Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans or any other DC character listed here. I also do not own Mr. Spock, Queen, or Jimmy Buffett. Don't ask. Just read.
Deeper – Chapter Eight – The Truth
"We've got smoke!"
The technicians backed away from the center of the black cloud as two figures clinging to each other emerged. One wrapped a blanket around Beast Boy so he could resume human form. They then pressed forward with oxygen masks and clamped them over two relieved faces.
"Dr. Sommers, those guys are good," Vic remarked to the doctor standing next to him. "I thought they'd freak even when they knew it was coming. Most people do."
The doctor's smile lit up her ebony face. "This is S.T.A.R. We've seen weirder, sugar." She spoke into the microphone. "Okay, fellas, they're on oh-two now. Get some blood gases for me, willya?" She glanced at Cyborg. "Strange costume your friend has. A little skimpy."
"Uh, they were on a date. That's not her usual –"
"You mean the green fella is sweet on her? How cute. Well, they'll be in there a while until the deco cycle is done. Good thing they get along."
He kept watching through the porthole. Gar seems fine, but she . . . she . . .
Her shoulders were shaking within the arms of the tech, who was sitting her down on the cot in the chamber. Her eyes were shining.
He leaned over the microphone. "Gar, why is she crying? What happened?"
Now she was slapping the cot with her palm and leaning back against the wall.
"She's laughing, sir," the tech hovering over her replied. "Yeah, three martinis. I'd believe they were at a hundred and fifty feet. Keep your mask on, sweetie. Calm down, now."
"Let me see, let me see!" Kid Flash clamored behind Cyborg, holding up a bag full of blue, purple and white. "I forgot her boots and gloves, sorry." He shoved the bag at Cyborg and pressed his face against the glass. He howled. "Dude, she is soooooo narc'd!"
"Would someone please tell me what is going on?"
Dr. Sommers chuckled and brushed his hand with a polished fingernail. "Rapture of the Deep, Mr. Stone. Also known as nitrogen narcosis. Too much nitrogen buildup in her system is making her act, well, intoxicated. Like the man said, three martinis."
"But he seems to be okay, though."
"It affects different people in different ways. Some people get it at shallower depths than others. The oxygen should help with that. She'll be a bit of a wild child for a few hours, until we get her 'up' to about 55 feet or so." She looked at her watch. "It's almost dawn now."
"That's what worries me, doc. Can we get her under control –"
"Cut the girl some slack, darlin'. Looks to me like she's had a rough ride already. It'll do her good to laugh it off." She shrugged. "So she loses control for a little while. It's not like it's the end of the world."
"Anybody else, maybe, but her –"
"What about her?"
Bart piped in. "Normally, she makes Mr. Spock look like a party animal."
Gar made his way over to the microphone. "Vic, are you hearing what I'm not hearing?"
Vic pushed his head into his metallic hands. "I hear the most powerful soul on the planet absolutely losing control –"
"Yeah, she's singing Margaritaville right now. Anything else?"
"And . . . and . . . "
No thunder. No earthquakes. No otherworldly demonic moaning. No shadow armies roaring across the mountains. Nothing on SONAR, RADAR, infrared . . .
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing . . . " his thoughts trailed off to nowhere.
"Exactly," Gar chuckled. "She's been doing that since we woke up. I figure if anything was gonna happen, it would've happened already. In spite of appearances, I think she has a handle on it Maybe it's the aikido, who knows." He ran his hands through his hair. Man, I need a shower in the worst way. "At least we got her to laugh." He listened to her belt out more off-key Jimmy Buffett in the background. "But I think she spent all of her singing lesson money on incense."
"Your friend's right," Dr. Sommers cackled and winked at Cyborg. "Girlfriend cannot sing."
"Well, she just discovered music."
" Ahhh, here's the blood gas results . . . . she's still got some of the drug you told us about in her system but it's working it's way out. . . awwwwwwww, they'll be just fine. But we'll check again later. How's the ascension going, boys? Mr. Stone –"
"Call me Vic."
"Call me Lenina, Vic." She inclined her head at him. "They're starting out like they're at a hundred and fifty feet. They'll change the pressure over time in there to act as if they are doing a slow vertical ascent. Every so often we have to hold at a pressure for a safety stop, okay?" She opened the mike again. "And you, green fella, yeah, you can go off the oxygen, but keep your gal on it, all right?" She closed the microphone circuit. She smiled again. "Did you ever play football?"
Raven was mumbling something through her mask.
"What did she say, Gar?"
"She said to tell Kid Flash to keep asking annoying questions. He saved our lives."
"Are there any side effects to this?" Vic asked the doctor.
"Several. Sometimes people just act happy. And sometimes, just sometimes, they tell the truth."
Vic watched his best friend sit on the cot next to her, one hand on the back of her neck and one hand on her mask. She watched him through wet-rimmed eyes. Deep belly laughs leaned her into his shoulder. Her hand rested on his and pulled her mask off long enough for her to kiss the green man squarely on the mouth. His jaw dropped and clanged loudly against the frame of the porthole. She said something that he could not make out and replaced the mask. He couldn't see Gar's reaction, but he did see Kid Flash's eyes nearly pop out of his head.
"Didn't see that coming!" he bellowed.
Dr. Sommers elbowed Cyborg in his metallic ribs. Her eyes examined him up and down with an admiring look. "I think she's sweet on him right back."
Vic shook his head, his gentle laughter tinged with wistfulness. "That's my girl."
