.”

They watched in silence as she left… then Dick felt everyone’s eyes on him.

“I don’t want her to be alone right now,” he said. “Someone needs to follow her.”

“Perhaps we should respect her privacy?” Starfire suggested.

He shook his head. Red eyes floated in his vision like an imprint of the sun behind closed eyelids, and he fought to keep a level head. “Stay outside her room, Star. Wait for her to come out. Be ready.”

“For what?” Sarah asked, glancing around at their grim faces.

Victor looked at her. “Hopefully nothing. Right, Nightwing?”

Slowly, Dick nodded; one tilt of the head down, one up, then back to center. His heart pounded with the echo of his years-old anger. “Hopefully.”

***

Starfire sat cross-legged in the hall outside of Raven’s room, her hands placed delicately on her knees. She had heard a quiet shuffle of feet earlier, but nothing else. She guessed that Raven was taking the nap she so desperately needed, and thought about leaving her alone… but Dick had seen something earlier. There was a troubled tilt to his lips when he had asked her to follow Raven, and she knew to trust his instinct by now.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her mind turning briefly to thoughts of Speedy, then of Garfield, before trying very hard to think of absolutely nothing instead.

Suddenly, on the other side of the door, there was a quiet clatter and a thud. Then, nothing.

Starfire stood up. She didn’t know why, but she was scared. The expression on Dick’s face was one she hadn’t seen often… it had been years, actually, since he had looked that way. And Raven was the cause. There could only be so many reasons for that.

“Raven, I am…. I am here, outside your door. Are you alright?” she called.

She could hear a quiet shuffling.

“I’m okay,” Raven replied.

“Are you certain?”

The door opened—Starfire tensed. Raven came out of the darkness and smiled at her, but it seemed to change into something colder midway through. Something more distant. “Yes,” Raven said. “I feel better.” She gripped something small in her right hand and deposited it into her pocket.

After a moment of staring, she noticed that the bruises and cuts on Raven’s pale face were gone. “What happened to your injuries?”

“I healed them.”

“So, you… your powers have returned?”

Raven nodded. “We’re wasting time. Let’s find Gar.”

“Certainly,” Starfire said, blinking.

Raven turned on her heel, walked a few paces, then halted—swayed in place, like she wasn’t sure where she wanted to go—and finally opened a shadowy portal in the wall and stepped through it, leaving Starfire alone in the corridor.

***

It didn’t take Starfire long to return to the living room; the door opened to reveal Raven stooping over a wrinkled map of the United States while Sarah and Victor peered over her shoulder. Dick stood a little further away, his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth set. In the kitchen, the pancakes had once again been placed on hold, the griddle rapidly cooling.

Starfire hurried to Victor’s side and followed his gaze to the map on the table.

Raven pointed a delicate finger to Cheyenne, Wyoming. “He almost escaped here,” she murmured. “The blood on the floor of the Mazda is his. They shot him. They got in trouble for that.”

Sarah’s hand drifted up to her mouth; she stared at Raven with awe and fear in her eyes. “But he’s alive,” she prompted.

“Yes,” Raven said. “I can feel him… just barely…” She trailed off, and a crease appeared between her eyebrows as she gazed at the map.

“Where is he?” Dick asked in a hushed tone.

“They shot him, and they switched cars… They threw him in the trunk. He was unconscious.” She closed her eyes. “He lost a lot of blood. They weren’t supposed to shoot him. It meant he couldn’t start right away.”

“Who is ‘they?’” Starfire asked.

“Wayne Tompkins and Martin Wright. Marty. Friends since elementary school. They got in trouble,” she repeated.

“What do you mean, trouble?” Victor probed.

“Their story ends in Nebraska. They won’t be found. And Gar…”

The others shuffled closer.

“I can’t…” She huffed and touched the gem in her forehead. “I can’t see him.”

Dick let out the breath he’d been holding and hung his head in frustration.

“Well, what about Herald? And Speedy?”

“Roy Harper,” she breathed. “Roy Harper’s death was quick. Not painless, but quick. The formula wasn’t quite right. Not what he wanted.”

“What was it that he wanted, exactly?” Dick asked, the sentence a rushed monotone. He watched Raven carefully, especially her eyes, but they weren’t flashing red; they were deep blue, almost violet. Normal. Maybe duller than usual… muted… but normal.

“He wants… to create nightmares,” she said slowly, like she was repeating something she had heard on a faulty radio.

“That’s nothing new, though,” Victor muttered. “He’s always tryna pull that shit.”

“It’s different this time. I just can’t… I can’t see it.” Her eyes glazed for a moment. “Herald,” she continued. “Malcom Duncan. His story ends very soon.”

“How soon?” Victor demanded. “Where is he?”

“… Misery,” she answered hesitantly. “He is in misery.”

Victor rubbed his eyes tiredly; Sarah placed a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “So you still can’t find Gar?” he asked.

Raven turned to him, and his skin prickled with unease at the dull, icy mask of her face. She pointed to a location near Omaha, Nebraska. “He was here. He watched them bury Wayne and Marty. They threw them into a grave, with Marty on the bottom… He killed Boyd,” she added quietly. “Wayne’s hat came off. He was going bald. He didn’t want people to know.”

“Please, who is ‘they’ now?”

Raven paused. Frowned. “I don’t know. They’re… dimmed. I can’t see them clearly. But one was tall, and one was short.”

“So Gar was in Nebraska,” Dick began. “But you don’t know where he went after that.”

She reached into her pocket, touching the thing she’d hidden there, and thought for a long time. “If I go there, I can find him. I know it.”

“Raven, it’s too dangerous. I can’t let you.”

It wasn’t common for Dick to feel afraid, especially of a friend… but she wasn’t his friend right now. The look on her face was that of a stranger.

“You can’t let me?” she asked quietly. Her voice was like stone.

The rest of the group stared; Dick shifted his weight. “You’re not yourself right now,” he said. “And I’m not going to risk your life for his. He wouldn’t have wanted that.”

Red flashed in her eyes for a split second; the other Titans kept their faces neutral, but Sarah’s face paled at the sight.

“Hold up,” Victor said lowly, turning to Dick. “You’re talkin’ like he’s already dead.”

“No, I’m not,” Dick said tiredly. “I just—”

“I thought Rae had given up on him, but it’s you. You think he’s a lost cause, don’t you.”

“Did I fucking say that?” Dick argued.

“He wouldn’t have wanted that? What, are you writing his fuckin’ eulogy?”

“I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant—Gar wouldn’t want us to go in blind,” Dick said, his fists tightening at his sides.

“Well, time’s running out. Roy is fucking dead. We’ve gone in blind before, and we all made it out alive. I think we should go. All of us,” Victor said.

Starfire paused, then nodded. “Victor is right. We must move quickly.”

“You’re not going,” Dick told Starfire firmly—her eyes sharpened.

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s too fucking dangerous!” he shouted, his voice cracking.

The others stilled.

“You guys don’t know what the fuck you’re getting into. You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell us, man,” Victor said. “If you got somethin’ to say, say it.”

They stared at him. Silence pressed in on his ears. An old memory, one he’d made sure to forget, crawled into the foreground of his mind and crouched there.

“Part of my training as Robin…” Dick trailed off. His gaze drifted to Sarah and he sighed. “Sarah, you need to leave,” he said quietly.

“Oh, um…” She glanced at Victor, but he only closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay. Sorry.”

“Just for a few minutes,” Victor tried, and she gave him a muted smile over her shoulder.

When she had disappeared through the sliding doors, Dick tapped a button on the wall and the silence became thicker. Heavier.

“Part of my training as Robin was to take small doses of Scarecrow’s fear gas,” he said finally. “Bruce knew I’d need to build up a tolerance, so… he made a diluted version of it to give to me before combat practice sometimes.” He cleared his throat softly; his heart rate had picked up to a steady thrum. “It was… the one thing I never quite mastered,” he said with a bitter smile. “Even diluted, I couldn’t swing it. It was too much. And once, on a mission… We thought it was just a drug bust, but it wasn’t. He was there. And I got hit with it.” He cleared his throat again. Took a slow, steadying breath. He jumped when Starfire took his hand delicately.

“I was down,” he continued. “Couldn’t do it.”

Raven peered at Dick with cold curiosity.

“What did you see?” Starfire asked softly.

He gave her a prolonged look, the sharp contours of his mask making his face even more unreadable than it usually was. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I almost died. I would have, if Bruce hadn’t been dosing me with it all those years. I think one of the reasons he didn’t chase after me when I left was because of that. Because he didn’t think I could survive Gotham.”

“Dick, I am sure that is not what he thought,” Starfire told him gently. “He believes in you.”

His lips became a straight line, his shoulders tense. “Whatever,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It was a long time ago. What matters now is finding Gar and not dying in the process.”

Victor nodded slowly. “So, how do we do that?”

“Well, first we need to decide who stays home with Mar’i,” Dick said. He looked at Starfire expectantly.

She snatched her hand away from his and crossed her arms. “I will not,” she said fiercely. “I already regret my inaction when our friends were initially taken.”

“Well, I’m the one who’s dealt with Scarecrow before,” Dick said.

“And nearly died because of it!” Starfire fumed. “I will not risk your life either, Dick.”

“Well, I know I ain’t sittin’ this one out,” Victor said stoutly. “And neither is Rae. So… what about Sarah?”

Dick stopped. Straightened up. “I can’t do that. We don’t know her.”

“I do,” Victor said. “I do, Dick,” he insisted at the look on Dick’s face. “Trust me.”

“I trust you,” Dick agreed. “I don’t trust her. Not yet.”

“Well, let’s get her in here. Rae can read her mind, right, Rae? Vouch for her.”

“It’s not that simple,” Raven said.

“It was when my dad was here,” Victor countered. He looked at them all, his face set. “Dick trusted Raven’s powers when he didn’t even trust me, remember?”

“I’m not too sure I trust Raven right now, either,” Dick admitted.

As though to prove his point, Raven’s eyes flared red again before returning to normal once more. She felt the thing in her pocket. Cleared her throat. “I have a handle on it,” she said.

“Really? Because your eyes don’t usually do that when you’re at your most trustworthy,” Dick argued flatly.

Victor glared at him, then strode to the door and overrode Dick’s security protocol. He found Sarah halfway down the hall, adjusting a painting that had been knocked askew at some point. She caught his eye and gave him a small smile when he beckoned her toward him.

He glanced over his shoulder, then met her in the hall—the door slid closed behind him.

She peered up at him. “Is everything okay?”

There was a somewhat frenzied look in his eye. “I just volunteered you to watch Mar’i for a few days while we go on a mission and now I’m realizing that I should’ve asked you first and I’m sorry,” he rushed, squeezing her hand.

She stared at him open-mouthed. “You volunteered me to—Jesus, Victor!”

“I know! I’m sorry!”

“They barely know me! That’s—that’s Nightwing and Starfire’s baby!” Reality seemed to dawn in her eyes and she let out a heaving breath. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how much pressure that would be?!”

“She’s really well-behaved!”

“She’s probably stronger than me!”

He faltered. “Well—but she’s really well-behaved!”

She laughed hysterically and ran her hand through her wild curls. “This is insane!”

“I know,” he hurried, stepping closer. “I know. I’m sorry. But…”

She met his eyes. Sighed. “This is insane,” she repeated dazedly.

He didn’t dare move, for fear it would set her off again; she took a halting step closer to him and leaned her forehead against his chest, heaving another sigh.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Jesus Christ. Okay.”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head, then hesitated. “And, um… Raven is gonna do this… this thing. It won’t hurt.”

Sarah paused. “What thing?”

***

She trailed behind Victor and gave the Titans a thin smile, placing her hand awkwardly on her hip while her prosthetic lay stiff at her side.

Dick looked at her shrewdly and she had to fight the urge to apologize again; instead, she cleared her throat.

“I have a bachelor’s degree in early childhood education,” she began. “And I’m certified in infant CPR. I babysit my nieces when I’m visiting my sister, and I spend most days with kids… I can watch Mar’i,” she concluded. “If… if you want me to.”

Starfire smiled politely. Dick didn’t.

“And I can make fart noises with my armpits,” Sarah added hastily. “Kids love that.”

Dick turned his gaze to Raven, who looked back without emotion. “If I ask you to check her, can I trust your judgment?”

A placid smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Demons don’t lie, remember?”

He pursed his lips, color rising in his neck, and jerked his chin toward Sarah. Raven smiled at her.

“What’s happening?”

“Think of it like a background check,” Dick said. “But quicker.”

“It’s nothing,” Victor assured her. “She’s done it a million times.”

Raven held out her hand and, after a moment, Sarah took it.

Instantly, a pleasantly cool sensation spread out from Sarah’s hand, reaching every point of her body—even the space where her left arm had been was tingling with life, as though she’d never lost it.

A memory swam before her… The taste of cheap candy, the smell of old carpet and the sound of rattling noisemakers. Her grandfather standing behind a podium, wearing a ridiculous striped stocking cap. It made her smile.

Then the coolness turned ice-cold—her knees wobbled and she blinked as every emotion she’d ever felt, every face she’d ever seen, filled her senses. She had to grip Raven’s hand to keep from losing her balance.

Then, almost as soon as it had begun, it was gone. Sarah blinked as the ghostly feeling in her amputated arm, along with the smells and sounds of the memory, the hurricane of emotions, faded away into nothingness… and she was left with a hollow feeling in her stomach and a speeding heart.

Raven let go of her hand and peered at her, her eyes veiled. “She’s good.”

Sarah bent over double and took deep, steadying breaths. “Like a background check, my ass,” she wheezed.

Victor looked triumphant. “I keep tellin’ you, man, my girl is trustworthy as hell,” he gloated.

Dick appeared slightly less tense, less intimidating, than before. He looked at Sarah squarely. “You think you can do this?” he asked.

“I know I can,” she said with more confidence than she felt; he kept staring at her until she finally faltered. “… Mr. Nightwing, sir,” she added hastily.

Finally, after an interminable stretch of silence, he nodded curtly. “Then let’s go over security.” He glanced at her prosthetic arm and tilted his head. “Vic, how long would it take to build her a cannon?”

Chapter Text

“Now, finally, in the event of a zombie apocalypse—don’t laugh. It could happen. This button—” Victor pointed to it carefully on the security pad set into the wall— “locks all this shit down. I’m talkin’ bars over the windows, airtight seals between rooms—we got guns, we got fire, we got acid, we got banana peels—anything you need to defend this tower, we got it. Now, I know you ‘don’t believe in violence,’” he said, punctuating the words with derisive air quotes, “but I believe that everyone believes in violence if they’re in enough danger. And I guess you don’t need a sonic cannon in your arm—”

“I absolutely do not,” Sarah agreed, scribbling notes to keep up with his speech.

“But you can control pretty much everything about this place from the control panel in your new, non-violent arm. It’s the exact same interface as the security pads in the walls.”

She glanced up from her notepad. “Including banana peel deployment?”

“Those are actually surprisingly useful and very slippery,” Victor said sagely. “Plus, great compost for the garden.”

“Compost… for… garden,” she repeated as she wrote.

Dick approached them briskly and held up a small device, similar to a flash drive, connected to a fine, gleaming chain. “Alright, so, this here is the override key,” he said. “If anyone hacks into our security, changes anything at all, if you think there might be an intruder, if the fucking mailman gets too close—insert this into the pad, or into your arm,” he said gravely. “It will lock everything down. You’ll be safe.”

“It’s the zombie protocol, basically,” Victor said.

Dick frowned at the scrawling handwriting in Sarah’s notebook and whistled lowly. “Are you gonna be able to read that later?”

“I used to be left-handed,” Sarah shot back pointedly, and Dick floundered for a second until he caught the smirk on her face. “Nah, just kidding. But you would’ve felt like such an asshole, right?”

“Right,” he muttered, while Victor punched him on the arm and cackled. “Keep this around your neck, and don’t take it off. It’s waterproof,” he added, avoiding her eyes.

“So shower with it,” she finished, and he nodded.

There was a beat of silence, and Dick’s eyes drifted over to Mar’i napping lightly in the corner, her jet-black hair strewn across her round face.

He sighed and looked at Sarah. “Can I speak to you alone?”

Victor watched quietly as she followed Dick out into the hallway.

As soon as the door closed, Dick turned to her. He thought about his words for a moment, his eyes cast to the floor, before he spoke.

“That’s my daughter in there,” he started. “I love her. I’m very protective of her.”

“Of course,” she said quietly.

He caught her gaze and held it. “If you don’t think you’re up for this, I am giving you a chance right now to back out.”

“I can do it,” she told him firmly.

“This is a dangerous life, Sarah. You chose Victor, but you didn’t choose this. He’ll understand if you don’t want to do it.”

“I’m not just doing this for him. I think you’re all pretty nice people.”

He pursed his lips. “I think Gar might be the best of us,” he murmured, as though he forgot she was there. Then he blinked. Glanced at her.

“You’ll find him,” she said kindly.

“Yeah,” he agreed halfheartedly. “I should never have sent them away. That was stupid.”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“That’s no excuse,” Dick argued quietly. “I should’ve known something was coming.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve all been pretty happy lately,” he told her with a rueful smile. There was a beat of silence, then he suddenly straightened up and fixed her with a guarded expression. “I should get back to it. We’re leaving in an hour.”

She nodded silently and watched him stride down the hall, his broad shoulders hunched; when he was gone, she let out a heavy sigh.

“These people need therapy,” she whispered.

***

“Hold still.”

“I’m trying! It’s hard.”

Raven snipped the small scissors pointedly, eyeing him. “Do you want me to finish this, or not?”

Gar scoffed. “No, sweetie honey schmoopie, I want you to give me half a haircut. I love having half a haircut. I think I look very dapper right now.”

“Okay,” she said blandly, plopping the scissors back in the box—he caught her hand before she could walk away. He had a soft, twinkling light in his eye.

“I’ll hold still. I promise.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She picked up the scissors again and took a small piece of his hair between her fingers, and a quiet, pleasant chill rolled down his spine at the sensation. He closed his eyes.

“Do you ever, like…” He chuckled.

She snipped his hair carefully and moved on to the next piece. “What?”

“Like, picture us when we were kids, fighting all the time, and think about how different things are now?”

She cracked a smile and brought out the electric shaver. “We still fight all the time. Chin down.”

He obliged and she focused on straightening the hairline on the back of his neck; more shivers trickled down his skin.

“I think I can say pretty confidently that I never thought you’d be giving me biweekly haircuts.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Neither did I.”

“You’re very good at it,” he assured her, and she laughed quietly.

“I’m glad you think so.”

She bent down to eye level with his neckline and adjusted it slightly; she watched goosebumps erupt on his skin from the vibrations of the shaver. Tiny clippings of hair fell onto his bare shoulders and she blew them away, and Gar wriggled slightly in his chair.

“Hold still,” she scolded, and he broke into laughter.

“I told you, I’m trying! It tickles!”

“Raven.”

She sat up in the front seat, blinking the sleep, the confusion, the disorientation away. The car was idling at a crooked, faded stop sign.

“Sorry,” Victor said. “We’re on the road you were talking about.”

There was a squeezing sensation in her chest, like someone was closing a fist around her heart. Then, she felt the cold thing in the back of her mind wake up too… and with it, everything else she felt became duller. Easier.

“Take a left here,” she said, and Victor obliged.

The sun was beginning to sink; a milky twilight hovered around them. She tapped her knee incessantly with her knuckles. Occasionally, she would clasp her hand on her knee and be still for a few seconds… but the tapping always resumed.

“How much further?” Victor asked.

“Soon,” she muttered. Tapped her knee. Jiggled her leg. She wanted to pluck his eyes out, stop him from staring at her like that, but she didn’t. That would be wrong.

Victor met Dick’s eyes in the rearview mirror, keeping his face neutral. “Everything okay, Rae?”

“You’re going too slow.”

“I’m going fifteen over the limit,” he told her—she rolled her eyes.

“I can get there faster alone.”

“None of us goes anywhere alone,” Starfire reminded her, before Dick could open his mouth. “This mission is unlike any other and we are in unprecedented danger.”

Raven closed her eyes. Shook her head minutely. Sighed. She gripped the door handle and ached to fling it open, but that could hurt somebody. That would be wrong.

“Just be patient,” Dick said from behind her.

Cornfields surrounded them on either side of the patchy road, an endless sea of green. The sky was cloudless, and the deep blue of summer reached toward the horizon. It was beautiful.

It was hell.

It was nothing.

“Stop. Victor, stop the car,” she said suddenly—she was out the door before they had come to a complete stop. The others trailed behind her as she walked along the side of the road… then she came to a halt.

She gazed around, eyes wide.

“I’ve dreamt about this place,” she murmured.

“Was it… a nice dream?” Starfire tried.

“Not really.”

As though they already knew where they wanted to look, her eyes drifted easily down toward her feet and landed on a speck of white buried in the dry dirt. She held out her hand numbly and uprooted the object with her powers; it floated up, and the dirt fell away.

They all stared at it.

“It is some kind of bird?” Starfire asked.

Victor scanned it. “Barn owl. Pretty common around here.”

Raven’s face was impassive as she looked at the pearly white skull. Her gaze traveled slowly along the smooth curves.

Dick watched her. “What was your dream about?”

“I thought it was an omen,” she said quietly. “I didn’t think it would be real… They’re not usually this accurate…”

“You wanna share with the class?” Victor prompted.

Finally, she looked at them all. Her eyes were dark. Veiled. Her voice was a soft monotone. “Before Gar and I left, I had a dream that I was running along a country road at night... And then I tripped over an owl. At the time, I had a bad feeling. Owls aren’t usually a good sign. But I decided to ignore it. I thought it was nothing… I wanted it to be nothing.” For a moment, she looked as though she might cry… but it subsided, and was replaced once again with a stonelike blankness. She shook her head. “This was the road,” she said. “It was real.”

“Well…” Dick’s brow furrowed. “Well, what does it mean? What’s going to happen next?”

“There has to be some reason I saw this specific road. That owl isn’t a coincidence. We’re in the right place.”

Victor’s lips pursed. “In the right place for what?”

In the distance, they heard the low rumble of a truck engine.

***

“Did you hear Janie earlier, about Orville’s?”

“What?”

“She said they were closed this morning,” Penny said, fanning herself with her hand. “Can you turn on the air?”

Ralph paused what he was doing, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and cranked on the air conditioning for his wife. Then he returned his attention to the ancient lighter in his hand, flicking it fruitlessly.

“It’s out of fluid, honey,” Penny told him, adjusting the vent to blow directly into her red, flushed face. She glanced at the side mirror of the truck and caught sight of her face—so much older than she ever thought she’d look—and prodded the papery corners of her mouth with distaste.

“I think there’s a spare in the glove box, could ya check?”

After some digging through old registration papers and countless fast food napkins, Penny found the spare lighter and handed it to him.

He lit the cigarette and took the first drag deep into his lungs, then coughed it back out. “What was that about Orville’s?”

“Oh, they were closed,” Penny said. “Allen never showed up, never called in. That’s why she didn’t have any bread for sandwiches.” She reached down and adjusted the air conditioning to maximum.

“Pen, it gets testy when you crank it that high,” Ralph said, turning it back down.

“Well, I can barely feel it. It’s just blowing hot air at me.”

“You gotta give it a couple minutes, sweetheart.”

“Hm.”

“Weird about Allen though,” Ralph said. “Not like him. Anyone check in on him?”

“Janie said they couldn’t get ahold of him. Went to his house, knocked on the door, but he wasn’t home.”

“Hm. Well, I’m sure he’s fine,” Ralph said, although there was a tilt to his lips that betrayed his tone. “Wouldn’t worry too much about it.” He glanced sideways at his wife. “…Where do you think he is?”

“Me? How should I know?” Penny shrugged, then considered the question for a moment. “I’d say he’s left town. Off somewhere he shouldn’t be.”

Ralph frowned. “What makes ya say that?”

“I dunno. Just a feeling. He’s keeping watch over something.” Then relief passed over Penny’s face, and she sighed. “AC’s finally working.”

“Yeah, a little too well,” Ralph frowned, adjusting the knob—Penny flicked his hand.

“It’s perfect!”

“It’s freezing! Not all of us are goin’ through Penopause, honey.”

“I really hate it when you call it that, Ralph,” she said as he threw his head back and cackled. In spite of herself, a reluctant smile appeared on her lips. “You know if men went through half of what women go through—”

“The whole world would go falling to its knees, Penny, I know,” Ralph agreed, leaning forward to check the fuel meter on the dashboard. “Gotta stop at Nick’s before we get home.”

A shiver churned through Penny’s middle and she sat up suddenly. “Ralph, slow down,” she said.

He looked confused, but he did it; over the years, he had learned to listen to Penny when she sounded like this. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. I feel… cold, all of a sudden.”

“Well, that’s because you got the air set to—”

She held up a hand and he closed his mouth, beginning to feel unsettled himself. It was cold in here. Not air-conditioned cold, but real cold. It reached down into his bones and made his breath come out in clouds.

Suddenly, the truck jerked—a horrible rattling noise began to screech from the back of the vehicle.

“What’s that?” Penny asked sharply. “Ralph, what is that?”

“Muffler’s come loose again, probably,” Ralph said, pulling over carefully. He leaned into the back seat and grabbed a dusty roll of duct tape, then reached for the door handle—but Penny gripped his wrist.

“Don’t get out,” she said quietly, gazing around them.

“It’ll take me thirty seconds, Pen. Just a quick fix now and I’ll take a real look when we’re home,” he said, matching her volume. “What’s the matter?” he asked again. His cigarette dangled, forgotten, from his fingers, ash occasionally falling to the worn floor of the truck.

“Just stay in here,” Penny whispered. “Stay with me.”

They both jumped, and a quick yelp escaped from Penny, at the sight of someone standing outside her window.

It was a young, broad-shouldered man with a full head of thick black hair and a strong jaw. He wore a bright blue mask that stood out starkly in the waning sunlight, and he gave them a charming grin.

“How’s it going, folks?”

Ralph furrowed his brow, then put on a polite smile. “How ya doin?” He gestured for Penny to roll down the window and she did, an inch or two. Oddly, the warm air outside didn’t make its way in. The truck’s interior was still starkly cold.

“I heard a little something coming from the back of your truck,” the young man said. “You want me to take a look?”

“No, that’s…” Penny trailed off, and they watched the young man take a few bouncy steps around the truck. He knelt down, out of sight of their mirrors, and Ralph reached for the door handle again.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Penny whisper-yelled, eyes like dinner plates.

“He might need some help,” Ralph said with a shrug.

“He’s wearing a mask!”

“I’ve seen him before on the news,” Ralph said. “I think he used to work for Batman.”

“What’s he doing in Sweetcorn, Nebraska, Ralph?!”

“Whoa,” the young man called. “Hey, sir, you might wanna take a look at this.”

Ralph’s hand hovered on the door handle; there was a slight tremor in his fingers as he stared at his wife. Her eyes were wide, her lips were thin, and she begged him silently to listen.

He nodded.

The car jerked a little as Ralph shifted too quickly into first gear—he recovered and began to pull back onto the road, speeding up as quickly as he could.

“Go faster, Ralphie.”

“I’m trying—”

The car stopped completely and they both slammed forward, their seatbelts digging into their necks.

Then, slowly, some kind of vast shadow seemed to surround them—the temperature dropped further—and the truck began to drag itself back to where it had been, the tires skidding and bouncing on the cracked asphalt. Penny’s breath came in great waves and she gripped the handle above her window tightly, her knuckles white.

“Ralph,” she cried, groping in the dark for him—he took her hand.

“Gonna be okay, Pen.”

“Raven, be careful,” Dick said, watching the truck return to the side of the road. “They actually seemed pretty normal.”

She said nothing, and he couldn’t see her face clearly; she had put her cloak on while she’d been hiding in the corn. Her eyes glowed white from the shadows of her hood.

The rest of the team were out in the open now and they heard yelling from inside the truck; the pit in Dick’s stomach deepened as he became more and more convinced that the couple in the car were innocent and unlucky.

When the truck was back in the right place, Dick walked back around to the passenger’s side, his face set and grim.

Ralph reached over Penny and rolled the window down completely. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Look at my wife—she’s terrified!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we need to ask you a few questions.”

“And you thought this was the way to start?! Christ, you’re a goddamn imbecile, aren’t you!”

“We’re looking for someone,” Raven said quietly—at the sound of her voice, both people in the truck fell silent.

Victor shifted on his feet, glancing between Raven and the couple. He tried to smile. “What are y’all’s names?”

The man looked at him warily. “I’m Ralph. This is my wife, Penny.”

Penny nodded tensely.

“We’re the Titans,” Victor said. “Y’all can call me Cyborg. This is Nightwing, Starfire, and Raven.”

Ralph and Penny stared at Raven; Penny held her seatbelt away from her neck and took a deep breath.

“Our friend is green,” Starfire piped up. “Please, have you seen him?”

“There’s no one green around here,” Ralph said, still looking at Raven. “Why are her eyes like that?”

“Do you live in this area?” Dick asked, and Ralph nodded.

“Down the road about thirty miles or so in Silo. That’s Missouri.”

“Ralph,” Penny chided quietly, her eyes wide—he shrugged innocently.

“Is that where you’re headed now?”

They nodded.

“Okay,” Dick said, “and where are you coming from?”

Ralph looked at Penny helplessly. “We were—”

“Ralph—”

“We were visiting our daughter—I’m sorry, Penny, she’s freakin’ me out!”

Raven continued to stare at them, her eyes glowing white. The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk.

“Just ignore her,” Victor told them, his smile tightening.

“Hard to do, big guy,” Ralph said, feeling his breast pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Go ahead.”

Ralph’s fingers shook as he lit a new cigarette, took in a drag, and coughed it back out.

Dick turned away from the couple and leaned into Raven. “Could you stop the whole intimidation thing for like, ten fucking seconds? You’re not helping.”

She looked up at him, her face blank. “What intimidation thing?”

He rolled his eyes. “Just… stop glowing. Can you do that?”

After a moment, she nodded reluctantly… but it seemed to take a few tries. Her eyes flickered for a couple seconds before returning to normal.

“How often do y’all visit your daughter?” Victor asked.

Ralph tilted his shoulders back and forth. “Oh, maybe once, twice a week.”

“And you have not seen anyone or anything unusual on this road?” Starfire asked.

“No,” Penny snapped. “Please just let us go. Ralph, let’s go.”

Raven straightened up. “Hold on, Penny. You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”

“No,” Penny said. “Never.”

“She’s lying,” Raven murmured.

Dick nodded. “Okay, could you both step out of the vehicle, please?”

“We don’t have to do that, Ralph,” Penny assured him. “They’re not the police.”

