Some of you wanted to see Garfield on a more equal footing. I hope this doesn't disappoint.

I own nothing. The Teen Titans belong to DC and their respective creators.

Chapter titles are taken from the song "Valerie Plame" by Peter Tracy.

Garfield made to follow Rachel down the stairs after her startling revelation, but stopped on the landing when Steve and Robin came out of the conference room. Rachel looked at Robin expectantly.

"Can you get started on the ledger?" he asked her. Rachel nodded and proceeded into the conference room without another argument.

Garfield noticed that he wasn't the only one watching Rachel. Steve's glare didn't leave her until the door shut behind her.

"Beast."

His name sounded funny coming out of Robin's mouth, but he turned.

"How about we get you set up in a room while she's decoding that?" Robin suggested, coming up the stairs towards him. He already had Garfield's bag over his shoulder. Fairly territorial, he bristled at the sight of someone else holding his stuff.

"Then I will keep an eye on your agent," Steven called after him, a little hostile. Garfield almost winced at the obviousness of it. Usually Steve was better at that, but it'd been a long time, if ever, that he'd come up against another team leader. Especially one that was clearly as capable as Steve himself.

"Go for it," Robin said easily, even smiling slightly at Garfield as he did so. Unable to help his own small return smile, Garfield was glad that Steve had already turned away. As Robin reached Garfield, he jerked his head easily back up the stairs. Garfield fell into step behind him, following Robin into one of the rooms Rachel had shown him just a few minutes ago.

"Not much," Robin said, putting Garfield's bag on the bed. "But it works for us."

"Is this your home base?" Garfield asked, unzipping his bag. It would seem odd if he didn't, but he wasn't going to open up the hidden side pocket just yet.

"Nah," Robin said. "We've got a place in the city. But I'd like to move us out here someday. It'll make coming home all the better."

He had a tiny apartment about three miles from the office. It had a couch and a set of weights and a few holes in his walls. He had a desk and a chair at the office, in the brightest corner of the top floor.

Neither one was home to him.

He pulled out a few shirts and jeans, putting them in the light colored, functional dresser. Robin wandered over to the window, putting his hands in his pockets. Garfield took that moment to observe the leader of the Titans.

He was tall and thin, but it was deceptive. Wiry muscle covered every inch of him, hidden beneath the jeans and button up shirt he wore. He had dark hair and very bright blue eyes. They were the kind of eyes that appeared open and inviting, but knowing Robin's job, they were also a complete lie. Garfield couldn't help but be a bit impressed.

"How is it working for D.P.?" Robin asked.

Garfield shrugged, feeling like he was fishing for information. "Fun. And effective."

"Clearly," Robin answered, without a trace of sarcasm. "You guys are a top ranking agency. Everyone knows it. You've done some great work."

"Thanks," Garfield answered, still suspicious. Robin seemed on the level, but what kind of spy would he be if he wasn't working some kind of angle?

A rare one, his inner voice muttered.

"And Mento? Do you like working for him?"

"Mento's efficient. And he holds us to high standards," Garfield answered carefully.

"To great effect," Robin replied, still smiling slightly. "But I'm sure it can be a little tough, working for a man like him."

Garfield shrugged, noncommittal. What was the play here? What did he have to gain by hearing what kind of man Mento was?

"I used to have a boss like Mento," Robin offered up, looking out at the window. "Great man. Strict leader. Effective teacher. He was exactly what I needed when I first got into the business. Taught me discipline and control."

"You don't work for him anymore?" Garfield asked, finding the conversation all too familiar.

Robin chuckled, "No. We parted ways several years ago. And it wasn't pretty. But I was tired of being a subordinate. The second. The sidekick. I was ready to have someone who listened to me, rather than ordered me around. I was ready to take charge of my life. He disagreed." Robin's voice was quieter.

Uncomfortable now, Garfield shuffled his clothes around and didn't respond.

"Our paths crossed a few years ago. After I had formed the Titans," Robin continued. "We talked things through and now we keep in touch as friends. And I'll always be grateful to him. I don't know where my life would have gone had I not met him. Parents dead, no job, full of hate…" Robin shook his head. "I'd probably have been killed years back if not for him."

Garfield gave up on pretending to be uninterested.

"But I had to leave. He was in charge and he was good at it, but I didn't want to spend the rest of my life following his orders," Robin finished, turning to face Garfield. "So Mento may be a great boss, but I know that it can't always be easy."

"And?" Garfield retorted, thrown off and going on the defensive. "You want me to turn on him or something?"

"Of course not," Robin answered immediately, looking startled. "I just wanted to let you know that you're not alone in this and if you need someone to talk to, I can understand."

