Another chapter! I'm knocking these out.

Sorry for the lack of action for Raven, but I had to keep the timetables straight. She'll get some more exciting parts later. In exchange, we get an inside look at one of the neglected characters.

I really enjoy this chapter - Garfield's rather dark conversation (you'll know it when you see it) is actually what started this whole story. It's nice to see it all finally coming together.

Anyway, enjoy!

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.

"How much longer will he be in surgery?"

Garfield just shrugged helplessly at Kori's question. It'd been two hours since they'd last seen Dick, after doctors and nurses took him out of the back of the van, his blood all over the floor. Garfield and Vic had done what they could, but he was unresponsive and barely breathing by the time they'd been able to get him into the ER. Nurses had patched up Garfield's arm, but the bullet had been through and through, not doing a ton of damage to him as it lodged somewhere in Dick's chest. The three of them were in the waiting room, Garfield and Vic still covered in blood and Kori's face ashen.

"We should have heard something by now," she continued, her eyes tracking every doctor and nurse that came in and out of the waiting room. Her hands clenched and released in her lap constantly, until Garfield reached over and covered both of them with one of his. She clung to him like a lifeline, bending over her hands and starting to shake.

"Vic," Garfield muttered, jerking his head at the counter. "Would you?" When the big man only stared ahead, Garfield tried again. "Vic."

He jerked up and glanced at him. "Huh?"

"Go talk to them. Get some answers."

Finally nodding, Vic stood and strode over to the counter. Garfield watched him talk to the nurses and a doctor that appeared, but wasn't quite paying attention.

Raven was in the wind. Blood and Wilson were gone without a trace. Gizmo and Mammoth had vanished. They had no leads. No way to track any of them. They were up shit creek not only without a paddle, but without a fucking boat and Garfield hated the taste of it.

Worst of all, he hated that all he could do was sit here and wait to find out if a man he admired was already dead because he didn't move quickly enough.

Kori squeezed his hand, drawing his attention up as Vic returned to them.

"He's out of surgery," Vic said, his face breaking out into a relieved smile. "He's still out, and it was a little touch and go there, but they think he'll make it."

"Thank goodness," Kori breathed, letting go of Garfield's hands as she stood. "We can see him?"

"Yeah, room 303. Only two at a time."

Garfield forced a smile as they looked at him, "You two go. I'll take the van back to the hotel, bring you back a change of clothes and some food."

Kori nodded, her feet already moving her towards the hallway. Garfield stood, holding out his hands for the keys from Vic.

He didn't hand them over right away. "Look, man, thank you."

Garfield's smile faded, and he shook his head. "I didn't-"

"Two centimeters up or over and he'd have been dead. You saved his life."

"It was a trap," Garfield reminded him. "And I knew it, and-"

"And so did the rest of us. It was worth the risk, for the slim chance that she was there," Vic reminded him.

"But she wasn't."

"I know. And once we recoup a bit, we'll get on this. We're not stopping until we've got her back, all right?"

Garfield nodded. "All right."

Vic handed over the keys and then squeezed his good shoulder. "I'm grateful as hell you're with us, man."

The corner of Garfield's mouth lifted slightly. "Me too."

"We're gonna take them down."

This time, Garfield did smile. "At least after this, they won't see us coming."

The pilot had announced their descent would be earlier than expected, within the next two hours. Blood and Wilson were both back in their seats in the main cabin, unfortunately. Raven hadn't slept for a moment on the eight-hour flight, and she had a headache from exhaustion. However, her stubbornness paid off in the last stretch of the flight.

Wilson's phone rang - apparently he didn't have to follow the regular rules about cell phones on planes - and he picked up quickly. "Yes?"

Raven couldn't hear who was on the other end, but she didn't move. Her head was angled to look out the window, so neither Wilson nor Blood could see her eyes. Still, she kept her face impassive.

"And?" A pause. "Disappointing. I'd been hoping for all of them."

Raven's chest began to hurt as her heart sped up.

"Send me the video. We'll see what we can find."

The hand closer to the window, out of sight of the men, clenching into the armrest.

"Hold your position. Watch and wait for my orders."

He ended the call, and Blood immediately piped up. "Was that Gizmo?"

"Yes. It appears Ms. Finn's associates fell for the bait."

Raven didn't look up until Wilson leaned over across the aisle, drawing her attention. She met his gaze unflinchingly.

"One of your compatriots is in the hospital as we speak, supposedly teetering between life and death. The others are with him," Wilson reported, still watching her.

