Cognitive Dissonance

Chapter Three: Appeal to Authority

"Ow."

Lower lip stuck out like a two year-old-deprived of naptime, he shuffled into the living room and flopped down on the couch. Crossing her arms across her chest, Raven rolled her eyes at him. She turned to Terra and muttered, "He's being such an idiot."

Terra gave her a noncommittal shrug and went over to see if Beast Boy was alright.

He was already stretched out with a pillow over his face, laying there like some kind of zombie. Terra tapped him on the head. "How are you feeling?"

"Ow," said Beast Boy pointedly.

"Sorry about that. That Cinderella guy is a huge pain, it seems like," said Terra. She moved to sit on the edge of the couch, by his feet, and only hesitated for a second before picking up his legs and placing them across her lap.

"Ow," repeated Beast Boy, a bit more pointedly.

"He's just mad 'cos he didn't move fast enough. And it's 'Cinderblock,' Terra." Cyborg was messing with his mechanical arm, over at one of the bar stools.

"Whoops, hehe. Don't mind me," said Terra, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers. From the doorway, Raven seemed to find this very annoying. There was that wet paper towel theory again: one push too many and she's back to being obnoxious.

Beast Boy lifted up the corner of his pillow, just enough to look up at Terra's face (with a brief detour to her lap). "Well it wasn't my fault! He's so big and dumb, stomping along like that, and who knows what he was up to this time. It was total dumb luck that he even caught me, but I did not like having my leg almost-crushed, okay?" He grinned. "Good thing Terra was there to save the day."

She tucked her hair behind her ear and started twisting it. Cinderblock had had Beast Boy cornered, and Terra had managed to open a particularly large chasm that sent him crashing down, encased up to his waist. Which meant that it had been a pretty deep chasm, as anyone who had ever seen Cinderblock would know. Beast Boy's right leg had gotten a bit bruised from falling on it the wrong way, but that was better than being crushed.

"Oh, I didn't really, no big deal…" Terra trailed off. Hooray for false modesty!

"You saved friend Beast Boy from being damaged…further than he is normally damaged." Starfire's innocent grin earned a knowing smirk from Raven. Terra looked at her uncertainly, trying to decide if she knew what she'd just said. "It seems that such things are considered 'the big deal,' indeed."

"I agree—you were a real lifesaver out there, Terra. Congratulations." High praise from the Boy Wonder. It was a good day. It was a good day even if it wasn't, wasn't because she was supposed to write to him tonight at eight o'clock…what time was it anyway?

She thought about Beast Boy and decided that she didn't care what time it was.

"So, who's thinking what I'm thinking?" Beast Boy struggled to sit up, like he wasn't sure if he should move his legs or leave them where they were.

Cyborg looked up from his arm. "Does this involve Stankball? Please let it involve Stankball…"

"No, I can't play that, I hurt my leg, remember? You're so insensitive!" His voice oozed with melodrama as he sniffled loudly. "You cannot even begin to grasp the huge amount of pain that continues to torment the fiery depths of my soul! And my leg!"

"If you're going to read my poetry books, at least quote them properly. Not all of us are angst-ridden teenagers who cut themselves, you know." Raven rolled her eyes.

"Joke's on you, Rae, 'cos I so came up with that all on my own." He turned his head to smile at Terra, making sure she'd caught the joke. She had.

"Good, because I don't think I'd be able to look in the mirror again if anything I owned inspired it. And my name is Raven," she said easily.

Well. Terra had thought it was funny.

"Hey, none of that, y'all." As if he sensed the conflict brewing, Cyborg steered the discussion back to safer territory. "So, Beast Boy, are you going to tell us what you were really thinking?" He smirked for some unknown reason. "Besides…. Never mind."

Beast Boy stuck his tongue out. "Pizza, of course!"

"Ugh, no, not pizza," said Raven, slapping her forehead. "We had that two days ago, remember?"

"Oh my god, it's been two days already?" yelped Beast Boy. "How could we have let this happen!" The couch situation had become considerably more comfortable after both he and Terra had forgotten how they had been sitting (except, Terra didn't really forget it, of course).

