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Time moves slowly.
He knows that wounds don’t heal overnight, and scars never truly disappear. They only fade. But he hoped that healing would come faster than this. Maybe he’s just too broken to be put back together.
The first night back in the Tower after Donna’s funeral, he wakes up screaming.
He dreams that he’s back in Cadmus labs, with scientists leaning over him and prodding him and hurting him. Mercy Greaves stands off to the side, taking notes and looking as smug as ever. Then the horrible music plays in his ears and his body is no longer his own.
The world turns gray and Gar can’t quite control his muscles as he strolls through the streets of San Fransisco, walking with his hands behind his back and quietly watching children play hop scotch across the street. He smiles, remembering a time he’d play in the jungles of the Congo with the local children. A group of construction workers lower a slab of concrete with a crane, and he raises an eyebrow at them. Then there’s an itch at the base of his neck, and his collar feels too tight. Something just isn’t right.
The world blurs before him, and all he hears is the screeching of tires and someone screaming in the distance. He gains his bearings near a flower bush in some park. The sun beats hot on his naked back while sweat drips in his eyes. Or maybe that’s the tears. He looks down at his hands. Blood.
“No. No. No.” Gar’s voice trembles as the liquid oozes down his chin, leaving droplets on his fragile skin. He clutches at his chest, trying to force away an unseeable ache that strikes his nerves and leaves him crying on the grass. Mercy Graves walks up behind him,
“What did I do?” He snarls, staring daggers at her as he tries to cover himself.
“Exactly what you’ve always wanted, dear Garfield. You’re a beast Garfield. A beast, only waiting to be let out.”
“No. I never wanted this. You did this to me.” He cries, trying desperately to wipe the blood off his hands onto the grass. But it won’t leave, it stays on his skin, permanently marking him. He turns to Mercy, snarling as he backs away, trying so hard to get as far away from her as possible. She nods at one of her henchmen, and he moves forward to grab Gar, but he swipes his leg with a clawed hand. The man cries out, cursing and clutching his faintly bleeding leg.
Mercy’s tongue clicks, and she raises an eyebrow. “Well then, Garfield, if you won’t be such a willing subject, then perhaps you need to be taught a few lessons about respecting authority.” Gar turns at the sound of new footsteps behind him, and finds Rachel standing beneath a tree.
“Rachel, what, what are you doing here?” Gar sputters, head spinning. She looks past him with glazed eyes, not acknowledging his presence.
“Kill her.” Mercy says, nodding toward Rachel.
Gar’s heart leaps in his chest, beating furiously. “No!!” He shouts, willing his mind to block out her command. But then Mercy is playing that terrible music again, the one that muddles his brain and takes away his free will.
“Run Rachel!!” He screams, as he feels his body shift beneath him. But she is a statue, unaware of the beast that stands before her. She looks almost peaceful, blue hair gently blowing in the breeze, light glistening off the gem on her forehead.
“I’m so sorry Rachel,” He cries, tears streaming down his face unashamed. Then he’s screaming and clutching at his head as the classical music plays and drowns out any sanity that remained. He screams an inhuman guttural sound that pierces the deepest depths of his soul as the transformation overcomes him, and he lunges at his best friend.
“GARFIELD!”
He takes in a sharp breath and sits up straight in his bed, almost smacking heads with another figure in front of him. It’s dark and too hot and his clothes are soaking wet. He blinks away the tears, looking furiously around his room, breaths coming in hot and fast. There’s an ache in his stomach that crawls up his throat at an alarming rate. He’s not quite aware of his surroundings, but he gets enough bearing to know to bolt for the bathroom. Then he’s emptying his stomach until he’s left dry heaving. He holds onto the porcelain like it’s his lifeline, and when he’s finally finished, rests his burning face onto the cool toilet lid.
Gar is vaguely aware of a figure watching him from the door, a small frown on his face.
“Sorry ‘m woke you” Gar forces out, trying to gain control of the shaking that has overtaken his body.
Dick just shakes his head, and mumbles “It’s okay, I was up reading” even though he looks exhausted. Gar wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t the only one not sleeping lately.
Dick makes his way over to the sink and reaches for a washcloth in the cupboard, wetting it and handing it to Gar. He takes it gratefully and uses it to wipe his face. It’s not blood, it’s not blood. He reminds himself as he flushes the toilet and shakily goes to stand, pulling at green strands of hair as they cling to his forehead. Dick grabs his arm to steady him as he nearly slips and hits his back on the tub. Gar freezes and almost shakes himself out of the grasp, then calmly reminds himself that this is Dick. He wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t.
Except when he did back at Angela’s house.
He can tell Dick is trying to help him not feel embarrassed as he helps him slowly back to his bed, but Gar feels his face flush as the former boy wonder half drags him across the room. He’s grateful he decided to wear sweats to bed and not the usual superman boxers.