Garfield frowned. Sure, Rita's door was always open, but as Mento's wife, it wasn't like talking to her was always the easiest thing to do. And talking to Mento…no, he'd rather not. There wasn't much of an opportunity for him to vent or talk about things with…well, anyone, really. "Thanks," he said. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I hope you do," Robin said, not sounding at all upset that Garfield was quiet. "We're all working together, so we should be able to talk, right?"

"Mm," Garfield answered noncommittally. He seemed to be doing that often with this man.

"You and Rachel will be doing most of the field work," Robin said, sounding slightly more business-like. "Working with someone after being solo for so long may be a little rough, so try to keep that in mind."

"She's your only operative?" Garfield asked.

Robin smiled, "No. But the other one is away. So Rachel will be your partner on this." He hesitated, then added, "I'd feel bad if I didn't say something, so…take care with Rachel. She's a bit rough around the edges, but she's a good operative. If you don't take care-"

"Is this the part where you warn me that I'd better treat her right or you'll come after me?" Garfield joked. Granted, he was a little curious to see Robin in action.

The man laughed, "No, not at all. I'm saying you should take care. If you did something to her, I doubt there'd be anything left for me to find."

Garfield grinned, unable to help it. It wasn't that he couldn't imagine Rachel beating his ass. It was that he could and he relished the idea.

Robin headed out the door, but shook Garfield's hand on his way. "I think it'll be interesting working with you, Beast."

With a chuckle that wasn't artificial at all, Garfield took Robin's hand. "Same here."

Raven stretched at her desk, trying to work out the kinks in her back. Four consecutive hours of decoding the ledger had given her only a handful of names. She recognized some, but they were just low-level thugs. They needed a bigger name.

Having Mento breathing over her shoulder didn't help much either.

She rarely went to the range twice in a day, but today had been rather tiring. A short break wouldn't hurt.

Raven slipped silently up the stairs while Mento and Dick were in the kitchen. Despite being set up in his own rooms, Mento insisted on following either Raven or Dick around, critiquing and judging them on every little moment of their day. It was exhausting. She almost wished Kori was here, to take some of the attention off of her. Vic was back at their main house until the day after tomorrow, finishing up a couple of projects.

Still, she had a moment to breathe now and she was going to take advantage of it.

So looking forward to the relaxation of the range, Raven was annoyed to find a set of headphones missing, meaning that someone else was utilizing the range. Seeing as how she'd just left Mento and Dick downstairs, it could only be one other person.

Raven went to the range, but hung back, trying to get a feel for her temporary coworker. He stood easily as he fired, clearly comfortable around guns. His shoulders were relaxed and he didn't take long to make his shots. The gun swung up and he fired in one easy motion, without hesitation. A few shots rang out and then he pressed a button to bring the target sheet forward. He slid off the headphones as the paper approached, pulling the empty clip out of his gun and placing it on the counter.

Taking a step in, Raven observed his work. Three shots just to the left of the target's head, Three more to the left of the chest. Not a single one in the silhouette. Sloppy and disappointing.

"Good thing you're practicing," Raven noted, drawing his attention.

He turned and grinned at her, "Oh yeah?"

"Not one of those would slow down an attacker."

Beast chuckled, apparently at ease with her criticism. She couldn't help her frown. How was she going to work with a man who seemed to have no care for the mission?

Raven wasn't foolish. A lot of people were motivated by money. Most of the ones she encountered in her job fell into that category. Most of the other agencies fell into that category. But not the Titans.

Those who did this job for money could be bought. Those who did it for vengeance could be unpredictable. Those who did it for the thrill could be fooled.

That was Robin chose the people who did the job for the morals. They couldn't be bought, they could remain impassive, and they could stay distant enough to see the whole picture.

But Beast…

"How's the ledger coming?" he asked, glancing again at his target.

"Fine."

She would have been content to leave it at that, but he stared at her. Raven resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I gave a few names to Robin and Mento, for them to begin checking up on."

"Get any good vibes off them?" Beast question.

"Is that the scientific definition?" Raven retorted. When he just grinned again, she continued, "The names I recognized were low-level. Mercenaries, hired guns, pimps. We need sharks, not trout."

"But sounds like we're on the right track."

She scoffed slightly at the "we." Beast seemed amused by her irritation.

"We're going to have to work together, here, Rach," he warned her with a smirk. "Might help out if you weren't such a total brat."

"You just bring it out in me," Raven answered, crossing her arms.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Still. It'll be easier if we can work together." He approached, eyes glinting as he stared down at her, using his height to his obvious advantage. "We can be friends, can't we?"

"I've got enough friends, thanks."

"Partners?"

"No."

"Colleagues?"

"Unlikely."

"Lovers?" he suggested, with a wink.

"I will shoot you."

He chuckled and Raven had to stomp on the urge to smile. When he laughed, it was infectious. Right, she thought, just like herpes.

"Well, all right, then," he shrugged. "If you're going to be difficult, guess I'll just have to keep trying." He headed towards the door, grabbing his gun and clip.

