AN: This popped up from a small conversation between myself and Funkywatermelon, who mentioned that she's a big fan of BB and Terra. I can't find it in myself to give the pair a happy ending, but this is about as close as I can get.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans, and I make as much money as a hairdresser as I do writing fanfiction... which, considering that I'm a bartender, is thus far zilch.
The Backpack
She still smells like her, and it drives him mad.
There are hundreds of scents on any given person, from shampoo and cologne to car exhaust and that morning's breakfast. Over the years Beast Boy has built up a near-encyclopedic knowledge of olfactory signatures. If someone is a smoker, he can name their brand from ten feet away even if they haven't lit up in hours.
Underneath those layers of built-up odors, whether intentionally applied or acquired without wishing to do so, each person has a unique smell that belongs only to him or her. It is this scent that allows Beast Boy to track criminals down or tell who's taken to putting biohazard stickers on his tofu recently. Oddly enough, it isn't Cyborg; it would appear Raven's joining in on the joke nowadays, too. Though a person's actual scent is infinitely more complex, it can usually be likened to one or two quotidian things for explanation's sake.
Raven, for example, smells like slow-burning sandalwood.
Contrary to what the other Titans might have assumed, Terra never smelled earthy. When they first met her, maybe, but that happens when you live in a cave without access to a shower. Even then, covered in filth and dust and who knew what else, she still smelled like Terra.
And Terra smelled like peaches.
It wasn't the fake peach scent found on air fresheners, nor the aroma of the flesh after cutting it open and letting the juice dribble out. No, it was more subtle than that— the scent of the skin of the peach just before it was ripe.
Garfield had never told her about it, however much he'd wanted to do so. He'd found out early in his days with the Doom Patrol that people don't enjoy being told what they naturally smell like, even if it's something good.
Still, that didn't stop him from calling her Peaches in his head... and once out loud when he wasn't paying attention. He'd played that one off with some overly sappy explanation about her being so sweet. The giggle his flattery had drawn from her was heavenly, but the real reward was that she'd never found out the truth.
The peaches were his, to savor in secret.
After Terra's betrayal, the day after Beast Boy had finally managed to drag himself from where he'd been holed up in her room, Robin and Starfire had come into the Tower with bags full of groceries.
In among the rest of the supplies, there was a bag of peaches.
Without even waiting for his friends to set down their cargo, Gar had reached into the paper bag in Starfire's arms and pulled out the source of his agitation. Striding into the elevator, he had taken it up to the roof, walked to the edge, and hurled the bag into the ocean.
When he had returned downstairs to his teammates' shocked expressions, his words had been curt, bitten out like chunks of solid bile.
"No peaches in the Tower again. Ever."
No one had asked any questions, and he never caught so much as a whiff of a peach in their home from then on.
Now, though, the peaches are back, and there is no doubt in Beast Boy's mind that it's her. That's why he's following her home from school. He's downwind, which lets him keep enough distance that she can't see him, but he can smell everything.
She's changed her shampoo, her conditioner, everything, but she can't cover up that scent no matter how she tries.
When he pushes through the heartache the smell stirs up in him, he can smell other things, things that summon a kindred but more bittersweet throbbing in his chest.
For once, she's been eating right. For too long in the Tower, she had eaten what she knew was cheapest, insisting it was what she liked. She had tried so hard, too hard, to be the smallest burden possible on the team, to leave the tiniest footprint she could. It had been heartbreaking to watch.
But now it's over. She's taking care of herself.
No... that's not the whole truth. She also has someone taking care of her.
There are scents on her clothing that tell a story Gar is both elated and heartbroken to discover: a perfume and a cologne in trace amounts, left by lingering hugs. An artificial scent from the laundry room— dryer sheets.
Someone cares enough about her clothes being soft to use dryer sheets. Such a simple thing, really, but one the Titans could never offer her.
Kevlar doesn't get any softer.
Shaking his head and snorting to clear his nose, he looks at her once again, searching desperately for any minute detail that suggests she's unhappy, some excuse to bring her back.
He finds his answer in the backpack she's carrying, and it's not the one he wants.
Beast Boy recognizes the battered blue canvas, knows that if he were to unzip the outer pocket and lift up the flap, he'd find a quote scrawled in permanent blue marker.
It's the same backpack she came to the tower with... the one he found in her closet after she came back to them.
Garfield scrambled beneath the door to Terra's room, inventing excuse after excuse for his snooping, trying to find one that didn't ring hollow.
He was trying to find out what she liked so that when he worked up the guts to ask her out, she would— no, that wasn't it. He was making sure she was... comfortable... no. Routine health and safety inspection?
God, Beast Boy, you're pathetic. No wonder you picked a cockroach to sneak in.
