Bright Line
Chapter Twelve: Closure of a System
Beast Boy sat on the floor with his legs crossed, staring down into his muffin with disinterest. He twirled the plastic, yellow plate in slow circles, biting his lip and avoiding Robin's eyes. They hadn't spoken since last night. In fact, Robin hadn't spoken to anyone since his talk with Raven. It would have been an invitation for unnecessary conflict. He hoped that the others had recognized this and had the sense to avoid each other, especially Starfire and Raven. Starfire was on the couch next to Cyborg, leaning sideways into the cushions, hair wild but untangled. Raven was sitting in one of the bar stools, as far away from Starfire and Beast Boy as humanly possible. No one spoke. There were no words.
None except the ones that Robin had to find, somehow. "Alright," he said slowly, standing. "First of all, this is a discussion, not a fight. I don't want to see it become one—understood?"
They all nodded, some more reluctantly than others.
"We need to decide what we're going to do about Terra—"
"If we're deciding things about her, shouldn't Terra be here?" Beast Boy interrupted.
"I never said we'd decide anything without giving her a chance to speak. But the situation would be better for all of us, including her, if she weren't present right now." He didn't want a repeat of last night, and putting Raven around Terra was asking for trouble.
"I want her out," Raven said stiffly.
"No!" Beast Boy had shoved his plate aside, voice harsh and staccato.
"You're just saying that because—"
"Guys. Stop." They stopped, and Robin wondered how long he'd been neglecting being the leader and doing his job. The words seemed so foreign, things he never thought he'd say again. He stared at them for a moment, waiting for silence, before continuing. "We need to review the facts. There are so many potential ramifications of what she told us, things that have nothing to do with whether or not some of us want her to stay. Terra said that she gave information to—to Slade." The pause was short enough that it could be taken as emphasis. He hoped. "That could get us all killed. We have to find out exactly what she told him. Beast Boy, did she say anything else to you last night when you two were alone?"
Beast Boy's eyes were back on his plate in an instant as he began ripping tiny pieces off his muffin and flattening them into the yellow plastic. "Umm, well, just that she was really sorry, and that she really does like me…and she made me swear on your lives that I wouldn't leave her in the restaurant."
Behind him, Raven shifted in her seat but didn't say anything, though Robin knew all too well how angry she was. He asked the question before Raven could ask it in an offensive way. "Why did she do that?"
Beast Boy shrugged. "She seemed really afraid of being left alone, and she started talking about something Slade would do if I did, and—oh my god—that's when she brought up…y'know—the point is that he must have been threatening her. With that. You know."
"I don't doubt it," Robin agreed. "It seems like the only logical reason Slade would do that to her: using it as a mechanism for control." Of course, he had reasons other than logic to understand what Slade did, but Beast Boy didn't need to know that.
"So you've gotta see, though, that this couldn't have possibly been all her fault! I mean, I guess I didn't see it at the time 'cos I was shocked, but…for her to phrase it the way she did, Slade must have, like, raped her." He shuddered visibly, pushing his plate away. "Oh god. Oh my god."
Starfire clutched at the edge of the couch, eyes watery. "But…why? What indecent person would possibly do such a thing?"
"Slade," said Cyborg grimly. "By the way, I took some blood samples last night; I don't think there's anything, but if she's going to be staying here and fighting, we should be aware—"
"AIDS. I'd never thought about—and she could—" Beast Boy couldn't continue, closing his eyes and shaking, and Cyborg crawled off the couch to put an arm around his shoulders, quietly explaining why there was probably nothing to worry about, and it was just a precaution…
Robin didn't let himself think about the fact that he himself needed to get tested again in May. Now wasn't the time. Now wasn't about him. "That's another point that should be taken into consideration. We all know how Slade operates. At least, we thought we did. Apparently, he's even more hideous than we'd thought. And Terra grew up in total isolation—we could have explained things to her more."
"Oh yeah, it sure is difficult to figure out that the masked man who hangs around in the shadows and tries to kill us is a bad guy," Raven snarled.
"This masked man took what should be joyous and made it vile. It does not matter what Terra may have concluded; the fault is with Slade." Starfire still hadn't let go of the couch, and Robin noticed that the seams were beginning to strain under her grip as she annunciated every word with a furious deliberation that was impossible to miss.
Raven glared. "In other words, something bad happened to her, therefore nothing she ever did is her fault. Robin's the expert on logic, but I think the problem there is self-evident."
Beast Boy shrugged off Cyborg's arm and turned around towards Raven. "Y'know, you've been acting weird ever since you went all Vader on Slade at the hospital. I think you're the one who's being unlogical here."
"Illogical, genius."
Robin held up his hands, swallowing the fallacy lecture that was trying to find its way out of his mouth. "We're discussing Terra, alright? Now. It's clear to me that we can't turn her away."
