Gar's soaked. Drenched straight to the bone, thin t-shirt clinging to rounded shoulders. Hair tangled and flopping over his forehead into his eyes.

He forgot an umbrella, because of course he did. The universe's attempt to talk him out of this? To tell him it's a lost cause, that he's wasting his time and risking heartbreak all over again? And for what? He already knows what she's going to say. How she's going to look at him.

"Things were never the way you remember."

Screw the universe. Because this girl? She's worth it. Worth sitting on the front porch steps in the pouring rain for half an hour just to get shut down, shut out, and sent home.

She's worth it all.

A lone figure appears over the hill. Walking briskly down the sidewalk, head down and umbrella held close. Blonde hair falling down her shoulders in neatly controlled sheets.

Gar's heart stutters, pounding in his wrists as she approaches. She hasn't seen him yet. There's still time to vanish, to become a worm or a water bug and slip from her path, from the entire block like he was never here.

Disappearing isn't an option today.

She doesn't lift her head until she reaches the front walk, glancing toward the porch door. And freezing in her tracks when she spots the green teen waiting there.

He pops to his feet, offering a smile half apologetic, half friendly, and all awkward. "Uh, hi."

She stares at him, blue eyes like the bay in humid, windless mid-summer. "What are you doing here?" They drift to his feet and back up. "It's pouring."

Anyone else might describe her gaze as empty. Emotionless. But Gar's seen her empty, sees it in his nightmares every night. This isn't it. Tara's in there somewhere, behind the mask of annoyed indifference.

Which just makes what he has to do that much harder.

"I'm here to apologize. I– I know you don't want to see me. And I don't blame you. But will you just hear me out? Then–" Gar swallows, a lump blocking his throat suddenly. "–Then you'll never have to see me again."

Not emotionless. Just muted. He can still make out the wary fear in the ocean blue. Hear it in her even, tense voice. "Okay."

Gar takes a deep breath.

A peal of thunder and words carefully prepared, piled up and rehearsed, are gone in an instant. Evaporated like smoke. One look at her and the gears in his head jam up. Some things never change.

It's alright. Planning was always more Robin's style anyway.

"I'm sorry for freaking you out. I should never have done any of that stupid stuff, like following you around." Gar rubs the back of his neck, heat rushing to his chilled face at the memory. "You told me to leave and I should've. Sorry for being such a creep. I just… I was just so excited. That maybe the person I missed more than anyone might still be here."

She holds eye contact for a moment. Then her gaze slips away, dropping to focus on her fingers wrapped around the red umbrella handle.

Gar flicks his hair back with a shaking hand, flaring his nostrils and drawing in the petrichor scent drifting across the lawn. The thunder repeats, rolling in the distance and rising to an insistent roar.

There's the easy part down. Here's hoping she doesn't hate him for the rest.

"But most of all, I'm sorry for trying to get you to remember."

Surprise flickers across her face. Brief milliseconds, before the mask reforms. "Isn't that what you wanted?" she asks dully, with a subtle edge of accusation.

"Yeah. More than anything." More than he can ever put into words or make her understand. "But it was wrong to act like you should acknowledge your past when I wouldn't apologize for mine."

The lump in his throat has fallen, becoming a tightness in his chest. An ache in his heart.

"I can't expect you to remember if I won't even face up to my own mistakes. So I'm telling you now: I screwed up. I said dumb, cruel stuff, things I didn't mean. I–" Gar blinks rapidly, jerking his head to stare at the sidewalk beneath his high tops. "I really hurt you. It was wrong. It was so wrong of me, no matter how angry and confused, to say those things to you."

A single glance at her face, stolen and cemented in his mind in one moment. Her lips are parted in shock, eyes wide.

Gar presses on. He only gets one chance.

"So even if you don't know, or remember, or if I'm totally off my rocker and have the wrong girl, I just need to say this."

It hurts to watch those lovely eyes. It crushes him to know she doesn't remember or doesn't want to. But it's not like he doesn't deserve it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For being a total jerk. For not getting it, for not understanding what you were going through. For not–"

His voice cracks. Abrupt and mortifyingly strong, cutting his sentence off. Gar clears his throat.

"For not being there for you. I– I should've been there for you." He hangs his head, breaking away from the ocean that threatens to break him. "Like I promised."