Returning to his normal self with a sigh, the changeling slumped against the wall. He had no excuse for invading her privacy like this, but he couldn't help it. Terra was so mysterious and compelling, and he had to know something, anything about her.
That was why he was going to dig through her closet, even though it was completely wrong. He knew there was no justification for it, and he knew he was going to do it anyway, no matter how much he tried to suppress the urge.
Pulling open the double doors, he froze. Terra's closet was still fairly sparse, mostly populated by uniforms, but something caught his eye immediately.
It was a blue-gray backpack with a tan bedroll tied to the bottom.
Pulling the bag from the closet, he sat cross-legged on the floor and opened it.
The pack was filled with military MREs, collapsible water containers, and a myriad of other survival gear. Gar's chest tightened.
When he opened the outer pocket, his blood went cold.
It didn't contain much, but the rubber-banded stack of cash in varying denominations and the disassembled burner phone with an unactivated pre-paid SIM card taped to it told him exactly what this backpack was for.
Swallowing hard to rid himself of the lump in his throat, trying to think of some way to quell the pounding in his ears, he barely heard the door open.
"Beast Boy?" That voice that was music to his ears quickly turned volcanic. "What the hell are you doing in my room, going through my stuff?"
Gar couldn't speak, couldn't even bring himself to react the way he knew he should. Even as Terra strode over to tower above him, hands on too-narrow hips, he couldn't do anything but sit staring at the backpack.
"Well?" she growled.
"You're running away again, aren't you?" The words came out unbidden, unplanned. "You're leaving us."
He heard Terra's breath catch, heard the slight shift as she knelt down beside him. "I... it's not like that, Beast Boy."
Gnawing on his lip to try to stop the tears welling up in his eyes, Beast Boy brought his head up for the first time since she had entered the room. "What's it like, then? What are these for, Terra?" In any normal situation, the words might have sounded accusatory, but he couldn't keep the pleading quiver from his voice. He wanted more than anything to be wrong.
Terra gave him a wry smile. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said it was just in case we go camping?"
Gar swallowed again and shook his head. "Last time I checked, there isn't much use for cash and phones out in the middle of nowhere."
"Beast Boy, I..."
"Gar."
"Huh?" Terra cocked her head.
"My real name's Garfield. Garfield Mark Logan. Give you three guesses why I prefer Gar... and why I haven't told anybody else on the team my name."
Terra nodded. "My name's Tara Markov. Don't know my middle name if I ever had one. I guess it doesn't really sound all that different from my codename, but... yeah. There's that."
They sat in silence, staring around each other's faces, not quite able to make eye contact. A small eternity passed like that.
Beast Boy finally broke the silence, as he usually did. "Why, Tara?"
"I..." Her mouth contorted into various shapes, and she looked away with a sigh. Bringing her head back up, she tried again. "This place is wonderful... you guys are wonderful. I've never had anyone who cared about me like this. I don't want to let you guys go."
"Then don't."
The blonde grabbed the sides of her head, tugging at her hair. "It's never that easy. Not for me. I wish it was, but... it's the same everywhere I go. Something always goes wrong, and I have to run away."
"Not anymore," he said quietly.
"I wish I could be as sure of that as you are."
"Will you at least say goodbye this time before you go?" Gar was fully aware of how pathetic he sounded, but he didn't care.
Terra placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah... I will. Promise."
"And there's no way I can talk you into staying for good?"
She gave him a sad smile. "Probably not."
With a deep breath, he collected himself. "All right then. Got a marker?"
Tara's eyebrows shot up. "Uh, what?"
Beast Boy forced a smile. "A permanent marker. Black, red, purple, doesn't matter."
"Umm... let me check." The girl rose and rummaged through her nightstand, returning to his side with a blue felt-tip marker. "What's this for?"
"You'll see," was his only reply as he pulled off the cap and went to work. Not for the first time, he wished his handwriting were a little neater.
When he was finished, he recapped the marker and gestured to the inside of the backpack's flap.
Kneeling down, Tara read aloud. "Not all those who wander are lost."
"Tolkien," he said. "My adoptive mom read the Lord of the Rings to me once. There's a whole lot of unnecessary words in that story, but every now and then you come across something like this, and it just sticks with you."
Terra swallowed. "Gar, I—"
"I may not be able to stop you from running, Tara, but I want you to know you'll always have a home. Okay?"
The girl hesitated, then began nodding slowly. "Okay."
Garfield seized her in a hug, and there was no need for more words.
She has that same backpack slung over her shoulder now, filled with schoolbooks and pencils and paper. Normal things for a normal life. No bedroll tied beneath it, no supplies for when everything collapses around her again.
That's when he takes a deep breath and realizes he has to let her go.
She has a home now— not the one he wants her to have, but a better one than he could ever give her.
And for once, she's not running anymore.