Superboy and Wonder Girl backtracked her trail to the stony beach. Their prison lurked in the dark like some ancient cave.
"No lights in the windows."
"Connor, maybe the chamber is in an inside room."
"Or underground."
They flew into the building's shadow to stay out of reach of the security lights.
"What kind of place is this, Cas? Is there a logo or a sign or something?"
Cassie touched his wrist and gasped. "Look at the symbol there on the helipad –"
"Oh, God, no. It's CADMUS."
When the mask returned to her face, he replayed those words in his head: "I love you, Gar Logan."
Did what I think just happened just happen? His hands tingled as he held the mask more firmly. He felt the blood rushing to his face. I know everybody saw that.
He'd heard the doctor's explanation for her very odd behavior. I'll buy that, he thought. But was that her talking just now, or the nitrogen?
She was starting to shiver. Her dress was drier now, but he was sure she wasn't comfortable. He mentioned the problem to the attendants, who gave him two sets of surgical scrubs and pointed to the small privacy cubicle at the back of the chamber.
"She's been on the oh-two for a while, sir. She'll be ok off of it for a few minutes."
He guided her back to the cubicle while holding the blanket around him, toga-style. She was humming a tuneless song now. He wasn't sure what to think at this point.
She was reaching around to her back, searching for a very elusive zipper. She tapped her fingers against her chin and looked at him through drowsy eyes. "Would you undo me, please?"
One short, helpless, unsure giggle forced its way out of his throat. "I don't know, darlin', this is only our first date."
"Garfield. Silly boy. Unzip me."
He heard the other men guffaw behind him. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and sighed while he urged the zipper down her back. All the animals in him wanted to look down, but the friend in him warned him that if he did, she would remember later and absolutely kill him. He kept looking up.
"Thank you," she sang as she disappeared around the corner. He handed the scrubs to her, happy to get her around the wall. He whistled to the ceiling while he heard her struggling out of what was left of that infamous red dress. It promptly sailed over the partition and landed in his lap.
Slender fingers wrapped around the corner of the cubicle. Her face and incredibly bare shoulders followed. "Garfield, are you ever going to tell me the rest of that joke?"
He cleared his throat while he pushed her shoulder back out of view. Wild child, indeed.
"Stay back there, Rave. Your tattoo is showing. Which joke?"
"Your joke . . . a Tamaranean and a Pacifist walk into a bar . . . "
He sighed. It's going to be a long night.
"Come back in, you two," Vic spoke into his radio. "If he's gone, he's gone."
"But why CADMUS, Cyborg? Why would they hire assassins to steal tissue samples?"
"I don't know, SB, I just don't know. But I don't like it any more than you do. CADMUS and metahuman samples in the same sentence are bad news. We need some forensics. Did you lift any prints?"
"Just like Robin taught me. But we can't be sure they're his."
"It's a place to start."
He finally got her to calm down, after several rounds of a horrible rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody". He thought that if she sang it one more time that Vic was going to throw a rod. It took all of his powers of restraint, but he finally got both of them into the scrubs. I knew I shouldn't have gotten her that Queen CD. I wonder if she's going to remember all of this later.
He was sitting on the cot again, this time with her curled up next to him in slate-gray hospital pajamas. Her head was nestled against his chest; his arms draped around her sleeping body. Her feet were tucked under his knees. There she was, trusting him again. There he was, holding her again while she was helpless, just like he had about a month ago. So much had changed since then, but here they were once more.
I've tried to kiss her since then, but I don't know how she felt about it. Now, she plants one on me when she's basically three – no, five -- sheets to the wind. And what she said! In front of God, Vic and everybody.
Vic had stepped out for coffee with the doctor. Satisfied that the world wasn't going to hell on a floppy disk just because his favorite witch was a little out of it, he'd stopped watching her like a mother hawk. He'd been checking on Cassie and Superboy after that. He shook his head. This isn't over.
He studied her sleeping face. He had never seen such a peaceful look on her before: the sleep of the innocent. He exhaled gently, gathering that picture into his memory. He breathed in the scent of rosemary and salt and sweat that permeated her skin. A soundless whisper echoed in his head: Arjh-no-ree. He did not know what it meant, but it was oddly comforting. He felt a slight squeeze in his chest muscles as he kissed her head through her tousled hair. He didn't know why, but that one last barrier in his mind blinded him to what he really felt was no longer there.
Even demons were angels once.
Who says the daughter of one can't be an angel?
There was something he knew now that he didn't know before. He wasn't quite sure what it was, and he didn't know why or how he knew it. He just did. And he was not afraid.
Something in his brain clicked. That's it, he thought. That strange instant that hits everyone that has ever loved – that instant when they realize that they are in love – crashed into him like a souped-up Tamaranean star fighter. I've fallen. No one's going to believe it. I hardly believe it myself. No logic to it at all. It just is what it is.
I've fallen.
And she'll know as soon as she wakes up. . .
But what about her
One of the techs looked up from his newspaper to the gauges on the wall. "It shouldn't be too much longer, sir. Your friends have a change of clothes for you in the waiting room."
"Thanks."
He looked once more at her sleeping smile.
Where do I go from here?
A/N: In case you haven't kept up with the comic series, CADMUS is the lab that created Superboy as a clone of Superman and Lex Luthor (although at issue #20, only Connor and Robin know that Lex is his other half).
Looks to me like someone is sweet on Vic, too! Let me know if you like Dr. Sommers. I thought I would make her personality somewhat like Cyborg's: intelligent, capable, humorous, and down-to-earth.