“Well, that’s true, ma’am, but—”

The truck’s doors flew open; Ralph and Penny’s seat belts unbuckled themselves and slithered away. The woman toppled forward to the rocky, uneven ground—a surprised shriek escaped her mouth, but just before she hit the earth, cold blackness surrounded her and lifted her up. She finally came to a halt facing the Titans, her back pressed to the metal of the aged vehicle, which was still warm from the sinking sun. Her breath was ragged.

Ralph leapt out of the truck in a rage, storming around the hood toward Dick. “What the hell is wrong with you? She has a bad heart! Leave her be!”

“Sir, if you could just stay calm—”

Ralph’s feet lost purchase on the cracked blacktop and he found himself next to his wife, unable to move a muscle. His entire body was enveloped in frozen blackness.

Raven slowly came closer, holding a hand up to keep the couple in place.

“Raven, back off. They’re not dangerous,” Dick urged.

“What have you seen?” she asked softly. Penny’s eyes widened.

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie.”

“If she says she seen nothing, then she’s telling the truth,” Ralph said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Raven, perhaps we are being too hasty,” Starfire tried; Raven ignored her.

She was almost close enough to touch her now; her fingers were inches away from the woman’s terrified face. “Tell me, or I’ll pull it out of you. It’s your choice.”

“That’s enough,” Dick said. “You don’t have to scare them.”

“What the hell is she?!” Ralph demanded. “You’re supposed to be the good guys!”

“Please, sir, we are,” Starfire tried. “Raven is—not herself right now—”

The air around them seemed to go still, then hum; the hair on Dick’s neck stood up.

Raven shook her head. Her eyes shone white, her face an unfeeling mask as she looked at them all. “Yes, I am.”

Slowly, almost gently, she touched Penny’s face; the woman’s chest heaved with panic, but she kept still like she was under a dentist's drill.

“It’s okay, Penny,” Raven soothed. “Show me.”

Penny’s eyes fluttered.

“Stop it! Stop her!” Ralph begged, struggling uselessly against the black energy.

Dick tried to move, but found himself unable to take a step—the cold kept him rooted in place. Slowly, as though in a dream, he looked over at Victor and Starfire and saw that they were both encased in darkness, both with blank, shocked expressions on their faces; distantly, he thought he must look the same.

Ralph struggled uselessly to break free.

“Please don’t hurt her,” he sobbed. “Please, don’t…”

Raven was unbothered. The glow of her eyes grew brighter, like a surging light bulb; Penny’s entire body began to tremble.

“Raven, stop.” Dick’s voice sounded muffled, like it was coming from the other side of a heavy door. Anger and panic lit up his chest and he took a difficult, halting step forward—it was like walking through quicksand. “Raven, STOP!”

She looked at him coldly, and he was expecting a flash of crimson… but it was her. There was a clarity in her eyes he hadn’t seen since she had come back from Wyoming. He knew that the demon would never be truly gone, but it wasn’t the one in charge right now. This was Raven.

“She saw him and she lied about it,” she said softly. “You want me to stop? Fuck you.” She jerked her wrist, and webs of dark energy roped themselves around him and pulled him down to the dry earth, tightening until he could scarcely breathe, let alone speak. Try as he might, he had no hope of breaking free.

All he could see now was darkness, bleeding into the sky above him.

He heard Victor and Starfire struggle against Raven’s hold on them, he heard Ralph’s trembling sobs. He heard Raven and Penny, their breath steady and slow as though they were both asleep. He listened. He lost track of how long.

Then, suddenly, Raven heaved a rattling gasp, as though she had been about to drown—her eyes sprang open. Penny came up slowly, and they looked at each other, neither of them blinking.

“Stop it,” Raven whispered.

“You’re afraid,” Penny breathed. “You’re afraid you don’t deserve it.”

Raven clenched her fists hard enough to cut small crescents into her palms. “Stop talking,” she said, stumbling backward.

“Everyone deserves it, Raven,” Penny said softly.

The white of Raven’s eyes flickered red—then white again. She buried her face in her palms and let out a harsh breath. “That’s enough.”

“Penny, listen to her,” Ralph urged.

Dick felt the frozen bindings slowly melt away from his body and gulped in a breath; he scrambled to his feet and saw, to his surprise, that Victor and Starfire were also free of their bonds.

“Raven, take a step back,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Leave her alone.”

“I’m trying, but she—she’s—”

She felt Penny’s presence in the back of her mind, wandering like a child, rifling carelessly through her thoughts and memories like pages in a book… and she wasn’t sure Penny knew how to stop. A familiar warmth blossomed behind her eyes and red light pooled on the ground wherever she looked, she looked anywhere but at Penny, she felt anger and sorrow course through her veins like electricity, she wanted to kill, she just wanted it all to stop—

With all her might, she severed the tie between them and hurled Penny out of her mind—the force of it was almost visible, like heat rising off a black road. It rushed at the woman and hit her soundlessly. No one else saw it but the two of them.

Penny gasped softly; a small bead of blood trickled out of her nose. She blinked once, slowly, then slid down the side of the truck and fell to the ground, unmoving.

Raven stared at her.

For a moment, nobody moved.

“What did you do?” Ralph asked in a small voice. “Is she okay?”

Dick knelt down and felt her wrist. “There’s a pulse. It’s faint.” He glanced up at Raven, his face unreadable, then turned to Victor.

“Cyborg, scan her,” he said quietly.

Ralph watched Victor scan Penny with his mechanical eye. He hadn’t even noticed that he was on his feet again, Raven’s hold on him long gone. He gazed down at his wife, eyes wide, hands limp at his sides. “What did you do to her?”

Victor checked the panel in his arm. “Aneurysm. She needs to get to a hospital.”

Ralph stiffened. “The closest one is forty miles,” he said. He looked down at his wife. Tilted his head. His breath came faster. “Penny?”

A part of her—the part she hated—was glad. It peered down at Penny through Raven’s eyes and chuckled quietly in the corner of her mind, and she had to stop its smile from creeping onto her face.

The woman will die. She looked into your mind and it broke her… Why not take the husband too?

She glanced at Ralph, who was still motionless, occasionally whispering his wife’s name while Dick and Victor did what they could to help. Her muscles burned, buzzed with want. Her hands ached with pulsing power. Her eyes flickered red. It would be so easy.

It would be so easy.

She closed her eyes. Her breath was slow and loud in her ears. Her heart pounded steadily in her chest. Her jaw was rigid.

Then she knelt down next to Penny and laid a glowing hand on her forehead.

“Don’t touch her! Get away from her!”

Ralph started toward Raven but Dick blocked his way, holding up his hands placatingly. “Sir, it’s alright. Raven is healing her.”

“Yes—yes, worry not,” Starfire agreed, taking a trembling hand away from her mouth to lay it over her own chest and steady her breathing.

“Worry not?! Her healing looks a hell of a lot like that other shit she was doing!”

For a moment, Dick had to agree; he glanced down at his friend uncertainly. “Your wife will be okay, just… give her a minute.”

“What the hell is she?!” Ralph demanded again—he took an involuntary step backward when Raven glanced up at him.

She took her hand off of Penny’s forehead, laid it on her chest briefly, then retreated into the growing shadows; the woman’s eyes fluttered open. Her husband slowly came into focus and she gave him a faint smile. Her voice sounded distant. “Ralphie?”

Ralph fell to his knees and took Penny into his arms, rocking her back and forth, his cheeks wet with tears. “I’m here, Pen. Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I think so. I’m just a little tired.”

“Let’s get you to the hospital, okay? Can you get up?”

“There’s no need,” Raven said quietly. “She’s fine.”

“She’s right, Ralph, I feel good,” Penny agreed.

Ralph wasn’t convinced. He looked at Victor, his eyes still shining. “Could you… y’know, check her again?”

Victor nodded and scanned Penny slowly, then frowned. He looked at the diagnostics on his arm panel. “You said she had heart problems?”

“She’s got a murmur,” Ralph said. “She had a heart attack last year.”

Penny watched Victor’s face intently. “It’s all gone, isn’t it?” she asked, although it didn’t sound like a question.

Victor nodded, his eyebrows knit. “No sign of a murmur… no evidence of cardiac arrest.”

“What about her brain?” Ralph asked, squeezing his wife’s hand. “The aneurysm?”

“Nothin’. She’s good to go.”

Penny beamed and, after a moment of shock, Ralph joined her, hugging her tightly.

“I guess she did heal ya!”

Dick looked around and found Raven a short distance away, standing with her arms crossed tightly over herself.

Behind him, Victor made short work of the broken muffler on Ralph and Penny’s truck; Starfire set about picking rubble and bits of dry grass out of Penny’s greying hair.

Dick approached Raven silently; she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he came to a stop next to her.

“I don’t need a lecture,” she said finally.

He shook his head curtly. “It can wait.”

They watched the others help Ralph and Penny for a while before Dick spoke again. His eyes were trained on the couple. His voice was low; his lips barely moved. “Did you get what you needed?”

Raven looked at him. She nodded.

Neither of them moved. After a moment that seemed to stretch into forever, Dick cleared his throat.

“So. Where is Gar?”

Chapter Text

“Grandma, look at this one!”

Raven watched them on the rocky beach; the water around them was crisp and clear, and schools of tiny fish darted around in the shallows. The little girl dug her feet into the bank and smiled at the sensation of the refreshing cold while the sun peppered more freckles onto her shoulders. She held up a small stone for the woman, who took it delicately into her palm and inspected it in the sunlight.

“Is it an agate?” the little girl asked eagerly.

Her grandmother smiled at her over her glasses. “No, honey, this is beach glass. It used to be part of a bottle or something like that, but then the bottle broke—”

“How did it break?”

“I’m not sure,” Penny smiled. “But then it tumbled around in the water for years and years until all the sharp edges wore away and it was nice and smooth, and then it waited for you to find it.”

“Me?”

Penny nodded.

“Wow,” the girl said, taking it back; she hesitated, then stuffed it into the pocket of her shorts.

“See, this one,” Penny said, picking up a reddish stone, “this one is agate. Can you see the little stripes?”

She watched Grace hold the stone up so close to her face that the girl’s eyes crossed, and Penny grinned.

“Yeah,” Grace said. “Okay, I’ll keep looking.”

“I will too,” Penny agreed.

“And look for more beach glass, too, Grandma.”

Raven swallowed as she watched the scene play out, watched the girl’s eyes sparkle as she scanned the beach, watched Penny watch Grace. There was a cozy sort of stillness in the air, a reverence, and it radiated around the two of them like warmth from a cup of tea. It made Raven’s heart hurt.

Penny stilled, then paused her search for a moment and met Raven’s eyes calmly. She gave her a small smile, then turned her attention back to the small stretch of lake shore as though nothing had happened.

Raven knit her eyebrows, glancing around to see if Penny was just looking at something near her—in all the memories she had peered into, nobody had ever peered back. But there was no one around; Penny had been looking straight at her.

“Hey, lookit, Grandma, a shell!”

Penny’s smile was always there, always so ready to come out for her granddaughter, and she beamed as she admired Grace’s new find.

“What do you think it is?” Grace asked.

Penny tilted her shoulders this way and that while she thought. “I think it was a snail.”

“Ew!”

Penny held it closer to Grace and shook her head excitedly. “No, it’s gorgeous! Do you see that spiral? That’s called a Fibonacci spiral.”

“What’s a Fibonacci?”

Before Penny could answer, a groan in the distance made her skin ripple with goosebumps. Immediately, she ducked low to the ground and brought Grace down with her.

Raven whirled around to look for the source, but saw nothing.

“What was that?” Grace asked—Penny laid a hand over her mouth.

Another groan—it was pained, like it wanted so badly to be a scream but couldn’t muster the energy.

“Gar,” Raven breathed—Penny glanced up at her and Raven took a shocked step back from the woman, her eyes widening.

“Stay down, Gracie, don’t move,” Penny whispered. Slowly, she raised herself up to look for the source of the sound; up the sloping beach, in the verdant woodland on the other side of the chapped country road, there were two men. They half-carried, half-dragged a third; it was hard to see from this distance, but his skin looked green. His head lolled from side to side as they carried him over the uneven ground, and he wore a tattered tee shirt and shorts—the tee shirt had once been white, but was now stained dark with blood and dirt.

Raven’s muscles tensed to run after him, her heart pounded as she watched him—she wanted to help, to save him, but she couldn’t. This was only a memory. All she could do was watch.

Gar’s voice came out in a weak mumble; he barely sounded like himself. “You guys don’t seem like such bad guys, y’know… you don’t have to do this… I just wanna go home, I just want…” He trailed off. His eyes fluttered.

The two men didn’t respond. One was tall; one was short. The short one stumbled slightly over a tree root and Gar howled in pain as his injured body twisted the wrong way—the tall one swore loudly.

“Fuckin’ idiot! You want him to go into shock or some shit?!”

“He’s fine, he’s just a big fuckin’ baby,” the short one said. He gave Gar a few quick slaps on the cheek, and Gar’s eyelids fluttered again. His head hung limp from his shoulders.

“He’s gonna be a dud. No way he’ll survive. Lost too much blood.”

“He woulda been fine if those kids didn’t fuckin’ shoot him,” the short one argued. Then he shrugged. “Not our problem. We got him here.”

The tall one wrinkled his nose. “Why’s he green?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

Grace stirred, eager to watch what was happening, but Penny shook her head silently.

“Alright, here it is,” the tall one said. Raven and Penny followed his gaze to the right; at first glance, there was only more dense forest, but a closer look revealed a low, concrete structure built into the hillside. The front door was covered with decades of graffiti, but underneath it all was a weathered radiation symbol.

The short one glanced around. “Do they know we’re here?”

As though on cue, the door opened, revealing only impenetrable darkness within.

Gar heard the creaking hinge and snapped awake, beginning to struggle against his captors' hold, and he was surprisingly strong for his condition—he threw the short one to the ground with a snarl. The tall one’s eyes lit up with fear.

“Stop him.”

The voice came from inside the door; after some hesitation, the tall one punched Gar in the stomach, and Gar grunted with pain and collapsed—he held his stomach with shaking hands as fresh blood poured over his fingers.

Raven watched helplessly as silent tears spilled down her cheeks. She tilted her head when she noticed that Gar seemed to have a blinking collar around his neck—the small lights suddenly turned red and he writhed on the ground, his screams splitting the humid summer air.

“Get him inside,” the voice said from the darkness.

The short one scrambled up and helped the tall one drag Gar to his feet; for just a moment, before he began to stumble toward the door, Gar looked across the road.

His eyes met Penny’s.

She went totally still, unable to look away.

Raven thought she must be imagining things, because it looked like Gar managed to give Penny a small, polite smile… then his eyes closed, and his body went limp.

Without a word, the men dragged him inside and shut the door with a loud, hollow thud.

Penny ducked back down again, trying to steady her breath. She knew that Grace was watching her.

“We need to get out of here, honey.”

“Grandma, I think that was a Titan,” Grace whispered. “His skin was green?”

Penny nodded.

“That’s Changeling. Violet said that her mom said he’s missing and it’s in the news, and everyone’s looking for him. We have to call the police, they can—”

“Grace, those men are dangerous, and we don’t know if their cameras saw us. We need to leave, and we can’t tell anyone what we just saw. Do you understand?”

“But maybe we can—”

“No. They could find us—they could find you, and I’m not risking that. Gracie, promise me you won’t tell a soul.”

Grace gazed at her, wide-eyed. “Not even Grandpa?”

“Not even Grandpa, honey,” Penny breathed. She laid a hand on her chest and let out a shaky breath.

Grace looked down at the stones she had collected, a troubled expression on her face. Her bare feet were still buried in the water, but they now felt unbearably cold; she pulled them close and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Okay. I promise.”

Once again, Penny looked at Raven, and now her eyes were welling with tears. “Please, don’t be angry.”

***

It was fully dark now. Forested hills rose up around them like dark, crouching beasts, and mossy trees reached into the night sky, blotting out the thin shard of moon.

The forest floor was littered with fallen pine needles and thick tree roots, and Raven moved forward on unsteady feet, her eyes trained on the ground. Dick was in front of her, Starfire behind her, and Victor brought up the rear, occasionally glancing at the panel in his arm.

“Should be there pretty soon,” he murmured in the darkness. “If Rae’s coordinates are correct.”

“They are.”

A stick cracked near them and Dick held up a fist—they all froze in place at the signal, but Raven soon relaxed.

“It’s a deer,” she said. “Just keep going.”

“You are certain?”

“I can smell it.”

Dick nodded and they moved forward again, and the ground grew more uneven, and the smells swirled around in Raven’s mind… and slowly, a different sight filled her vision, like film reels being switched out.

The smell. The smell was awful. Mold and rust and crumbling cement. And the sound came after, the screaming, and he knew that voice, he knew it, but it sounded different. It sounded new. It sounded like it had forgotten everything and everyone it had ever known.

The pain was next. Deeper pain than he had ever felt, pulsing with each heartbeat, singing. It came from his middle, near his spine, and it reached all the way down to his toes. All the way up to his eyes. Leather straps were bound too tightly around his wrists and ankles, but the discomfort was nothing compared to everything else.

There was a different kind of pain in his neck… slicing, stabbing. A bright light hung above his head and he stared into it, it was round like the moon, and the voice kept screaming, and he started shouting at it to shut up, just SHUT UP, and his neck sliced and burned, and he closed his mouth to stop himself from screaming like that other person, that stranger who wasn’t a stranger…

“Raven!”

She gasped and sat up; her friends huddled close.

“Raven, friend, what happened?”

“What did you see?” Dick asked lowly.

Raven struggled to her feet and the others followed her, watching her intently.

“We’re getting close,” she murmured. “We must be.”

“We are,” Victor said, scanning the landscape with his mechanical eye. “There’s a motion sensor about thirty feet ahead. We haven’t tripped it yet.”

Starfire frowned in thought. “Perhaps we should approach from the air?”

Dick shook his head, nibbling on his lip absently. “Better to use the forest for cover. Cyborg can see the enemy tech, so he can lead.”

Victor nodded and headed to the front of the group, giving the motion sensor a wide berth as he led them through the trees.

“Stop,” Raven whispered—everyone obeyed, gazing at her in the darkness. She listened intently and probed the area with her powers, but felt only the small animals skittering across the forest floor. She took in a breath, and a strange scent made her hair stand on end.

“Gar was here. I can smell his blood.”

“Can you track the scent?” Dick asked, and she nodded vaguely.

“Is the trail of blood… quite big?” Starfire asked, as though she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“It’s not quite small,” Raven grimaced. “But it’ll be easy to follow. Come on.”

After another half hour of hiking through the darkness, Raven stumbled to a stop.

Dick frowned. “What is it?”

“They hurt him here,” she said. “There’s a lot of blood.”

“That must mean he was still fighting valiantly,” Starfire said gently, laying a hand on Raven’s shoulder. Raven tensed at the contact, but didn’t move away.

“There’s a huge structure built into the hillside,” Victor murmured. “It’s gotta be the place.”

Raven nodded. “It’s an old nuclear shelter. Penny saw them take him inside.”

“Any signs of life?”

Raven and Victor searched for the answer in their own separate ways; Raven knit her eyebrows.

“Yes,” she said uncertainly, then paused. Shook her head. “No.”

“I can detect at least one heartbeat,” Victor said. “Maybe more once we bust in. Those walls are too thick to be sure.”

“Then let us do the busting and find out,” Starfire said grimly, approaching the door to the shelter. Just like in Penny’s memory, countless layers of graffiti covered it, and the radiation symbol was barely visible underneath. Their faces glowed green as Starfire easily melted the bolt on the door.

“Careful going in,” Dick muttered, putting himself in front of her without thinking. “Cyborg, scan for explosives.”

Victor’s mechanical eye glowed red for a moment, then he shook his head. “Clear.”

Dick frowned. “Something’s off. Stay alert.” Slowly, he turned the handle and pushed… the door creaked, and the sound echoed through the cavernous concrete room behind it.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Raven’s nose crinkled at the smell of the place; local teenagers had obviously been sneaking in here for generations, leaving decades of liquor bottles and beer cans; various animals had made the shelter their home over the years; there were rotting leaves, decaying bags of ancient fast food. A sleeping bag lay in a heap in the corner, long abandoned by its owner.

“The shelter appears empty,” Starfire observed timidly, watching Raven’s face; Raven said nothing.

She hadn’t realized how much hope she had put in this place, but now it was all collapsing inside her. She probed the space with her powers but felt nothing substantial, and any presence she did feel was obviously wishful thinking, or the remnants of what had happened here—because Gar had been here, she was certain of it. She’d seen him through Penny’s eyes. And now he was gone.

She felt despair rise up… and then she pushed it back down. The crouching thing in the back of her mind stirred.

“What about that heartbeat you detected, Cyborg?”

“It’s still here,” Victor frowned. His eye glowed red again and he scanned the space slowly, then froze. The others followed his gaze to the sleeping bag in the corner. “Shit, man, someone’s over there.”

Raven stared at it, then sent out a feeler with her mind; whoever was in the sleeping bag was not alive. They weren’t dead, either.

Dick walked carefully to the corner, eyes flitting about the room for potential secret entrances, traps, weapons, but he could find nothing.

“Could be just a local,” Victor whispered. His eyes were glued to the back of Raven’s hood, just like Starfire’s.

Ten feet remained between them and the person in the sleeping bag. Dick slowed to a stop.

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

The heap didn’t move.

“Can you hear me?” Dick tried, with no response. “If you can hear me, please come out of there and show your face.”

Starfire stepped forward. “Please, we do not wish to—”

The sleeping bag twitched. Starfire’s hand covered her mouth, eyes wide.

“Raven, don’t—”

She was already kneeling down beside the heap, searching for the bag’s opening; they watched as she pulled the dilapidated fabric back—when she saw the occupant’s face, she stopped moving.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Shit,” Victor managed. “Holy shit…”

Dick rushed to Raven’s side and started to unzip the rest of the sleeping bag, his eyes wide under his mask.

“Herald,” Dick said. “Herald, can you hear me?”

Raven continued to stare, motionless, her eyes glazed and blank.

The film reels switched again.

The heavy metal door creaked open on rusted hinges and a man stepped through, thin and gaunt with burning blue eyes and cracked, pale lips that pulled themselves into a smile. A mossy brown beard crept down his neck.

“Garfield, it’s an honor to meet you,” he said warmly. His teeth were dull and yellow.

Gar looked at him, keeping his face as neutral as he could. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“I’ll try my hardest not to,” he chuckled. “My name is Dr. Jonathan Crane. I’m here to help you.”

“Oh, nah, I’m good,” Gar said lightly. “You can let me go, actually. I don’t need any help.”

“You don’t think you do right now, but that will change very soon.”

“Nope, I’m pretty sure,” Gar said, flinching against his will when Crane took a step closer; in the distance, the screaming momentarily paused before continuing even louder than before. “Who is that?” Gar asked quietly.

Crane tilted his head and listened to the screams for a moment. His blue eyes seemed to grow brighter. Then his smile returned. “How are you feeling?” he asked; there seemed to be a genuine sort of kindness in his voice, and it made Gar’s skin crawl. “I’m sorry you were injured on the journey.”

Subconsciously, Gar breathed in; he couldn’t detect a lie in Crane’s words, and yet he knew he had to be lying. Anger flared in his chest, and he rolled his eyes. “Is there a real doctor around who can fix me up?”

Annoyance passed over Crane’s face, but he maintained a bland smile. “I stopped the bleeding and sutured the entry wound. That’s the best I can do for now, unfortunately.”

“Actually, the best you can do is to get me to a hospital,” Gar said.

Crane smiled. “Where you’re going, you won’t need hospitals.”

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna kill me.”

“I said I would try my hardest.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

Crane broke into laughter. “Garfield… can I call you Gar?”

“No.”

“Well, how about this—you can call me Jonathan.”

“I won’t.”

Crane’s smile tightened. “You don’t have to worry,” he said gently. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

“Like what?”

Crane was about to answer when Gar transformed one arm into a long tentacle and whipped it around the doctor’s neck, squeezing tightly. For a moment, there was no sound at all—Crane’s blue eyes bulged, he fell to his knees—then the lights on Gar’s collar blazed red and he shrieked in pain, letting the doctor go. Crane got to his feet, smiled, and held up a small remote in his hand, but he let the screams continue for a few moments before finally pushing a button and letting the pain cease.

Gar’s chest heaved—his eyes watered with pain and the tears spilled down his cheeks and he yearned to wipe them away, to get rid of them, but Crane was buckling the leather around his freed wrist again, wrenching it tighter than before. It gave Gar a small amount of satisfaction to listen to Crane’s whistling breaths.

Disgust clouded his face as Crane’s fingers fluttered across the inside of his elbow, but they were gone in an instant.

Then Crane sighed and took a step back. He met Gar’s eyes steadily. “You can’t do that again. You have to behave.”

“Fuck you, dude.”

“You’re lashing out because you’re scared,” Crane said sagely. “But you shouldn’t be, Garfield. Trust me.”

Gar almost laughed, but the slicing pain in his neck had worsened. He could scarcely move.

“I will fight until you kill me,” he breathed. Another tear rolled down his cheek.

“You won’t want to,” Crane said quietly, taking a step closer. He pointed to the ceiling, and Gar heard the stranger’s screams once again. “He said the same thing. And now… listen.”

Gar realized now that the screams weren’t just screams; they were punctuated with peeling, heady laughter. He stared at the ceiling with wide, terrified eyes.

His voice was small. “What did you do to him?”

He gasped as the prick of a needle entered his arm, expertly piercing the vein on the inside of his elbow.

He heard Jonathan Crane’s voice, fading away as the world became muffled.

“Nothing he didn’t want.”

Chapter Text

“Herald, can you hear me? Malcom?”

Raven blinked and gazed at the pandemonium that surrounded her… then her eyes drifted down to the face of Herald. Malcom Duncan. And she couldn’t look away, even when Victor landed on his knees next to her and crowded her out in his attempt to administer first aid. She gave him space, retreating a few feet, and stared at the man unmoving on the ground, gazing at the ceiling. Drool seeped out of his mouth and down his cheek, eventually disappearing into his thick hair. The whites of his eyes were gone; the color of blood filled them, and the skin around his eyes was pockmarked with tiny red dots, so densely packed that it almost looked like he was wearing a red mask. A blank, unfeeling smile was on his face. Most of his teeth were broken.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Victor murmured, scanning Herald’s body hurriedly.

Nothing he didn’t want.

“He’s alive,” Dick said. “That’s what matters. We need to get him to a hospital. Raven, we could use you over here.”

She stayed frozen in place, panic boiling beneath the surface, the sting of the needle still fading in her own arm—Jonathan Crane’s cold blue eyes were imprinted on her vision like the sun.

I will fight until you kill me.

Victor checked the panel in his arm and knit his eyebrows. “Jesus. Two broken ribs; one of them punctured a lung… A lot of nerve damage, mostly to the brainstem. Whatever they gave him, it was potent.”

Nothing he didn’t want—

Artificial calm flooded her body, replacing the fear and dread the memory had brought on, and the crouching thing in the back of her mind grinned. Slowly, Raven’s face smoothed over like a stone.

Dick gazed down at their fellow Titan, grateful that his mask covered up the fear in his eyes. “Vic, take a blood sample. We’ll isolate the compound when we get home.” His voice was rushed. Quiet.

Victor nodded and took a blood sample from Herald’s arm, then stored it in a small compartment within the machinery of his prosthetic shoulder. He frowned at the skin of Herald’s inner arm; it was littered with older, discolored needle marks.

“How long since he was taken?”

Dick followed his gaze and looked at Herald’s damaged skin expressionlessly. “Four days.”

They glanced at each other without a word… then Dick cleared his throat. “Raven. I said we need you.”

She got to her feet and drew closer to them, but kept her distance. Her eyes were still fixed on Herald’s hollow smile.

After a moment, Dick glanced up at her sharply. “Great, now that you’re here, can you give us a hand?”

Raven didn’t move.

Starfire stepped closer. “Please, Raven, there may still be time to—”

“He can’t be helped. He’s gone.”

“You don’t know that,” Victor said, his voice hard. “I’m getting real fuckin’ sick of this defeatist shit you got goin’ on. It got old a long time ago, Rae.”

“I’m not being defeatist,” Raven said quietly. “I’m telling you the truth. Malcom Duncan is gone. You can take him to a hospital and fix his body, but his mind is broken.”

“But why would they leave him in such a state? And where is Garfield?” Starfire demanded—her eyes flickered green, and she rounded on Raven. “Where is our friend?!”

“I’m trying to figure that out.”

“But you must know! You must! You said he was here!”

“He was,” Raven muttered. “I saw him.”

“What good are your visions if we are always one step behind our enemies?” Starfire stormed closer and desperately gripped the collar of Raven’s robe. Rage colored her sweet features. “Why can we not find him?!”

“Take your hands off of me,” Raven said. She looked up into her friend’s eyes calmly, her face still a blank mask.

Starfire blinked, apprehension replacing anger. Slowly, she relinquished her grip and stepped away, but kept her eyes on Raven.

“Listen, Starfire, we’ll find Gar, but we need to get Mal to a hospital ASAP,” Victor said. “He’s weak. He’s not gonna make it if we don’t get him outta here.”

“By the time we get him out of here, Garfield will be even further out of reach,” Starfire sighed.

“What are you suggesting we do, Starfire?” Raven asked quietly.

Starfire faltered. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them away stubbornly. “Perhaps we should separate,” she suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Dick said flatly, standing up. “Out of the question.”

She held his gaze. “If we wish to save the Herald and find Garfield, I do not see any alternative. We are running out of time.”

Dick pursed his lips. Turned to Raven. “Is he close? Can you feel him?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “He has to be.”

“Can you locate him exactly?”

“I’ve been… falling into him,” she said uncertainly. “Seeing what he sees. He heard a laugh…” She pointed to the ceiling. “It was above him. He must have been in a basement or something.”

“Cyborg, scan for—”

“Already on it.” Victor’s eye was glowing red and he scanned the debris-covered floor of the shelter, then the concrete walls. Then, slowly, his scan brought him back to Herald, who was still grinning at nothing. “There’s a stairwell under him. He must be on top of a trapdoor.”

Suddenly, a peeling, screaming laughter tore out of Herald—they all jumped at the sudden noise echoing through the darkness. His eyes were manic, almost glowing, and his broken teeth sliced into his lips.

“It’s so beautiful,” he groaned, tears spilling down his cheeks, his breath coming hard and fast. “It’s so beautiful…”

“His heart rate is dangerously high,” Victor hurried. “He can’t survive this for long.”

Dick ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. “Okay. Cyborg, Starfire, get Herald out of here. Take him to the nearest hospital. Once you’re there, don’t let him out of your sight. We don’t know who we can trust. We’re going to find Gar and meet you there.”