"The hell we can't!"
"Raven, listen. If we tell Terra that she's no longer welcome here, where is she going to go? Who would be right there to convince her that he's the only person who would take her in, that he was right all along about the horrible Titans, that he'd help her be good as long as she did exactly what he said?"
"Good point," said Cyborg. "I thought last night that kicking her out would cause more problems that it'd solve."
"I wholeheartedly agree," Starfire murmured, staring straight through Robin, lost inside a nightmare that she couldn't crawl out of, a nightmare that clearly had nothing to do with whether or not she agreed. "Terra should never have to face that creature again." And the venom was right behind her eyes, righteous and dangerous and horrified.
"Do you even have to ask?" Beast Boy said quietly.
Robin turned to Raven, willing her to understand, willing her empathy to understand what she herself wouldn't consider. Terra couldn't be sent away; that much was clear. He'd overrule Raven in an instant if he had to but, like last night, he didn't want her angry at him. It wasn't nearly enough to get in the way of what he had to do—but it would hurt.
Finally, she sighed. "Outvoted. Lovely." Given the circumstances, that was good enough for now.
"So she's staying," said Robin. "The second question is if she's staying as a Titan."
"No," said Raven, just as Beast Boy and Starfire nodded their heads vehemently. Raven seemed to contemplate standing up, but settled on leaning forward in her chair. "You think she deserves that, after what she did to us?"
"It's not a question of whether she deserves it or not." Cyborg took Beast Boy's plate away from him as it had become quite apparent that he was just making a mess. "We leave the Tower for a fight, and she's alone here. We can't have that. At least one of us has to be with her at all times…so she needs to fight with us."
Robin nodded. "Besides—if we tell her she can't fight, that will just make her resent us, possibly cause her to willfully…go back to Slade." He suppressed the shudder. "It's better to treat her as normally as possible, though obviously we'll have to take precautions."
Beast Boy's eyes narrowed. "What kind of precautions?"
"You can always stand by the bathroom door while she takes a shower," said Raven.
"Well, yes, actually," said Cyborg. "I think the agreement for her to stay should include one of us being with her at all times—and locking her in her room at night. No computer access."
"That seems reasonable." Starfire nodded, though her eyes were downcast and her shoulders slumped.
Robin would have preferred the subject to have been broached slightly more diplomatically, but it was nonetheless a valid point. And now that he thought about it, relying on five sets of eyes—at least two of which were already sympathetic to Terra—wouldn't be good enough. "Not that I don't trust our ability to watch her, but I'd feel better knowing that she had a tracking device of some sort," he said.
"I can design something today," Cyborg offered.
"It's alright; I'll do it." Robin knew that he had to, because he had to personally see it done before he'd really believe that it would work. Cyborg was good, and Robin knew he was good, but…he just needed to know exactly how it worked. To his relief, Cyborg nodded evenly and dropped the subject.
"So basically, Terra can stay a Titan as long as we keep her prisoner here and put one of those invisible fence dog collar thingies on her. I'm not sure I like this." Beast Boy stretched over Cyborg to snatch back his plate, scowling when Cyborg held it out of reach.
"I'm not so sure I like it, either," said Raven. She paused as if suddenly realizing something horrible. "I'm also not so sure it's a good thing that I just agreed with you."
Beast Boy rolled his eyes and focused his attention on wrestling his plate away from Cyborg.
"House arrest, not prisoner," said Robin, looking at each of the others in turn and waiting for their attention. "Does everyone agree?"
"Yes, and I wish to speak with Terra." Starfire had pulled one of the pillows in front of her chest, hugging it slightly. "She has been alone quite long enough and deserves to have the situation explained."
"Gotcha. Can I bring her up?" Cyborg asked. "Beast Boy, go put your plate in the sink; I clean up after you enough." He smiled a little when Beast Boy reluctantly shuffled over in the general direction of the kitchen, eyes notably less haunted.
Robin ignored the second part of his statement, focusing on what had been directed at him. "Yeah, and later I want her to meet with me privately. I have to assess the extent of the damage and get everything that happened documented. I'm just glad we caught this when we did; as bad as it might be, it could have been much worse."
After Cyborg left, Starfire stood with purpose, and strode over to Robin, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Friend, when you are finished with your meeting with Terra, please let me know. I have several new movies which I believe she will benefit from viewing."
He nodded, and promised that he'd take Terra straight to Starfire's room. She was right: a distraction was what Terra needed now, and though it was probably not the kindest thing to force her to relive the past few months in great detail, he was going to have to because that was his job. Starfire could handle sympathy and healing, though he wondered how easy it would be for her to fully understand what had happened, given the little that he knew about how her culture viewed sex. It probably didn't matter: in all likelihood, she wouldn't even mention it. Some people had a way of knowing what others needed to hear, and Starfire was one of them.