Raven catalogued that quickly. Garfield, Richard, or Vic was in the hospital. She doubted Steve had been in the field. Which meant Kori was still all right. Hospital meant he was still alive, it meant there was a chance.

"And how many of your guys did it take to put just one man in the hospital?" Raven asked, arching her brow.

"Oh, a good fifteen or so," Wilson answered, without any hint of annoyance. "I'm actually rather impressed. I look forward to watching the video."

Blood frowned, "Fifteen men?"

Wilson waved his hand, "They're alive. Mostly just knees."

Blood still didn't look pleased that Wilson had used his men so cavalierly. Raven filed that away and looked out the window once more. She could feel Wilson's eyes on her and knew there was something more than what he was saying. She ignored him, knowing that he wouldn't be able to remain quiet for long.

"Oh," Wilson said after a few minutes. "I forgot, it appears although one of your team was wounded in the fight, your little security guard was first through the door."

Raven looked back at Wilson, her chest hitching. No. Nononono.

"Gizmo says that it took him several minutes to die. Bleeding out on the warehouse floor. Pity he died for nothing." Wilson smiled at her.

A chill settled into Raven. One that went bone deep as her focus sharpened to pinpoints. She'd only felt this feeling once, when she was too young to know what it really was.

Her father had beaten her and her mother ruthlessly. For a long time, Raven had reacted as her mother did - accepting it as her fate, as the only way life was supposed to be. Pain and fear were the norm; there was no comparison to long for, because she didn't know any better.

As she got older, as she read and listened to the way other children spoke, as she saw their arms unbruised and their eyes un-blackened, Raven began to realize that she'd been wrong. That her life wasn't supposed to be this way, that the pain wasn't something she deserved. It had been a terrifying revelation, because it meant that she could no longer remain quiet. Raven had looked to her mother, but it had been too late for Arella to change. Raven had to do something about it or no one else would.

Shortly after that realization, he'd come after them with a loaded gun.

That night, Raven had been terrified, but beneath the terror and the fear and the general hurt that her father wasn't like other fathers, that her mother would allow this to happen, Raven had felt this same icy coldness. The detachment that had simultaneously empowered and terrified her. The feeling that had enabled her to overcome her terror of her father, pick up the gun and fire it at the man who'd brutalized her for years.

Today, there was no terror, no fear, no betrayal or hurt. Only the hatred.

They'd taken away green eyes. A goofy smile. An infectious laugh. Good dance moves. A clever mouth. Warm, competent hands. A surprisingly romantic nature. And all sorts of numerous other things that Raven would never be able to discover because they'd been ripped away. Because of her. No, she wasn't going to blame herself. She'd done her job, as best as she could.

It was because of them. Blood and Wilson had taken away the man that Raven had cared about more than she thought possible in such a short amount of time.

In that moment, if Raven had a gun, she wouldn't have hesitated. Not for one second.

"Have you broken yet, Ms. Finn?" Wilson asked her quietly, leaning forward.

She didn't know how. Or when. But Raven knew that Wilson and Blood would not get away with this again. No more women would be hurt, no more collateral damage, no more. Even if it took her life, she was going to stop them, with or without backup or a team or a partner or-

Or Garfield.

She wished she could be moral enough to say that she wanted this for the good of the world, for the safety of women, for the hope of creating peace, for even her own self, but deep down, she would admit that there was only one person she was doing this for.

Raven looked into Wilson's eyes and smiled, slowly and confidently. It was in no way a happy or positive expression, and for a split second, Wilson's expression faltered.

She would finish the job. She would finish the mission. She would finish these men.

For Garfield.

As he stumbled through the hotel room door, Garfield's phone rang. He cursed, rifling through his pockets. As he pulled it out of his jeans, he had to think of who even had that number, because the phone wasn't the one the Titans had given him.

It was the one from D.P.

He shut the door behind him, dropping the duffle bag full of weapons from the van and answering the call suspiciously, "Hello?"

"Hey there, Beast."

It wasn't Steve's voice on the line. Or Rita's. Or even Cliff's.

"Negative Man?" Garfield murmured in shock, using his codename on this unsecured line. He hadn't heard from him in months. Even before he left on this mission with the Titans, it'd been weeks since they'd spoken.

"Oh, wasn't sure you remembered me," Larry's voice was sarcastic and acerbic, clearly pissed at Garfield. "Seeing as you just up and quit on us."

"Look, man," Garfield sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "It's complicated."

"Figured as much when Mento called Elasti-Girl. Don't think I'd ever heard him swear like that. It was pretty impressive, to be honest."