Victor nodded along, but there was a troubled look in his eye. “What if Gar isn’t here, man?”

“We’re going to find Gar and meet you there,” Dick repeated quietly, emphasizing each word.

After a moment, Victor nodded. Starfire picked up Herald effortlessly in a fireman’s carry, then grabbed hold of Victor’s wrist and flew out the door in a blink.

Dick avoided Raven’s eyes, instead choosing to drag the ancient sleeping bag off the trapdoor, sending up a cloud of dust that made them both cough.

Then, the thick silence pressed in on their ears.

“This was too easy,” he muttered. “They left Malcom right on top of a trapdoor. They want us to go down there. They’re ready.”

“So are we,” Raven said.

Finally, Dick looked at her. “No matter what happens… don’t kill anybody.”

“Let’s go,” she said, moving toward the trapdoor—but Dick held her wrist.

“Raven.”

She glanced at his gloved hand, then looked at him calmly. “You can tell everyone you told me not to,” she said. “But what I do is my responsibility.”

“You said you didn’t need a lecture,” Dick argued.

She glared at him, annoyance flickering in her chest.

It would be so easy.

Raven blinked and took her wrist back quickly, then turned away, closing her eyes; she could feel the red glow rekindle inside them, the warmth of it, and she forced it back down. With a flick of her wrist, the trapdoor burst open.

They paused and listened, but heard only more silence.

“Stay together,” Dick said lowly, staring down the dark concrete shaft. “No matter what.”

She looked at him. Nodded.

He took a smoke bomb out of his belt and tossed it down the hole, then hopped in after it.

Raven gave him a second to step out of her way. Then she followed him into the black.

***

The lights were yellow halogens, constantly flickering. Moisture had been seeping into this place for decades and the concrete walls were crumbling around them—Dick was surprised the structure was still standing.

His face was covered in sweat and he swiped the back of his arm over his skin hurriedly, but it was no use. It was boiling down here.

“Which way?”

Raven glanced in both directions down the hall, then jerked her chin to the left. There was a subtle, almost unnoticeable decline in the floor as they moved further through the maze of tunnels, bringing them deeper beneath the earth with each step.

He could hear every drip of water, he could hear Raven’s calm, sure footsteps and slow breath in front of him, but he couldn’t hear anyone else down here. It seemed they were completely alone. The buzzing halogens clicked to life as they moved down the hall, then flickered and died as they drew further away, making it look as though they were inside a cloud of light surrounded by a dark sky. The darkness seemed to creep up behind them and retreat in front. Never quite touching them. Always too close.

“We should have seen someone by now,” Raven murmured. “A guard or something.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Stay alert.”

“Maybe they all left,” she said, although it didn’t sound like she really believed it.

Dick shook his head slowly. “They’re here. They’re just waiting.” The sweat was rolling down his face now, collecting on his chin and dripping to the floor. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t take a deep breath, and there was a familiar dull, vague ache at the base of his skull. Still, he wiped his face with his sleeve and kept going.

Raven glanced back at him. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine.” He looked both ways down the hall, but saw only the impenetrable darkness that surrounded them outside of their artificial sunlight. “This place is big. I’ve never heard of a fallout shelter this size.”

“It doesn’t matter how big it is. Crane can’t hide forever. Not from me.”

Dick watched the back of her head as they walked. “What does it feel like?” he asked quietly. “That… you know. That thing inside you.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “You’re asking this now?”

He blinked. “No. You’re right. We should focus.”

She came to another fork in the winding corridor and paused, then took a right; it was a long time before she spoke again. “It feels like… me,” she said quietly. “Like everything I hate about myself.”

“But it’s been helping you, right? During all this?” The back of his neck twitched; for just a moment, it almost felt like the darkness had touched him. He picked up his pace, still taking care to make his footsteps silent.

“Not helping, exactly. It’s just… usually, it’s like it’s in the back of the car, whispering, laughing…. But for now—just for now—it’s in the passenger seat. After Speedy, I felt like I was losing control. My emotions were getting too… big,” she said, unsatisfied with the word. “This thing inside me, it doesn’t have problems like that. It doesn’t care. Sometimes it’s easier to not care. It gets the job done.”

“Yeah,” Dick said quietly. “I know.”

They wound through the snaking corridors and the air around them grew hotter, until Dick’s black hair was slick with sweat. His heart pounded slow and hard in his chest. The lights were too bright, and the darkness loomed on either side, pressing in on them. In front of him, Raven continued on, unbothered.

“But it scares me, too,” she continued, after some time. “It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes between its thoughts and mine. It’s hard to tune it out. That voice, that… that laugh. And I end up hurting people. Like Penny. And Ralph.”

“But you didn’t hurt Ralph,” Dick reminded her.

“I wanted to.”

His mouth bent into a frown as he listened.

“It takes so much of me to control it, I sometimes wonder…” She shook her head slightly. “I wonder what kind of person I could be. What I could do. If I weren’t always like this.”

He knit his eyebrows. “Like what?”

“Just… surviving.”

“So… if you could get rid of it, live a normal life, would you do it?”

“Gar asked me something similar once,” she said softly. “A long time ago.”

He suddenly realized that his footsteps weren’t silent anymore—they were echoing up and down the hall. His feet moved jerkily, clumsily, almost stumbling over each other. With all his might, he tried to stay silent, but his heartbeat pulsed in his ears. The dull ache in the base of his skull grew brighter.

“Raven—wait,” he said sharply, coming to a halt—she did the same, turning to him in confusion. “Do you see that?”

She frowned. “What?”

Dick gazed over her shoulder, his eyes wide under his mask. “It’s coming toward us,” he breathed.

She whirled around, holding out her hand, ready for anything, but she saw nothing. “What is it?”

“The darkness. The… it’s… nothing. Nothing,” he whimpered. “Oh god…”

“Di—Nightwing, what’s wrong?”

In the distance, she heard the thunder of footsteps—Dick groaned and stumbled against the wall. His heart raced, his hands trembled.

“The dust,” he whispered, shoulders hunched. “It was the dust…”

Raven’s eyes widened. “Stay with me. Stay focused.”

“Raven, there’s nothing,” Dick said, his voice breaking. “There’s nothing, it’s all just black...”

The footsteps were getting closer—it was hard to tell how many. With the relentless echo, it sounded like dozens of people were rushing toward them. Hundreds.

Raven straightened up and felt that familiar glee in the back of her mind, the chuckle that was cold and ancient like a glacier, and for now, just for now, she was glad to hear it. Black, crackling power pulsed from her fingertips.

Dick’s voice was now a cracked scream; he slid down the wall and crumbled to the floor, clutching at his hair. “Raven, it’s coming, the darkness is coming—”

An endless sea of people rounded the corners at either end of the hallway, closing them in—Raven closed a fist and the first few rows crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Unbothered, the rest climbed and stumbled over the unmoving bodies—the crack of bones met Raven’s ears as heavy boots trampled and crushed motionless limbs.

Power flared around her and more people went down—she was struck by the lack of expression on their faces, and she realized that she hadn’t felt their presence at all, not even now—according to her abilities, she and Dick were alone in this hallway, and the chasm between her senses and her power made her dizzy. The mound of bodies was growing but the river of people was endless, and they were getting closer, reaching for her—Dick cowered and trembled, out of his mind with artificial fear—

With a frustrated shriek, she closed them in. She and Dick were alone, but on the other side of the black forcefield she could see more people pushing in, clawing at them. She knew the barrier couldn’t hold for long.

She knelt down next to Dick, whose breath was ragged, and she took off his mask gently, aware that nobody could see them inside the black forcefield. His eyes had rolled and only the whites were visible, his face was shining with sweat, his lips were pale. He mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?”

“Belt,” he breathed. With a clumsy hand he gestured to his hip, and Raven saw a few small glass syringes—while Dick ripped off his glove, she prized one from its slot. She pricked the needle into his wrist and watched the clear liquid drain into him, and his breath slowed. The color slowly returned to his face.

The walls of the forcefield shrank, buckling under the weight of all the bodies pressing into it.

“Jesus, they’re like zombies,” Dick breathed, his voice still weak.

“Can you stand?” she hurried, straining against the mindless barrage.

He nodded and got to his feet, swayed slightly, and righted himself. Fitted his mask back over his eyes. “Yeah… I’m good.”

“Okay. Get ready.”

“I’ll go left, you go right.”

She nodded—then, with all the strength she had, she pushed the walls of the forcefield outward, knocking the bodies back as far as she could—as soon as the black walls disappeared, they once again drew closer, their eyes dark, their faces blank.

Dick pulled out his escrima sticks; his limbs felt too heavy, and he was dizzy and lightheaded, but he began to strategically incapacitate the bodies coming at him—they did behave more like zombies than anything else, always absently moving forward no matter what was in their path, and no pain registered on their faces when they went down. There were people from all walks of life; some of them were wearing uniforms, but they had nothing to do with Scarecrow himself—nurses, police, construction workers, teenagers, elderly—all of them were just bodies. Whoever they had been was gone, at least for now. Just like Malcom.

Down the hall, Raven was taking away consciousness, binding particularly strong bodies to the floor—she felt something claw at her neck and wrenched herself away, something grabbed har arm and pulled, its nails digging into her flesh, and her eyes glowed white.

Once again, she pushed outward and sent the bodies flying away, but more came in an endless stream—it occurred to her that some of them were people she had already knocked down, easily revived and sent forward again.

Kill them. They’re nothing more than spent shells anyway.

Red flashed in her eyes but she shook her head—she kept sending them back, making them sleep—some of them dragged broken limbs behind them. Some of them were pulling themselves along the floor. One in particular, a teenager, had been trampled by the others and had lost an eye. Blood gushed from the crater but he continued on towards her, and the thing in her mind laughed at her—

Even when you’re trying not to hurt anyone. Look at what happens.

She let out a frustrated growl and pushed them back again—one of them grabbed her hair and pulled her along, and countless more hands began to tear at her robe. Long fingernails gouged into her legs; blank, bleeding faces loomed above her, looking at her and yet looking at nothing, always moving closer, until the light from the ceiling was blotted out—a pale, mangled hand reached for her neck.

She heard Dick utter a pained cry, his voice muffled underneath a pile of the bodies, and it occurred to her distantly, as the pale hand pressed into her throat, that they could die here, both of them, looking for someone who might already be beyond saving—

Her eyes blazed crimson.

“ENOUGH!”

Darkness raced down the hallway in both directions, enveloping everything, everyone, and finally there was stillness, there was quiet. All of the bodies were motionless.

For a moment she felt relief—then she raced down the hall looking for Dick.

He was facedown in a pile of them, and she turned him over—his body was limp, his hair hanging over his blue mask.

She patted his cheek gently. “Nightwing,” she said. He didn’t move.

She pressed her hand to his chest and sent a spark of white energy into him, and he gasped and sat up, almost hitting her forehead with his.

“Fucking hell, Raven—”

“I know, I’m sorry—”

“Do you know how much it fucking sucks to get knocked out by you? Fucking Christ,” he coughed. “Never fucking do that again, please.”

“I’ll try not to,” she said, helping him to his feet.

His eyes traveled over the bodies that surrounded them. Somewhere in the distance, dripping water made an echoing, musical sound. “How long will they be out?”

“I don’t know. Not long. We need to go.”

He nodded. “Every single one of these people needs medical attention,” he said quietly. He pulled out his communicator and pushed a singular button. Let out a sigh.

Then he began to sprint in the direction they’d been going, expertly finding tiny places to step on the damp floor that were free of the bodies; she flew to the edge of the sea of limbs and they were clear of them at roughly the same time.

They turned the corner.

The concrete in this hallway was black, crumbling, wet. The smell was just like she remembered.

Her eyes were drawn to a dense metal door at the end of the hallway, and she froze in place.

“Gar is in there,” she said blankly, almost not believing her own words.

“Then let’s go get him,” Dick said simply, but after a few steps forward he stopped and looked back at her. “What’s wrong?”

“What if he’s… gone? What if he’s like Herald?”

He turned around and laid his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Raven, that’s not going to happen. He’ll be okay. He’ll be happy to see you. It’ll be like he was never gone.”

The lie was a burning aura around him.

“Okay,” she said, after a moment. “You’re right. Let’s go get him.”

***

The dense metal door creaked ominously, then broke off its hinges with a controlled crack; there were two people inside, but neither of them flinched as the door swung forward and clattered to the floor. One of them, who watched the door fall bemusedly, was a man with sunken blue eyes. His teeth were a dull yellow, just like Raven had seen, but his mossy beard was gone. He was clean-shaven, and his greasy hair was slicked back in an attempt to look presentable.

The second person who was unaffected by the falling door was Garfield Logan, whose wrists and ankles were strapped to a simple wooden chair. A metal collar with blinking red lights dug into his neck; his flesh was raw and discolored around it. His eyes were closed, but there was a flurry of movement under the lids. A harsh surgical light glared down on his face, sharpening the angles of his cheekbones. His mouth was open slightly, his lips dry and cracked, his facial muscles slack. Raven’s gaze drifted to the inside of his elbow, which was bruised purple and marked with numerous needle pricks.

Dick stayed behind her, silent, watching the situation carefully. Briefly, Jonathan Crane met his eyes before focusing his wan smile on Raven once more.

Her voice was small. “Gar?”

“Shh,” the doctor said in a voice that almost sounded gentle. “He’s nearly finished.”

Her stomach turned and she stumbled forward, landing on her knees in front of Gar. She undid the leather straps cutting into his ankles, then moved on to his wrists.

She reached out with her mind and felt his presence; he was dim, and weak, but he was peaceful. Tired, but content. It confused and terrified her. Her hand drifted up to cradle his cheek. “Gar, wake up.”

He didn’t move. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch. His chin was prickly with stubble.

She straightened up, stared at the collar on Gar’s neck, and reached forward, but the doctor tutted quietly. Finally, she met his eyes.

“I wouldn’t take that off just yet,” he murmured.

The crouching thing stirred, peering at Crane through Raven’s eyes.

This man is evil.

“Give him back,” she said flatly.

“Absolutely, Raven, just give me…” He glanced at the cracked watch on his wrist. “About five minutes, and he’s all yours.”

Black energy swelled around her and she strode over to him, gripping his shoulders and shoving him against the dank cement wall. Tendrils of her power curled around his body, and his mouth twisted with pain and delight.

Distantly, she sensed Dick behind her—he tensed to take a step forward, to say something, but he didn’t. He kept quiet.

“Crane, give him back now,” she hissed.

“Just be—patient,” he wheezed, a chuckle gurgling in his throat. “He’s almost at the end of his journey.”

“What journey? What are you doing to him?” She held Jonathan Crane to the wall with her powers and went back to Gar, placing her hands on his temples and closing her eyes. She tried to break through whatever was keeping him in that chair, but it was impenetrable.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Gar, wake up,” she begged, pressing her forehead to his. “It’s Raven, I’m here, you’re gonna be okay—you just have to wake up.”

Quiet laughter bounced off the walls and anger flared to Raven’s fingertips; she stormed across the room to Crane and his laughter turned into a shriek of pain. He glared at her with a satisfied kind of hatred.

“Even if I wanted to wake him up right now,” he said through gritted teeth, “I couldn’t. We just have to wait for the effects of the formula to wear off.”

“There’s an antidote somewhere, there has to be,” she urged. He laughed again—his breath was rotten.

“Why would I make an antidote? You think I care if he dies? You think I cared about the others?”

She let out a guttural growl and slammed him against the wall, clutching his dingy shirt in her fingers. The air crackled with energy as her breath heaved—for the first time, a hint of fear glinted in Crane’s eyes.

“Raven.”

Dick’s voice was calm but stern. She blinked and, slowly, her grip on Crane loosened.

He slipped out of her grasp easily, adjusting his white coat. “Robin—excuse me, Nightwing! I almost didn’t see you there!”

Dick’s jaw was set. His mask concealed hardened, cold eyes. “Scarecrow.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yes. It has.”

“I see you’ve never quite gotten used to my medicine,” Crane said pleasantly. “Back then, I seem to recall you had a fear of heights. Is that right?”

Dick said nothing.

“Yes, I do remember now. You wouldn’t stop crying for Mommy and Daddy. I always wondered how Batman must have felt, listening to that… but it’s fascinating, isn’t it? How our fears change. Now you’re afraid of… the dark? Afraid of ‘nothing?’ I’d like to learn more about that.”

“I’m sure you would,” Dick said calmly.

“And, Raven, I heard what you said about your passenger,” Crane smiled, turning to her. “And it seems you have a tolerance—possibly an immunity—to my fear serum. Now you are someone I would love to study.”

“You’re insane,” Raven said quietly.

He paused, then broke into laughter. “Well, insanity is subjective,” he grinned. “For instance, when Garfield wakes up, I may very well be the sanest person in this room.”

His pale face shone red in the light spilling from her eyes.

“Raven, step away from him,” Dick said evenly.

She didn’t look back. Black tendrils of energy once again swirled around her.

“We’ll arrest him and he’ll stand trial,” Dick said.

“He’ll just escape again,” Raven breathed.

Crane smiled. “She’s right, Nightwing. Raven, maybe you should just kill me.”

She said nothing. Dick took a step closer.

“Raven, trust me. Trust me. Killing him would be a mistake.”

Crane’s smile was unrelenting. His blue eyes danced in the red light.

“I would love to meet this… other Raven I heard so much about.”

Her power caressed his shining face. Curled around his neck. Attached itself to his pale throat.

His smile widened.

“I’m not sure you would,” she whispered.

It was a thirst inside her, a burning need to watch his blue eyes dim and flatten, his smile stretch into a silent scream, his skin wither and peel.

It would be so easy.

The crouching thing in her mind wasn’t crouching anymore—it was standing upright behind her eyes, clawing its way to the surface, reaching for the steering wheel, and she could see it all unfolding exactly as it was meant to—she could hear Dick behind her, coming closer, raising his voice to a roar—

And then a different voice whispered through her memory.

Your future’s not gonna be all darkness and death and destruction. I’m sure of it.

Slowly, reluctantly, she let go of Crane. The power swirling around her ebbed, and he slid down the wall and landed roughly on his feet—he laid a hand on her shoulder for stability, and she jerked out of his grip with disgust on her face.

Dick moved forward swiftly and twisted Crane’s arm backward, forcing him to his knees. Crane made no effort to resist; an easygoing smile was on his face.

In the chair, Gar’s eyelids fluttered and opened; his pupils were dilated so wide that the black swallowed everything around it, his irises only a thin green ring at the far reaches of his eyes. For a moment he stared, unblinking, unseeing, at the surgical light above him. Then, suddenly, he came into focus—his blown-out pupils shrunk down to pinpoints. His breath became rapid and shallow.

“What the hell?”

His voice was raspy with disuse. He grasped at the metal digging into his neck and gazed into the darkness surrounding him. A sheen of sweat covered his face. “Oh god… oh god…”

“Gar?”

Raven knelt in front of him and laid her hands over his, but he tore away from her like he’d been burned. Slowly, he focused on her, and his expression turned to one of relief.

“Where are they? Raven—Raven, have you seen them?”

Her eyebrows knit in confusion. “Who?”

Shock clouded his features… then terror. “Oh my god,” he whispered. He looked down at himself; the deep red stains in his shirt, the holes in his skin—the naked, pulsing pain in his middle. “Oh my god, no…”

“Gar, you’re—you’re safe. I’m here,” Raven tried, touching his hand again—he ripped it away from her and hugged his arms to himself.

“Don’t touch me,” he murmured. “Don’t touch me. You’re not real. None of this is real.” His eyes drifted aimlessly, filling with tears. His voice was reedy and weak, making him sound younger than he was. “Oh, god… oh, god, no…”

An elated smile twisted Jonathan Crane’s chapped lips—hysterical laughter sliced through the tense silence of the room. Dick tightened his hold on Crane’s arm, pressing down painfully on his shoulder, but the shrieking peels of laughter continued.

A chill churned through Raven’s stomach and left a hollow pit in her middle. She stared at Crane, then at Gar… then back at Crane.

“It worked,” Crane wheezed, tears of joy leaking down his palid cheeks. Dick folded him down to the floor and held his wrists behind his back, taking a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt and slapping them on without a word; his mask covered much of his face, but Raven could see the crease in his brow and the unsettled frown on his lips.

Strings of saliva crawled from Crane’s rotted mouth and connected with the dirt floor, and still he laughed, his eyes manic and shining.

“It worked.”

Chapter Text

Dick watched from above as the county police handed Jonathan Crane over to the federal investigators. The sun was peeking over the horizon and the darkened clouds were growing lighter. He checked his watch.

Then he rolled his eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he said quietly, still watching the prisoner exchange.

A hulking, dark shadow appeared next to him out of the corner of his eye.

“Where’s the rest of your team?”

Dick put a foot on the raised ledge of the flat roof, then rested his elbow on his knee as he leaned forward, feeling a twinge in his lower back that never seemed to go away nowadays. “They’re at the hospital.”

“And your friend?”

“He’s half out of his mind, thanks to your friend.”

“Dick…”

Dick turned to face his adoptive father. “Can you just keep your Gotham shit in Gotham from now on?”

Bruce sighed. “This was never supposed to happen. Crane was in solitary confinement when he escaped.”

“I don’t care how he escaped,” Dick said flatly. “People are dead because of him.”

“You should care, Dick,” Bruce said. His low voice was quiet, a murmur that floated away on the early morning breeze. On the ground, no one heard or saw them. “You’ve always been too quick to focus on the end result. The ‘what.’ Not enough attention to the ‘how.’”

Dick almost laughed. “I really don’t have time for a lecture, Bruce. You’re the one who let him get away.”

“It won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Dick said nothing; for a few minutes, they silently watched the exchange happen below them, both of them effortlessly blending into the shadows.

“You know, it would have been nice to have a little help with the investigation,” Dick said.

“I wanted to stay close to Gotham. Keep an eye on things.”

“Well, it felt like we were the only ones looking for them.”

“You weren’t.”

Dick huffed. “So tell me stuff like that! Communicate!” He was gesturing too much with his hands; he tucked them at his side. “The reason Crane was able to do so much is because nobody knows what anyone is doing. We’re all so secretive.”

“I helped the Titans East find Speedy,” Bruce said calmly.

Dick didn’t know that, but right now he didn’t care. “About twelve hours too late,” he shot back.

“I went down to Steel City. I didn’t want Scarecrow to be aware of my movements, so I asked them not to tell anyone. Secrecy can be a good thing, Dick.”

“Oh. Sure. My mistake.”

“You’re angry,” Bruce began, and Dick rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Bruce. I’m fucking pissed.”

“And you have every right to be,” Bruce continued. “You almost lost a teammate.”

“Is that what we’re calling our family now? Is that what you call Alfred?”

Bruce quieted. So did Dick.

“I read Speedy’s autopsy report,” Bruce said. “Was Garfield given the same compound?”

“We haven’t had time to analyze it.”

“But you seized the whole supply,” Bruce tried, and Dick nodded. “What are the side effects?”

Dick fixed him with a sardonic look. “You mean, other than death?”

“Yes.”

Dick frowned as he thought of Gar’s face when he’d woken up. “When he came out of it, he seemed pretty calm, and then—just horrified. He didn’t think Raven was real. Wouldn’t let her touch him.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “Speedy’s overdose was caused by a new kind of opiate derivative. I would guess that whatever Garfield experienced, he probably enjoyed it.”

It took a long time for Dick to reply. He pursed his lips while he thought. “Raven was about to kill Crane,” he said quietly.

“But she didn’t.”

Dick shook his head distantly. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wonder why we keep them alive, Bruce.” He looked at him. “Do you ever think about how many innocent lives we could save if we just…” Dick trailed off, unable to say the words. His mouth was twisted into a nauseated frown.

Bruce’s voice was quiet. Calm. “We’re vigilantes who don’t answer to the law, Nightwing. We need to govern ourselves. Killing would lead to chaos.”

Dick took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yeah. I know.”

The breeze had picked up around them, rustling the dewy leaves. “Yes,” Bruce said after a while.

Dick looked at his father questioningly.

“I have thought about it,” Bruce explained softly. “The cost of keeping a man like Crane alive. When he attacked you with his fear gas, I thought about it.”

Suddenly, Dick felt very much like an adult. He was thirty-one, he was a father, but his own father confiding in him made him stand up taller. It made him feel special. Trusted.

“You thought about… killing him?”

“Of course,” Bruce murmured. “If someone attacked Mar’i, wouldn’t you?”

Dick nodded automatically, deep in thought.

“Who’s keeping an eye on her?”

“Vic’s new girlfriend.”

Bruce hesitated. “Can she be trusted?”

“Yes.” He could tell that Bruce was about to say something skeptical, so he forged on. “Vic ran a check. I ran a check. Raven did her thing.” Then he scowled. “You really think I would leave my daughter with some sociopath?”

“No,” Bruce said in his murmur. “I don’t.”

“Well—good,” Dick said, disarmed. He took in a breath to say something else but came up short.

Once again, they both turned toward the exchange.

“I’m sorry I missed her birthday,” Bruce said after a long stretch of silence.

Dick nodded slowly. “We got your gift.”

“Did Mar’i like it?”

He cracked a reluctant smile. “She might be a little too young to enjoy it.”

Without hesitation, Bruce shook his head. “Three-year-olds can play Battleship just fine.”

Dick’s smile widened slightly. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Because three-year-olds are renowned for their object permanence and capacity for delayed gratification,” Dick ventured—finally, Bruce smiled; just a small one, easy to miss, and then it was gone.

“Well, Alfred said she would like it.”

“I think Alfred might have been messing with you.”

Bruce blinked.

“Mar’i’s big thing right now is stuffed animals,” Dick explained. He didn’t realize it, but his voice had the same low murmur as Bruce’s when he was on a mission. Their entire conversation was only audible to them.

“Stuffed animals,” Bruce repeated with a nod. “Okay.”

Below them, the exchange was coming to an end; the federal investigators were putting a handcuffed Jonathan Crane into the back of their transport vehicle.

Bruce straightened up. “Take care of yourself,” he said.

The comfortable quiet between them was gone, replaced with a businesslike coldness. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” Dick replied curtly.

Bruce nodded, and in a blink he was gone.

Dick slid a hand through his hair and sighed. Then he retreated into the shadows and disappeared as well.

***

Gar’s hand was limp in hers. The collar was gone from his neck and in its place was thick white gauze. An intravenous drip was attached to his arm. His eyes were closed. His breath was steady. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was sleeping peacefully.

But her abilities told her otherwise.

There was a hurricane inside him. An endless black storm. She could feel it emanating from him like heat. A part of her wanted to peek inside, see what he was seeing right now, learn what Scarecrow’s serum had made him experience, but she resisted.

Whatever he had seen, it was his.

She would give him his privacy.

Down the hall, she heard a shriek of insane laughter; Herald’s condition hadn’t improved. Victor was with him, working with a nurse to quiet him down, but it didn’t sound like it was going well.

Starfire was helping the hospital staff with the transfer and intake of Scarecrow’s mindless army; she hadn’t even had time to see Gar yet. Raven could feel her on the floor below them, worrying about him as she worked.

Dick was at the local police station, keeping an eye on Jonathan Crane until the federal investigators arrived.

Once Scarecrow was handed off to them, Nightwing’s surveillance duties would be over and Batman’s would begin.

She sat up when she felt something stir in Gar’s consciousness; she could feel him waking up and glanced at the clock on the wall. The doctor had said he would be sedated for eight hours, but it had only been four; either they’d given him the wrong dose, or his body had metabolized it at an accelerated rate. She guessed it was the latter.

The whirlwind of grief inside him grew. She knew he was awake.

But his eyes were still closed.

He pursed his lips. A tear rolled down his cheek. But he wouldn’t open his eyes.

“Gar,” she said softly.

He let out a huff and shook his head desperately. “I just want to wake up,” he breathed.

“Gar, you’re awake,” she said, wanting so badly for that to be enough to make him feel better, but the sadness around him smoldered.

He took his hand away from her to feel the bandages on his neck. He finally opened his eyes as he probed deeper, closer to the raw skin underneath.

“Your neck is infected, Gar—you shouldn’t touch it,” she said, keeping her voice quiet and soothing. “I’ve healed it a little bit, but the infection makes it more complicated. If you agitate it, you could reopen the wounds.”

His face twisted as he listened to her. “Stop talking,” he groaned. “Please.”

Hurt passed over her face at his words, but she pushed the feeling down. He was upset. He wasn’t thinking straight. He had seen something terrible.

“I’m sorry, Gar.” She could only muster a whisper.

He looked at her with wounded eyes and took her hand again with a look of deep concentration. She kept still as he brought it closer to his haggard face.

He intertwined their hands. Felt her skin. Inspected each of her fingers.

“It looks so real,” he murmured.

Her breath stuck in her lungs. “It is real, Gar,” she managed. “I’m real.”

He examined her appearance. “Your hair is different.”

She tucked it behind her ear. “It’s the same as it’s always been,” she tried.

He shook his head. “It’s the same as it used to be.”

“Gar, I don’t… I don’t know what to say here,” she admitted. For the millionth time since they’d gotten to the hospital, tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back.

His face was a blank mask. He still held her hand, occasionally squeezing it, sometimes pinching the skin lightly, and she shifted in her seat.

“Where are we?”

“Silo, Missouri. Saint Damian Hospital.”

“But… why am I here?” he asked quietly.

She blinked. “We were in Wyoming for our anniversary. Do you remember?”

After a moment, he nodded slowly. “Cutthroat.”

“Yeah, and—we were taken,” she continued.

“They killed Boyd,” he remembered. “Right?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

He knit his eyebrows. “Okay. Then what?”

“Scarecrow’s men—they knocked us out and put us in a car, and when I started to wake up they threw me out. I don’t know why.”

“You were too dangerous,” Gar murmured. “That’s what they said. They were afraid.”

A spark of hope flickered inside her and she squeezed his hand gently. “So you remember?”

His eyes were veiled. He was quiet for a minute. “Keep going,” he said. “Tell me what happened next.”

“Well, then—a family found me on the road. They let me use their phone to call Dick.” She watched Gar carefully. “Gar, can you tell me what happened to you once we were separated?”

Gar closed his eyes in concentration. “I remember… I was fighting back and they shot me.” His hand drifted to his stomach. “It hasn’t hurt in a long time, but now it’s like it just happened.” He frowned. “And then I don’t remember anything for a while. It’s all just a blur. And then… I remember looking across the road and seeing this woman and her kid on the shore of a lake. She looked scared so I smiled at her.”

“Her name is Penny,” Raven supplied. “I met her.”

Gar was too focused to reply. “They brought me inside… somewhere. I heard this—this screaming, but it—it was actually laughter, I don’t know who it was—and then Scarecrow showed up and stuck me with a needle. And you guys showed up and rescued me.”