Gar sits slowly on the bed, trying to gain his balance as the world spins and his head pounds.
“Woah there,” Dick states firmly as he almost tips face forward. Once he’s upright again, Dick reaches his up and places the back of his hand on Gar’s forehead, but Gar bats him away.
“‘M fine. Just a nightmare.” Gar insists, staring at the collectors baseball cards stacked on his desk.
“You get those, often?” Dick questions, prompting Gar to open up. But he won’t be swayed so easily.
“It’s fine.” He says again sharply, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. Dick looks a little hurt and Gar lets out a sigh. He’s not ready to talk about his trauma. Not yet anyways. Especially not to Dick.
“Do you need anything?” Dick tries again, a little too earnestly. When did he start caring so much?
“No, I’m just going to go back to bed.” Gar replies, bundling up in his gray comforter and laying his heavy head on the hard pillows
“Kay. Night.” Dick says slowly, standing from the bed with a loud creak. Footsteps make their way quietly across the room, but Dick stops at the door with a guilty look. “You know where to find me.” Gar faces the other way and the door slowly shuts.
He stares at the walls until the sun comes up.
——-——---------
Gar spends most of his time trying to avoid the others in the training room. He practices a roundhouse again and again. Have to be sharper. Faster. They’ll never take me again. He snarls as he lunges forward again, watching his footing and putting his whole body into it.
“You’ve got to loosen up, Gar. You’re holding too much tension in your shoulders.” Donna Troy remarks from the entrance to the training room. He spooks, not realizing she was watching him. She makes her way down to the ring, forgetting what she was originally on her way to.
“Keep it in your center and don’t just watch your enemies eyes. They’ll try to keep you distracted, don’t let them.” She walks up to him, and nods at him to continue. He faces the punching bag, shaking out his shoulders and raising his arms. He practices once more, focusing on control as he lands his next hit. The bag actually moves this time, and Gar looks on with a grin.
“There ya go.” She says, something like pride shining in her eyes.
The memory hits him so unexpectedly that he’s suddenly on the floor, gripping his shirt as he tries to blink the tears away. Stop. Don’t be a baby. Pull it together. You’re a Titan. But so was Donna, and now she’s gone. They act like heroes are invincible, like nothing bad could ever happen to them. But they’re just people, too, trying to make their way through this crazy world. And people die.
Gar wipes the sweat off his face and leaves the training room without another thought.
————-----------
Gar smiles as the team sits down to dinner. Its takeout night, and Gar greedily fills his plate with the chow mien and vegetables Dick picked up for him. He laughs as Hank reaches over the counter to steal a noodle, swatting him away with his chopsticks. He never saw the older Titans as a playful bunch, but he’s seeing a younger, brighter side of them tonight for the first time in a while and it feels good.
Kory grabs a handful of orange chicken, looking as stunning as ever as she makes her way to the table. She pats the seat next to her, and he happily accepts. He makes a face as Conner pours mustard over top his rice. Apparently being a clone meant that he had a stomach of steel. Rose and Hank argue over whether Coke or Pepsi are better, while Dawn pretends to play on her phone. Apparently her and Hank are still going through a rough spot.
“Hey Kory. What do you call a pirate that does karate?” Gar calls between mouthfuls.
“I don’t know, Gar.” She replies, indulging him.
“A pork chop!” He laughs, trying to get a smile out of her. She rolls her eyes, but he’s pretty sure he saw her hide a smirk in her drink.
The news plays in the background, adding to the buzz of the gathering. Gar reaches for the lemonade as his sensitive ears catch some of the broadcast, “…green tiger. Still searching for animal as the city works to repair the damaged caused. Multiple victims are still recovering in the hospital. For more information…” but the TV goes black as someone realizes what was being broadcast.
Too late. Gar’s stomach drops to the floor, the color draining from his face.
Glass shatters on the floor, the cup he was holding slipping through his hand. Everyone jumps at the noise, spinning to face him. But he’s already out of his seat and down the hall before anyone can say a word.
Gar bolts around the corner, resting the back of his head against the wall as tears threaten to fall.
“…didn’t know it was still bad. I thought he was doing better.” He catches Dawn mutter as she goes to fetch a broom.
“I’m worried about him.” Kory sighs, looking in the direction he ran off to.
Worried? If she was so worried, why did none of them ever ask about it? Why did none of them ever confront him about what happened? Too often they just pretended he didn’t exist, leaving him to hide in his room and deal with his demons alone.
Gar makes his way down the hall, ignoring the stinging in his eyes and the ache in his heart.