"Don't hold your breath," Raven responded. "Or, on second thought - do hold your breath."

"Oh," he said suddenly, stopping at the door. "By the way, that target," he gestured with his head to the paper that had been so abysmal, "was just an innocent bystander. The real target was another 30 feet down the range."

He winked at her and walked out, humming. Raven couldn't help it; she moved over to his lane and recalled the target, seeing the truth before it had finished moving.

Three in the chest. Three in the head. Dead center, perfect shots, all of them.

Raven smiled slightly. Well, all right, then.

That evening, Raven was wishing to be back in the range again, even if there were irritating men there. She had spent the entire afternoon and evening decoding the ledger; that was the easy part. What irked her was the way Mento leaned over her shoulder and judged every move she made, even the next morning after a restless night's sleep.

She didn't see Beast as she got ready for bed, but she was overly aware of the fact that he was sleeping across the hall from her. She wasn't used to anyone other than her team being in such close proximity. And it was only the proximity that bothered her.

"That's 'partner' not 'occasion,'" Mento said over her shoulder.

Raven silently pointed out the correct word (occasion, obviously), and moved on, ignoring the faint discomfort that she felt as if she was missing something. It certainly wasn't with the ledger, so it must have something to do with her temporary coworkers.

"And that should be 'tomorrow,' not 'fortnight,'" he said loudly, two minutes later.

Turning in her chair, Raven fixed him with a straight look. "You have two options. You can leave me alone to work on this. Or I can leave."

"I don't like your tone, girl. This is what we agreed upon."

"No," she said firmly. "I agreed to decode this. You can back the hell off and leave it to me."

His eyes sparked as he glared at her, "I don't like your attitude."

"You don't like a lot of things. Surprisingly, I don't care."

"Hey, Mento."

Raven didn't break eye contact as Garfield spoke from the door. She wasn't sure how long he'd been there.

"Robot Man's on the line for you," Garfield said, lounging against the frame. "About his recent op. Sounds urgent."

Mento stood up, "I'll be back."

Raven ignored him and turned back to her decoding. If he'd just give her some time alone, she'd have it done faster. Mento left and Raven heard the door shut.

"Sorry about him."

She didn't flinch, but she thought about it.

With another quiet, not-quite-a-sigh, Raven set her pen down and met Garfield's eyes.

He smiled, clearly not expecting her to initiate the conversation, "He's got control issues."

"Noticed," she murmured, picking up her pen and continuing to decode.

"Rob sent me in here to see if you've added any more names to your list," Garfield said.

Raven nodded, then paused and looked around, "I did…"

Picking up a stack of papers, she muttered under her breath when the list was no longer there. Garfield scoffed and joined her, careful to move things and put them down exactly where he found them.

"This it?" Garfield asked, holding up a slip of paper.

Raven nodded, "That'd be it." She put the rest of her papers back where they belonged and settled back down.

"Awesome," he said. "I'll just bring this to Rob, then."

"You do that." She rolled her eyes and kept at her work.

He still didn't leave.

"If Mento bugs you again, just tell him that I ran into some of the old gang and I went out with them for a while," Garfield said, folding the edges of the paper back and forth. A nervous tick. Unexpected.

Still, what he was saying aroused her curiosity. "That would keep him off my back how?"

"Oh, Mento found me in Jump City. It's how I got started with D.P.," Garfield said easily.

She couldn't resist. "What do you mean, 'found you?'"

"My folks died when I was pretty young," he said, folding the paper into an airplane, his voice sounded light despite the topic. "Came home and lived with a family friend. Didn't turn out so well and I fell in with a bad crowd."

"How bad?" she asked.

"Well, it wasn't good. Had a bit of a rap sheet. Boosting cars, petty theft, B. and E.'s, and a couple of assault charges." That time his voice sounded a bit regretful.

"How'd you get those?"

"I was in a gang."

"A gang," Raven murmured, disappointed in him. She'd thought there was more to him. But she knew gangs and gang members. Nothing good ever came out of them. Turning back to her decoding, she added, "Classy."

There was a moment of quiet and Raven glanced up.

Garfield's smile was gone and his eyes were hard, harder than she'd ever seen them before. She swallowed and found that her feet were shifting beneath her chair, her body instinctually prepping itself for a fight.

His arrogance was something she'd grown accustomed to. The anger was something new. She didn't like it.

She liked it even less when a smile came back in the form of a tiny, cold smirk, completely out of place. Then he leaned forward on the desk, the list crumpled in the fist he planted on her papers.

"You know," he growled quietly, "you haven't bothered to get to know me. And you have no desire to let me know you. So how about you drop the judgmental attitude until you bother to learn the facts?"

He pushed back from the desk and walked out of the room. Upon reaching the door, he paused and called back, "Garfield Logan."

The door shut behind him.