“Well… yeah,” Raven said, chancing a smile. “Exactly, Gar.”

Gar stared at their hands. He squeezed hers again, testingly. Suspiciously. Then he held her gaze. “Raven, that was eight years ago.”

She opened her mouth; no words came out.

There was a cold, unfamiliar look in his eye. He squeezed her hand again. “This can’t be real,” he said again. “You aren’t real.”

“Gar, you’re—that hurts,” she said, trying to take her hand back—his grip tightened.

“You’re just smoke,” he breathed. “You’re fucking smoke. I want her back.”

Her knuckles were turning white. “Who? Who are you talking about?”

“Raven!”

She flinched at the volume of his voice. “Gar, it’s me! I’m here!”

“No! Give them back!”

The door burst open and Dick came through, eyes widening at the scene he walked into; without hesitation, he took Gar’s wrist and pressed on its pressure point, forcing him to release Raven’s hand.

“Gar, you need to calm down,” Dick said steadily. “You’re safe. We’re all here to help.”

Raven stumbled out of her chair, her eyes wide and darting. Gar wrenched out of Dick’s grip, then gasped—blots of red were clouding the bandages on his neck.

Raven took a step toward him automatically, concern on her face, her hand glowing white.

Gar’s breath heaved. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Raven can help you, Gar—”

“I don’t need help, I need to wake up,” Gar said—a look of concentrated determination overtook his features and he began to dig at his sopping red bandages, clawing at the skin, ripping out the neat stitches. “I need to wake up.”

“Gar—Jesus Christ—stop!” Dick rushed to wrench Gar’s hands away from his neck.

Raven’s eyes flashed white.

Gar’s muscles went limp; the crazed expression on his face faded. He sagged back down to the hospital mattress, unconscious.

She placed her hand gently on Gar’s neck to stop the bleeding. Took a step back.

The room was silent.

Raven brought a trembling hand up to her mouth and made a quiet choking sound.

Tears stung at her eyes, and she began to cry.

Dick wrapped his arms around her as a sob wracked her body, and now that she had given into it she couldn’t stop. The tears kept coming. She grasped at Dick’s shoulders, buried her face in his chest.

“He’s in shock,” he said softly. “He’ll be okay.”

“He—he hurt my hand,” she managed. “He hurt me, Dick, he’s never—he’s never—”

“I know.”

“Why did you send us away? Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Dick told her, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Raven, this is all my fault.”

“We were happy,” she sobbed. “Gar was happy. Why would they do this to him?”

“Raven, I…” Dick shook his head minutely, keeping his eyes trained on the fluorescent light above them. “I wish I had an answer.”

“I’m just gonna—take a lap, um… just a short walk,” she breathed, letting go of him and stepping back. “I’ll be back in a few minutes… Can you stay with him? Make sure he’s okay?”

“Of course,” Dick said. “I’ll be here.”

She wiped her eyes hastily and fled the room.

Chapter Text

Raven gazed out the window and watched the buildings turn into a blur as Victor zoomed down the express lane. Occasionally she would make eye contact with someone in another car and that person’s mouth would drop open as they realized who and what they were looking at; when she was much younger, this used to make her self-conscious. It had made her sink down in her seat. Now, she stared boredly back at the other cars. Gar sat next to her in the middle seat, his seatbelt secure, and he gazed at the road ahead of them wordlessly. Starfire was on his other side, jiggling her leg, and Dick was in the passenger seat, tapping here and there on his communicator.

No one had said a word in over an hour.

Suddenly, they all flinched as a song burst forth from the speaker in Victor’s arm.

Dick looked over at him in disbelief. “Is that ‘The Pina Colada Song?’”

Victor checked his side mirror and changed lanes. “It’s my ringtone for Sarah. Hold on.”

Dick reached over and tapped the green button on Victor’s arm panel, then cleared the cobwebs out of his throat. “Sarah, is everything okay?”

“You’re on speaker,” Victor added.

“Oh—hey, everyone,” Sarah chirped, “just wondering when you’ll be home?”

“We are very close, friend,” Starfire smiled, but the previous tense silence in the car had taken a toll on her. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, and she kept glancing worriedly at Gar.

“Fifteen minutes,” Victor said.

“Okay, so, I don’t think it’s a zombie protocol situation, but there are reporters gathering outside the tower,” Sarah said. “They probably spotted your car on the way. And I’m guessing they want to see Gar—he’s with you, right?”

Gar made no indication that he had heard his name. He sat with his hands in his lap, his seatbelt rubbing lightly against the nearly-healed wounds on his neck. He was wearing a plain grey tee shirt and sweatpants; Victor had thought to bring them along when they went searching for him. Raven noticed a slight discoloration around his wrists, from the days of tight restraint.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Victor said.

“Hi, Gar, I’m glad you’re safe,” Sarah said.

Gar didn’t reply. He didn’t even blink.

There was a stretch of silence, then Victor said, “We’ll avoid the press, Sarah. Thanks for the warning.”

“Sure. And I made dinner, too—kind of a Welcome Home type of thing.”

“What is it?” Victor asked.

“It’s a surprise. Mar’i helped.”

“Okay. We’ll see you soon,” Victor said.

“Okay, love—”

Victor hung up absently, then his eyes widened. “Fuck—shit, man, I hung up on her when she was saying she loved me! I gotta call her back, shit—”

“Is this the first time she has told you this?” Starfire asked.

“Nah, we’ve told each other before, but I feel bad—”

“Vic, someone’s following us,” Dick said lowly, looking in the side mirror. His hand drifted to his mask.

Victor glanced in the rearview mirror and swore under his breath. “How long they been there?”

“Couple minutes. They have a camera.”

“Goddamn reporters, man, I swear to God,” Victor muttered. “Gar, hunker down. I don’t want them snapping any pics.”

Gar didn’t move.

Victor sighed and changed lanes again, then stepped on the gas—Raven sank into her seat from the speed.

Gar clenched a fist on his leg, but said nothing.

He hadn’t said a word to anyone since he had yelled at her two days ago.

“Exit on seven,” Dick instructed—Victor shook his head.

“I wanna get to the wharf. That’s exit twelve.”

“Seven will take us through Chinatown, and we can lose them,” Dick replied calmly.

“I can lose ‘em here, man, I don’t need to go to fuckin’ Chinatown.”

“I keep telling you, we should make the T-Car less conspicuous.”

“I think she looks just fine,” Victor shot back.

Raven rolled her eyes as she listened to them bicker.

Next to her, she could feel Gar’s stress flare. She tried to soothe him with her powers, just a little, not enough for anyone to notice what was going on, least of all Gar—but he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and she stopped. Her cheeks tinted under his gaze and she stared out the window again.

“If you go through Chinatown, it’ll be easy to lose them, and there’s a shortcut to the tower from there.”

“They’re reporters, Dick, they’re not fuckin’ super spies.”

“I never said they were reporters. I said they had a camera.”

“Okay, y’know what? Christ,” Victor said, swerving into the exit lane. “Chinatown it is.”

“Take a left on Grant,” Dick said. His voice was a quiet, calm murmur, but it was perfectly clear over the roar of the engine.

Victor did what he said, and Dick glanced in the mirror. The black car was still following them.

“Okay, there’s an alley up here on the right. Don’t use the blinker, don’t slow down, just take it.”

Victor pulled right and the momentum of the turn made Raven press into Gar; she scrambled to distance herself from him, leaning back into her seat, not wanting to bother him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. He absently rubbed his wrists and stared straight ahead.

Behind them, the black car kept going straight past the alley. Dick nodded curtly, his eyes trained on the side mirror, but his mouth was still set.

“Go into this parking structure,” he murmured.

Victor looked at him incredulously but followed the order. Raven noticed a red light blink on Dick’s sleeve—the gate opened for them automatically.

“Okay. Now go down three levels and—”

“Is this not like the movies, where the protagonist goes to the basement to escape the killer and is subsequently trapped?” Starfire asked politely.

Dick shook his head. “No, Star. You’ll see.”

When they had descended three levels, they found a heavy steel door, large enough for a semi truck to pass through. Raven heard the squeal of an engine on the street above them, but there were no cars anywhere around them. The entire parking garage seemed abandoned.

Dick accessed the computer built into the glove of his suit and tapped a button; the door squealed open and they drove through.

As it swung down behind them, Victor gazed around. They were now in a dimly-lit tunnel, headed west.

“Dude, what the hell is this?”

“It’s a secret road to the tower,” Dick said simply.

Victor blinked. “Okay, we’ve been on the same team for fifteen fuckin’ years and you never thought to tell me there’s a secret road to the tower?!”

“It’s relatively new,” Dick said.

“Relatively new?” Starfire asked.

“Four years. Since we all switched powers.”

Raven frowned. “Why?”

After a moment, Dick sighed. “It was Bruce’s idea, actually. He wanted a way into the tower that wouldn’t draw any attention.”

“And what was Bruce planning to do with this ‘way in?’” Starfire asked, eyebrows knit.

Dick glanced back at her. He pursed his lips. “He built it in case… he had to take action,” he said hesitantly.

Victor looked at him warily. “Take action against who?”

Dick looked out the window. Raven’s ears began to groan and pop and she knew that they were now underneath the ocean, getting close to the tower.

“Against me,” Dick said finally. “After everything I did, he didn’t… exactly trust me. He didn’t think I was, uh… stable.”

The car was silent. On the ceiling of the tunnel, yellow lights set their faces aglow as they zoomed past; Gar glanced up at them, his face pale.

“But, um… Now he mostly just uses it to see Mar’i,” Dick continued quietly. “So it kind of changed purpose. And even then… you know. He doesn’t visit often. So we might as well start using it.”

“Yeah,” Victor said, his voice hushed. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, man, this’ll cut down on our commute. This is great.”

Dick nodded. His eyes were cast down into his lap.

The pressure on Raven’s ears lessened; the road before them began to slope slightly upward, and they finally came to a stop at a blank stretch of steel and concrete. The foundation of the tower.

“So… what now,” Victor said, glancing at Dick. “You got another trick up your sleeve?”

Dick frowned at the small computer screen in his glove. “It should open automatically, unless the lockdown’s been engaged.”

Victor’s eyes widened and he tapped rapidly on his arm.

The phone rang for a few seconds and Sarah picked up. “Hey, um, I did the zombie protocol thing,” she said. Raven could hear that she was trying to sound casual, but there was a slight quiver in her voice.

“Why? Are you okay?” Victor asked urgently.

“Is Mar’i okay?” Dick and Starfire asked in unison.

“She’s fine, I’m fine, it’s just—there were so many of them, and they were yelling through the door asking for Gar, and Mar’i started to cry, and I kinda panicked,” Sarah said. “Are you here?”

“We’re here,” Dick nodded. He tapped a few buttons and the blank stretch of concrete opened up like a mouth. “We’ll meet you in the living room.”

“I love you,” Victor rushed, and Sarah chuckled.

“Love you too, Victor. See you in twenty seconds.”

Victor waited for her to hang up, then pulled through the large gap in the foundation; it slid closed with a deep groan behind them.

They climbed out of the car; Dick held his lower back and stretched it lightly, a frown etched in his features. Victor headed straight for the elevator, while Starfire walked around the car and rested a concerned hand on Dick’s broad shoulder.

Gar stayed where he was. Raven stayed with him, watching him carefully.

“Gar,” she murmured. “We’re home.”

He rubbed his wrists tenderly. Reached down and undid his seatbelt.

“Can you walk alright?”

He nodded—it was the first time he had truly responded to a question in two days, and Raven’s heart leapt. Slowly, Gar slid over the back seat of the car and placed a foot tenderly on the ground.

Raven hurried around the car and met him at the door, holding out her hand, but he shook his head. He kept a tight hold on the door handle as he pulled himself out.

Raven stayed close. She let him move at his own pace toward the elevator. She tried not to disturb him too much.

The doctors had recommended that he use a wheelchair for at least a week, but Gar had refused. They tried to give him a crutch instead, and he had left it on the front desk during his discharge. Physically, he was nearly healed. The infection was almost gone from his system. Raven had been sneaking into his hospital room over the last two days and healing him while he slept; it was easier that way. For both of them.

It took a while, but Gar took his place next to the others in the elevator. Raven joined them, standing closest to the door as she was the last one inside.

Gar stared at the floor as the door slid closed.

One silent elevator ride later, the door opened to reveal Sarah and Mar’i on the other side, and Raven couldn’t help it; a tired smile tugged at her lips.

Mar’i reached out for her, squirming expertly out of Sarah’s arms, and Raven caught her before she fell to the floor, tucking her into her arms. The girl buried her face in Raven’s chest and let out a happy cooing sound. Behind her, the rest of the team stepped out into the living room.

Raven heard a choked gasp and turned to find Gar, standing motionless, his eyes like dinner plates as he gazed at her and Mar’i, whose black hair shone in the fading light streaming through the windows.

Gar’s chin was trembling. “Is that…”

At the sound of his voice, Mar’i squealed and looked at him, then launched herself out of Raven’s grip—Gar caught her automatically, but his face was blank with horror.

“Gar! The kitty! Show me the kitty?”

“Jesus Christ,” Gar breathed. He held her away from himself and squeezed his eyes shut. “Take her—somebody take her—”

Dick quickly plucked her out of Gar’s arms and held her close, watching his friend carefully while Mar’i began to wail and wrapped her tiny arms around Dick’s neck. “Gar, are you okay?”

Gar wiped his face roughly and shook his head, holding a hand over his mouth as though he would vomit.

“Mar’i is very happy to see you,” Starfire tried, and Sarah nodded.

“She’s been asking about you all week,” she smiled gently. “She missed you.”

His eyes were glued to the huddled form in Dick’s arms; he didn’t seem to hear what anyone was saying.

Raven’s feet stuttered and finally she laid a hand on Gar’s shoulder—he flinched and stepped out of her reach.

For a second, he met her gaze; there was a hollow look in his eyes that took her breath away. Then, in a blink, he was stepping back into the waiting elevator.

“Gar—I made dinner, are you hungry?” Sarah called after him, but he ignored her completely. Victor squeezed her hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Gar stared blankly at the large panel of floor buttons for a moment, then pressed one with a trembling hand. He glanced back at the group as they made their way toward him, and shook his head. “I want to be alone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dick said steadily; as he spoke, the thin, faint marks on Gar’s neck shone dully in the white light above him.

“I’m fine,” Gar said in a low voice—but he held out a hand to keep them back when they got too close. “I’m fine. I just want to be alone. Please.”

“Perhaps you would benefit from a hug?” Starfire tried—but the look in his eyes kept them all from entering with him, and as the door closed they all exchanged a worried look.

“No way we’re leavin’ him alone right now, are we?” Victor asked, pressing the call button for the elevator.

Sarah squeezed his hand now. “It might be best to let him settle in on his own, baby.”

He pursed his lips, a troubled look on his face. “But he’s… I mean, Rae, you saw him…”

“Maybe it would be better for him to be alone right now,” Raven said quietly. Then her heart thudded as she remembered Gar tearing out the stitches in his neck; that had only been two days ago. “How about you bring him some dinner, Victor?” she suggested.

He looked surprised. “Okay, but—you sure you don’t wanna do that?”

Raven shook her head. “I don’t think he wants me around right now. And I just… I want him to feel better. Maybe you can help him.”

He listened to her speak with a subdued look on his face, but he nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”

***

The chocolate cake was moist, rich, perfect. The pink frosting was sloppy and smeared, sickeningly sweet, with a minefield of silver pearl sprinkles strewn across the top and bright blue icing that said… nothing, as far as Raven could tell. Sarah had given Mar’i the decorations and just let her go. Raven could still see a smear of blue on the little girl’s pinky finger, and when she looked down at her own chest she saw the same color ground into her uniform from their surprise cuddle session fresh out of the elevator.

“This cake is delicious, Sarah, thank you for making it,” Starfire said sweetly, wiping Mar’i’s mouth with a napkin, but it was a losing battle; the toddler was squeezing her piece of cake through her tiny fingers, admiring the bright colors.

Sarah smiled and shook her head. “It was a team effort, right, Mar’i?”

“I made it pretty!” Mar’i chirped.

Raven bit down on a silver pearl, then frowned and took it out of her mouth, placing it on the edge of her plate delicately. When she looked up, she saw Dick watching her with a quiet smile.

Mar’i held a fistful of electric blue icing up for Starfire. “Mommy, look, it’s like Daddy!” She started to smear it over her eyes and Starfire broke into a grin; her laugh was fresh air in the quiet living room, and Raven, Dick, and Sarah smiled too. Dick brought over a roll of paper towels and started to help Starfire clean up their daughter.

“You’re not going to need a mask, Mar,” he said with a gentle tap on her button nose.

Victor came through the sliding doors with hunched shoulders; everyone quieted.

He gave them all a helpless shrug. “He wanted to be alone. I had to leave his spaghetti on the floor outside his room.”

“You were gone for a while,” Sarah prompted gently.

“I tried talking to him,” he said, heading into the kitchen for his own bowl of pasta. He heaped extra meatballs on top and sprinkled a generous helping of parmesan like a fine coating of snow. “He wouldn’t even open the door. Wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.”

“Well, whatever he experienced under the Scarecrow, it must have been very traumatic,” Starfire said. “We must try to be patient with him.”

Victor slumped into his seat, setting his bowl down roughly. He stared at his food for a beat, then shoveled some into his mouth. “I’m not the most patient person, Star,” he said thickly.

Dick listened as he wiped blue icing off of Mar’i’s face. “He seemed stable though? Not a danger to himself?”

“He seemed… different,” Victor said, picking at his food. “Like he’s lost something. Mostly he just seemed tired. But… no. Not unstable.”

Raven took another bite of cake and held it in her mouth, suddenly unable to swallow it, suddenly repulsed by it. She held up a hand to cover her grimace as she swallowed it down, then shuddered. She pushed her plate away from herself.

Mar’i was beginning to squirm in Starfire’s hands, wrenching herself out of Dick’s grip, but he expertly cleaned the rest of the icing off her face and straightened up. He tossed the spent paper towels onto the table and was about to run a hand through his thick hair, but he paused. He took off his black gloves, which were soiled with sticky blue, and completed the original motion.

“Well… let’s check on him every few hours,” he sighed. “Let him come back to us on his own.” But his mouth was tilted in a frown, and Raven knew he wasn’t satisfied with that plan.

And neither was she.

***

The corridor was black as ink and she moved carefully over the smooth tile, walking on the outside edges of her feet to avoid making a sound.

When she got to his door, she accidentally nudged something with her foot and glanced down; she held out a glowing white hand and revealed the bowl of spaghetti (sans meatballs) left by Victor earlier. Cold and untouched. Worry dug itself deeper into her stomach.

The door slid open—Raven winced at the noise, even though it was nearly silent.

His room was dark and still. She could see a heaped pile of bed covers in the blackness and, if she strained her ears, she could hear his soft, steady breathing. She stepped inside and let the door seal her in.

Slowly, she made her way to the huddled mass of blankets; his head was peeking out the top. His fang was resting on his lip. She fought the urge to caress his sleeping cheek. Instead, she placed her hand on his neck and a soft, white glow emanated from her fingers as she focused on healing the very last of his infection.

The collar had been cutting into his neck for days—there had been a blade inside it that was slowly slicing through his skin, rigged to kill him if he tried to transform. She could only heal so much now; some of the damage was irreversible. The marks she had seen in the elevator earlier today, however light and subtle, would scar his skin forever.

Still, she closed her eyes. She tried anyway.

After a minute or two, she sighed. Then she lifted the covers and brought them down carefully so that his bare torso was exposed, and now that her eyes were growing used to the darkness she was struck by how different he looked compared to before he was taken. Normally, he was toned and wiry, thin but muscular; now, he was skin and bones. The compound Crane had given him had worn his body down severely, and nobody in that bunker had bothered to give him food or water. They’d just let him waste away, starving and dehydrated. It made Raven tremble with rage when she thought about it.

She hovered her hands over his gunshot wound and the soft glow returned to her fingers. With it, she could feel Gar’s presence surrounding her, becoming one with her as she healed him, and it was the same presence she had always known. It brought her comfort to know that something about him hadn’t changed.

The glow faded, and she returned the blankets to just below his chin. She couldn’t help it; she caressed his sleeping cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Then she turned and made her way toward the door.

The sound of his voice made her jump.

“Raven?”

She stood frozen in place, then cleared her throat and moved toward him again. “Hi, Gar.”

When she was close enough, she saw that his eyes were still closed. His face was relaxed, but there was a small crease in his brow. A frown bent his lips. “Raven,” he mumbled again, turning over gingerly under the covers.

It was silly, but she stayed where she was. She missed his voice so much, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t really speaking to her.

“I’m here,” she whispered.

“No,” he almost whined. “No… because… I can’t find them…”

She pursed her lips, wanting desperately to ask who he was talking about but not wanting to wake him—

He turned over again and gulped in a breath, his shoulders shaking. “They were just here,” he managed. His voice sounded almost lucid. A tear slipped down his cheek and soaked into the pillow case. “They were just here!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered—her own eyes welled with tears. There was so much sadness clouding around him, so much grief, and it settled on her skin like dew—it froze everything else out of her mind. “I’m so sorry, Gar…”

With a sharp intake of breath, his eyes snapped open—when he saw her, he recoiled.

“What are you doing in here?”

Raven pulled back as well; her eyes flitted around the room as though searching for an escape.

Gar sat up straight. His blankets fell around his waist. He looked at Raven like she was a stranger. “Where am I?”

“You’re in your room, Gar, at—at the tower,” Raven said.

He mouthed the words after she said them like he was in disbelief: The tower?

“We got back earlier today, do you remember?”

After a moment, he nodded slowly. “That tunnel, that was new, right? I’ve never seen that before.”

“Dick was the only one who knew about it,” Raven said.

“It was dark,” he murmured absently. “Felt like a basement.”

“I didn’t like it either,” she agreed. “We can take the normal route home from now on.”

It was quiet for a stretch of time; she watched Gar think. Constant flares of grief and stress burned through him.

“Are you hungry?” she asked suddenly—no longer content to listen to the silence. “Sarah and Mar’i made dinner. And chocolate cake.”

“No, I’m…” Gar blinked. “Mar’i. How old is she?”

“She turned three in February.”

He stared at her blankly.

“It’s June now,” she clarified.

“No, I—I know,” he murmured, pressing his palms into his puffy eyes. “It was our anniversary.”

“Yes,” she said. The fact that he remembered that made her heart swell, but there were still so many unanswered questions. “You kind of… freaked out when you saw her,” she prompted.

“I thought she was…” He paused. Glanced at her. “I was just surprised to see her,” he said vaguely.

Raven nodded. “Gar, when you said all this had happened eight years ago, what did you mean?”

He thought about his answer carefully for a while… Then he shook his head. “I’m not sure yet.”

She sighed. “Okay. We can talk about it later. So, you’re… How are you feeling?” she asked timidly. It felt like such a stupid question, but she wanted so badly to keep the conversation going as long as she could. She would ask him about the weather if it came to that.

He looked at her. Grief still hung around him like mist. His hand drifted to his neck and he grazed a fingernail over the subtle swell of his scars, and Raven’s heart thudded. Then he probed his stomach with his fingers. “I feel okay, I guess. Were you healing me while I slept?”

“Um—yes,” she said quietly. “I have been for a couple days. I wanted to help, but I didn’t want to upset you again. I’m sorry.”

Gar closed his eyes, and the crease in his brow returned. He breathed in deeply, and she could tell he was taking in the scent of the room. “Raven… is this real?”

“Yes, Gar, this is real.”

“So, you—you and I… I was just talking to you,” he said carefully. “Do you know what we were talking about?”

“You were talking in your sleep, Gar,” she said gently. “It seemed like you lost something.”

He stared at a point on the far wall, unblinking.

“You were so sad,” she continued. There was a long, agonizing pause. “Can you tell me why?”

Gar glanced at her. “How do I know this is real? How do I know I won’t wake up into some other dream?”

A pained expression overtook her face and she knelt down next to him. She took his hand and squeezed it. “You can feel my hand, can’t you? You can smell me, and you can feel my presence.”

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. His face had an unreachable expression. “Raven… I’m not sure that’s enough,” he admitted softly.

Her breath stopped. She had no idea what to say. His grip on her hand was gentle. He watched her sadly.

“Maybe you should go.”

With her free hand she reached into her pocket and brought out a small object. She placed it in his palm.

He stared at it blankly in the darkness. “A penny?” Then his mouth fell open and he gazed at her in disbelief. “Is this the penny I gave you when we were kids?”

She nodded. “I keep it in my room. Since you were taken, I’ve been keeping it in my pocket. It’s… it helped me.”

“I thought it got lost. Or destroyed,” he said, turning it over in his palm. In the dim moonlight, he saw a deep scar on one side of the coin.

“After we defeated Trigon, I went back and found it.”

“Wow,” he breathed.

She closed his fingers around it firmly. “You can feel it. You still have a little bit of my power, remember? You can feel that penny. Everything it’s been through… Everything we’ve been through. It’s real,” she finished quietly. “Concentrate.”

He closed his eyes. Rubbed his thumb over the damaged side, the deep gash worn smooth with time. She could feel him focus his energy on it, and after a minute or so, he opened his eyes again. Stared at the metal in his palm.

“You were so worried,” he managed.

“I still am,” she said, taking his free hand again.

“You used this for something, didn’t you? To help you find me.”

Shame tugged at her insides. “After Speedy died, I sort of felt like I might go insane, and I… made a deal, I guess you could say. I wasn’t strong enough to find you on my own, and I let that other part of me take over. Just for a little while. But your penny kept me grounded, I suppose. I sort of anchored myself to it.”

Gar’s face was stone while he listened to her. When she finished, he was quiet for a long time. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Speedy is dead?”

“Oh… oh my god, Gar, I’m—I’m sorry, I thought someone must’ve told you or… I’m sorry,” she rushed, trying to keep her voice quiet.

He shook his head. Rubbed his eyes again. “No, nobody told me.” The moonlight was shining on his wrinkled blanket and he traced a slow finger over the seam. “Herald too?”

“No, Herald is alive,” she said hesitantly, but the look on her face made him tense.

“What happened to him?”

“The laughing you heard before Crane drugged you, that was him,” she said. “He… lost his mind, I suppose. I don’t know if he’ll recover.”

He stared at the scarred penny. “This is real, isn’t it. All this.” His voice was flat. Quiet. Hollow.

She didn’t want to, but she nodded. “I wish I could say it wasn’t, Gar.”

He met her eyes. “I hurt you. That was real.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Yes. But it’s okay, Gar, really—you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I thought you were a trick,” he breathed. “I was so mad, I thought it was all fake—I thought I would wake up and you’d be there with—” He stopped himself. Took a deep breath. His sunken eyes burned with guilt. “You looked so scared, Raven, I should’ve known it was you, but—Jesus, I’m so sorry,” he said weakly. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand and closed his eyes desperately. “Honey, I’m so sorry…”

She cradled his face gently. His stubble scratched at her fingertips. “It’s okay, Gar.”

“This is real,” he said, eyes wide as he gazed at her. “This is real. Everything else was fake.”

Any relief she may have felt at his realization was completely drowned out by the hollow, horrified look on his face.

“It was all fake,” he trembled. “They weren’t real.”

The storm inside him was only growing darker. It swallowed up every positive emotion inside both of them.

She traced her thumbs gently on his cheeks, imploring him to understand, to hear her. “I know it must have been awful, whatever you saw, but it’s over now. It was just a bad dream, okay?”

He looked into her eyes, opening his mouth a few times before any sound came out. “Raven…”

She waited patiently; it seemed like he wanted to tell her something. He almost did. But then the loneliness inside him bloomed and he fell silent.

She took his hands. “Maybe if you share the memories with me, they won’t seem so horrible,” she tried.

Gar stilled. “No.” Before she could reply, he rushed on. “Raven, you have to promise me you won’t look in my memories. Not these ones.”

“Gar, whatever you saw, you can tell me,” she said gently.

His face was pale but stern. “Promise me.”

“Okay, I—I promise,” she said hastily. “But… you’re mourning something, I can feel it, and it’s never good to go through these things alone—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Stop doing that, you were doing it in the car earlier, just—just stay out of my head,” he urged, but he sounded more scared than angry.

“Okay—yes, I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” she stammered, but she already felt guilty, she felt like she was lying; asking her not to sense his emotions was like asking her not to see color.

He calmed down slightly, but the tentative intimacy they’d crafted was broken. He felt further away from her than ever.

Raven stared at him, wondering how this all went wrong so quickly… A ridiculous, passing thought entered her head to ask him about the weather. Change the subject somehow. But all she could do was nothing at all.

“I think you should go,” he whispered.

She blinked. Her hand was still resting absently in his, but he let go of it. Tucked his hands in his lap. Then he frowned and held out the penny for her.

“Keep it,” she murmured, attempting a smile.

He paused, then closed his fist around it. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

She stood up. “Um… if you need anything, just call.” She was having trouble doing anything other than whispering. “I love you.”

Finally, he looked at her. “I do love you, Raven.”

That should have made her feel better. But it sounded like a rejection.

Chapter Text

“Be careful.”

“I am.”

“Your hand is shaking.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Maybe I should do it.”

Dick heaved an exasperated sigh and glared at Victor. “This isn’t rocket science, Vic. I’m pipetting. Pipetting isn’t hard.”

“It’s easier with a robot arm,” Victor said casually.

“Jesus Christ. Fine.” Dick handed him the pipette and they switched places.

He had to admit, Victor was better at pipetting. But he would never say that out loud.

He started to scribble on a length of tape in permanent marker, two different labels: MD and GL, along with a string of numbers that meant very little to anyone outside of that room, but pertained to different enzyme concentrations in the blood samples.

Victor started handing him the small tubes and he carefully laid the labels over the sealed tops; then he opened the centrifuge and placed the tubes in the waiting slots.

“Gar on one side, Malcom on the other,” he muttered.

“We got Roy’s tox report?”

“Yeah.”

Victor sighed and nodded. “Okay. Turn it on.”

Dick sealed the machine and pressed the button, and a quiet hum issued from it as the inner workings began to spin.

They both watched it silently.

“How long?”

“Five minutes.”

Dick frowned. “That feels fast.”

“I built it. It’s good. It’ll work in five minutes.”

Dick pulled up the toxicology report for Roy Harper, Jr., also known as Speedy. At the top of the document, the beginning and end dates of Roy’s life were displayed, along with an estimated time of death. Dick stared at the numbers hollowly.

“It’s weird, seeing it like that,” Victor murmured. “Like his whole life is just an equation now. A set number of days.”

Dick nodded. “Have you talked to Bee at all?”

“Yeah. She sounded okay. She was busy organizing the… um, the funeral,” Victor said. “Y’know she likes to be busy.”