"Not pizza," said Raven.

"Sourpuss," grumbled Beast Boy.

Terra snickered inwardly: you didn't have to live with the Teen Titans for too long to be able to sense a full-on food fight brewing. It always amazed her how five people who were so completely different were able to live together and not kill each other. True, they fought constantly, but they only rarely meant it, and when they did nobody could stay mad for more than an hour. She rarely participated in the food fights herself because she wasn't really sure how she was supposed to do it. Funny how the hardest thing to become comfortable with is fighting with somebody; it seemed like it would be so easy for play-fighting to turn real. The day that Terra could food fight with the best rest of them would be the day she really felt welcome here.

Starfire clasped her hands in front of her chest and flashed an inhuman grin—well, she really wasn't human, of course, but whatever. "Why not partake in the delicious taste of avocados slathered in ketchup?"

Everyone fought to avoid giving Starfire the Have-You-Lost-Your-Mind look. Everyone except Robin, who smiled—a real smile this time.

"Umm, have fun with that, Star. But I think I'm with Beast Boy with the pizza thing. And I can't believe I just said that I agreed with Beast Boy," said Robin.

"I think Italian would be good," said Cyborg, ignoring the scandalized look from Beast Boy.

"Fine. Italian. Chinese. Ketchup-doused avocados. Just not pizza," said Raven.

Terra felt something touch her hand and looked down, just quickly enough to see Beast Boy sheepishly pull away. Unfortunately, she also saw what time it was. Later than it should have been, later than she could afford…a lead weight settled in the bottom of her stomach. She glanced around the room fitfully, thoughts suddenly flooded with sticky helplessness. Crud, crud, triple crud. How was she going to get out of this one?

Well, it was all their fault, anyway. They just wouldn't stop talking and she had been trying to be good…

"What do you think, Terra?" she heard Robin say from another universe.

"Wha?" Her face jerked around involuntarily. He had asked her something, something about food, probably. "Umm, waffles," she murmured, hoping she didn't sound as out of touch and distracted as she felt.

"Sooo, that's one vote for waffles, two votes for pizza, one vote for Italian, one vote for not-pizza and one vote for…avocado. I think we need to start eliminating based on who's the smartest." Beast Boy grinned.

"That rules out pizza, then," Raven deadpanned.

"Hey!"

This wasn't good. She had to get out of this, no matter how much she hated doing it and no matter how much it was going to hurt to see Beast Boy's face get that little, wounded tinge to it. Terra steeled herself and willed her face to become a bit more pale, trying to call up a sweat as well—it wasn't too hard, as she was starting to feel genuinely sick. "Uhh, you guys, I actually think I'm going to have to take a rain check on dinner."

Instantly concerned, Beast Boy whirled around to place a hand against her forehead, and her pulse quickened. "Yeah, you do feel kinda sick-ish. Wow, that's harsh."

She sighed. "I know, right? I haven't really been feeling very good for a few days, actually. I didn't want to say anything because I hoped it would just go away, but…"

"It was all that horrible training you made her do, Bat Head, I just know it!" He was accusatory, righteous, protective.

"It so wasn't, and don't call me that," muttered Robin.

Terra held out her hands placatingly. "Hey, wow, don't get upset over me, you guys. It's just a cold, or something. I just think it would be better if I had an early night instead of going out."

Cyborg nodded. "Yeah, you need to take care of yourself. Go put on some warm clothes, and we'll bring you up some soup."

Oh come on, no, don't bring me soup, stop making this so hard. "Wow, that would be really great! And I hope you guys can figure out a good place to go."

Starfire's big green eyes were full of sympathy. "I wish you a swift revitalization! On my planet, the cure for illness is very simple. One must first hang upside down with their head in a bowl of drobrars, and…"

"I think she's got it under control, Star, but thanks for the offer," said Robin with another amused smile. "We'll see you tomorrow, Terra. Hope you feel better."

"Yeah, seriously, go to sleep because it will be so boring tomorrow if you're too sick to hang out." Beast Boy, of course. It was his version of sympathy, and Terra loved it—she mentally kicked herself for loving it.