Robin wasn't. He just did what he had to do.
It had been a long morning. And afternoon.
Terra had looked very small, sitting across from him in his workroom, twirling her hair around her finger and keeping her eyes on Robin's keyboard. He kept having to prompt her to continue, to elaborate, to stop whispering. Two hours later, he'd gotten the full story from her—or at least, as much as he could urge her to tell, and as much as she understood. An hour after that, he'd documented the incident to his satisfaction. Reading through the record was like going over the answers to some test he'd failed, wondering what possibly could have possessed him to be so stupid. Everything was there, so clearly that he probably shouldn't have even been surprised.
And he wasn't really surprised when Terra had remembered something and nonchalantly announced that, "And then he had me put some DVD on the table in the living room…" like one more line in a badly learned litany. It didn't change how he felt, though, and it was almost impossible to control his reaction and just note the fact with the rest, nodding as if this was no more significant to him than anything else she'd said.
Terra had wanted to know what happened to it. Robin declined to comment.
It was still highly likely that there were details that Terra didn't remember, didn't know about, or couldn't be persuaded to disclose. But for now, it would have to be good enough until he could gather more information.
He felt his chest get tight at the little, nagging voice that knew exactly where he could get more information—where he would have to get it, eventually, because Slade wouldn't let this go unnoticed. Robin shuddered and pushed the thought away, opening his email. If he didn't respond to Bruce, there would be consequences. And considering the last time he'd called to admonish Robin about responsibility… He honestly had no idea what he should say, but he had to say something. He couldn't visit; that was out of the question. It would take about fifteen minutes for Bruce to realize that something was wrong, and Robin could think of a lot of very painful things he'd rather do than answer the questions that would follow. Maybe if he—
Robin had mail. And it wasn't from Bruce.
He didn't recognize the address, which immediately made him conclude that it was a virus, but a simple scan negated that idea. There were no file attachments. No subject. After assuring himself that there was no danger, he opened it.
I'm really quite disappointed, Robin. It seems that I have once again overestimated your intelligence. I thought that the gift I sent you would be enlightening in a number of ways, but it appears that you had neither the time nor the initiative necessary to decipher it before it was spelled out in block letters. A pity. We could have had such fun if you had only the skill to see what was right in front of your little face. I suppose I shouldn't have hoped; we both know where your true talents lie.
Nevertheless. I notice that you have something that belongs to me. And I regret to inform you that I am most displeased. But we shall, no doubt, discuss that later.
For now, I must offer you my felicitations. I have it on very good authority that you have replaced me. Of course, I'm wounded that you would reject me so flippantly, but I'm sure even you are familiar with the concept of displacement. Besides, perhaps we can still make good use of this turn of events. I'm certain that the young lady would be quite interested to hear of our history together. Perhaps I should inform her. Don't you think she should be made aware? After all, no healthy relationship should have secrets. Who knows? The thought of you moaning my name as you squirmed beneath me might…excite her.
His first thought was confusion, mind stumbling over a detail that didn't make sense because he was completely unable to react to the real issue. Didn't make any sense until he remembered one of the last things Terra had said as she blushed deeply and tried to avoid his face.
"And, like, I sorta told him that you and Raven were going out; I didn't mean to but every time I talked to him he just yanked everything out of me that was in my head, and…and, well, aren't you?"
He'd corrected her, of course, filing away the information to consider later, at a more appropriate time. This…well, this was still not an appropriate time, but maybe it had to be dealt with now anyway. Involving Raven might not be the best course of action, given that she was the subject of the email, but she was the only one who knew why Robin would be receiving it. He was not going to involve anyone else. And Robin had learned his lesson about dealing with things alone.
Robin pushed his chair away from the desk slightly, took a deep breath, and printed the email. Folding it neatly, he stood and started down the hallway towards Raven's room, wondering when going in there had become so natural.
"So basically, he's pissed because even Terra outsmarted him and he got tired of licking his wounds, so he's emailing you to bitch about it."
He stared at her, speechless. The words were so matter-of-fact, the way she scrutinized the paper in her hand, almost clinically, so he had to wonder if she was deliberately joking or just… Raven probably wouldn't joke about this. Though Robin himself wasn't even sure how to react. He knew exactly how he would have reacted two months ago, and only knew that it was nothing like how he felt now.
"Yeah, this is about as important as the splinter that Beast Boy was whining about last week." She handed it back to him, shaking her head. "The best place for it is the shredder."
He took the paper and refolded it, feeling more…powerful, somehow. In the back of his mind, as much as he didn't like it, he'd resigned himself to believing that Slade was always right, that Slade always wins, and this time…this time, Slade was wrong. No matter what he'd said in the email, he was still wrong, and that kept him from losing grip on reality.