"Would've paid money to see that."

"So. What the hell?" Larry asked, sounding honestly curious.

Garfield sat on the bed, eyeing the computers that had been useless in saving Raven. "We're working with the Titans. And Mento, he…he lost a teammate."

"Accidents happen."

"Wasn't an accident."

"Ah. Sounds like him." He sighed. "Well, as fun as this is," Larry said, "that isn't why I called."

"What's up?" Garfield asked.

"Your name was pinged about an hour ago."

Garfield frowned. That only happened when someone looked up his codename on secure servers - like military, federal, or D.P.'s. It was never good. "What'd they get?"

"Old files. Not your name. But enough to get a good look at you."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Could've been worse, but Mento shut it down."

Garfield frowned, without responding. However, Larry heard the question in his silence.

"Hey, regardless of how much you pissed him off-" Larry laughed, "and believe me, you really pissed him off, kid - Mento won't let anyone in on his secure servers. He won't tell you that it happened, but he'll keep your secrets, so long as they're his secrets, too."

"Thanks for the heads up," Garfield murmured, trying to take this new twist. The timing was too convenient to be anyone other than Wilson and Blood. But what did they have to gain?

"Look, kid." Larry hesitated, "Off the books, off the record, off whatever the hell else you can think of, if you need anything, you call me, all right?"

"I don't want you getting into trouble with Mento."

Larry scoffed, "Don't get all high and mighty with me, Beastie Boy. I was causing all sorts of trouble before you showed up. And if you need backup, you call me. Robotman and Elasti-Girl, too."

"But I'm not D.P. anymore."

"So?"

Garfield managed a real smile, "Thanks, man."

"Watch your back, kid. Anyone who can hack Mento's firewalls isn't someone I'd piss off."

"Little late for that."

Larry chuckled, "Nice going."

"See you around, Negative Man."

"No, you won't."

Garfield turned off the dead line, knowing that it was true. Still, it was nice to know that D.P. still had his back when he needed them.

Emptying out the duffel bag, Garfield tucked a pistol into the back of his pants before filling it up with clothes for Kori and Vic, with an extra pair of jeans and a shirt for Dick when he woke up. Throwing it over his shoulder, he left the hotel room, locking it behind him.

Once outside, he paused. Scanning the fading light, Garfield tried to pinpoint what was making his hackles rise. Unable to see anything, Garfield slowly got into the dark sedan Dick had driven up, looking around the parking lot.

It was quiet. He didn't like it.

In fact, he didn't like it so much that he didn't drive straight to the hospital, but took a roundabout route, parking at a different, smaller hospital. Any idiot would've checked the hospital records, but Garfield didn't think it was just any idiot following him.

He thought it was one hell of an idiot.

Eager, still pissed, and aching, Garfield parked the car and laid himself out as bait, stepping out of the car and leaning against the closed trunk as if he were thinking.

Stupid? Yes.

Reckless? Hell yes.

Necessary? Abso-fucking-lutely.

He heard the car long before he heard footsteps. There was a slight limp in the right leg. Garfield smirked at the sound.

With a wince that wasn't entirely an act, Garfield sagged against the car, holding his arm to his side. He listened to the footsteps that approached him and heard the familiar click of a pistol.

"Hands up, Beast."

Gizmo's voice was strained, either anger or pain. Perhaps a mixture of the two. Garfield didn't move, until he felt the barrel of a pistol against the back of his skull. Slowly he raised his hands.

"How's the arm, Gizmo?" Garfield asked,

"Better than you're about to be."

He smiled to himself, realizing he had only the smallest chance of this actually working. So he did it before common sense could make an appearance.

Garfield twisted his head to the left, simultaneously throwing both of his hands up, knocking the barrel up as Gizmo pulled the trigger.

His ears went deaf for a second, but there was no pain in his skull.

He turned, grabbing Gizmo's wounded arm and slamming it against the trunk of the car, knocking the gun loose before he gathered up Gizmo's jacket in his hand.

"You're fucking dead, Beast, I'm gonna-"

Garfield slammed Gizmo's head against the trunk, knocking him unconscious. Just for good measure, he did it a second time, feeling Gizmo go limp.

He gathered up Gizmo, glancing around the empty parking lot. The idiot hadn't even brought backup. With a shake of his head, he tossed Gizmo into the trunk.

"When you wake up, we're gonna have a chat, Giz ol' buddy," Garfield promised, slamming the trunk closed. He crossed to the driver's side and slid in, ignoring the warmth trickling down his arm.

