A/N:

Warning: brief references to character death and suicide attempt.

Paring: Gar/Vic (BB/Cy)

This fic is going to be a blend of characterizations and elements from the original 52, the New 52, and the Justice League Unlimited animated series.

Feedback is welcome!


Too many people he loved were dead.

As usual.

The moss-covered rocks were slick beneath his bare feet, and Gar cursed aloud when he turned on his ankle. He'd ditched his boots a while back; Trigon's fire had melted through the soles, anyway. At the moment, he was in his human form. Changing shapes was even more agonizing than ever; his transformations had been painful ever since Raven polluted him with the remnants of Trigon. She'd corrupted both he and Richard, to the point that they were practically demons along with her.

Raven. Richard.

Tonight, Gar had killed the two of them, in a desperate last attempt to stop Trigon from fully emerging in them all. Raven was a herald of Trigon, and had turned he and Richard into ones as well, in an attempt to use them restore Trigon to his full power.

Gar had tried to kill himself, too, but seeing he was still alive, he must have botched the job somehow.

The decision to kill two of his closest friends had not been easy. But Lilith was slayed trying to exorcise Trigon's influence from Raven, and Donna fell in combat not long afterward. Gar had spent the conflict at war with himself, struggling against the bloodlust Raven incited in him. In a hard-won moment of clarity, Gar had realized the only immediate solution, the only way to stop further needless bloodshed, was to kill Richard, Raven, and himself. It was the only way to suspend Trigon's influence over all of them.

He couldn't remember the act itself. He only recalled reaching the decision to kill them both, and then hazily returning to consciousness (life?) with their corpses strewn beside him.

Wally and Kory were missing after the battle, and Gar, a Doom Patrol veteran, held no optimism about their prospects for survival.

The only other Titan left alive was probably Vic.

Vic. His closest friend, his confidant. He was in space right now. Gar had been with him for awhile, but during their time together, Vic gradually become less recognizable. The man who Gar had witnessed fight to retain his humanity come hell or high water now willingly integrated new technology into his being at every opportunity. Gar had returned to Earth when he realized the Victor he'd known was gone, buried away beneath pieces of alien technology.

"I knew we'd get out of this deathtrap," Gar had once reassured Vic while rescuing him after a disastrous fight with the Disruptor.

"Really? " Vic had asked skeptically. " How? "

"Haven't you heard? " Gar had said wryly. " It's an all-inclusive part of my escape claws. "

He missed Vic. The Vic who joked with him, sparred with him, playfully insulted him. He missed Vic's blunt honesty, his sarcasm, his warmth, his affection. In space together, Gar had watched as those parts of Vic gradually faded and vanished. The Vic he'd left in space seemed totally disinterested in him as a person, friend, or ally, and only spoke to him to report on technological updates to his system.

Now was the time to change that. To reverse his friends' deaths, to erase Vic's development into a complete robot.

To Gar, Vic had always been the Tin Man with a heart. Though Vic could cynical and jaded, there was also an inalienable strong moral fiber ingrained within him, a nobility that refused to allow himself to commit actions solely of self-interest or malice. And Gar was going to bring that Vic back.

"Goddamn," Gar hissed as he tread on a thorny bramble branch. Ignoring the pain, he pushed through the shrubbery and stumbled into a clearing.

The sky was dark, but the cold glow of the moonlight illuminated his destination. An overgrown cemetery, just across the field, mostly obscured from view due to the surrounding overgrowth. Low-hanging tree limbs were bent to awkward angles by heavy snarls of climbing vines, giving the effect of a sylvan canopy. Similar ramblers wove throughout the dense hedges, creating caverns of deep shadow.

The tombstones themselves were weathered, the epitaphs now illegible with age, and snares of ivy snaked from around the rotting wood of the dilapidated split rail fence to lace between the graves.

The small cemetery was quiet as Gar made his way to the mausoleum, the air very still. No crickets chirped, no birds called, no wind rustled through the leaves. The atmosphere was almost anticipatory, like the world around him was holding its breath as it awaited his next move.

Once at the mausoleum, Gar withdrew a withered black candle, approximately twelve inches in length, from his pack. He'd found the object among his father's possessions, no doubt a remainder from his occult days with John Constantine. Little research had been necessary to determine the precise nature of the candle.

Hesitating, Gar studied the object in his hands. Once the candle was lit, there was no going back. There would be sacrifices he have to make.

Maybe he should stop here. Walk away while he still had the opportunity, and move forward with his life. Enter the next chapter. It wasn't like he didn't have plans; he was managing Dayton Industries right now, and was scheduled to start college in the fall.

But then again . . .

How many people had he lost? His parents, Chief Tabawa, even those two thieves who had briefly adopted him. The Doom Patrol- the Chief, Larry, Cliff, and Rita. Hell, at the moment, Steve had once again pulled a knight errant and was off God knows where.

And Terra. To lose her, he would have had to have her in the first place, and Gar remained uncertain of if he'd ever managed to draw out the true Terra's personality. Now that Gar was sufficiently separated from the events surrounding the two of them, he knew that on some level, the Terra he loved only existed as an idea rather than an individual- of course, that had been the entire purpose of Terra' deception. But his idea of her had died when she did, buried beneath a pile of rubble brought down on her by either choice or frenzy.

Tonight, the rest of the Titans had fallen.

Richard, constantly in motion, brimming with good nature and vitality, who had been like an older brother to Gar.

Raven, whose quiet wisdom and steadfast counsel guided the team throughout both trying missions and personal crises.

Kory, whose radiant beauty was nothing compared to her passion in all aspects of life, her kindness to others, and her ferocity in battle.

Wally, the most straitlaced and sensible of their group, whose occasional grumblings were belied by his generosity toward all and his determination to give aid to those in need.

Donna, whose tenacity was only succeeded by her strength of character. She was gentle and compassionate despite her power, and Gar imagined she was what an older sister would be like.

Lilith. Though Gar was not as familiar with her as the others, she had helped them save the Earth from Trigon's rule once before. Now, she died trying to do the same, attempting to restore Richard, Raven, and himself to their true nature.

All that remained was a Vic that was barely Vic. Not the Vic whom he'd fought alongside, not the Vic who encouraged him to learn to manage Dayton Industries, not the Vic who struggled to remain human, not the Vic who gave his damnedest to save everyone.

Twisting off the plain platinum band he wore on his left hand, Gar considered the ring for a moment. Summoning all his resolve, he clenched the ring in his fist, feeling the metal press against his palm.

Flipping open a lighter, Gar held the candle in one hand and lit it with the other.

Time to make a deal.