Reality was that Raven already knew. She knew everything Slade was threatening to tell, in explicit detail. It made Robin feel sick to think of how she knew.
"Yeah…you're right," he said, hating the tremor in his voice.
She was touching his fingertips before he had time to think about it, and then Robin felt the familiar touch of her emotions—and it had become familiar, now—erasing all the lingering doubts he hadn't even realized he'd been harboring. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling his breathing slow. God, he liked this.
"I'm good at being right," said Raven after she broke the connection. She smiled at him, and he felt himself echoing the gesture before he remembered something and took his hands away. "You might want to consider telling them, though."
"Telling who what?"
"You know who," she said. "And what. The others. I can see him threatening to tell the whole team, and it would be better to hear it from you than from him."
On some level, Robin knew that the idea should horrify him, but it was hard to be horrified about anything so soon after sensing what Raven was feeling. It was relaxing, somehow. "I really can't. I didn't make you swear not to tell just to see if you could keep a secret."
Raven's hand twitched faintly and her eyes shifted to the floor before she sighed and looked back at his face. "They wouldn't hate you, Robin. And they wouldn't lose respect for you or think any of the things that Slade said they would."
"Yeah," he muttered, unable to believe it. It made sense, and yet it didn't. He…he just needed some time to decide whether he could believe that or not. "Maybe I will."
"That tone means you're planning to tell them when Terra takes up nuclear physics—and passes. But it's alright. When you're ready. If you're ready. I just wanted to make sure you knew that he might try that."
Robin nodded. "I'll deal with it."
"In the meantime," said Raven, brightening as she turned her attention to her bookcase, kneeling down to remove a particularly dusty volume from the bottom shelf. "I have a present for you." She opened the book to the inside back cover, and slid a compact disk out from between the pages.
Robin didn't need any further explanation. "So you've decided I can have it back, then?"
"Yes." Raven placed the disk in his hands, closing his fingers around it gently. "I thought you'd want to smash it yourself." She kept her hands on his a fraction longer than was necessary. Robin didn't mind.
He stared at it, every rational part of his brain screaming what a terrible idea this was. "But…" He couldn't just destroy a disk. You didn't do that. Besides, it was so violent, impulsive…
"It was about Terra. She was the replacement. There's nothing else you can learn from it—and you need to break it."
"We could always just throw it away," he suggested halfheartedly, knowing he would lose this argument, finding that he was almost eager to give up the charade of protesting because the idea was starting to sound very satisfying.
Raven smirked. "You're much too thorough for that. What if someone picked it up out of the trash?"
"Point taken." He held the disk with two hands, the surface catching the light of Raven's lamp, remembering. The fight, and being alone and sick and terrified, thinking he'd killed all of the others—why had he ever thought he'd killed the others?—and finding the disk, the disk that Terra had planted, and how he couldn't remember how to work the DVD player to get it out once he realized what it was, and then days upon days of forcing himself to hit the replay button when what he really wanted to do was pull a blanket over his head and cry…
You're probably just about to eject this disk, break it in your little hands, and burn the pieces.
"Yeah, Slade," he said. "Yeah, I am."
It took him a moment to remember that Raven was still in the room, watching him. She didn't say anything in response to him speaking out loud, and Robin knew that she wouldn't. Finally, her voice cut into his thoughts. "Break it," she said, watching as he stared down at the disk, unmoving.
"I can't."
"Robin! It's worthless now. You don't need it."
"Yeah, but CDs can shatter when broken, and the pieces can--"
"Robin--you're a superhero. You're in a costume that can survive some bullets. Break the damn disk!"
And the crunch when Robin snapped the disk in half was one of the best sounds he'd ever heard. "It's still not secure," he said. "Data can be retrieved from it."
"Yeah. But you can toss it in the CD sander, and it'll destroy the rest. But it seemed like you needed to do some of it yourself."
"Thank you," he whispered. Then turned and started to his workroom, where the equipment for permanently and completely destroying the data on a CD was stored. He felt almost like he was sleepwalking as he went, put thedisk into the machine, and flipped the switch. He didn't turn it off until long after it had been completely destroyed, just stared at the little machine.
Raven made it abundantly clear that she wasn't going to say anything unless he did, but Robin didn't have anything to say. There was nothing to say after he'd finally opened the machine and emptied the remains into a trash can. So he silently put his arms around her, some part of his mind wondering if this was a bad idea but at the same time sure that it wasn't. Raven returned the embrace, almost as if she'd been expecting it, and he rested his head on her shoulder and let himself forget that compact disks existed.
Thank y'all so much for being understanding as I struggle through summer classes! I'm trying to work on these stories as much as I can, and I will try to have the next chapter out ASAP. Next update will be BL only due to timeline differences, then we'll get back to CD. Comments are appreciated and loved! Take care!