"Totally." She yawned and put her hand to her forehead for good measure. "G'night, guys." Shuffling out of the room and down the hall, she listened for signs of them talking about her, but Raven was back to explaining the virtues of things that weren't pizza.

Home free.

Sort of.

They did end up bringing her soup, or at least, they sent Starfire up with it: possibly just to get her out of the room so the food fight could turn nasty without upsetting her. Unless they'd resolved it by then. Terra needed to stop thinking about what the Titans were doing without her.

Smiling infectiously, Starfire had handed her the ceramic bowl, said something about how she'd be happy to help Terra find some drobrars if she wanted, and left abruptly to deal with the particularly loud crash that sounded suspiciously like it had come from the living room. The fight had definitely not been resolved, then. Only teenaged superheroes could make food a national disaster.

She put the bowl of soup on the coffee table and let her attention vacillate between it and her watch. Three minutes past eight. Four. He was going to be mad. The laptop stared her down from the other end of the couch, but she had to be sure that Starfire wouldn't come back, or something.

Oh. Wait. There was probably a lock on this door.

It wasn't exactly a user friendly lock, either: lots of complicated button pressing and some kind of fingerprint system that Terra didn't think was all that necessary (probably installed by Robin at the height of his paranoia). After a few tries, a four digit numerical combination seemed to have been set. Hopefully. She had thought about putting in her birthday, but found that her fingers had already entered a different number. 1230, for December 30th, the day she met…him.

Crud, 8:09...

The stupid laptop was still just sitting there, of course, probably just so proud of itself for getting her into this mess. She turned it on and waited. As she folded herself cross-legged onto the couch, the soup bowl caught her eye. Tomato. She wasn't the biggest fan of tomato, but it's the thought that counts. Weird, she had been expecting chicken noodle—well, Beast Boy had probably vetoed that suggestion. For the first time that she could remember, Terra had absolutely no desire to eat. The soup was an ever-present reminder that she'd lied, lied when she really didn't even want to, when she would have rather just gone to dinner with them in the first place and had fun. But now, she was going to have basically the worst evening ever conceived, and it was all…well, it was all somebody's fault, anyway, if not the soup bowl's or the laptop's.

Finally, the screen lit up, and that made everything a lot simpler: staring at an empty monitor made her think too much. Terra signed on to her email, cringing inwardly. She had forgotten to get a new account this week. He was going to be mad about that, too.

Sure enough, she had mail. The address wasn't anything recognizable, but Terra would bet her life that it wasn't an advertisement inviting her to catch the rabbit and win a new car. Biting her lip, she clicked on it. Let's play pretend. Pretend that you're just a regular teenage girl opening your email and you hope it's from your boyfriend…

Terra read the words on the screen, feeling her mouth get dry.

Been watching you. Not pleased.

New orders enclosed. More details to follow. Serious consequences if rendezvous not met. We will talk. Usual location, 2100. Bring your listening ears, little girl.

And yes, they know that you don't like tomato soup.

There was some other stuff in an attached file, things that he wanted her to get for him, but it was all complicated codes that she didn't understand. Really, what did he expect? If the combination lock on her own door gave her trouble…

She tried to ignore the tomato soup comment. She did not want to think about how he knew that. It kind of made her chest get tight, though, and not in the almost-pleasant way, like when Beast Boy smiled at her.

Terra reread the email. 2100, what time was that? For someone who'd lived with him for over a month, she should have gotten used to it by now, but Terra had yet to see what was wrong with just following regular times like normal people. Probably just did it that way to confuse her, because he liked to confuse her. She ended up doing a search for military time conversions and figuring out that she had about forty five minutes. Forty-five minutes to be there, with shoes clean, hair brushed, shirt tucked in and ready to listen.

Whoops.