“What about Garth?”

“Got his head down, working. Gotta keep swimming. Mas and Menos are pretty broken up too, from what I hear.”

“When’s the funeral?”

“Next week. Friday, I think. We’re going,” Victor said quietly, firmly. He glanced at Dick, who nodded.

“Of course we’re going.”

Dick continued to stare blankly at the toxicology report. Victor watched the centrifuge hum; its spin was too fast to see, even for his mechanical eye.

After a few more minutes that felt like hours, the machine beeped and the hum faded.

Victor opened the lid and took out the test tubes carefully; he inserted the pipette into the separated materials inside the tube, then emptied the tiny amount of liquid onto a glass slide. He took out a bottle of blue liquid and placed a drop of it on the slide, and it immediately turned bright green.

Victor stared at it. “Hm.”

“So Herald was given the same compound as Speedy,” Dick concluded.

“Less concentrated. But yeah.”

Victor did the same experiment with a sample of Gar’s blood, and it turned green, although not as bright as Herald’s.

“Same drug,” Victor said. “Same concentration as Mal’s. Just less of it.”

Dick frowned down at the sample of Gar’s blood. Victor watched him.

“What are you thinkin’?”

“I’m thinking about how the drug was administered with a needle. And Herald had a lot more track marks than Gar. Older ones, too.”

“Yeah. I was thinkin’ the same thing.”

“And I’m thinking… that maybe Crane saw the older marks and decided to have some fun with him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you see the angle of Herald’s track marks?”

Victor frowned. Shook his head.

“The new and old marks were the same angle.”

“So… they were all self-administered?”

He nodded. His blue eyes were dim. Tired. “I’m guessing Crane kidnapped him, found out he was an addict, and gave him a new addiction.”

The air in the small room was impossibly quiet. Impossibly thick. Victor took a deep breath that didn’t seem to do anything. “Did you know Mal was using?”

Dick shook his head slowly. “I had no idea. I haven’t seen him in a few years.”

“Me neither.”

“Raven said that Gar heard him laughing before Crane drugged him… that it sounded more like a scream. He was already gone before Gar even started.”

“Fuck, man.” Victor let out a slow breath. “Do the Titans South know about him?”

“I’m sure they do now, if they didn’t before.”

Victor looked deep in thought for a moment. “We got lucky with Gar, man. Doesn’t feel lucky, but he coulda been so much worse.”

“I don’t know. I need to know what he saw,” Dick murmured. “I need to know what Crane meant when he said it worked. I don’t think we should count ourselves lucky yet.”

***

Blazing red and blaring alarms woke her out of a fitful sleep and she sat upright, her head swimming. A thousand thoughts chased each other through her head, but some were louder than others: Someone broke in. We’re under attack. Gar is in danger. Gar is gone again.

A mechanical voice spoke calmly from above. “Alert: emergency downtown. All units deployed. Urgent assistance requested.”

Relief flooded through her—it was just a regular catastrophe. Nothing to worry about.

She got out of bed, and the sweatshirt and pajama bottoms she was wearing morphed into her billowing cloak and suit as she strode to the door. Her sleep hadn’t been restful enough to cloud her mind; she was wide awake, her face set in her signature bored frown. She was ready for anything.

Her communicator buzzed in her pocket; when she pulled it out, Dick’s steely voice issued from it.

“Raven, are you awake?”

“I’m headed to you now,” she said, her cloak flowing behind her as she moved swiftly down the hallway.

“We don’t need you for this one; it’s just Plasmus. I’m going to have you stay with Gar. I don’t want him to be alone yet.”

She stopped walking, holding the communicator blankly next to her face. When Dick’s voice crackled from it again, she jumped.

“Raven, can you hear me?”

She nodded absently, then blinked and pushed the button to reply. “I hear you. I’ll stay.”

“Okay. See you soon. And tell him training starts tomorrow.”

“Sure,” she said. To her own relief, her voice sounded unattached and bored. Nothing like how she really felt.

She stood in the hallway for a few seconds, then turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Toward Gar’s room.

So much for leaving him alone.

When she got there, she paused. The hallway was still glowing red, the alarm was still blaring, and she huffed and accessed the control panel in the wall next to Gar’s door, scanning her hand to turn the ruckus off. At her feet, the untouched bowl of spaghetti was still sitting on the floor.

The hallway was black again. Raven took a deep breath.

She knocked gently on the door.

“Gar, are you okay in there?”

Within a few seconds, he was in front of her, zipping up his uniform—it was looser than it used to be. The light from his room spilled onto both of them, revealing his puffy eyes and mussed hair. He looked exhausted. She wondered if he had slept at all.

She stared at him. He shifted his weight.

“Urgent assistance, that’s us, right? I mean, I remember that much.” His voice was a soothing hum after the assault of the howling alarm. It made her take a subconscious step closer to him. To the quiet.

“Um. Yes,” she said. “But… you’re injured, Gar. You’re staying home.”

“Oh… yeah, I guess—that makes sense,” he said with a frown. “So, why are you here? You’re not injured.”

“I’m staying with you. Dick’s orders.”

Gar nodded slowly. “In case Scarecrow’s behind it. He doesn’t want anyone on their own.”

“Yeah… it’s probably for the best. Um, but he said you’ll start training tomorrow,” she said, her voice strained.

Most of her energy was being spent blocking out his emotions, but as he had said the villain’s name, fresh pain spilled out from him—she couldn’t help but feel it. She tried not to. She took a step back from him in an attempt to give him privacy, but it was no use. She could see the black grief glowing around him.

“So, I’ll just… stay out here, until the rest of the team gets back,” she said, clearing her throat weakly. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Gar watched her carefully, then nodded… but a beat passed, and neither of them moved.

Guilt glowed inside him. Grief, shame, anger, guilt, guilt, guilt.

Finally, he gathered in a breath. “I’m not gonna make you sit in the hallway.”

She swayed on her feet but stayed where she was. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“It’s four in the morning.”

“I’m not tired.” She walked backward to the opposite wall and slid down until she was cross-legged on the floor. “Get some rest, Gar.”

It was easier to block him out over here. His emotions were dimmer. She could give him some privacy.

“Okay.” His feet stuttered, and he kept his eyes on her as he retreated, but the door cut between them. She was left alone in the hallway.

She leaned her head back against the wall and sighed.

A few seconds later, the door opened again. Gar held a pillow in his arms.

He knelt down and handed it to her. Their eyes met for a moment.

Then he went back into his room.

***

Sarah pulled her curly hair into a clip, then let it down again. Tucked it behind her ears. Tied it into a ponytail. She rounded on Victor, who was lifting weights with his real arm, and she held out her hands questioningly.

“Do I look okay?”

“You always look great.”

She blew out a breath and faced the mirror again, pulling out her hair tie. “I feel so weird—like I don’t remember how to go to work.”

He set the weight down and approached behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You were only gone a few days. And you answered emails and stuff. It wasn’t a vacation.”

“But it’s, like, different,” she said. “I feel different.”

“You look the same to me,” Victor said simply, kissing the top of her head.

She held her prosthetic in front of her face, twirling her mechanical fingers. The soft blue glow reflected on her olive skin. “I should put my old one on.”

“Why?”

“Because this one is so nice.”

“So keep it,” he told her with a shrug.

She touched her index finger to her thumb, then continued down the line. She couldn’t help but smile; she didn’t think she would ever get used to that sight. “It has been really great to have two opposable thumbs. But—I can’t, I can’t leave with this. It’s too nice, Victor.”

“Well, I ain’t takin’ it back,” Victor said. He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked at her in the mirror. “It’s not my size.”

She breathed out a laugh. “You really want me to keep it?”

“I made it for you, Sar.”

She sighed. Touched her finger to her thumb again, watching it happen intently. “I can feel it,” she said softly. “It’s like there are nerve endings in it.”

“There are. Well, close enough. Sensory nanotech that’s connected to your nervous system.”

Sarah smiled. “You’re a nerd.”

He grinned and took on a pretentious look. “Nerd is such a reductive term,” he droned. “I’m too hot to be a nerd.”

She turned around in his arms and cradled his face; he held her waist gently.

The look in her eyes was intense. Sincere. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.” She wriggled her mechanical fingers again. “Having this is very cool, but it’s not why I love you, okay?”

“Sarah, we don’t need to do this,” Victor said earnestly. “I know you only love me for my hair.”

She broke into laughter, and Victor beamed at the sound of it; it filled the room with music.

Once she settled down, she met his eyes again. “I really look okay?”

“You look cool as hell.”

She rested her forehead on his chest and sighed. “I’m wearing my girlboss blazer,” she mumbled.

“I know, baby. It’s working.”

She smiled, straightened up, and brushed his lips with her own. “Okay. Here I go. Have a good day.”

He gave her another quick kiss and a winning smile. “Change those kids’ lives today, sweetheart.”

“I’ll try my darndest.”

They parted; he went back to his weights, and Sarah trudged out the door, tying her hair into a ponytail again.

***

Her teeth were bared from the intensity with which she was stirring, but no matter what she did, the batter was still chunky, oily, broken. She swore under her breath—then jumped when she felt strong arms snake around her middle.

“It’s not coming together,” she muttered, stirring harder.

Gar pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck and she shivered, but still she focused on her broken batter.

“Maybe you can start over,” he suggested, his voice muffled in her skin.

She huffed and looked at the clock. “I don’t have time! We leave in an hour and fudge is supposed to set for at least two. This is ruined. I ruined it.”

He shook his head lazily; his hands drifted gently over her stomach, over the loose fabric of her oversized Steel City sweatshirt. Mid-morning sunlight spilled through the window, illuminating the golden wood floors; the plants on the sill almost seemed to glow. The hang-dried herbs above them swayed in the soft breeze.

“Rae, it’ll be fine. We can pick something up from the store.”

“You can’t do that on Thanksgiving, you need to actually make something!”

“Honey,” he mumbled. “Sweetie honey schmoopie. They won’t mind. Sarah probably has twelve pies already cooling on the counter. Plus, like, ten batches of cookies. She’s a maniac.”

She sighed. Hung her head. He pressed another kiss to her skin, and this time she leaned back against him, laying her hands over his. “Fudge is supposed to be easy,” she said. “I can’t even make fudge.”

“You can do a whole bunch of other stuff that’s really cool, though, so it’s okay.”

She plodded over to the cabinet and pulled out one of the fancy, flowery platters they’d bought at a garage sale. “Whatever we buy at the grocery store, we’ll plate it on this. They won’t be able to tell.”

Gar grinned. “You’re a master of deception.”

Raven set the plate down and leaned against the counter. “So… we leave in an hour,” she said with a soft tilt of her lips.

He moved swiftly and took her into his arms, dipping closer to her. His eyes twinkled. “That’s a lot of free time. Y’know, next Thanksgiving we’ll be—”

“Raven?”

Her eyes snapped open and she scrambled to sit up; a throw blanket fell down to her lap, and she frowned at it. She didn’t remember falling asleep with it.

Sarah was standing above her, her tight curls pulled into a fluffy ponytail. She was wearing a tan blazer over a professional-looking outfit of the same color, along with flesh-toned flats. A backpack was slung over one shoulder. Concern was written on her sweet face.

“Are you okay? Why are you out in the hall?”

“Um…” Raven rubbed the sleep out of her eyes dazedly. “I was just, um… Are you going to work?”

“Oh—yeah, I was on my way out,” Sarah smiled. “Probably gonna run home and water my plants over lunch, but—yeah. Are you okay?” she asked again.

Raven nodded. “I’m fine, I was just—keeping Gar company while the rest of the team was gone,” she said, her voice still reedy with sleep. “Are they back?”

“Yeah, they’ve been back for an hour or so. They must’ve just let you sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“About seven.”

Raven got to her feet—Sarah held out her hand to help her up, but Raven ignored it. Her cloak hung limply from her drooping shoulders.

“See you later,” she said absently, picking up her pillow and blanket.

“Yeah…” Sarah pursed her lips, her concerned eyes traveling over Raven. “Can I give you my number? In case you need anything, you can give me a call.”

Raven blinked. She held the pillow over her stomach, remembering her dream with a frown. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Sarah took a small notebook from the inside pocket of her blazer and scribbled her number on it, then handed it to Raven, who took it numbly.

“What are you up to today?”

“I’m… not sure.”

“You should do something you enjoy,” Sarah suggested gently. “Go for a walk or take a bath or something. It’ll be good for you. And if you talk to Gar, tell him to do the same.”

“Okay.”

Sarah smiled. “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Sarah reached for her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze, which Raven accepted wordlessly. Raven’s attention drifted back to her dream like a probing tongue to a loose tooth… and when she came back to herself, Sarah was long gone.

***

She filled the kettle with water and moved it onto the stove, then clicked the burner until bright blue flames appeared. She gathered her favorite mug (a thrifted gift from Starfire with I Survived My Trip to Gotham printed on it), along with her favorite tea (a blend of lavender, chamomile, and peppermint), and her worn-out metal infuser.

Just as she was pouring the boiling water over the tea leaves, Dick came through the door, maskless and sweaty and wearing his running clothes. Raven glanced up at him and nodded in greeting. He nodded back.

“You look better,” he said, opening the fridge and taking out a large jug of orange juice.

“I took a shower,” she explained dully. It was surprising how much it had helped, but the hollow place in her chest was still raw and aching. She stared into the swirling tea leaves unblinkingly.

“How’s Gar?”

Raven closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since this morning. He was getting his uniform on. Ready to fight.”

Dick watched her quietly. “Huh.” He poured the orange juice into a large glass and took a sip. Shrugged. “Well, maybe that’s good. Shows he wants to get back into things.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Has he told you anything? About what he saw?”

She shook her head slowly. “He doesn’t want me to know.”

Dick frowned. “What?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why. I’m trying not to push him...” Raven trailed off, her eyes trained on her tea. She shook her head again.

“Well, maybe he needs a little push,” Dick offered.

“Dick, we have no idea what he went through.”

“If he told us, we’d know how to help him,” Dick said. “The way things are right now, we’re in the dark and he’s miserable. It’s not productive. Something needs to change.”

“Because all of us are so open with our feelings, right?”

Dick paused mid-sip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A beat passed, and Raven sighed. “Nothing. Never mind.”

His blue eyes clouded over. “If this is something about Bruce—”

“It’s not. Just forget it.”

Tense silence settled between them, and Raven jumped slightly when the door slid open. Starfire strode through it, combing her hands through tangled, drenched hair. When she saw them, her feet stuttered—then she continued toward the sink.

Dick set down his orange juice with a crease in his brow. “Everything okay, Star?”

She turned on the water and plunged her head into the stream, unbothered by the cold. “Yes, all is well,” she sighed wistfully. “Your daughter stuck a marshmallow in my hair.”

In spite of everything, Raven cracked a smile. Dick hurried over and began to search for it, and the two of them looked like apes plucking bugs from fur.

Starfire met her eyes, then paused. “Raven, you are looking much better.”

“I took a shower,” Raven explained again, color rising in her cheeks. She tucked her hair behind her ears. It fell back out. She tucked it again.

Dick carded through Starfire’s hair carefully. “Did you try shampoo?”

“Nooo, my love, is that what the large bottle in our shower is? I had not thought of that.” She looked up at him pointedly. “I am being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, honey, I could tell.” Dick rooted further into her hair, and a grimace stretched the corners of his mouth. “Oh, shit,” he said casually, as though he were noting a rainstorm on the horizon.

“What? What is wrong, is it very bad?”

“It’s… no. It’s okay.”

Dick glanced at Raven, who left her tea and shuffled to join in.

She raised her eyebrows. “Wow.”

“What has she done to me?!”

“I think she put more than one marshmallow in your hair, Starfire,” Raven said.

“It’s right down to the root, too,” Dick added.

“Maybe dish soap?” Raven suggested.

“That might work.”

“My friends, if I must cut my hair, I am leaving the planet. When we were children, my sister shaved my head nearly down to the scalp and I looked like an absolute grebnack.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to shave your head, Star.”

“Who’s shavin’ who?” Victor said, the door sliding closed behind him.

Dick glanced up at him. “Nobody’s shaving anyone. Mar’i put a big gob of marshmallows in Star’s hair.”

“A gob?!”

Victor peered over their shoulders. “Y’know, being bald ain’t so bad, Star. It’s a great club to join.”

“Yeah, you and Lex Luthor,” Raven droned.

“And Billy Zane,” Victor added with a wagging finger. “He’s our president.”

“I have had enough of the joking and I would like to be serious now, please,” Starfire whined.

Dick drizzled a generous amount of dish soap into the wad of sugar and began to massage it into Starfire’s hair. “Starfire, where’s our daughter now?” he asked carefully.

“She is on a one-way trip to the moons of Krandor!”

“Where is she actually?”

Starfire groaned. “She is napping. I did not notice the assault until she was asleep.”

Victor looked Raven over. “Rae, you look a lot better.”

“I took a—a shower,” she explained again, her cheeks darkening. “How bad could I have been before?”

“I think it’s coming out, Star,” Dick said. His mouth was a slant as he thought about his next words carefully. “You know why she does stuff like this? It’s because we’re too lenient.”

“Dick, she is only three,” Starfire told him.

“She needs to start learning right from wrong.”

“She already is learning these things,” Starfire said as the water snaked over her face. “I teach her many Tamaranean parables.”

“Those don’t always teach the lessons you want,” Dick told her.

“Well, maybe you are not hearing them correctly,” she retorted.

“I dunno. I think we should talk to her,” Dick frowned. A soggy glop of marshmallow about the size of a golf ball came out of her hair and Raven could see relief flood through Dick’s face, although he hid the emotion well. He held it in his palm for Starfire to see.

Her eyes widened. “X’hal almighty, how did she accomplish that without my knowledge?”

“Where did she get the shmellows?” Victor asked.

“Stay down, Star, I’m gonna get the smaller pieces out,” Dick murmured.

Starfire obliged, bending further under the stream of water. “I occasionally enjoy a midnight snack of marshmallows and ketchup,” she explained simply. “Mar’i must have found my supply.”

They were long past their fascination and disgust with Starfire’s bizarre taste in food; none of them batted an eye. “Sarah’s a crackers and peanut butter gal,” Victor replied, then shrugged. “We all got our vices.”

Dick’s eyes became unfocused and his hand movements slowed… then he blinked and kept scrubbing.

“Are you nearly finished?”

“Yeah. Almost.” He rinsed the last of the marshmallow out of her hair, then handed her the dish towel. As she straightened and wrapped it around her head, Dick rubbed a thoughtful hand over his mouth.

The room suddenly went quiet as they all waited for him to say something.

He glanced up at them. His lips were pursed. “We should start to think about holding a press conference,” he sighed.

Victor stilled. “Without Gar,” he ventured pointedly. Dick met his eyes and Victor almost laughed. “Dude, are you serious?”

Raven’s stomach turned at the thought. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “It’s too soon.”

“Listen, I want to protect Gar as much as you guys, but you know how the press get when something big happens and we go quiet.”

“Who fuckin’ cares?” Victor said.

“The people,” Dick answered in a tired voice. “They’re the only reason we have this job. And when they read some bullshit about us, they tend to believe it. We should set the story straight early.”

“Dick, you’re the only one the press actually cares about,” Raven said. “The rest of us are just circus freaks.”

His eyes took on a warning look. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t belittle yourself and the rest of the team like that.”

She stared boredly back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to use such an offensive term.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dick said, breathing out a laugh—Starfire placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Dick, she is merely tired,” she soothed. “And she is worried about Garfield.”

“At least she can worry,” Dick said. “I bet the Titans East would give anything to worry about Speedy.”

His words hung over them like a suffocating blanket. Nobody spoke.

Raven let out a slow breath through her nose and concentrated on pushing down the part of her mind that kept blurting out awful things; shame reared up inside her at the same time, because this wasn’t the crouching thing. This was just her, wanting other people to hurt as much as she did. And she hated herself for it.

“We have a lot to answer for,” Dick continued quietly.

Raven kept her eyes on him as he began to pace back and forth. “Like what?”

“Like Wyoming,” he murmured. “And Nebraska… Christ, and Missouri,” he added, running a hand through his thick hair.

“What happened in Wyoming wasn’t our fault,” Raven argued flatly.

“I never said it was. But Raven, they were looking for you and Gar. They murdered someone to get to you. I looked it up—nobody’s been killed in that town since 1998.”

“Yeah? Who sent us there?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. But she kept her face neutral, even though it felt like there was poison boiling in her stomach.

“Raven, Dick merely wanted to gift you a pleasant week away,” Starfire said softly. Beside her, Dick’s mouth was pressed shut. “And he was not the only one. Victor and I planned the trip as well.”

“Yeah, Rae. Blame all of us, if you’re gonna blame him.”

Raven went over to her tea and took out the infuser, letting the excess liquid drip into the mug. She emptied the soggy leaves into the trash and tossed the infuser roughly into the sink. Then she closed her eyes, took a sip, and willed it to work its magic.

“I don’t blame any of you,” she said quietly.

When Dick next spoke, he matched her volume. The two of them were like twin flames. “A lot of people were hurt by what Scarecrow did. A lot of communities. Not just us, and not just Gar. People will be looking to us for answers. We have a responsibility to them.”

Victor nodded slowly, but he was still frowning. “We should ask Gar what he wants to do.” Dick looked like he was about to disagree, so Victor kept going. “If he doesn’t feel up for it and he’s forced to go, he could make things worse. Say the wrong thing.”

“Victor is right,” Starfire said gently.

Raven took a sip of her tea, then paused. “He’s on his way now. In the hallway.”

They all glanced at each other, and in the pressing silence of the room Raven could hear her own heartbeat.

“Maybe I should go. He probably doesn’t want me around.”

“Stay,” Dick told her.

She sat down on one of the barstools and held her steaming mug close. Her cheeks burned. Gar was coming closer.

None of them moved.

The door slid open and Gar took one step through it—then he saw them all and stopped in his tracks.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah. Shit.”

He held in his limp hand the bowl of spaghetti from the night before, still untouched. His hair was greasy and there were puffy bags under his shiny, bloodshot eyes. His lips were chapped. The collar of his tee shirt was hopelessly stretched, and his collarbone was jutting out prominently. He was barefoot, and his worn-out pajama pants dragged around his ankles.

“Garfield, how are you feeling?” Starfire asked.

He took another step and the door closed behind him. He glanced back at it longingly. “I just came in to get some water.”

“You hungry? I’ll make you somethin’,” Victor offered.

His mouth twisted. “No. Thanks.”

“You should eat something, Gar,” Dick said. “You’re still malnourished.”

“I’m fine.” Gar made it the rest of the way to the kitchen and threw away the spaghetti, then paused. Stared at the cabinets.

“The glasses are by the fridge,” Dick tried.

Gar blinked. “Oh. Yeah.”

They watched him move over to the fridge, pause again, and open the cabinet to the right. He took out a glass and filled it in the sink. Then he looked at them all awkwardly. His eyes lingered a second longer on Raven, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

If Gar was going to say something to them, he changed his mind; he began to walk out of the kitchen, but Dick caught his shoulder gently and held it.

“Hold on, Gar.”

Gar stopped. His eyes were trained on the floor.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Ah,” Gar murmured. “Okay.”

“Dick wants to do a press conference, but you don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do, man,” Victor blurted.

Dick fixed him with a glare. Then he turned back to Gar. “We can approve the questions beforehand. If it gets to be too much, you can leave.”

Gar smiled ruefully. “Do my adoring fans miss me?”

Dick chanced a smile in return. “Terribly. They want the scoop, Gar.”

Gar’s face faded back to its hollow expression. His eyes took on a glassy look. Raven closed herself off from his emotions, but they burned. They were blinding.

“I want to pay for Boyd’s funeral,” he said quietly.

Dick blinked, then quickly nodded. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll get that figured out.”

“He was a really great guy,” Gar continued. His fang peeked out of his frown. “He treated us like we were normal.”

Dick squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry for what happened to him.”

“I don’t want that in the press conference, though. It would look cheap. We’ll just deal with his family directly.”

Dick glanced at the others; he couldn’t help but be impressed. Gar had always been good with public relations.

“So you’re okay with a press conference,” he ventured. “I know you’re going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah. But I can deal with the press.”

He held his glass of water absently in his hand, and Dick let go of his shoulder.

Dick met Raven’s eyes, and she gave him a warning look. Then he turned back to Gar.

“Can you tell us what Scarecrow’s drug made you see? Maybe we can help you.”

Immediately, a veil shuttered over Gar’s face. He set his water on the counter.

“No.”

“We did some analysis of the compound, and it was an opiate derivative,” Dick probed. “Mixed with a hallucinogenic.”

Gar’s eyes widened dangerously. “Shut the fuck up.”

Raven knit her eyebrows. Gar glanced at her.

“I’m just saying, it’s okay if you—”

“Dick.” Gar’s hands shook at his sides. “Stop talking.”

“If you enjoyed it—”

For a moment, Raven thought Gar was swinging a fist, but he was only laying his hand over Dick’s mouth. Still, given how frail he appeared, he hooked his other hand around the back of Dick’s neck and brought him close with surprising power. His eyes burned. “Shut the fuck up. You fucking idiot,” he breathed. Rage was rolling off him in waves. It made Raven dizzy.

Dick made no move to get out of his grip, but he calmly pried Gar’s hand away from his mouth. “Eventually, you’re going to have to tell us what happened,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

“I don’t have to tell you shit. It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Gar, I’ve been under Crane’s influence before. Whatever you saw, there’s no shame in it.”

Gar stared at him blankly, then let him go. He shook his head. Laughed without humor. “Yes, there is.”

Victor slid between them smoothly with a calm expression. “Yo, we don’t have to talk about this now. It can wait. How about I make us dinner, and—”

Gar sidestepped him and kept his head down as he made his way out of the kitchen. The door slid closed decisively behind him.

His glass of water sat untouched on the counter.

Raven turned to Dick. Her voice was low. “A little push?”

He sighed. His mouth was a thin line.

“Let’s all just agree to give Gar some time before we start asking that kinda shit again,” Victor said, looking at them all. “Yeah?”

Starfire nodded. She took the towel out of her hair and patted the ends with it gently. “He will tell us when he is ready.”

“Rae?”

She nodded too, but stayed silent. She looked at Dick again.

“The sooner he tells us what’s wrong, the sooner we can help him move past it,” he maintained quietly.

“Dick, maybe you’re right, man, but that wasn’t the way to ask him,” Victor countered, his voice even.

Raven held her mug in her hands and took an absent sip of tea. It was growing tepid. That boiling feeling in her stomach was back, but it was different now; all the animosity she had felt before drained from her like blood from a wound, leaving her pale and weak in its absence.

Dick’s words rang in her ears, and a fear that had been planted inside her last night was now festering in her gut.

“Raven? Are you okay?”

She met Dick’s eyes. She gripped her mug tightly.

“What did you mean,” she asked.

“What?”

“You asked if he enjoyed it,” she said.

Dick and Victor exchanged a grim look. Raven glanced between them.

“What did you mean?”

Chapter Text

There were so many people. So many smells.

Cologne, sweat, donuts in the corner, hairspray, Raven was across the room, lavender and slate, Dick and Starfire were talking to Garth, Dick had switched to a new toothpaste, spearmint, winterfresh, Starfire smelled like sunlight, Garth was cold sea mist, and Cy’s vanilla cupcake chapstick was a cloud around the snack table.

He could feel the eyes of everyone he passed; they lingered on him. It made him squirm. He heard their whispers. It took everything in him not to duck out the door and leave everyone behind. But if he did that, Raven would worry. He didn’t want her to worry.

A red urn sat atop a simple stool on a dais in the middle of the room, and it was surrounded by pictures of Speedy he’d never seen before. Many of them were candid, and in each of them he was wearing his signature mask and easygoing grin.

Gar’s nose twitched as a different scent rose to the forefront of his attention, a smell that had been there since he’d walked through the door but had successfully ignored until now; it was the muted scent of stale fire. The odor of dusted bone.

His gaze drifted back to the urn on the stool and his stomach churned. He slid a hand through his hair and noticed a slight tremor in the muscles—it hadn’t gone away since the dream. He wondered if it ever would. Then he headed for the strongest smell in the room. The snack table.

Victor glanced sideways at him as he grabbed a small plate and a napkin.

Gar stared at the selection blankly. Then he reached for a lemon bar.

“Try the cherry donut, it’s great,” Victor said. In the hushed, murmuring conversations of the crowd of mourners, his voice was quiet and soothing.

Gar held the lemon bar to his nose and breathed in deep, focusing on the strong citrus smell. “I’m not hungry.”

Victor watched him. “You sure about that?”

Gar noticed his hand start to shake again and set the plate down. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“S’posed to be Roy’s favorite donut shop that did the catering,” Victor tried. “They got maple nut. I know you like maple nut.”

“Cy, I’ll eat later.”

Victor pursed his lips. “Aight.”

The stale fire was back. Gar picked up the lemon bar, practically buried his nose in it. Vic took a slow bite of cherry donut.

“Somebody stink or somethin’?” he asked thickly.

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Well. Wasn’t me.”

Gar cracked a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know what a Victor Stone fart smells like.”

“Sunshine and roses, baby.”

“Right.” Gar closed his eyes. Breathed in the citrus. Then he swore under his breath and tossed the entire lemon bar in his mouth.

“Dude, what’s up?”

Gar paused mid-chew. Glanced sidelong at Vic. “I can smell him.”

“Who?”

“Speedy.”

Understanding dawned in Victor’s eyes. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna get outta here? Get some air?”

“Not with you.” Gar immediately bit his lip at the harsh tone of the words.

Hurt passed over Victor’s face but he covered it smoothly—still, Gar hung his head.

“Sorry, dude, I—shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… I just meant—”

“You wanna be alone,” Victor finished. “I get it.”

Gar sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, B.” Victor took a bite of his donut. “I’ll, uh… just be around. If you need anything. We all are.”

Yeah, I know, and I don’t fucking deserve it.

Gar smiled again. “I’m okay.”

Before Victor could reply, Gar grabbed another lemon bar and walked away. He tugged on his black tie as he wove through the disparate conversations, and he caught snippets of them in passing.

“… don’t know where you got that idea…”

“… just for capes today, but there’s a different one for the public tomorrow…”

“… pretty severe infection, from what I heard. But he was the lucky one. If they’d even waited a few more hours…”

His ears perked at that last one but he kept weaving through bodies, not even looking up. People could think what they wanted. They could think he was lucky. He didn’t feel lucky. Not even a little. In fact, he was—

Shut up. Shut up. Don’t even finish that sentence.

He jumped when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

He knew his eyes looked wild, and when they met Raven’s he made a concerted effort to make them look normal—too far, they were narrowed now—and she withdrew her hand like she’d been burned.