"And I'm gonna get some answers."

"You did what?!" Vic shouted thirty-four minutes later, when Garfield had finally arrived at the hospital.

Garfield smiled apologetically at the nurse who glared at them. "Dude, keep it down."

Vic grabbed his uninjured arm and hauled him over to a staircase, shutting the door behind them. "You just let him come up behind you? What if he hadn't wanted to talk?"

"It's Gizmo. He always wants to talk."

Vic huffed out a sigh, "Jesus, Garfield. That was reckless."

"Screw reckless, we've got a lead now," Garfield hissed at him, trying to make him see reason. "If I can get answers out of him, we might figure out where Wilson and Blood took her!"

"And how are you going to get those answers, man?"

Garfield didn't lower his eyes. He wouldn't apologize for what needed to be done. "I'll get them. That's all that matters."

"Garfield…"

"They've got Rae," Garfield reminded him lowly. "Dozens of other girls. I won't kill him. Which is more than they'd do for us."

"I know, but-"

"The trail's cold. We've got nothing. If we don't take this, we could lose all of them. For good. I can get answers out of him," Garfield insisted.

Vic swore and rubbed the top of his head. Garfield remained silent, knowing that he was winning this argument.

"All right," Vic murmured. "Then here's the plan. You get what you can out of him. Then report to me. I'll be your backup."

"What about Kori?"

"She's gonna argue, but she'll really want to be here with Richard."

"Okay. Good." Garfield nodded, eager to get going. They had a plan.

"Where are you gonna go?"

Garfield shrugged, "I'll take a leaf out of their book. Warehouse or something. I'll figure it out." He started to the door.

Vic grabbed his arm, "Hey. You be careful."

"I can handle Gizmo."

"That's not what I mean," Vic corrected. "Be careful you don't lose something you can't get back."

Garfield nodded once and walked off without another word.

Truth was, he'd already lost the one thing he couldn't stand losing.

As he drove the car to an abandoned cargo dock, Garfield found himself pulling further and further away from the man who chatted with Vic. He felt calm, but when he caught sight of himself in the mirror, his brows were drawn together and his jaw was tight.

As he hauled Gizmo out of the trunk after pulling into a small loading warehouse, Garfield couldn't even find it in himself to feel guilty as he grabbed Gizmo's bad arm. And when he realized it, his only reaction was to haul harder.

When Gizmo came back to consciousness, he was already tied up in a chair.

Garfield was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Not hiding, but not making a move just yet. There was no table of tools for intimidation. They took up space and time. He didn't need them.

Gizmo sputtered and coughed, trying to straighten up in his chair. When he finally saw Garfield, he glared, nothing even remotely friendly on his face any longer. Good.

"Pratt," Gizmo spat.

Remaining silent, Garfield let Gizmo jump to conclusions. It made things easier. Got him to chat. Anyone who'd ever been tortured before know better than to instigate the conversation.

And Garfield was someone who knew better.

"Not a security guard, are you, Pratt?" Gizmo continued, his eyes dancing around the room as he tried to find any means of escape or backup. There weren't any. "Yeah, I know. You're a fucking spy. CIA shit."

Nothing like the CIA. Garfield smiled, but it was tight. That explained the ping Larry got on his files. And Wilson had to be in contact with Gizmo in order to give him that information. Keep talking, moron.

"Is your girl a spook, too? Or something else? You hire her out for these sorts of missions?" Gizmo asked. "Is it by the hour or did you get some sort of weekly deal for her?"

Garfield started moving, but Gizmo was still talking. "Probably, based on the time she spent on her back. You know she came after Blood, Wilson, even me on-"

With a painful crunch, Garfield hit Gizmo's face so hard the chair fell backwards.

"See," Garfield murmured calmly, flexing his hand. This was all coming back to him. How to hit, how to question, how to hurt. "I was hoping to have a conversation, and instead, you start lying to me and insulting my partner. Do that again, and I'm gonna lose my patience."

Striding behind him, Garfield grabbed the edge of the chair and lifted it back up, setting his upright again. He walked back in front of Gizmo, watching the kid spit blood out of his mouth and onto the floor.

"You don't scare me," Gizmo mumbled. His voice quavered and Garfield bared his teeth in anything but a reassuring smile. The kid was already breaking. "Wilson's read your files, Beast. He told me all about it. You're a badass, but I'm prepared for that. I know you and-"

"No," Garfield cut in, something finally breaking through his temper. "You don't know me. All that shit you read in my files? That was all half-cocked. I didn't give a shit about the missions or the people, it was just the thrill. I didn't care." His old, Beastly smirk spread across his face, an unfamiliar expression, but one he needed today. "But now? Going after her? You made me care."