Rain. Nothing but rain, pounding, pounding. Pressing on Gar's head and back, forcing him into the ground. Loading his shoulders with the burden of knowing. Knowing that even if Tara's in there somewhere… She's not.

"It wasn't your fault. Not all of it, anyway. It was– a lot of it was mine. So don't–" another crack, this one almost a sob. Gar fracturing on the sidewalk in front of a stranger who has his girl's eyes and smile. "–don't ever think you're too far gone, alright? We're all broken. We all… We've all gone through crap."

He smiles bitterly to himself. Shrugs.

"And we're still here, right? We're still here."

Idiot. It was supposed to be encouraging. But he can't even talk to her without tearing to pieces like a damp piece of paper.

"I miss you." His mouth speaks and he can't stop it. Truth spilling, overflowing, and he's standing there gushing it like an open wound. "I miss you everyday. But I'm proud of you. Doing high school and all that. I wish I'd finished, sometimes." His jaw tightens. "I'm… glad you got out."

He's talking into the void. To the rain struggling to wipe his murky, tragedy-caked soul clean with gentle blows. Tara's not here. She hasn't been for a long time.

He knows that now.

"But I'm here for you," Gar whispers. Begs the rain. "If you ever need anything, I'm your guy. I'm here."

He shrugs again, broken, stuck on repeat. Stuck on a memory turned ghost.

"I'll always be here."

Stupid: making a promise for a chance to see the face of the girl he loved and couldn't save. Dumb: acting like he has anything to give her she couldn't get better from literally anyone else.

Anyone who isn't him.

Enough. Enough embarrassing himself. Enough imagining the way she must be looking at him now and probably has been since he lost the courage to meet her eyes.

It's just… enough.

Gar nods once, forcing his clammy hands into heavy, stiff pockets. "I'll let you go now. You've got– I'm sure you've got stuff to do. Homework or– or whatever."

A few more seconds. He needs to make it a few more seconds, ducking his head and squeezing his eyes nearly shut, pavement blurring and swirling beneath his feet as cold rain is replaced by hot tears.

Slipping around the red umbrella.

"Wait."

A jolt, his heart stopping all at once, shoes skidding on the sidewalk. His breath whispering against his ears. His pulse throbbing at his wrist.

Under the grip of her thin, strong fingers. Catching and trapping him as he faces one way and she the other. Fitting them into the role of opposing bookends, struggling to hold up the pain of their brief, star-crossed past.

"Wait," she repeats from behind him, nearly a whisper. Voice wavering.

Gar lifts his gaze to the street. To the rivers flowing steadily into gutters. He lets out a shuddering breath.

"What was it like?"

The question bounces off his ears, constructed of twisted soundwaves that don't match the openings. Unintelligible. Strange.

"Being with her, I mean. What– what was it like?"

Stretched two different ways. Pulled thin and transparent between the past and the future. Between the street-turned-river waiting to sweep him away and the firm, desperate grip holding him back.

"Sunshine." A leaf, battered from its branch. Plummeting to the rough embrace of the river. "Like you'd never even heard of light until her smile. Or her laugh." Gar dipped his head. Let the water roll past his ears and down his neck. "She laughed at all my jokes. Said I was funny. It's happened before, I think. But she's the only one who ever meant it. I think–"

He breathes deep. Lets it out slowly, wrestling for control.

"I think she understood me. And even with everything that happened–"

–so much happened–

"–I understood her too. At least, I tried to. I– I really did." He nods once. "So, that's what it was like. Being with her. Like finally finding your way home." Biting his lip, he watches the river plunge the leaf into the gutter, viciously drowning it in the torrent. "And I thought we were her home too."

Endless, steady tapping. Rain on rooftops. Rain on car hoods. Rain on sidewalks and trees and lampposts.

There's only ever rain.

She lets go. Gradually. Grip loosening and fingers slipping one by one from his wrist. Like hanging from a cliff and deciding to give in to the fall instead of holding on a little longer.

Gar presses his eyes shut.

Knowing what she'd choose doesn't make it any easier. It won't help him answer his teammates when they ask where he's been. It won't put him to sleep tonight or wash her face from his nightmares and dreams.

It won't end the thunderstorm that's played his shadow since the accident.

No. All he can really hope for is eventually being able to remember the good stuff without the lens of dread and regret. To remember her in her best moments, happy and loved, and pray she's found the same somewhere in the future.