“Sorry, Gar, I just… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He closed his eyes. Took a bite of his dessert. Focused on the bright citrus instead of the coal and the ash.

“You hate lemon bars,” Raven said hesitantly.

“Nope, love ‘em,” he mumbled through the lemony, buttery goo. He shoved the rest in his mouth. “Are you good? You okay?”

“Yeah, I—I’m fine,” Raven managed. “The service is starting soon.”

He nodded, swallowing the dessert in one difficult gulp. “That’s good. I gotta go. To the bathroom.”

“Oh—okay,” she said—he was halfway across the room by the end of her second word.

She’s perfect, she’s so beautiful, she’s so much better than you could ever be, Gar, you’re a disgrace, you’re a liar, you’re a fucking coward, you hurt her, you hurt her, you should be—

His eyes were open but he was seeing nothing—he knocked into something and caught it automatically, his quick reflexes kicking in, and when he looked down he almost dropped it anyway out of shock.

It was Roy. He was holding Roy.

He set the urn down carefully, aware of the volume of his rushing breath, and glanced around. A few people were watching him, but there were only a few. Wally and Jinx. Leonid. Further back in the crowd, Bumblebee. None of them were saying anything.

He made sure the urn was steady on the stool, and the question he’d had since he’d found out about Roy’s death scrolled like a marquee through his mind.

What did he see?

Another question lay underneath it, but he refused to think about that one. He refused.

Next thing he knew, he was in the bathroom. Alone. His lemon bar was gone. Had he eaten the rest? The taste of it was loud on his tongue. It mixed with the smell of the bathroom, mixed with bleach mixed with toilet cleaner mixed with Meyer Lemon Fresh Scent Limited Time Only mixed with—

God, he really did hate lemon bars—

You worthless son of a bitch you liar you should be—

And just like that, he was hunching over the toilet. The cramping in his stomach made tears leak out of his eyes. Every bite of food he’d eaten today—which wasn’t much—tumbled out the way it had come. He stared into the bowl, his breath heaving. The tremor in his hands had spread to his entire body.

“Fucking piece of shit,” he whispered. “You should be dead.”

A gentle knock sounded on the door and he flushed the toilet hastily. Stood up and fixed his suit. He wiped his mouth and washed his trembling hands.

The voice on the other side of the door was deep and calm. “Hello?”

“Occupied,” he managed gruffly.

A beat. “Everything okay in there?”

Gar glanced at the door incredulously—what was this guy’s problem?

“Almost finished,” he answered. He swore under his breath at the sound of his own voice. He sounded pathetic. He sounded weak.

That’s exactly what you are, you’re pathetic, you’re a fucking joke, Gar, you’re a waste of space, you should be dead, your friends were looking for you, your girlfriend was driving herself crazy and you were playing house, you didn’t even care—

“Mind if I come in?”

The world came back into focus and Gar saw that he was gripping the sink with white knuckles. Air whistled in his lungs and before he got a chance to reply, the door was opening.

He wiped his face one last time and gazed at himself in the mirror. Hatred smoldered in his eyes. Then he saw in the reflection who was joining him and he whirled around.

“Sorry, the door was unlocked, so I thought I’d check in on ya.”

“Sweet fucking Jesus,” Gar uttered, staring up at the hulking, quiet man in the doorway. “Sorry, just—holy hell, you’re Superman.”

His smile was so open, so kind. “You’re Garfield, aren’t you?”

“You can call me Gar,” he said weakly. “You know who I am?”

“‘Course I do.”

“That’s… that’s actually fuckin’ insane. Sir. Mr. Superman. Sir. Sorry I keep swearing.”

Superman chuckled softly. “Y’know, everyone always apologizes to me when they swear. I actually don’t mind it.”

Gar’s brain was still swirling, his stomach was still roiling. He managed to say something idiotic and useless, something like, “Oh, sure, yeah, okay.”

“Actually, I’ve heard it’s good for pain management.”

Gar fought to make his face neutral. He kept a hand on the sink. “I’ve heard that too, I think,” he said vaguely. “Um, it was really great to meet you, Superman, sir, but I—”

“Your friends are worried about you,” Superman said gently.

“Oh,” Gar said. Then his chin wobbled. And his brow quivered. “Well, that’s nice of them, but I’m okay. Never felt better.”

Superman said nothing, just let the silence stretch until, finally, Gar gave up and sat in a heap on the white tile floor. He rested his head in his trembling hands.

Superman turned the lock, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and sat down next to him. Gar pinched the back of his own hand, hard, until he winced. Then he let it go.

Superman tilted his head. “What’s that for?”

“Just making sure this is real, sir.”

“Oh, I see,” he said pleasantly. Then he quieted, and Gar knew he was about to say something, something he didn’t want to talk about—

“I heard what you were saying,” Superman said.

Gar’s heart thudded. He glanced at the vast person beside him and swallowed thickly. “Oh,” he said, attempting a chuckle. “You heard that, huh?”

His eyes were so blue, bluer than Dick’s if that was possible, and Gar’s smile retreated like waves on a beach, and the hollow expression he’d tried to hide rose to the surface.

“Sounds like you’re goin’ through a tough time,” Superman probed softly.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said automatically. His voice didn’t seem to be working; it came out as a husky whisper. “I’m, um, I was just—I’ll be okay. Sometimes I just talk to myself. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Do you always talk to yourself like that? Call yourself names?”

“You weren’t supposed to—everyone talks like that,” Gar said. “That’s normal. Everyone does that.” He picked at the hem of his sleeve absently.

“Were you feeling like this before you were taken?”

“Feeling like what?” he asked flatly. “Nauseous? No. I wasn’t feeling nauseous before I was kidnapped and drugged by a mad fucking scientist. Sorry, sir. For swearing.”

“It’s okay, bud.”

Superman was very good at allowing the silence to settle in thick around them—he sat comfortably in the quiet, but Gar felt like his skin was crawling. He tugged at his tie. Picked at his sleeve.

Say something, dumbass. Say something. Fucking idiot just say something—

“I don’t want to die,” he said finally, staring at a tile on the opposite wall. His chest burned at the words. His heart stuttered. “I know it might’ve sounded like that, but… I don’t. I was just being dramatic.”

Superman nodded slowly, deep in thought. “Must be hard, what you’ve been through.”

“I was the lucky one,” Gar recited in a murmur. His shoulders were so tense they felt like they were cramping up. “Y’know, I mean, Speedy died. And Herald is… Herald is fucked. Sorry.”

“There’s always hope, though, isn’t there?”

Gar glanced at him, half-expecting to see some kind of sardonic look on his face, but he was being genuine. There was real hope in his eyes. Real concern.

“Why are you here? I mean, did you even know Speedy?”

Regret passed over Superman’s perfect, angular face. “No, I didn’t. Only by reputation.”

“So…” Gar gazed at him. Shrugged his shoulders. “Why would you care?”

Superman looked perplexed by the question. He paused to get his thoughts straight. “Because… he was alive, and now he’s not, and that’s awful. It breaks my heart,” he said.

“But… you’re Superman.”

“I’m just a person who wants to help, Gar. Just like you.”

“We’re not the same,” Gar said, almost laughing with disbelief.

“Now, why do you say that?”

“Because you—you’re good,” Gar managed. “You’re a good person.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not. I’m a waste of space.”

“How long have you felt that way?”

The hem of Gar’s sleeve was fraying now, worn down by his incessant fidgeting. It was a rental. He was so fucking stupid. “I don’t know,” he said. “A long time.”

“A few months?”

Gar actually did laugh now, but fell silent when he realized it was a genuine question. “Um, no. Longer than that.”

His stomach suddenly cramped again and he rushed across the small room to the toilet, expelling the final dregs of his stomach contents. He spit the last of the bile out of his mouth with disgust and slumped backwards to the floor again. Wiped his chin sheepishly.

“This is not how I pictured meeting you,” he mumbled, swallowing down the burn in his throat.

“How did you picture it?”

Gar smiled weakly. “Oh, jeez, you’re putting me on the spot here… Just off the top of my head, uh, Metropolis is in peril, maybe like a Godzilla situation, y’know, and Superman is losing hope, and I show up and turn into King Kong and punch Godzilla in the teeth and you give me the key to the city. Somethin’ like that.”

Superman laughed—

Superman laughed at my joke—

—and nodded. “Still could happen that way.”

“Nah, because now you know how pathetic I actually am,” Gar said, maintaining his smile. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Gar.” He wasn’t laughing anymore; Gar missed the booming, jolly sound of it, but now he could see Superman choosing his next words carefully, and the silence was filled with the sound of his own pounding heart. “I’ve met a lot of people who were in the same situation as you.”

“Um… no, I don’t think you have.”

“Please, just listen, okay?”

Gar’s mouth closed of its own accord, like it had been waiting for the Man of Steel to tell it to shut up.

“The people I’ve met who said the same things you were saying, a lot of them were about to hurt themselves.”

Gar stilled. “I just told you I’m fine.”

“I know you are, buddy, and that’s great. But these other people, what they really needed was some help. Someone to talk to.”

There was a loose string emerging from his frayed sleeve and he began to tug at it. “I don’t need that. I’ve done it before, a long time ago. They fixed me.”

“What was wrong back then?”

“My friend died.”

“Oh, Gar, I’m sorry.”

Gar shrugged. “I thought I saw her again and I kinda went crazy over it. I couldn’t handle it. It got so bad that… that Nightwing sent me to a hospital. But—after that, I was fine. And I’m still fine.”

“Gar… telling yourself you should die isn’t fine.”

“Maybe not for those other people, but I’ve been dealing with this shit—sorry, stuff—for my entire life. In a few weeks I’ll get over what I did, and I’ll be able to hold down my food and not puke it up like a fucking toddler, and my hands will stop shaking. Fightin’ crime in no time.”

“That’s great, Gar. Really. I’m glad.”

“Yeah. So you don’t have to worry.”

Superman nodded slowly. Silence settled around them again. “You’ve been dealing with this your whole life?”

“Oh—”

You dumbass you can’t just keep your fucking mouth shut maybe you wanted him to hear it you wanted him to ask you’re pathetic you’re worthless—

“… Um, no,” Gar continued. “No, just when something bad happens.”

“A lot of bad things happen in this line of work.”

A beat passed, and Gar sighed. “Yeah. I guess so. It’s, um… worse. Since Scarecrow.”

“Do your friends know you’ve been feeling this way?”

Gar huffed out a laugh. “If my friends knew, they would never leave me alone again for the rest of my life. So, no.”

Superman gave him a gentle smile. “They sound like good friends.”

“Yeah…” Gar trailed off. He stared at his hands, watched the muscles jump and twitch.

Fucking idiot traitor liar you don’t deserve them you should be dead you should be fucking dead—

Gar cleared his throat. “Yes. They are. They’re the best.”

He peered at Gar for a moment, but there was no judgment in his eyes. Only warmth, only fondness. “Where’d you go just now?” Superman prompted. “You still with me, Gar?”

“Yes, sir. Just, um, just thinking.”

God dammit, he was using silence as a tool again, and it was working, Gar was squirming, he could feel all his thoughts climbing up his throat, he wanted to tell someone, he wanted someone to tell him to go to hell, to tell him how awful he really was, but mostly he just wanted to sleep. To dream.

“Wanna talk about Scarecrow?” Superman asked quietly.

“Fuck,” Gar let out, rubbing his eyes roughly—he held his mouth, gazed at the man across from him desperately. “Can’t you just tell me everything’s gonna be okay and then fly off into the sunset?”

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” Superman told him.

Gar paused. “Now fly off into the sunset.”

He hesitated. Sadness glimmered in his bright blue eyes. “I really don’t know what I’m doing here, Gar.”

“You can leave anytime,” Gar said blankly, but Superman shook his head.

“I mean, in a situation like this. I’ve never been able to find the right combination of words. I’ve lost people. People I could have saved, if I just knew the right thing to say.”

“But you’ve saved people, too?”

Their eyes met from opposite sides of the bathroom. “Yeah. I have.”

“What did you say to them?”

He shrugged, and Gar was struck for a moment by just how young he still seemed, even after all these years of heroism. “Well… no two are alike,” he said. “That’s what makes it so hard. But it’s usually a combination of… the world is better with you in it, you’re stronger than you think, you matter, there are people who love you… the Olympics are coming up…”

“That worked?”

Superman cracked a smile. “For one guy, yeah.”

“… It’s all bullshit,” Gar murmured without thinking. Then he blinked. “Sorry, sir.”

“All true, though,” Superman replied calmly. “But I guess sometimes the truth gets repeated so much that it loses its meaning.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Like when you say your name over and over in the mirror and it starts to sound made-up.”

Superman smiled. Then he fixed Gar with his impossibly bright, hopeful eyes. “So what would you want to hear?”

The silence swelled.

“Um, I would… I would want to hear…” Gar pulled on the frayed string and watched the hem of his sleeve unravel a little bit more. “I would want to hear that it’s worth it. Like… life is worth living even when I don’t always think it is. And it’s all moving toward something important. Something good. And one day I’ll look back on this part of my life, and… it’ll be behind me. It’ll all feel like it happened to someone else. And I’ll be happy.”

Superman listened quietly. “If I said all that to you right now, would it make you feel better?”

Gar chanced a melancholy smile. “No, sir, I don’t think it would.”

Superman leaned back until his head touched the tile on the wall. He gazed up at the ceiling and smiled mutely. “Guess you’ll just have to keep saying it to yourself, then.”

“Yeah,” Gar agreed, staring into a middle distance. “Guess you’re right.”

Superman’s ears perked and he glanced at the door. “The service is about to start.”

Gar got to his feet and Superman did the same, towering over him like an adult next to a child. Still, when he looked at Gar, he somehow made him feel like an equal.

“If you want to stay and talk, we’ll stay and talk.”

“No, sir. Really, I feel better. Don’t wanna miss the funeral.”

Superman nodded… He spoke so quietly. Like Gar was the only other person on Earth. “I’m really glad I got to meet you, Gar.”

“Yeah,” Gar said numbly. “Likewise.”

Superman reached for the inside pocket of his suit jacket and brought out a business card. He placed it in Gar’s unsteady hand, and Gar stared at it. Printed on it was the contact information for several crisis hotlines.

“Just in case. The people on the other line actually know what they’re talking about, unlike me.”

Gar looked up at him. “You just… have these with you?”

“I get them reprinted every week. Never wanna run out.”

“Well… thanks. But I don’t need it.”

“Keep it anyway. Maybe one day you’ll find someone who does.”

Gar nodded slightly. “Okay, sir.”

Superman placed a huge hand on Gar’s shoulder. “You gotta stick around in case Godzilla ever shows up. I’m gonna need you.”

Gar chuckled. “Yeah. Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”

And as he filed into the atrium with everyone else and sat down next to Raven for the funeral service, as a man in long robes stood up and made his way to the podium at the head of the room, Gar found himself staring at the red urn on the stool. The scent of smoking bone and cooled ash met his nose again, but it didn’t bother him now.

He saw Raven’s hand twitch toward his, then stall and retreat, and he closed that distance, gliding his thumb over her smooth skin. He gave her a soft smile.

He was pretty sure she wasn’t checking his emotions, and he hoped to Christ he was right.

Because he was jealous.

He tried to repeat everything he’d told himself while Superman was next to him. He tried to look forward to “one day.” He tried.

You should be dead. You should be dead. You should be—

Gar stared at the urn. The shining red metal holding a person inside of it.

And another thought surfaced, the one he’d been trying the hardest to bury. But once he allowed himself to think it, he couldn’t stop.

You were the lucky one.

You were the lucky one.

You were the lucky one.

Chapter Text

The sea of reporters was undulating; it almost looked like it was breathing, like it was alive and waiting and ready to pounce. Flashbulbs blinked at them like a million eyes. The scar on Gar’s neck gleamed with nervous sweat and he took a sip of water. Set the water down. Swallowed thickly.

The Titans sat in a line facing the audience; Raven, Cyborg, Nightwing, Changeling, and Starfire.

Dick cleared his throat and immediately the crowd quieted down.

“Thank you for coming, everyone. We’re going to try to keep this short and sweet.”

Raven almost smiled at his tone; nobody hated the press more than Dick, and nobody was better at hiding it. He would have looked downright pleasant right now, if his mask wasn’t giving him a perpetual grimace.

He pointed at a reporter in the first row, who stood up.

“Greg Malkin, JC Gazette. Changeling, how does it feel to be home?”

Gar smiled so naturally, it was easy to forget why they were all there to begin with. “It feels fantastic. A home-cooked meal from Cyborg has never tasted better in my life.”

Victor beamed. “I even broke out the tofu bacon.”

Gar maintained his easygoing smile, and Dick picked another journalist.

“Mary Blake, Star City Examiner. Raven, have you made Changeling a home-cooked meal yet?”

A chuckle ran through the crowd and, although she agreed with them, she couldn’t help but feel slightly offended. She’d gotten better at pancakes… once, she had almost not burned them. Almost. Still, she let herself crack a smile.

“Just tea. I’m not allowed anywhere near the oven.”

“Not after those Halloween cookies she made in ‘09,” Victor added, and the crowd laughed.

“She added cumin instead of cinnamon,” Dick smiled as he pointed to another reporter.

“Paula Cresley, Stanford Bugle. Question for you, Nightwing—can you walk us through the process of finding Changeling? Surely it was like finding a needle in a haystack?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Dick answered. “And we knew time was running out, which didn’t make things easier. Honestly, it was all Raven. Without her, we wouldn’t have made it in time.”

“Raven, what were you feeling during all this?”

Raven shifted uncomfortably in her seat, because the honest answer was nothing. But what could she say? “Thanks for asking, Paula Cresley; because of my demonic heritage, I was able to turn off my spiraling emotions and give over the controls to the evil little voice I constantly battle inside my head. I nearly killed several people, including my own friends, to find Changeling. Sometimes I can still hear the crouching thing in the back of my mind, laughing at how pathetic I am. Because now that I have him back, he and I have barely spoken three sentences to each other. Oh, and he won’t tell me what he saw, but from what I hear, it was very pleasant. Does that answer your question, Paula?”

She couldn’t say that.

She wondered abstractly how long her silence had stretched. She could feel Victor eyeing her.

So she cleared her throat. She stared at the microphone in front of her. She drew in a breath. “I was feeling worried.”

Paula Cresley looked unsatisfied. “Worried?”

“Yes,” Raven nodded. “Very worried.”

Dick glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “We’ll take another question. You, in the aisle.”

“Could you speak about Speedy’s funeral? What were y’all feeling that day?”

Starfire leaned forward and spoke into her mic. “It was a heartbreaking day. We took comfort in the fact that we were surrounded by friends who were just as heartbroken as us. There was so much love and affection to go around, and not an eye was dry.”

“Changeling, I’ve gotten reports that you were absent for much of the service, is that true?”

Gar blinked. “Nope, I was right there next to Raven. She can vouch for me.”

“And how were the Titans East?” another reporter asked.

She watched him quietly as he answered more questions with ease… now that she thought about it, he had left the funeral quite a few times. God only knew where he’d gone off to, and she couldn’t ask. She knew he wouldn’t tell her, so what was the point?

She turned her attention back to the conference and caught the tail end of a question from someone toward the back of the room: “… any advice for someone just starting out?”

Gar was in his element, it seemed; he was leaning forward, and there was a glint in his eye that Raven hadn’t seen since Wyoming. She wanted to feel happy that he seemed happy, but a pit of dread was forming in her gut, because she knew deep down that this wouldn’t last. She couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

“Well, my advice would be, don’t listen to all these people who say this kinda diet is unsustainable or unaffordable. And don’t just cut meat out of your diet without replacing it with a different protein, or your body will get mad at you.”

“And beans aren’t the only alternate protein,” Victor added. “We keep tellin’ Gar that but he won’t listen.”

The crowd laughed and Gar laughed and Victor beamed and Dick shook his head exasperatedly and Starfire looked at them all innocently, and everyone was playing their part to perfection, and Raven stared at her microphone and waited for it all to crumble to the ground.

A tall woman with cascading red hair stood up and Dick paused. He looked for someone else to pick. A sea of raised hands flowed in front of him. But before he could choose one, the woman cleared her throat. Her voice rang out, clear and precise. “Vicki Vale, Gotham Gazette. Changeling, are you aware that Scarecrow has answered his numerous federal charges with a plea of insanity?”

Gar blinked. His cheeks tinted. The rhythm he’d fallen into with the other reporters suddenly dropped away. His face was like an open wound. “I wasn’t, um… I wasn’t aware of that. I guess I’ve been trying to…” His eyes became unfocused and he blinked again. “Trying to keep my mind off of the whole thing.”

“Can you share your initial thoughts on this development in the trial?”

“Trial, um…” Gar’s mouth twisted like he was trying not to vomit. “No. No comment.” He brought his water to his lips but set it down halfway. His hand was trembling. He hid it in his lap under the table.

Raven glared at the reporter, this woman who had said Scarecrow’s name aloud. Everyone had been given a memo before the conference asking them not to say the villain’s name; Dick had sent it out without Gar’s knowledge. He knew hearing the name would upset Gar, make him unpredictable, and in the last few days since the funeral Gar had been good. Well, not good, exactly, but steady. And as soon as the reporter had said the name, a supernova of pain had erupted from him, so intense that it had made Raven dizzy.

As she glared at the reporter, the crouching thing stirred in the back of her mind. She could feel it like an itch that needed to be scratched. She pushed it down, but she could still hear it whispering incoherently as it sank back into the depths.

The reporter met her eyes.

“Raven, my sources at Arkham tell me that Scarecrow is calling for an investigation into your conduct; do you have any idea what he might be talking about?”

“No idea.”

“Hm. That’s interesting. And—”

“Actually, Ms. Vale, what’s really interesting is that I could reach inside you and pull out your intestines through your mouth. Isn’t that interesting?”

Victor nudged her and she sat up straight; her eyes had glazed over but they sharpened again as she noticed everyone in the room staring at her, waiting for her to say something.

“Could you repeat the question?” she muttered.

“Of course. I asked what you would say to Scarecrow if he were in front of you at this moment.”

A thousand answers bubbled up in her throat but she swallowed them down. Instead she plastered a pleasant smile to her lips and said, “I’m hoping one day we’ll meet again and I can tell him in person.”

Vicki Vale turned to Gar. “Changeling, same question.”

Gar looked at Raven with a veiled expression. Then he faced the crowd again. “Same answer.”

Other reporters raised their hands and Dick asked Gar a wordless question; Gar nodded minutely. Dick chose another journalist.

“Changeling, could you tell us what the conditions were like where you were held captive?”

Dick cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s try to keep—”

“It’s okay, Nightwing,” Gar interrupted quietly. Then he shifted in his seat and brought out his smile again. “It was very dark. Damp. It didn’t smell like daisies, I can tell you that much.”

Another chuckle from the crowd.

“Were you given food and water?”

“Well, when they found me, I was pretty malnourished. So I guess not.”

Another reporter stood up. “You guess not? You mean you don’t remember?”

Gar’s eyes flicked over to Dick, whose lips were pursed. “I was, um… most of the time I was pretty out of it,” he said. “I don’t remember much.”

“When we found him, he was hours away from dying of thirst,” Dick said. “So no, I don’t think his captors were too concerned with keeping him hydrated.”

“What do you mean, ‘out of it?’”

Gar looked overwhelmed for just a moment, but recovered his calm expression. “Well, this is Scarecrow we’re talking about,” he said smoothly, and Raven felt fresh hatred and agony spill from him as the name formed itself on his lips. “Of course I was zonked outta my gourd.”

A chuckle rippled through the crowd.

“Were you given the same compound that killed Speedy?”

The smallest flinch passed over Gar’s face, unnoticeable to anyone except his fellow Titans.

“The nature of that compound hasn’t been released to the public,” Dick said flatly.

“But it would stand to reason that he was given the same thing,” one of the journalists said. “Scarecrow was only out of the box for a few days. He wouldn’t have had time to develop—”

“I was,” Gar said, casting his gaze down at the table. Cameras flashed and lit up every detail of his gaunt face. “I was given the same drug as Speedy.”

“So how does it feel to know that you so narrowly avoided the same fate as him?”

Gar folded his hands in front of him. “Uh… Yeah, y’know, it feels, um… I got lucky,” he said finally, his tone flat, like he was reciting the words. “That’s all it was. Lucky my friends found me before it was too late.”

“Are you saying the Titans East didn’t act fast enough? That Speedy's death was their fault?”

“Of course the Changeling is not saying that,” Starfire interjected. “He is merely reflecting on how close he came to death and how grateful he is to avoid it.”

Gar nodded, but there was the slightest moment of hesitation beforehand that made Raven blink.

Vicki Vale stood up again. “So, what did you see? What is Changeling’s worst nightmare?”

Dick’s mouth thinned. “Ms. Vale, I didn't think you’d be able to make it to this press conference, seeing as I only announced it an hour ago.”

She gave him a dazzling grin. “I was in the neighborhood, honey.”

Dick smiled back tightly. “How lucky,” he muttered.

The room went quiet as they all waited for Gar to answer her question; he kept his face blank and Raven couldn’t be sure, but it felt like he was shielding his emotions from her. She was reminded again of his request for privacy, and guilt burned in her stomach when she realized she wasn’t giving him that.

“My worst nightmare,” Gar said with a breathy laugh. “Gosh, it’s too horrible to talk about… I guess if Orchard Family ever discontinued their apple chips, I would be pretty upset.”

The room erupted with laughter and Vicki Vale narrowed her eyes, waiting patiently. When the din quieted down, she cleared her throat.

“Or maybe Scarecrow decided to change it up this time?”

Gar’s smile dropped away.

“My sources at Arkham tell me that Scarecrow’s grown more interested in daydreams these days, not nightmares.”

Gar’s hands were shaking visibly now; even when he placed them in his lap, the tremor rippled up his arms. “Um… that doesn’t…” He trailed off and swallowed thickly, over and over. His face was so pale, and Raven felt certain that he was about to vomit. “That doesn’t sound like Scarecrow to me,” he finished weakly.

He chuckled, but it was a broken, terrified sound. He looked to Dick with darting eyes like an animal caught in a trap, and Dick brought his hands together with finality.

“Alright, everyone, we’ll take one more question and wrap things up.”

He scanned the crowd for the most pithy journalist he could find and settled on a mousy young man near the aisle. “You. Make it a good one.”

The young man stood up quickly, pulled out his notepad, and promptly dropped it on the floor; he dropped to his knees and resurfaced with a snap. “Uh, Benjamin Neely, Teen Beat Magazine,” he said hastily, flipping to the right page. “Uh, lemme see… Changeling, with this life-changing ordeal you’ve been through recently, our readers want to know if it has changed your perspective on romance.”

Gar frowned distantly, obviously still distracted. He sounded dazed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, life is so short, so precious; are you going to propose to your girlfriend soon?”

“Girlfriend?” Gar asked blankly, as though he hadn’t the faintest idea who Benjamin Neely was talking about—then he froze and looked at Raven.

She kept her face the same cold neutral it always was in public, but she could almost hear her heart crumbling inside her like an old tomb. Victor bumped her foot with his and she realized an exasperated smile would be a better facial expression right now, but she couldn’t conjure it. Cameras flashed and she stared at Gar hollowly, unable to move.

Gar forced out a laugh. “Sorry, everyone, it’s just—she doesn’t feel like my girlfriend anymore.” His eyes widened. “I mean, um—”

If she got up and left, the gossip articles would never cease. So she stayed where she was. Finally, by some miracle, she was able to make her best attempt at an easygoing smile. She shook her head as if to say to the cameras, “Boys, am I right?”

“Our relationship is really nobody’s business but ours,” she said to the crowd. It felt like her voice was coming from someone else, like she was watching the press conference on TV with the rest of the nation. “And the concept of marriage is outdated; it’s no longer the end goal of every relationship. We’ve never been a very conventional or domestic couple, and it works for us. We don’t feel the need for all that ceremony. We both know how we feel.”

That last sentence felt like the biggest lie she ever told… and at the end of it, the way Gar looked at her—it was like she’d broken up with him on live TV. Her chest tightened; they stared at each other. She had never felt further away from him.

Dick glanced between them and dug a hand through his hair. Behind his mask, his eyes were wide and exhausted. “Alright everyone, that’s—”

He blinked as Gar stood up swiftly and exited the room without a word.

“Uh, that’s it for today,” he continued. “Thanks for your questions, and stay safe out there.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, go ahead and add another.”

Victor’s hand reached toward the button, but he paused. He clicked the intercom instead.

“You sure, B? You’re already goin’ harder than yesterday. And you look like you need a break.”

Sweat poured down Gar’s pale face. The thin scars on his neck and wrists gleamed under the bright gym lights. He kept his eyes trained on the bar above him, but his arms were starting to quiver under the weight. The grimace on his lips wobbled slightly with the effort of keeping the barbell above him, but as he brought the weight down he shook his head.

“Nope, I’m good.”

Victor pursed his lips. He pressed the button. The machine added two more large weights to the barbell and Gar groaned, he clenched his jaw, but he began a new set. There was a hardened look on his face.

“Looks like he’s struggling,” Dick said quietly, walking up behind Victor.

Victor watched Gar.

“He’s pushin’ himself too hard,” he said, his tone matching Dick’s even though they were in the soundproof control room.

“I think he feels like he has to prove something.”

“To who?” Victor asked. His hand twitched toward the abort button as Gar’s muscles wobbled, but Gar righted himself, and Victor relaxed slightly. “Ever since he’s been home, we’ve all just been… gentle and supportive,” he shuddered. “You know how tough that is for me? To not just grab him by the shoulders and get him to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I know.”

“We still don’t know what happened to him. He hasn’t even told Raven, and I don’t think he ever will…. I’m just worried, man.”

Dick nodded, just a slight incline of his chin. “He’s eating,” he offered. “And exercising.”

“Just because he’s eating and exercising doesn’t mean he’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed with a sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

“Have you even seen them in the same room lately?”

Dick took a while to answer, seemingly deep in thought, but then he blinked. “Who?”

“Gar and Raven,” Victor said.

“Oh. Um… no. Not in a couple days.”

“Couple weeks,” Victor corrected. “Not since the press conference.”

Gar’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“Hey, you guys aren’t talkin’ shit about me, are ya?”

Victor barked out a too-loud laugh; Dick shifted his weight. “We got more important things than your skinny green ass, B.”

Gar chuckled, his arms wobbling, his cheeks flushed. “Add some more weight, Cy?”

Victor held down the intercom. “Gar, you wanna shift into something stronger? A gorilla, or—”

“No.”

He paused. Glanced at Dick.

Gar listened to the dead air coming from the speaker in the gym.