He cracked his knuckles, enjoying the fear that trampled across Gizmo's face. "This isn't going to be half-cocked, or half-assed, or however else I've lived my life up until now. This will be thorough. And extensive. Then, you'll tell me everything I want to know."

"Ask me whatever you want," Gizmo snarled. "I'm not going to tell you-"

"Nah," Garfield interrupted. "I'm not gonna ask you anything. Not yet. I'm not gonna ask until you're screaming." He leaned forward with his arms crossed, seeing an unfamiliar person reflected in Gizmo's eyes.

"And I promise, you will scream."

They had just hit the tarmac when Wilson's phone went off again. Raven rubbed her eyes, unable to hide her headache and exhaustion any longer.

He picked it up, not even looking at her. He hadn't, not since his revelation about her team.

"Yes?"

He sighed and cursed beneath his breath. "Fantastic." A concerned voice from the other end. "Absolutely not. If he got himself into trouble, he can die for all I care. Move up the timeline. Take out the others."

Raven turned her head slowly to face Wilson, knowing what he was ordering before she had really understood the words. She couldn't bring herself to cry out or beg for mercy for his friends. Not only would it do no good, but she'd gone cold. Everything felt distant and far away.

"I wouldn't care if they were in a goddamn church, Mammoth!" Blood shouted, his temper finally peaking. "Remove them! Permanently!"

He ended the call viciously, pressing the button so hard Raven thought he'd crack the screen.

"Not quite as satisfying as slamming down a receiver, is it?" Raven murmured, unable to do much else from here, other than piss off Wilson even more.

He glared at her, bright eye attempting to pin her to her seat.

She just smirked. Mission accomplished. She wished she could take credit for her expression, but it wasn't her smile; she was just borrowing it until the mission was over.

The captain's voice came over the intercom. "Welcome to the Czech Republic."

"Let's go, Ms. Finn," Blood said, standing. "I'll take you to your temporary home for the next few days."

"Can't wait," Raven retorted immediately. "Looking forward to it."

"We'll see about that."

Kori flinched as the bathroom door opened, not knowing how long she'd been standing there, staring into the mirror. Quickly, she pulled out another piece of paper towel, running it under the faucet before wiping it across her face and over her neck. She tried not to meet the eyes of the stranger in the mirror as the other woman washed up and left the public restroom. Only when she was alone again did she sigh.

The reflection in the mirror wasn't her. It couldn't be. She couldn't have changed that much in just a few short hours. But this woman's eyes were flat and lifeless. Her face pale and wan, drawn up into tight and concerned lines. Her mouth was constantly pressed together, for fear of what would escape if she let it open too far. Her hands were cramping, having been wrapped tightly around another hand, too cool to be healthy, too still to be really alive…

Shaking her head, Kori straightened, pressing her hands on either side of the sink. Richard would be fine. He would recover, like the doctors said. And once he was awake, they would make their move to go after Raven.

But what if he doesn't wake…

She crumpled the paper towel in her hands, throwing it into the trashcan. He would wake up. He would, because he was Dick - fearless and brave and amazing and honest and open and loving and loved -

And when he woke, she would make sure he knew that. And then her family would go and rescue their wayward member, taking down the bad guys like they always do.

Because it's what they did.

Kori left the bathroom and returned to Richard's room in contemplative silence. She would have to put her smile on for Vic. He worried too much. And Garfield…Kori was worried he would do something reckless. Despite his attempts to hide it - which had been dismal at best - his concern for Raven went far beyond platonic teammates. She'd had her suspicions back in Mexico, but they'd only been confirmed with his behavior. She'd have to keep him leveled out. But that's what she did. Dick led, Vic searched, Raven fought, and Kori cared. She kept them from losing themselves in the job. She kept them human, even when she didn't feel human herself.

It was late in the hospital. Most of the rooms were dark and the nurses on the graveyard shift had been there for several hours already. Everything was quiet.

Kori crossed the small hallway that led to Dick's room. There weren't any other patients in this hall at the moment, leaving them some much needed privacy.

She wasn't looking forward to her cramped chair, but if he opened those blue eyes, even if only for a second, it would make every aching muscle worth it.

Opening the door to Dick's room, Kori paused on the threshold, her eyes going wide. Vic was on the floor, blood spilling from beneath his chest. A man stood over Dick with a needle.

And a second man aimed a gun at her head.