———-----------------
Later that night, after Gar is sure everyone is sound asleep, he slips out of his room and down the hall, careful not to wake anyone. He makes his way towards the elevator, praying Dick won’t be alerted as he pushes the button to the main floor and pulls his favorite jacket a little tighter around himself.
He doesn’t know where he’s going exactly, and he knows it isn’t safe to be walking around town alone at night, especially after everything that’s happened. But he just needs to breathe for a second, to leave the sympathetic glances and judging eyes behind for just a night. He rubs at the base of his skull, feeling for the scar that marks all the destruction he’s caused. Anger flashes through him, at CADMUS for doing this to him, at himself for letting them take him, but it’s quickly replaced by sadness at all the hurt he unwillingly caused.
After walking for a few minutes, he looks up to see he’s wandered to the pier. Sensing that no one else is around, he takes a seat on the dock, letting his feet dangle over the water. The reflection of the moon glistens in the water, lighting the world while the city lights shimmer like a million stars. Sirens blare in the distance, reminding Gar that not all of the city sleeps.
He wishes Rachel were here. She’d skip rocks with him and make faces in the water. Then probably comment on the cold, pull her sweater tighter and beckon them to return to the warmth of the Tower.
But she’s gone, along with most everyone else he’s ever cared for in his life. His parents, Rita and Cliff and Larry, Donna. He pulls in a shaky breath as the cold Pacific wind flies through his jacket and tears threaten to spill. He knows why Rachel had to go to Themyscira, but why did she have to leave?
“It’s cold,” a voice cuts through the silence.
Gar nearly jumps out of his skin, whipping around to face off the newcomer, arms in a defensive position, ready to fight off any attacker. He eyes the dark haired, well toned figure wearily, trying to slow his racing heart, until they step into the lamp light and Gar breathes a sigh of relief.
“Did I scare you? Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” the clone of Superman says, taking a seat next to Gar on the pier. He looks genuinely concerned, and Gar can’t help but forget Conner is still learning human social norms. Sneaking up on people isn’t exactly the best way to treat friends, nor is intruding on their personal time.
“Are you okay?” Conner tries again, noticing the tear tracks staining Gar’s face.
“Hmm? Yeah, ‘m fine.” Gar shrugs, turning to wipe at his face. “Did you follow me here?”
“I saw you leave the Tower. Figured you wouldn’t want to be alone.” Conner replies, expression soft. Gar holds back a sigh. He really just wanted to get away from everyone for a single night.
“Look, Conner, I appreciate the gesture, but I really just wanted to be alone tonight,” Gar tries, picking at a loose string on his jacket. A cool breeze runs through the night, sending ripples through the water. The pair sit in silence for a moment, listening to the distance sounds of the city.
“Let’s go back.” Conner said, rising without hesitation.
Gar sighs, defeated that his alone night has been ruined. They walk back to the Tower in near silence, Conner smiling slightly as he swings his arms back and forth. He’s way too good for this world. Even after all that CADMUS put him through.
As they exit the elevator on the 32nd floor, the tower is quiet, the fireplace flickers lightly and casting dancing shadows on the walls. The time on the microwave reads 3:08. Gar hadn’t realized they’d been out so late.
“Well, goodnight then,” Gar says awkwardly, scratching at the base of his neck. He nods to Conner, gives a little side smile, then turns down the hall towards his room.
“What CADMUS did - it wasn’t your fault.”
Gar startles. “What?” He says, turning back around to face Conner.
The super boy furrows his brows, staring hard at a spot in the hardwood, like if he tried hard enough he could burn a hole through it. He probably could. “What CADMUS did, it wasn’t your fault. They were coming after me when you were captured. And all of those people - all of the things on TV. They weren’t your fault either. You have to stop blaming yourself.”
“Conner’s right,” Dick voices, materializing from the shadows like the Bat who raised him. Gar startles for the second time that night. Seriously people are you trying to give me a heart attack?! He stalks towards the pair with folded arms. “You might want to remember we have a security system, next time,” He tries for a joke, but it falls flat. Clearing his throat, Dick continues, “Mercy Graves and CADMUS took away your will and forced you to do unthinkable things. No one except you can understand what that was like. But you’re not theirs anymore."
“But how do you know she doesn’t have control over me still?” Gar stutters, voicing his deepest fear. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he kicks at the floor.
“We honestly don’t. But I know you, Gar. And you’re stronger than that. You won’t give up and you won’t give in. And this time, we’re going to be there for you every step of the way as we move forward. Healing takes time. And sometimes it doesn’t fully come. I think the pain stays with you as a reminder that you can do better, that you are better than everything you’ve been through. Yes, the past experiences shape you, but they don’t have to define you. You decide the kind of person you’re going to be.”
Gar rushes forward, pulling Dick into a tight hug and burying his face. Gar knows in that moment that although healing is going to take time, for the first time he’s not going through it alone.