That's all. Gar knows better than to think he'll move on.

He steps toward the street.

Clang.

Pivoting, eyebrows lifted. Taking in the umbrella, crumpled on the grass, tines folded and bent against the knee-high fence lining the walkway. Noticing the raindrops staining in rapid streaks the school uniform hanging from a thin, hunched frame.

And her small fists balled tight.

"You did," she chokes out. Teeth clenched and brow furrowed in anguished tears. "You did understand. More than anyone."

Gar's mouth falls open, no time for any other reaction before she's flying across the yard space between them and burying her face in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I don't know–"

"Hey, whoa, it's okay." It's instinctive, reaching to touch her hair, wrapping his other arm around her back. Murmuring reassuring nonsense. "It's alright."

"It's not." Her grip on his waist tightens. "It's not alright. I hurt you and the Titans, tried to kill all of you–"

"I know."

"–and I don't know why, okay? I don't have any idea, and that terrifies me, and I don't know what I might–"

"Whoa." Gar leans back, gently shifting his hands to her shoulders. "You're not a monster, Tara."

The way she flinches? That's exactly what she thinks.

"Making mistakes doesn't make you a bad person. We all mess up." He lifts a water-matted strand of hair from her cheek and tucks it behind her ear. "That's what friends are for. Like the Titans. We look out for each other, fix the mistakes together."

"They'll never take me back." She shakes her head, droplets leaping from the ends of her hair. "They couldn't."

"They will." Gar catches her chin. Tilts her head back to him and waits for her darting eyes to lock on his. "Why wouldn't they? You're one of us."

She turns rigid. Ice in his arms, staring into space. "How could they?" she whispers.

"I did." Gar cups her freezing hands in both of his.

She stares down at them. "You shouldn't."

"No way. Not changing my mind." He lets his lips curve into a smirk. "I'm pretty stubborn. Just ask Robin."

No answer. Not a ghost of movement. Just frightened, yearning eyes glued to their interlaced hands.

"You don't have to join back. You don't even have to use your powers again. It's just… We're not the Titans without you. Come home, Tara." He blinks, fumbling. "Or– or whatever you want me to call you."

"You're right." She breaks free of the silence with a steadying breath and a nod. "It's Tara."

Gar's smiling. He's smiling at her again, couldn't stop himself if he tried. Smiling like he used to, still too elated to wrap his mind around the fact that she's here. She's alive. And though she can't quite mirror his smile, the way she flushes and looks away is more than enough.

"Tara. Come back with me. We'll do this thing together. Heck, we'll do everything together if you want. I miss you. I…"

He squeezes her hands. Ducks to press his forehead against hers.

"...I love you."

The sound is hard to name. A gasping, stuttering cross between an inhale and a whimper as the mask finally slips free from Tara's face and shatters across the darkened concrete at their feet.

She sinks to her knees. Gar follows her.

"No, no," she sobs, gripping his shirt in her fists. Pushing her forehead into his chest like he's the earth beneath her feet, the only thing between her and the abyss of nothingness. "You can't. Not– not me."

Gar runs his knuckles down her back, smoothing the knots between her jutting shoulder blades. "Why not you?"

"I've done horrible things."

"So what? So you can't be forgiven? That's not true."

Tara shakes her head, still pressing into him.

Cupping his hand to her temple, Gar says into her hair, "I forgave you a long time ago."

She shifts, turning her cheek to rest against his shirt. Her breathing slows and evens out.

The rain continues. The dark clouds linger, blocking the sun from entrance. But when the rolling thunder reaches their ears, it sounds a little less vast. A little less terrible and angry.

Tara's arms drift back to his waist. Wrapping around him like he might disappear if she lets go. "I think I'm lost."

Gar glances toward the dreary horizon. What did she go through before he even met her? How many times has she been left to figure it out on her own, left to assume no one cares about her?

His head sinks to rest against the top of hers. Heavy with relief and a strange, content exhaustion. "I'm here."

Nestled together, the cold doesn't cut quite as deep.

Unfolding from Tara, Gar stands. Stretches out his hand to her. Watches as the final doubts flicker behind her eyes. He smiles as she takes hold and rises.

The umbrella lies forgotten in the grass as they fade into the storm.