Finally, Victor spoke. “You can’t keep this up, man, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Gar turned his head and looked at Victor through the window. There was a muted, detached look on his face. “Vic, dude, I said I’m good.”

“Just do it,” Dick murmured. His mask covered his eyes and made him look cold and unfeeling, but there was a slight tilt to his lips that betrayed his concern.

Victor swore under his breath and hit the button to add more weight.

“How’s his brain chemistry looking?”

“It’s leveled out, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“His dopamine and serotonin levels were all over the place when he got back. Different readings every day. They’ve leveled out, but they’re low. Really low.”

“Do you think he’s safe for the field?”

Victor paused.

Dick stepped closer. His voice was a low murmur; it blended with the hum of the distant generator, almost indistinguishable from it, but Victor could hear every word.

“Do you think he’ll ever be safe for the field?”

Victor glanced at Dick, an answer forming on his lips, but a thundering crash on the other side of the glass made him lunge for the abort button instead.

They both sprinted out of the control room as the weight machine righted itself, clearing the fallen weights and removing the bar from Gar’s sweaty neck like magic.

Gar’s hand flew up to massage his windpipe as he struggled to breathe—he sat up quickly, blinking hard. His eyes were like dinner plates.

Victor’s breath burst out of his chest. “I fucking told you, man!”

Gar rubbed his neck and stared at nothing, and when Victor knelt in front of him and pried his hand away to assess the damage, he didn’t try to resist. He cleared his throat. Cleared his throat again.

“I’m fine, Vic. Really.”

“What happened, Gar?” Dick said. He stood a few feet back with his arms crossed, his mouth set in a straight line.

Gar avoided his eyes. “It was a little too heavy, I guess,” he shrugged. “Just lost control of it.”

“You were bein’ a dumbass, that’s what happened,” Victor grumbled.

“You could’ve transformed to avoid getting hurt,” Dick thought aloud. “Why didn’t you?”

“I’m not hurt.”

Victor ran a probing thumb over Gar’s throat and sighed. Leaned back on his heels. “Yeah. He’s good. I guess.”

Gar chanced a tired smile. “Told ya.”

“We should take a break,” Dick suggested. “Go get some lunch.”

“You guys go ahead, I’m gonna shower up.”

“We can wait,” Dick offered, but Gar shook his head.

“Nah. It’s okay.”

He bent over to fix his shoelace, and Victor and Dick exchanged a glance. “Want us to bring you anything?” Victor asked.

“Sure, whatever’s greasy and vegan.”

“How about some tofu soaked in olive oil?”

Gar scoffed. “Yeah, dude, that sounds delish.”

“Perfect!” Victor chirped. Then he sniffed the air exaggeratedly. “Christ, Gar, you do need a shower. You been eating raw onions again?”

“You know it’s my favorite snack,” Gar shot back smugly.

They began to move toward the door, and Victor walked behind Gar… over the ridge of his spine, Victor could see that the thin scar from the collar was slightly deeper, slightly darker. He stared at it. “You sure you don’t wanna come with us, dude?”

“Positive,” Gar said, holding the door open for them as they walked further down the hall. He maintained his easy smile, which he’d gotten very good at over the last few weeks, until the elevator door closed.

Then he let his face fall.

He let his shoulders slump.

He massaged his aching windpipe… then pressed his thumb down almost absently, digging it deeper, feeling the pain flare higher and higher.

He tore his hand away with wide eyes.

“Jesus,” he murmured. Then he wiped his sweaty forehead and took the staircase to his room.

***

Stacks of CDs surrounded her and she sorted them slowly, as though in a trance. Quiet music played from the outdated stereo. A lavender candle burned on the bedside table.

She paused suddenly, because Gar was on the other side of the door, and she could feel him pause too. She stood up, not entirely sure why she’d done it, and froze when Gar knocked gently on the sleek metal.

“Um. Come in,” she tried.

The door opened to reveal Gar, sweaty from a workout. He avoided her eyes, and he looked even paler than usual. Still, she took in every inch of his appearance; she hadn’t been this close to him in weeks.

He’d shaved his stubble. His muscles were more toned. He wasn’t as rail-thin as he had been when he returned.

After a long stretch of silence, his eyes roamed over her, then around the room. He forced a pleasant smile onto his face, but there was a tightness behind his eyes.

“What are you doing in here?”

She looked at the piles of CDs stacked knee-high around her and frowned. “I came in to look for that pair of socks I threw at you when we were packing for…” She trailed off. Glanced at him. “But I got distracted. Your CDs are out of order.”

He looked apprehensive. “No, they’re not.”

Raven’s heart dropped at his tone but she nodded hesitantly. “You had Aqua next to Hanson next to Violent Femmes,” she tried, but Gar shook his head and ventured toward her, kneeling among the CDs.

“That was on purpose,” he muttered, searching through the stacks. He held back a sigh. “Raven, they’re all messed up now.”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to… to help,” she said, stepping back as his movements became agitated.

Gar looked at her sharply and wavered for a moment at the look on her face, then let out a huff. “Your socks are under the bed.” He turned his back and hunched over the piles of discs.

She didn’t move. She watched him sort through the CDs with some kind of method that was completely unknown to her. Frustration built in her gut.

Her voice was quiet. “What are you doing, Gar?”

“I organize them by mood,” he said, picking up Nirvana and Pearl Jam and tucking them next to each other in the holder.

“Since when?”

His shoulders tensed. “I, um... Just recently.”

“Since you got back?”

Gar nodded curtly. “Yeah. Since I got back.”

“You do a lot of things differently since you got back,” Raven ventured quietly.

“Raven… don’t,” he sighed. He picked up a Jackson Browne and placed it under a Bonnie Raitt. Raven watched him with pursed lips.

“Don’t what?”

He met her eyes.

“Don’t what, Gar? I know I’m not your girlfriend anymore—”

Gar got to his feet. “I never said you weren’t my girlfriend.”

“You told that reporter as much,” Raven said, holding his gaze.

“I said it felt weird calling you my girlfriend,” Gar said, voice rising.

Her volume rose to meet his. “What the hell does that mean, Gar? What am I supposed to think when you say that?”

“It means—it means I’m going through some shit right now and I’m confused!”

“Confused?”

“Yes, Raven! You confuse me!” He began to pace the room, knocked over a stack of CDs, and left it scattered on the floor. “So—so what, now we’re never getting married? It would’ve been nice for you to let me in on that little secret before you told the entire fucking country about it.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say—it took a second for her to think of a reply. “It would have been nice for you to remember who your girlfriend is,” she finally shot back, and Gar huffed out a laugh and shook his head tiredly. Raven watched him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Anger flared to her fingertips. “Gar, you wanna talk about secrets?”

He rounded on her with a warning finger. “Stop it.”

“You see how hypocritical you’re being, right?”

“This is completely different.”

“Completely different? How? How, Gar? Are you the only one allowed to keep secrets in this relationship?”

“Raven, you not wanting to get married, that’s, like, foundational. We’ve been together…” He thought for a moment. “Four years, and you’ve never even mentioned that.”

“We’ve never really talked about it! I thought we were good the way we were!”

“I asked you day one,” he argued quietly. “I asked you in your little tent, do you remember?”

Her eyebrows knit together as she cast her memory back. “You… You asked me if I wanted a normal life.”

“White picket fence and kids,” he agreed.

“I said I wanted you, and it didn’t matter what came after.”

He watched her hollowly. “Yeah. I remember.”

“I never said I wanted to get married,” Raven said. “And, by the way, I never said I didn’t want to get married.”

“Well, what was all that about outdated concepts and ceremony? Sounded pretty anti-marriage to me.”

“Why does it matter so much, Gar? I thought we were—”

“You thought we were happy,” Gar finished. “Well—well maybe we were, Raven, maybe we were happy when we went to Wyoming. God, I really want a cigarette. I’ve never smoked a day in my life, and I want a fucking cigarette. Doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“I just don’t get why you’re so hung up on this,” Raven said.

“Because… because it was there,” he said helplessly, gesturing toward the horizon through the window. “It was there, down the path, and I know we didn’t talk about it a lot, but it was in the plan. At least, for me it was.”

“You couldn’t even remember who I was at the press conference,” Raven told him softly.

“I wasn’t—Jesus, Raven, that’s not what happened,” Gar groaned, burying his face in his hands and dragging them down his cheeks.

“So tell me what happened.”

His hands fell to his sides. He stared at her.

“Tell me what happened, Gar, or I’m leaving. I’m sick of this.”

“Raven…”

She waited another moment, then shook her head. Made her way to the door. But the sound of Gar’s voice stopped her.

“I forgot,” he said quietly. “I forgot you were my girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, facing him again and leaning against the cold door. “That’s what I—”

“I forgot you were my girlfriend because I thought—” His lips clamped shut. He shook his head tightly. “For just a second… fuck, Raven… I thought you were my wife.” His hand drifted up to his mouth and sealed it. He watched her silently, motionlessly.

She stared at him, rooted to the spot.

He brought his hand away, and the pale imprint of it lingered on his lips. “I thought, why’s this idiot asking me about my girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Gar… what are you talking about?” Her heart stumbled in her chest, and she knew her eyes were too wide, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to run. She wanted to stay.

She stayed.

Gar’s face was like stone. He held her gaze. “After you rescued me, I bought a ring.”

“Gar—”

“I asked you to marry me on the Fourth of July, during the fireworks. You said yes.”

“No, you didn’t,” Raven breathed. “No, I—I didn’t.”

“You didn’t want anything big. So we went down to the courthouse. We brought Cy and Dick and Star. The whole thing took about twenty minutes. You couldn’t stop smiling. You looked so beautiful, Raven.”

Her breath felt too big to exhale, like it was building up in her lungs. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think. Her eyes stung. “That never—”

“It never happened,” Gar said quietly. “I know. Except it did. Eight years ago.”

“That’s what you saw? That’s what—what Scarecrow’s drug made you see?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded. Looked down at the floor. Fresh guilt bubbled inside him; she could almost see it.

Her feet carried her toward him until they were face to face. She laid a hand on his chest, felt his heartbeat quicken under her fingertips. His hands settled instinctually at her waist.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“Well, I didn’t tell you, so… that’s on me,” he conceded.

“I didn’t know you loved me that much,” she admitted.

His eyes widened. “Raven, I tell you all the time—or, I did. Before.”

“I mean… I know you always joked about proposing, and—”

“I was never joking,” Gar said, quiet and firm. “Never.”

“Well, I—I thought you were.”

“Why would I joke about that?”

“Because I’m me,” Raven said. “Nobody would want to spend their whole life with me. Not really.”

“Well, is that something… you would ever want?” he asked softly. “Would you ever wanna marry me? Hypothetically?”

She inched toward him, and he did the same, his eyes fixed on her lips.

Then a prickle of goosebumps traveled down her neck and she heard the crouching thing chuckle in its quiet, cold way. Gar’s breath was warm on her lips.

“Gar, I don’t…”

He pulled back hastily with hurt in his eyes. “Oh.”

“I mean, it’s not… I don’t—”

“You don’t want to,” he ended. “I get it.” He let go of her and wandered back over to his CD collection, sat down and stared blankly at it, but he didn’t sort them. He didn’t move. “Sorry for asking, I just… wanted to check.”

“Gar, I don’t deserve it,” she whispered.

His head snapped up to look at her, but she was already slipping out the door.

Chapter Text

She heard his hurried footsteps behind her in the starkly lit hallway.

“Raven, wait.”

She closed her eyes. “I want to be alone right now.”

“No, you don’t.”

She turned back to look at him, and in a few seconds he’d caught up to her.

“If you really wanted to be alone, you would have portaled somewhere.”

She kept her face neutral. “So, what do I want, Gar? I’d love to know.”

“I think you want to talk.”

She broke away from his gaze with difficulty. “How am I supposed to live up to this… this dream you had,” she murmured. “Eight years of happiness with some version of me that doesn’t exist.”

“But it was you,” Gar replied quietly. “Everything about you was the same. It’s just that… you were my wife.”

“You said you liked our life the way it was,” Raven said. “Back in Wyoming. Did you mean that?”

Gar stared at her blankly.

She sighed. “Do you even remember that?”

He began to nod. “Yeah. It was a long time ago for me, but… yes. I think so.”

She waited silently.

“I asked you what you wanted to do when we were done being Titans. Right?”

Raven paused. Nodded.

“And you didn’t know. I remember.” He rested his hands on her slumped shoulders. “I remember, Raven.”

“You said it was okay that I didn’t know. You just wanted me to think about it.” She looked up at him. “And then you just… made the decision for me.”

Gar blinked. “Raven, I was drugged. I didn’t really have control over what I was seeing.”

“But you said you were happy,” she said.

“I was, Raven,” Gar rushed. “But—”

“But you haven’t been happy since you were strapped to that chair,” she said quietly.

He said nothing. Just stood before her, motionless.

She sighed and continued down the hall, but he caught her elbow and held it gently. She stared at his hand, then at him.

“What did you mean before? ‘I don’t deserve it’—what were you talking about?”

Raven shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes it all feels like it was meant for someone else.”

He listened with knit eyebrows. “Raven, what are you saying?”

“Don’t you ever feel like… certain things weren’t meant for you? Like… there’s this warmth surrounding everyone on the planet and it connects them to everyone else, and it’s something they can all share. And it’s so… so simple. But it’s just out of reach.”

“Well… that sounds like love,” Gar said.

“It’s not just love, it’s this—this ability to be loved,” Raven said with a tilt of her lips. “Maybe I don’t have it. I love you so much, and I know, logically, you have told me that you love me. And I know that you wouldn’t lie about something like that. And I just… I’ve tried, but I can’t believe it.”

Gar blinked a few times and quickly wiped his eyes. “I should have told you more,” he said huskily.

“No—Gar, no,” she hurried. “You’ve told me plenty of times. It’s just that there’s nothing about me worth loving. It’s not your fault.”

He stared at her blankly. “Raven, that’s the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You deserve someone else,” Raven said. “Don’t ask me to marry you, Gar, don’t settle for me.”

He thought for a long time with a veiled expression. “You never answered my question,” he finally said, taking her hands.

She paused and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Raven, what do you want,” he whispered. “Fuck everything else, fuck me, fuck what you think you deserve. What do you want?”

“How am I supposed to know that?” she asked quietly. “How does anyone figure that out?”

After a moment, Gar breathed out a laugh and his hands drifted from hers. “I don’t know. I guess it took a supervillain wonder drug for me to figure it out.”

Raven was quiet for a long time, deep in thought. She tried to ignore the constant flares of emotion coming from Gar, but they were bright hot. She glanced at him—his face looked perfectly painless. He was becoming skilled at masking his emotions; almost as skilled as her.

“Do you miss it?” she asked softly.

Gar frowned. “What?”

“The drug.”

“No,” he said, too quickly.

“It made you happy,” she told him.

“You make me happy.”

“I used to,” she corrected. “Before Scarecrow.”

He looked like he’d been slapped across the face.

“Gar, you’re miserable,” she continued. “I know you told me not to read your emotions, but I can’t help it. I can see it, all around you, this—this guilt you have, and the shame, and the fear, it’s like you’re fading away…” She trailed off into silence; she didn’t know what to do, so she tucked her hair behind her ears. A strand fell loose and she tucked it back again. Her voice grew even quieter. “You think I haven’t noticed the shaking in your hands?”

Gar’s eyebrows slowly drew together. “Do you think the others have seen it?”

“It’s hard to miss,” she said.

He held out a hand and stared at his trembling fingers… then he tightened them into a fist and let it hang at his side. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His eyes flicked to her, then away. “I dropped a barbell on my neck during my workout.”

Raven blinked.

“My hands just… stopped working. It’s like they went numb or something.” He stretched his fingers and clenched his fists again.

“Did you tell Victor?”

He shook his head. “I’m starting to think…” He cleared his throat and looked up at the bright ceiling lights. His eyes were glossy. “I’m starting to think I’m, um, broken.”

Raven stared at him. She took a step closer. Paused. Then she wrapped her arms around him.

Without hesitation, he held her tightly. His arms were strong around her middle, and he buried his face in her shoulder. “I can’t morph anymore,” he whispered.

She froze. “What?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t during the dream, either. I didn’t morph for the whole eight years.”

She rubbed his bony neck gently, her thumb dipping into his hair. “The collar around your neck kept you from changing. It must’ve carried into your dream subconsciously.”

“It was nice,” he murmured. “Because in the dream, I never had to, y’know? I was safe.”

She chose her words carefully; he hadn’t been this open with her since before he’d been taken. She didn’t want to scare him off.

“Gar, I love you,” she reminded him. She felt his guilt and shame flare as he listened to her words. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me stop loving you.”

Her shoulder was suddenly wet with his tears. He gripped her tighter.

“When you woke up, you kept asking me where ‘they’ were,” she said softly. “Gar… in your dream, did we have kids?”

The tremors spread from his hands until his whole body trembled. His voice was just a ragged breath. “Raven, I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to, it just happened.”

They both tensed as they felt the presence of Dick and Victor drawing closer down the hall—Raven opened a portal behind her and they stumbled into it, still holding each other desperately.

Inky darkness, and a feeling like cold mist, surrounded them for a split second before they landed on a squashy bean bag chair surrounded by throw pillows and silk drapings and warm lamplight. Gar didn’t even have to look up; he kept his face buried in her shoulder and knew from the enchanted quiet around them that they were in Raven’s pillow fort in the corner of the gym.

“Please don’t be mad,” he whispered.

She ran her hand through his hair; it was getting shaggy. “Gar, why would I be mad?”

“I lied to you, I told you I didn’t want kids—I didn’t even know I was lying, Raven, I promise,” he begged. “I promise, I’m so sorry, honey…”

Her voice was even quieter than his. “How did it happen?”

He paused. Pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes. “You… want to know about them?”

She thought for a long time, and her gaze slowly drifted down. She stared at the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t want you to be alone anymore.”

He pursed his lips; they wobbled slightly. “I miss them so much,” he said, fresh tears spilling. “The last thing I saw before I woke up, I was dropping them off at school. It was just a normal day, I was watching them go inside, I took a sip of coffee, and I noticed the straps of Jack’s backpack were too loose, and then I—I woke up. And that light was so bright in my eyes, and I was in so much pain… and they were gone.”

Raven listened silently. “Jack?”

Gar nodded. “Yeah… Jack and Phoebe. They—” He quieted. “Do you want me to keep going?”

After a moment, she nodded.

“They weren’t planned,” he said softly. “We’d been married for two years. We didn’t think we wanted any. We had a little cottage with plants in the windows… y’know, we were perfectly happy the way we were. We found out around Thanksgiving that you were pregnant.”

Raven’s heart thumped. The dream she’d had all those weeks ago floated back up through her memory. The plants in the windows, the ruined Thanksgiving fudge… Gar’s hands on her stomach.

“You were terrified,” he continued in a whisper, watching her face carefully. “You didn’t think you could do it.”

“Were they…” She blinked away tears. Cleared her throat. “Were they good? Or were they like me?”

His hand was soft on her cheek. “They were like you. They were amazing.”

“Gar…” She found herself shaking her head. Her breath built up in her chest and she released it in a slow stream.

He waited with wide eyes for her to say something.

“Why didn’t you tell me about them sooner,” she whispered.

“I was scared,” he said after a while. “I didn’t want you to think you aren’t enough for me. I never want you to think that. You’re… you’re real,” he finished.

“But you loved them,” she breathed.

He was quiet for a long time. “Yeah.”

“You still love them. That’s real.”

“I’ll get over it,” he whispered.

Slowly, slowly, her forehead came to rest against his chest. “What did they look like,” she murmured.

She felt Gar pause, heard his heart skip.

“Jack had red hair… like mine used to be,” he said. “And Phoebe looked more like you, only her hair was curly… You would have loved them, Raven. You did love them.”

Her breath was warm on his shirt. “What about their eyes?”

Gar watched her and knew that red was flashing through her memory, but he shook his head. He rubbed her back slowly. “Phoebe’s were light blue, like my mom’s. Jack’s were green, but they weren’t my green. They were different.”

“Lighter with brown specks,” Raven said quietly.

Gar blinked. “How did you know?”

“My mother,” she explained. “Her eyes looked like that.”

Gar smiled. “I always wondered where they came from.”

Raven’s eyebrows were knit. A question arose from the depths of her mind, and she waited for it to sink back down. “What does it feel like?” she finally asked.

“What does what feel like?” Gar asked blankly.

“Being a parent,” Raven said.

“Oh,” he managed. “Um, it feels… big. Like… y’know those videos I used to watch about the scale of the planets compared to the stars and black holes and the galaxy? It’s like my life before the kids was really small, and when they were born… I loved everything more. Life, and them, and—and you.… Like, my ability to love things got bigger. That part of the dream hasn’t gone away, Raven. I love you more than I ever have.”

She closed her eyes. Sighed.

He tilted her face up and held her gaze. “Am I lying?”

She couldn’t look away. Warmth crept up her neck. “No.”

“Do you believe me?”

Her mouth twisted into a frown and the warmth spread over her face. “I’m trying to.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded slowly, and he bent closer to her even slower. Warmth spread down her arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Her heart tightened and waited and wanted. His lips were slightly chapped and she tasted old sweat from his workout, but she didn’t care—he ran his calloused thumb along her cheek and she melted into him, needing to be closer, needing him to touch her.

She felt him all around her, his love, his kindness, his warmth.

His hand drifted down to the dip in her waist and he gripped the soft skin. “I love you,” he breathed against her lips.

She nodded, eyes clouded. She felt warm. She believed him. “I love you, Gar.”

“Let’s get married,” he mumbled, pulling her hips closer.

“Yeah,” she moaned, tracing her tongue along his lips—

He froze. Pulled back. Gazed at her with wide, stunned eyes.

“Are you serious?”

Raven stared back; her heart thumped at the answer she’d given, icy hot shock pooled in her stomach, but she nodded. “Are you?”

Gar nodded. He cleared his throat and sat up, sliding a trembling hand through his hair. “You want to marry me?”

She sat up too, and their knees touched. “Is that not what you wanted to hear?”

“It is—it is,” he rushed, but his breath was starting to whistle in his lungs.

“Gar, what’s wrong?”

“This isn’t—when I asked you before, we were on the roof,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“In your dream?”

He nodded jerkily, laying a hand on his chest and attempting to steady his breath.

“Gar, that was a dream,” Raven said slowly. “This is real.”

“No, it’s not,” he mumbled—then shook his head. “I mean, it is, it’s just—you don’t wanna marry me, Raven,” he told her.

“Why not?”

“Because there was nothing wrong with me in the dream.” He sucked in a breath and felt his pulse quicken in his neck; the air was too thick. It was too thick—on the roof there had been a breeze, and it had gently ruffled Raven’s hair, and the fireworks had made her face glow, and he had felt alive.

“Gar, I don’t care that your hands shake, or—or that you can’t morph anymore,” she said, taking his hands. “I love you.”

“But in the dream it was different—I was different, I was better, I was happy, I never thought about—”

Gar stopped. He stopped moving. He stopped breathing.

Raven stilled, and swallowed thickly. “What were you going to say?”

He stared at their hands… Raven’s were so much smaller than his. Her skin was so soft. She was so beautiful. He loved her so much.

“I hate myself most of the time,” he said softly.

Her heart cracked.

“It’s, um… It’s exhausting,” he chuckled, but it was short-lived. His smile fell into a hollow expression. He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “The drug took all of that away.”

Raven frowned. “You felt like this before you were taken?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“So… you do miss it,” Raven said. “The drug.”

“Raven…” He shook his head. “Of course I miss it.”

“You know you’ll probably die if you take any more,” she told him quietly.

He said nothing for a long time. Slowly, he intertwined their fingers. The lamp’s glow colored Raven’s skin golden, and his own hand cast a long shadow over hers.

“I think about Speedy a lot,” he said finally.

She nodded. “So do I.”

“I think about… how he died,” Gar said. “What he saw.”

“What do you mean, Gar?”

“They gave him the same drug as me. I wonder what he saw before he died.”

“The coroner said he died almost instantly,” Raven said quietly.

“I fit eight years into a few days. He only had a few seconds, but… he saw something. Something good. I wonder what it was.”

Raven watched him. “We’ll never know.”

“I wonder if he’s still seeing it. Wherever he is.”

“He’s nowhere,” Raven said. “He’s dead.”

“I don’t believe that. I believe in something after.” Gar’s eyes became unfocused, and he began to pick at the hem of his exercise shorts. “Something good.”

“Gar, I think… I think you need help,” Raven said gently.

He knit his brow. “Because I believe in heaven?”

“Because it sounds…” She pursed her lips. “It sounds like you’ve been thinking about death. A lot.”

The look on his face was tired, defeated, numb. “In the dream, it never crossed my mind once. It was beautiful.”

The memory of Herald’s cracked teeth and bleeding lips, his screaming laughter, surged through her mind.

“It’s so beautiful…”

Raven shuddered.

“I don’t want you to worry,” Gar said. “I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

“Have you ever… made a plan?” Raven asked haltingly. “To do something stupid?”

He hesitated, searched her face, then sighed. “When we were kids, and I ended up in the psych ward… yeah. Dick found out and stopped me.”

“How did he find out?”

“He watched me leave the Tower and followed me.”

Her voice wasn’t quite working. “Where did you go?”

“Raven, it doesn’t matter now. It was so long ago.”

“Gar…” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Please.”

He closed his eyes. “The, um, the Jump City Bridge.”

Her hand drifted up to her mouth.

“I wasn’t going to do it,” he said. “I wasn’t brave enough.”

He watched as she buried her face in her hands. He waited for her to speak.

When she resurfaced, her eyes were glassy and red. She looked tired. “I bet Sarah knows someone who can help,” she told him.

Gar kept his face neutral. “I don’t really have a great history with psychiatrists.”

“Gar, that isn’t funny.”

He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “It was a little funny.” After a moment, he met her eyes. “You don’t want to marry me. Not when I’m like this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You just said you didn’t know what you wanted.”

“I know that I love you.”

Gar let out a breath. “I love you too, but…”

Raven waited. “Are you taking back the offer?”

He paused. “No.”

“Well, then, I’m not taking back my acceptance.”

“Raven, this isn’t going to… fix me,” he said quietly.

“It’s not going to fix me either,” she shrugged.

They stared at each other for what felt like hours.

“So… I guess we’re engaged,” Gar said into the quiet.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I guess we are.”

Chapter Text

Gar’s feet swung slowly back and forth from the cushioned table; his hands were cradled delicately in his lap. The cheap fabric of his light blue gown rubbed uncomfortably on his skin, and electrodes dangled from various parts of his body. He could feel Raven watching him from the chair in the corner.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

“I’m thinking this gown is a little drafty.”

She cracked a smile, but it vanished quickly.

He pursed his lips. Met her eyes. Sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I’m thinking about Nightwing’s reaction to all this.”

“You don’t think he’ll be mad,” Raven ventured, and Gar shook his head.

“Nah. He’s not like that anymore. But he won’t be happy.”

“Well, of course not,” Raven shrugged. “Nobody will be.”

Gar paused. “What about you?”

She took in a breath and held it. “I’m… not sure we should tell him just yet.”

The thin paper underneath him crinkled; that was the only sound in the room. “Why not?”

“You might…” Raven stopped herself. She cast her gaze down.

“I might get better?” Gar finished softly.

After a moment, she nodded. “You never know.”

“Rae, this is the third doctor we’ve been to,” he reminded her in a soothing murmur.

“But they don’t know, they don’t know you,” she said. “You heal faster than other people, you’re strong—there’s no one else like you. You never know.”

“I’m just a dude,” he smiled.

“No,” she said, quiet but firm. “You’re not.”

They heard a soft knock and Raven wiped her eyes hastily; the doctor stepped back into the examination room and closed the door. He sat on the rolling chair next to the computer and clasped his hands in his lap.

Gar waited. His chest tightened. “Give it to me straight, Doc,” he tried.

His voice was kind and quiet. “Before I start, would you like your girlfriend to leave the room?”

“Fiancée,” they both corrected, and Gar shook his head.

“No, I want her here.”

The doctor nodded patiently. “Garfield, I checked out the results of your nerve conduction study, and I agree with Dr. Barnes. It looks like the substance you were exposed to caused extensive damage to your nervous system.”

Raven was already shaking her head. “But he’ll be okay,” she said. “It’s not permanent.”

The doctor paused, then cleared his throat. “Nerve damage is tricky; everyone’s body is different. Your body is—obviously—even more different,” he pointed out, gesturing to Gar. “The ultrasound showed that the nerves haven’t been severed, so I suppose healing is still possible. But—Garfield, I don’t want to give you false hope, okay? There’s a possibility that these muscle tremors are permanent. In fact, I think it’s pretty likely.”

Gar nodded along absently with the doctor’s words. His face was unreadable. “Okay.”

“No,” Raven rushed—the light above her flickered. “No, not okay, Gar—what can we do? Can we do anything?”

The doctor stared up at the light and swallowed. “Well, uh, miss—ma’am—miss Raven—there’s, uh…” He shook his head, gathered himself, and sighed. “Like I said, nerve damage is tricky. There’s some evidence to show that physical activity and a proper diet could help improve Gar’s chances, but there’s no guarantee—”

“Who else can we go to,” Raven said flatly.

“Raven,” Gar sighed.

“I’m just asking, Gar,” she snapped.

The doctor glanced between them awkwardly. “I can refer you to Dr. Mendes up in Sacramento, but I’m sure she’ll tell you the same—”

“Great, write down her number,” Raven told him.

“Raven, stop,” Gar said quietly.

Raven stilled. She looked at Gar. “You want to just give up?”

“I never said that.”

“I can… write down her office number,” the doctor offered. “If you want it. I also have a packet here with some resources for you, Garfield—you know, a lot of people have gone through exactly what you’re experiencing.”

Gar broke into short-lived laughter. “Not exactly.”

“Nerve damage due to drug use is actually more common than you’d think,” he said. “Usually we see it with long-term addicts, of course, but in your case… prolonged exposure to such a potent substance… I’m not surprised that these are the side effects. Still—” He handed the pamphlet to Gar— “There might be something useful in there for you.”

Gar held the pamphlet and stared at the cover without seeing it; Raven craned her neck and peered at the bland graphic design with a stock photo of a smiling blonde family on it.

Facing It Together: The Path to Recovery from Long-Term Addiction.

“Is there any chance of it getting worse?” Gar asked.

The doctor sat back in his chair. “Are you planning on taking this drug again?”

Gar shook his head.

“No family history of neurological disorders, degenerative diseases, nothing like that,” the doctor guessed.

Gar shook his head again, then paused. “I actually have no idea. My parents died when I was a kid, and… y’know, I forgot to ask.”

“Hm. I’m sorry to hear that. Well, we can always do a test to see if you have any of the genetic markers which have been shown to…”

The words all melted together and Raven gazed at the beige tile floor.

Everything will be different now.

A thousand disparate words clanged inside her mind, but those ones were the loudest. Everything will be different now.

Eventually she came back to herself, and when her tired eyes focused she saw the doctor scribbling a phone number on a sticky note and holding it out for Gar. “That’s Dr. Mendes’s office. If you want to give her a call, I completely understand.”

Gar took it and closed his fist around it, crinkling up the paper. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Of course. Is there anything else you’ve been wondering about?”

“Um…” Gar glanced at Raven. “No. That’s it.”

She frowned, and so did the doctor. He adjusted his glasses, turned to her, and asked gently, “Raven, could you give us a moment alone?”

She paused—then nodded hastily. “Yes, of course, sorry, I didn’t—sorry.” She stood up and fled the room.

Twenty minutes later, Gar emerged into the waiting room. The television was playing a home renovation show on mute, and Raven had been staring at it, thinking of other things; when she saw him, she chanced a smile. Gar returned it hesitantly and they fell into step beside one another on their way out of the clinic. Neither of them spoke.

Finally, when they were alone in the parked car, Raven laid her hands on the steering wheel. She stared out the windshield.

“Rae—”

“You don’t need to tell me,” she said quietly. Her hand found his and she squeezed gently, then she shifted into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

It was quiet for so long that she assumed there wouldn’t be any conversation at all, and she focused on the road in front of her while Gar stared out of his window, propping up his jaw on the meat of his palm. It was a long drive home, and it was only about halfway through that Gar finally cleared his throat.

“I don’t want to go to any more doctors,” he murmured. He was difficult to hear over the car’s engine.

Raven glanced over at him; he continued to stare at the landscape flashing past them. The sun hadn’t yet reached its apex and the chapped asphalt of the highway gave way to vivid wildflowers; behind them, far in the distance, the mountains faded into the sky.

“You’re upset,” she told him as gently as she could.

Gar shook his head slowly. “I’m not upset, Rae, I’m just tired. We got our answer, now let’s just… move on.”

Those final two words, and all the unknowns they implied, terrified her. “Move on to what, Gar?”

He sighed and met her eyes, settling back into his seat. “Move on to the reality that I might be out of a job.”

She looked straight ahead once more, her eyes glued to the road. “That’s not true. Dick would never kick you off the team.”

“I know he wouldn’t,” Gar agreed. “But this isn’t up to him.”

She fiddled with the air conditioning for a moment, trying to keep her expression calm. “You’re going to quit?” she asked softly.

He pursed his lips. “It’s not that I’m giving up, like you said… I guess I’m just tired of pretending nothing’s wrong with me.”

“But in a year, you might be fine,” she said.

“Yeah, I might be,” Gar shrugged.

“So why would you make this decision now? It’s only been a few months, Gar.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “I never wanted to do this forever, Rae. You know that.”

“But… we’re only thirty,” she tried softly. “Thirty and flirty and thriving, right?”

“Raven… look. Look.”

She glanced over and saw Gar reach down for the can of soda resting in the cupholder; his shaking fingers hovered over the metal for a few seconds before grasping it and lifting. The can rattled against the holder on its way up; the soda sloshed and spilled onto the floor of the car. Eventually, it reached Gar’s lips and he took a halting sip, spilling some more onto his shirt, before resting the can back in the holder.

Gar looked at her, and she had to look away.

“I didn’t think my body would be acting like this at thirty,” he said. “Or forty, or fifty. Or ever.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to change our whole lives, we can just…” Raven shrugged helplessly.

Gar watched her. “Just pretend?”

Her eyes stung. “Yeah. I guess so.”

He reached for her hand and turned the palm up, tracing the faint lines converging and diverging on her skin. “There’s this day I wanna get to,” he said softly, “and I’ve been imagining it for a long time, before the dream, even… where I wake up, and everything is… quiet. And I’m… different. Not like I was in the dream, y’know, not perfect, just… happy. And my thoughts are quiet, too, and they’re kind. And I don’t even… I don’t even know if I can get there, or if I deserve it. But I want to try.” He wiped his eyes and looked over at her, and saw that she was doing the same thing. “Do you understand?”

Tears clung to her eyelashes and she nodded, letting out a huff of breath. “Yeah. I do.”

It was quiet between them for a few miles before Gar spoke again. “So… how are we gonna tell them?”

Chapter Text

The diner was kitschy, retro, seafoam green everywhere with chrome accents; the female servers wore pink poodle skirts and the males dressed like greasers, and there was a jukebox in the corner playing Tom Jones’ “What’s New Pussycat.” It was near close on a Thursday and the place was mostly abandoned; this was all part of Gar’s plan. They were the only patrons apart from a young couple on the other side of the restaurant.

He sipped his milkshake slowly and watched Starfire guzzle hers; just before she finished, she stopped and gave him a grin. “I am glad we are doing the hanging out, Garfield.”

“Me too,” Gar agreed with a muted smile. The words he had planned to say seemed to shrink inside him until he couldn’t find them anymore, and Starfire slurped the last of her milkshake before waving to the server and gesturing sweetly toward the empty glass. Gar’s smile widened; it had taken them years to convince her that smashing an empty glass on the floor and yelling for another wasn’t the compliment on Earth that it was on Tamaran. “So, um, how’s Mar’i?”

Starfire beamed. “She is growing strong. Soon she will be too big to call my little bumgorf.”

“She’ll never be too big for that.”

“I dread the day she begins to think I am embarrassing,” she smiled.

“Well, that won’t be for about eight years,” he told her with some authority, remembering the last few days of his dream… a hurried phone conversation with Dick, hearing that Mar’i had shut herself in her room for some tweenage reason and thinking to himself how grateful he was that Jack and Phoebe were still too young for that.

Starfire watched his face unravel. “She misses you,” she said after a pause, and Gar’s heart plunged.

“I know. I’ve just been… It’s been really hard.”

“I understand, Garfield, you need not explain. But—” She laid her hand over his, and her skin was warm, warmer than any human’s. She felt like sunlight. “—but, Garfield, I want you to know that you can always talk to us. It is never too late to tell us what you saw.”

He stole back his hand and rested it in his lap before she could notice his tremor. “Yeah, Star, I know.”

She searched his eyes. “I am sorry we have not done the hanging out lately, the two of us. It breaks my heart to see you so seldom.”

“Star, you’ve got a daughter. I get it.”

“That is no excuse.”

“It really is,” he said. “Being a parent is a full-time job.” As usual, his children’s faces flickered through his mind and, as usual, his heart stopped beating for just a second. Gar frowned; was that freckle in the right place on Jack’s nose? Did it belong a millimeter to the left? And the gap in Phoebe’s teeth, was it too narrow or too wide? In his mind’s eye, he wasn’t certain. He was starting to forget them.

You should be dead.

“Garfield, are you alright?”

He didn’t answer. “Starfire, I need to tell you something. Raven is the only other person who knows. You can’t tell Cy or—” He glanced around the deserted diner—“or Nightwing,” he finished.

Her eyes widened. “Do you have a secret?”

“It’s not a secret, it’s just… news,” he shrugged. “But you need to promise—”

“I promise,” she told him dutifully, “under threat of torture, I shall not spread your news.”

“I…” His voice dropped to a breath. “I need to quit the team,” he whispered.

Her expression changed to one of utter shock. “You’re leaving us?”

“No, I’m not, um… yeah, a little,” Gar admitted.

“Only for a short while,” she ventured.

He closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe a lot longer than that.”

Starfire muttered something under her breath, and Gar leaned closer.

“What?”

“The Rekmas,” she murmured. “The drifting. It has begun.”

“No—no, it hasn’t. Really, Star, we’ll still be friends. I’ll visit all the time—and I’ll still live at the Tower, at least until I can find my own place, and in this economy that’ll take forever, right? We won’t drift apart. I promise.”

“But if you are not beside us in battle, our bond will disintegrate,” she insisted.

“No, it won’t. We’ll spend every Thanksgiving together. And Christmas, and New Years, and Blorth… um, Blorth—”

“Blorthog,” she supplied numbly.

“Yeah! Everything’s gonna be okay, Star.”

You should be dead.

“But what will you do if you are no longer a Titan?” Starfire asked, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. “How will you fill your time?”

“I’ve been wanting to take up underwater basket-weaving,” Gar joked, and she broke into a tearful chuckle.

“There is no such thing,” she sniffled. “I googled it many years ago. But, Garfield… why? Why must you quit?”

“I, um… I lost my powers,” he summarized with a shrug. “I’m no good.”

She held his gaze, her green eyes fierce. “You are only good,” she told him quietly.

“Okay, Star,” he smiled, sipping his milkshake for something to do. It was mint chip; Starfire’s was peanut butter. The diner had refused to mix in the steak sauce she had ordered but had given it to her on the side. When the server set her new peanut butter milkshake down in front of her, she drizzled more steak sauce on top and stirred it in with the thick straw.

“You will need a job,” she said, sampling her dessert and adding more sauce with a slight frown.

“Actually, if I medically retire, I’ll get a pretty good monthly allowance. Plus, I know my lifestyle seems extravagant, but I’m a good saver. I’ve been putting some away each month since I was about sixteen.”

Starfire raised her eyebrows. “That long?”

He put on a cocky grin, and for a moment he almost felt like himself. “I’m always lookin’ ahead, Star.”

You should be dead.

His breath hitched at the thought, but he kept his mouth stretched into a smile.

“What about Raven?” Starfire asked.

His smile slipped. “What about her?”

“Well, is she also quitting the team?”

“We didn’t really talk about it,” Gar said with a frown. “I guess she would, um… I mean, if we’re getting married, she’ll…” He trailed off, and suddenly Starfire’s gaze felt like a spotlight. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess it’s up to her. I don’t know what she wants.”

Idiot. She’ll never choose you.

“Of course she will choose you,” Starfire said kindly, and for a moment Gar couldn’t remember if mindreading was on her list of superpowers—but it wasn’t. She just knew him. She had known him for most of his life.

“Yeah,” he half-smiled. “Yeah, she loves me.”

“You should have seen her when you were taken, Garfield.” Starfire laid her hand over his again, and her warmth spread over his fingers. “You are loved.”

The other two patrons of the diner, a couple in their twenties, approached their table; the girl clutched her phone in her hand and the guy looked around furtively as though searching for an escape route. She wore a cozy autumnal outfit that suggested a wish for the September weather to be colder than it was; he wore Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, still clinging to summertime.

When they reached the table, the girl gave Starfire a timid smile, not seeming to notice Gar at all. “You’re Starfire, right? Can I get a selfie?”

“I am, and you may,” Starfire beamed. She stood up next to the girl, draped an arm over her shoulders and brought her close—instantly the girl relaxed and pulled a funny face to match Starfire’s, then snapped a few pictures on her phone.

Her boyfriend stepped further away and looked at Gar, who gave him a thin smile.

“What’s up, man,” Gar tried.

“Ooh, now let us pose as though we do not know the camera is there!”

The young man’s eyes traveled over Gar’s face boredly. “You’re like, uh, The Human Zoo, right?”

“You can just call me Gar.”

“Okay, now one like Charlie’s Angels,” the girl said—at the blank look on Starfire’s face, she held up her free hand in the shape of a gun. “Back to back,” she explained.

“Ah, yes,” Starfire agreed, posing perfectly.

The young man’s bleached hair nearly covered his eyes. “You really human? Or were you, like, a monkey they fed some science goo?”

“I’m human.”

“We should pose as though I am the one in distress and you are saving me!”

“Huh,” the guy said, his eyes still roaming over Gar. He took his phone out of his pocket—the screen was webbed with cracks—and pointed the camera at Gar. “Turn into something.”

Gar tried to keep his pleasant expression. “Nah, man, maybe later.”

“A dog—no, no, a gorilla. Turn into Harambe.”

“Not right now. And that’s a pretty outdated meme.”

“C’mon—wait, dude, you got taken by that freak from Gotham, right? Bro, you should be dead!”

Gar winced.

“Twitter says you’re lame now. Turn into something cool.”

Gar sipped his milkshake without tasting it. Closed his eyes.

“Is that a scar on your neck? Dude, that’s awesome! Look up so I can zoom in!”

“Please put your camera away,” Starfire said. Immediately, the young man froze and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his facial expression that of a delinquent child who’s been caught by the teacher. She met Gar’s eyes and reached for his hand. “My friend and I are leaving now. It was wonderful to meet you, Kenzie; please tag me in your photographs.”

She dropped some cash on the table and Gar followed her numbly out of the diner. Distantly he heard the girl scold her boyfriend: “What the hell, Brayden!”

Starfire looked down at their hands and Gar quickly took his away, but he knew she’d already noticed. “Garfield, you are shaking,” she said. “Did that boy cause it? I will return to him and demand an apology—”

“No, it’s—I’m fine, Star. That’s how most people are. Don’t worry about it.”

They began to walk toward the car, and Starfire heaved a sigh. “When you find a new home, you should live in the countryside. There are far fewer people like him in the middle of a forest.”

Gar smiled. Sunlight, dried herbs in the windows, the smell of strong, aging oak boards and a campfire in the yard. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

***

“Beat your ass again, B! It’s like you ain’t even tryin’!”

On the oversized television screen, Yoshi struck a victory pose while a bruised Ganondorf clapped politely in the corner.

Outside the day was bright, but with Victor’s titanium window shutters his room was dark as night. Their faces were white in the TV’s glow. A bowl of popcorn sat between them, mostly eaten by Victor.

“I swear, dude, I’m giving it all I’ve got,” Gar chuckled, trying to ignore the burning sensation in his chest. This was going to be harder than Starfire, he knew it. That was why he told her first.

“A’ight, well, choose D.K. this time, he’s easy to win with.”

“Sure, then you be Jigglypuff.”

“That ain’t a fair fight!”

The banter was going off without a hitch, and Victor thought to himself how it was almost like before; before Gar was taken, before the scars, before they’d stopped talking. Lately, Gar had started to feel like a stranger to him. He had voiced these thoughts to Sarah and she suggested that they do something from Before, and he texted Gar right away with an invitation to play Smash. It took a couple hours, but Gar had finally replied with a tepid “sounds good.”

They’d been playing this silly video game when Gar told him he had a crush on Terra. When Victor decided to go back for his GED. When either of them were fed up with another member of the team, when they were hurt by something in the news, by something someone said. When Gar and Raven had their pregnancy scare, he told Victor during a game of Smash. They told each other everything in between making their characters fight on screen. So this was the perfect time to get Gar to open up.

They were halfway through the battle when they both pressed the pause button—the two canceled each other out and the game resumed—then they peered at each other and Victor pressed pause again.

“Why’d you press pause?” Gar asked.

“Why’d you press pause?” Victor returned.

“I need to… use the bathroom,” Gar managed. He stared at his friend with wide eyes. Then he stood up and hurried out of the room.

Victor called Sarah.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

“We’re playing video games,” Victor muttered, as though afraid of being overheard.

“Victor, that’s great! How’s it going?”

“Seems like he wants to tell me something, but he just got up and left.”

“Just be patient.”

“Do you know who you’re talkin’ to?”

Sarah chuckled. “Just tell him what you told me. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Victor glanced at the door. “What if he just ran off? Maybe he could tell it was a trap.”

“He didn’t run off. You said he wanted to tell you something, right?”

“Right,” Victor said uncertainly.

“Listen, honey, I gotta get back, I’m with a client,” she said in a hushed voice. “Remember—be patient!” And with a click, she was gone.

A few minutes later, Gar sat gingerly back on the sofa.

The room was silent.

“Thought you fell in,” Victor tried. Gar didn’t laugh. He didn’t seem to hear. Finally, it was too much—Victor sucked in a breath and burst, “Gar, I got somethin’ to say.”

At the same moment, Gar rushed—“Cy, I need to tell you something.”

“Oh… sure,” Victor said casually, but his heart was racing. “Shoot.”

Gar shook his head rapidly. “No, hold on, you go first.”

“Um… okay. I just wanted to say, uh… I know these past couple months have been hard for you. And I… maybe I haven’t really helped, y’know, maybe I pushed you too hard. And I’m sorry.”

Gar let out a breath. “Cy…”

“You’re… you’re my best friend, B. And whatever you gotta say, however you gotta heal from what happened to you, I’ll be there. I wanna be there.” It was nowhere near as eloquent as what he’d said to Sarah, but it was, at the very least, true. “Okay, now your turn.”

Gar’s eyes were wide; they shone in the television’s soft pool of light. “Um… thanks, man,” he said huskily. “So, what I’m about to say… I haven’t told Dick yet. Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.”

Tears welled in Gar’s eyes when he met Victor’s gaze. “I… I quit.”

Victor blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m quitting the Titans,” Gar said.

A beat passed. “The fuck you are,” Victor told him, getting to his feet. The bowl of popcorn tipped onto the floor, scattering kernels like shrapnel. “What the fuck, B?”

“I have, um, nerve damage,” Gar explained quietly. “From Scarecrow’s drug.”

“Well, Raven can heal all that,” Victor said. He felt breathless. “Right?”

“She tried.”

“She gotta try harder, then.”

“Vic,” Gar sighed, shaking his head. “We’ve been to a few different doctors and they all said the same thing—y’know, basically, that my nerves are fucked.”

“What kind of doctors did y’all see?”

Gar knit his brow. “Neurologists.”

“You know I got better tech in my fuckin’ thumb than those idiots got in their entire clinics,” Victor said, “you know that, right?”

Gar held out his hands helplessly. “Cy…”

“Waste of fuckin’ time, going to them and not me, B. I’ll run a test right now, tell you the exact opposite. You’re fine. You’re fine,” Victor insisted.

“I can’t…” Gar sighed and gazed at the ceiling. “I can’t even morph anymore, dude.”

Victor stopped. He stared. “Nah, you just don’t want to.”

Hurt scraped across Gar’s face. “That’s a fucked up thing to say.”

“If you wanted to, you could do it, but you’re just a fuckin’ quitter.”

“Cy—”

“You’re giving up.”

Gar stood up—his breath was heaving now. “I’m moving on! That’s different!”

Victor scoffed. “Moving on!”

“Yeah! I can’t… I can’t get out from under it, dude!” His expression twisted into desperation, his eyes pleading with Victor to understand, but Victor was a stone.

“Oh—what, the dream you had? The nice little dream you had while you were high as a kite—and we were killing ourselves trying to find you?”

You should be dead.

Desperation turned to numbness. “Fuck you, dude,” Gar said softly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know that you could stay if you wanted to stay. You could morph if you weren’t such a little bitch.”

“I told you, man, I can’t—”

Victor poked Gar’s chest roughly with his real hand. “We didn’t push you hard enough.” He shoved him, and Gar stumbled backwards but caught himself on the arm of the sofa. “We shoulda had you back in training from day one.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything, Cy!”

“You ain’t quitting this fuckin’ team, B. Get up.”

“No!”

Victor grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him to his feet. “Fight back. Morph.”

“I can’t!”

“You won’t. There’s a difference.”

“I can’t!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Dude, stop!”

Victor shoved him again but Gar kept his footing. “All the shit we’ve been through and this is what made you give up?”

“I haven’t given up,” Gar insisted. “You don’t even fucking know what giving up means.”

Victor frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Gar’s heart stumbled. “Nothing, man, just—”

“You know how many things I had to give up after my accident? The entire life I woulda had if I didn’t get fuckin’ blown up?”

“Oh, you woulda been the star quarterback, right? Gone to college, maybe gone pro, what a tragedy!”

For the first time, emotion glinted on Victor’s face. “My mom died, man!”

Gar rolled his eyes and shoved Victor back. “Just your mom? That’s it? I’m an orphan, Dick’s an orphan. Star’s an orphan. It’s basically a fucking prerequisite to this job. But, hey, I’d rather be an orphan than have Silas Stone for a father. How’s he doing, by the way? Talked much lately?”

Victor clenched a fist.

“I thought when I told you, you’d be surprised, maybe a little angry, but this?” Gar shoved him again and this time Victor stumbled over the popcorn bowl, barely keeping his footing. “You’re not just mad because I’m quitting, you’re pissed because you know you can’t stop me.”

“You don’t need to quit,” Victor said. “You don’t need to.”

“Maybe I want to! I almost died, man! And I know you almost died, uphill both ways or whatever, but we’re two different people! And maybe you’re stronger than me. But I don’t want to die before I get to live my life.” Victor’s face changed, his fist slackened, and his own words echoed back to him: It feels like the only way to get out of this life is to die. But Gar didn’t notice; he was too worked up to stop now. He shoved Victor again. “Maybe I can morph again one day—you think I haven’t tried? You think I was waiting for you to give me the order like a little wind-up toy? Fuck you, dude. You know how hard I fought to get out of that fucking car, out of that basement, before he stuck me with that needle?” He balled up his fist and slammed it down on Victor’s chest, and the motion spurred him to do it again, harder. Victor didn’t stop him. “I didn’t want this!” he sobbed. Shoved Victor again. “I was happy!”

You should be dead.

“BB,” Victor said gently. “Gar. C’mon, man. Calm down.”

Victor reached for his shoulder but Gar batted his hand away. His streaming eyes were clouded with rage. “He ruined my life!”

“I know, man, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Gar looked at him, confused, and some of his anger drained out of him. But not all of it. He wiped his face roughly. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, I just know I can’t do this for another fucking day. I’m never putting on that suit again.”

“Gar, you don’t have to. Listen, man, I’m sorry. I freaked out.”

“Yeah, you did,” Gar agreed, giving him one last shove. But it was half-hearted, noncommittal. And when Victor wrapped his arms around him, Gar let him. And he hugged him back.

***

The TV was black now, asleep from disuse, and the floor lamp’s golden glow replaced its light. The popcorn still lay scattered on the carpet.

Gar stared at the rudimentary drawing of his children, created more for himself than for Victor. He erased Jack’s nose, tried to redraw it. Erased it again. Victor watched him.

“So you think they could be real,” Victor said quietly. “Down the line.”

“Raven’s never told me what her mom looked like. What color her eyes were. And Jack had her mom’s eyes—light green with brown specks. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“But, Gar… I mean, you never had a dream like that before. One that came true.”

“But Raven has, and I have some of her power, right? Maybe it just never came out until now.”

Victor looked like he didn’t want to say what he was thinking; Gar met his eyes.

“What?”

“What if… you do have kids, but they’re not Jack and Phoebe. What if they are, but they look different. What if it doesn’t happen the way it did in the dream? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Gar said after a long pause. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He looked down at his drawing. Traced his thumb over their faces.

“Gar… What if Rae don’t want kids?”

Gar looked up at him.

“You remember what you said to me when y’all thought she might be pregnant?”

Gar didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“‘She’s terrified, Vic. Won’t talk to me. If she is, I don’t think she’ll keep it.’ You remember that?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“So, what’s changed?”

“I’ve changed. We… we both have.”

“Have you asked her what she wants?”

“Of course, but she… she’s never been able to give me an answer. She doesn’t know.”

“B, maybe she does,” Victor suggested gently.

“Then why hasn’t she told me?”

“Maybe she just doesn’t wanna upset you. Y’know, I think she’s always been a little bit afraid of us. Of everybody.”

“I’m, like, the least intimidating person ever! Especially now,” Gar said, holding up his trembling hand. Victor chuckled, and Gar cracked a smile. “Maybe you’re right, but… I don’t wanna push her.”

“Is she quitting the team with you?”

“We haven’t talked about it.”

“You should.”

“I know, dude…” Gar sighed. Put down his drawing. “I know.”

***

You should be dead.

Gar knocked on the door, too quietly at first, then too loudly. He winced at the noise.

He could hear some shuffling inside, then Dick’s mellow voice. “Yeah, come in.”

The door opened in front of him and he stepped forward. It closed behind him and he glanced back at it with half a mind to turn and run. But he stayed.

You should be dead.

Dick was sitting on his swivel chair next to his desk; as usual, a tall stack of wrinkled papers lay atop it, and Dick’s highlighters were strewn across a Gotham newspaper with random, brightly colored underlines. He wore black sweatpants, a pair of running sneakers, and a faded tee shirt that said, in spiky green letters, I survived my trip to Gotham City! A gift from Alfred.

Dick gave him a pleasant smile. “What’s up, Gar?”

Gar’s eyes wandered over the work. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Dick said, glancing back at it. “Just following the reporting on the Scarecrow investigation.”

Gar kept his face neutral, but even now, the name drew anger from his bones. “Any news on Herald?”

Suddenly, Dick’s blue eyes looked exhausted. “Pantha says he’s stopped laughing. So… that’s progress, I guess.”

Gar nodded along absently with Dick’s words, and Dick watched him.

“So, what’s up?” he asked again.

“Oh, um… I guess I have something to tell you.”

Dick turned in his chair to face Gar squarely, but his posture remained relaxed. Gar stood stiffly next to the door. After a moment, he took a halting step further into the room.

“Go for it,” Dick said.

Gar looked away from Dick’s face, back to the newspaper on his desk, and he saw a grainy black-and-white photograph of Jonathan Crane on the page. And he felt afraid suddenly—not because of the villain in the picture, but because of the man in this room with him. Because he’d known that Starfire would cry, and he’d known that Victor would fight. But he had no idea what Dick would do.

“I quit,” he said quietly, quickly. “I’m quitting.”

Dick regarded him calmly and nodded. “Okay.”

Gar felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Okay?”

“Yeah. I understand.”

“You’re not… mad? Or, or sad? Or—I dunno, you’re not surprised?”

Dick shook his head. “No, I’m not surprised.”

“Did Starfire already tell you?”

“No. I just sort of guessed.”

“But… what do you think?” Gar’s voice was small. He felt like a child.

“What do I think?” Dick asked. He tilted his knees back and forth languidly, his chair turning with the motion. “It doesn’t matter what I think, but I think it’s a good thing. A good decision.”

“You’re not gonna… tell me to stay,” Gar ventured.

“What good would that do? You’ve made up your mind.”

Gar stared at him. “I’ll still… be living here, for the time being. Until I find a place.”

“Of course. And you’ll get a good pension with medical retirement. Should be able to afford a nice place.”

“Yeah. And, um… y’know, I’ll visit. For holidays.”

Dick nodded. “You’re always welcome.”

Gar watched him. “Okay. Great.”

“Anything you need, just ask,” Dick said, standing up and holding out his hand. Gar hesitated, then shook it curtly.

“So that’s it?”

Dick’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s it?”

Gar felt stupid and embarrassed and angry—and spoiled for even getting upset in the first place. “You’re just gonna let me go?”

Dick laid a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Gar, I can see that this is what you need. And I just want you to be happy.”

Gar was shaking his head minutely. “Dick… do you even like me?”

After a moment, Dick’s hand dropped to his side. “What?”

“You don’t care that I’m leaving, you’re not even asking me why,” Gar said quietly.

“Of course I care, Gar. You’re one of my best friends.”

Gar blinked, and his eyes glistened. He tried so hard to tamp down his emotions that they only came up stronger. “It doesn’t feel like that. It’s never…” He swallowed, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. “It’s never felt like that.”

“Well, I’m… sorry, Gar. But it’s true, I mean, we’ve lived together half our lives.”

“You barely looked at me when we were kids,” Gar said. Then he pursed his lips. Paused. “I didn’t even think you cared about me until you followed me onto that bridge,” he admitted.

Dick’s lips were bent into a frown now. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

“I think we should,” Gar said softly.

“I was just helping out a friend, that’s all. And it’s like you said—you wouldn’t have jumped.”

“Yeah, I would have,” Gar whispered.

Dick stopped. Stared. “No, it… wasn’t a big deal,” he tried.

“Dick.” Gar held his gaze. “I would have jumped.”

You should be dead.

Dick crossed his arms, looked down at his feet. “It was a long time ago. We don’t have to—”

“I used to be so scared of you when we were kids,” Gar said. “Did you know that? You were always so serious. And… you were always so angry. I was sitting on the railing and I was working up the courage to go, and as soon as I heard your voice I was so scared I was gonna be in trouble. And for once… you just talked to me. I mean, you just talked. And it wasn’t about a mission, or something I should be doing, it was just… normal. And the crazy thing is, I really don’t think it was a big deal for you. Because I think about that night all the time, but I don’t think you do. Right?”

Dick nodded slowly. Shrugged. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Gar’s breath left his lungs. “I feel like I owe you this big beautiful life,” he breathed, “like… like every good thing I do isn’t my own… like I’m just treading water, trying to make it up to you. And I haven’t done… anything. I haven’t done anything to justify what you did for me.”

“Gar, you’re a hero,” Dick murmured.

“I’m a coward,” Gar returned dismissively. “I get knocked down one time and I’m tapping out. I’m not like you.”

“I mean… it was a pretty brutal knockout,” Dick tried, and Gar cracked a smile. Then Dick sobered again. “Gar, I’m not all that brave. Especially when we were kids. I was just impulsive and resentful and… I was angry. Sometimes I wished I could be funny, like you.”

At the disbelieving look on Gar’s face, Dick nodded.

“I was so… so inside of myself at that age,” Dick continued. “I think I wanted so badly to be lonely. Like him, like—like Bruce. And I had you all around me, but I just… pushed you all away. Over and over. Held onto every bad thing. It’s like I was addicted to my own misery.” Dick looked into the middle distance, and to Gar’s surprise, he smiled. “Don’t ever tell him this, but looking back on it I think Vic would’ve been a better leader than me.”

Gar chuckled. “If I told him that, I think his head would get too big to fit into the T-car.”

Dick laughed quietly, but then his smile faded once again, and Gar’s did, too. It took a long time for him to speak again. “I never told anyone this except Star, but when I died, I didn’t see anything,” he said softly. “No light, no tunnel. It was just darkness. And I was so, so lonely. There was just… nothing.” Silence surrounded them, crushed in on their ears like pressure under an ocean. “And when I came back,” he continued in a hushed voice, “I felt so stupid for wanting that my whole life. That loneliness. It was so fucking pointless, such a waste of time. When I think back on myself as a teenager, I just feel ashamed. And if you didn’t think we were friends… Gar, that’s my fault. I’m really sorry.” He laid both hands on Gar’s shoulders now. Held his gaze. “You don’t owe me anything. Okay? You don’t owe me anything.”

You should be—

The small whisper in Gar’s head choked and was silent. He waited, waited for it to wake up again, but it was gone. At least for now, it was gone. Maybe forever, he dared to hope, it was gone.

Tears welled, and flowed, and kept going. He hugged Dick tightly, and it took a long time to let go.

When they separated, Gar’s tears had soaked Dick’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Gar murmured, eyes bleary.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Dick smiled. “I have a question, though.”

“Yeah, shoot,” Gar said, wiping his face with his sleeves.

“Is Raven quitting too? Because I might need to start hiring.”