It was too late to worry about whether or not the Titans had left (she needed to stop putting herself on the outside of that statement—she was a Titan, too, for goodness sake—if she didn't think that way, how could she hope to convince them?). Ripping through her drawers, she managed to find two socks that matched and didn't have holes. She had to stop and take a deep breath when she realized that she had been trying to pull them on over her shoes. She changed her shirt because it was sweaty, gross and had a soda stain down the front. A cursive glance around the room to try and remember if she was supposed to bring anything (she hoped not), and then she was in front of the mirror, checking herself.

Yep, no big problems—save for the fact that she was still hideously ugly. She hated her hip bones; they were alarmingly visible over the top of her jeans, sharp like she was trying to poke somebody's eye out with them. She tucked her shirt in with disgust. Raven was so elegantly pretty. Starfire was tall, gorgeous and Terra wanted to steal her hair.

Why did she feel like she was going on a date?

Terra struggled to open her window before finally realizing that it wasn't meant to be opened manually and that she had to press a button in the lower corner. A wispy breeze played with her hair as she breathed in the fresh scent of ocean. Leaning out precariously onto the edge, she grinned at the silly image of what it might look like to an outside observer. Broken-hearted girl at the top of a tower about to jump to her death. Suicide was so romantic.

Fortunately for Terra, she was no ordinary broken-hearted girl. She wasn't even broken-hearted.

She stared down into the darkness, willing all other thought away, breathing like he had taught her. Her abilities sprang to life and threatened to boil over, but she gritted her teeth and concentrated harder. This thing had always owned her—but tonight, she was going to own it. The rocks below rattled in protest.

Then, it was over; well, not quite over, but the aching pressure was gone. And the large, flat stone was at her feet, hovering obediently right underneath her window, a one way ticket to exactly where she wanted to go. Or didn't want to go. Whatever.

Terra stepped carefully out onto the rock, looking down at the surf and the hard ground and the edge of the city. She wasn't scared of heights. No question about it: she might be a little girl and she might be locked in a tower, but this princess could take care of herself.

'The usual location' was a few miles east of the city, in one of the caves where she used to live before…well, before everything. The precise spot changed constantly due to security, but he would tell her where they would meet next, and Terra knew the area well enough that finding him was always easy.

Yeah, this was it. She hovered over the cave, wondering what she was going to do now. Coming down was really hard…it might not work. She lowered herself to the ground slowly, trying to maintain that fragile balance that meant control. The rock wobbled a little, then a lot. Terra tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. It wasn't enough: her hold finally broke, and the rock came crashing down the last few feet, shattering into a thousand pieces Not far enough to seriously hurt but far enough to make her wish she hadn't done it.

Stupid, lousy, good-for-nothing powers. Terra really hoped that he hadn't seen that.

It was pretty cold out here. And dark. How had she ever slept in such a horrible place? She glanced at her watch: 9:11. Uh oh. The rocks and sand crunched under Terra's shoes as she hesitantly approached the cave. If she could be really quiet, maybe he wouldn't hear, and then she could…well, come to think of it, Terra didn't know what that would solve, but somehow it was better than just waltzing up and announcing herself with trumpets.

"Do drop the attempt at subtlety, Terra. You're not any good at it, and I already know you're there."

She froze in mid-creep, fully aware that she probably looked really stupid. Why did she always look so stupid compared to him? A flurry of wind blew some dust over her shoes, and the yellow eyes of a chameleon glowed impassively out of the darkness…but she still couldn't see him.

Terra jumped. "Umm…hi?"

"Say that again, choosing words that don't suggest brain damage," said a voice behind her. A big hand fell heavily onto her shoulder before she could blink. It felt cold. "Or if that's too much to expect, at least words that suggest less brain damage."

"Hello, Slade." Terra squeezed her eyes shut and didn't turn around.

"Better. But let's dispense with the niceties." The hand slowly crawled from one of her shoulders to the other. "I would say that we have a few things to discuss. Don't you agree?"

Terra just nodded and started looking around for the chameleon's yellow eyes.

Slade paused for a few seconds. Probably. It felt like longer. When Slade paused, it always meant that bad stuff was about to happen. Always. Finally he broke the silence. "I would, for example, be interested to discover what could possibly have led you to believe that it was unnecessary to send along the information you acquired last week."

Oh. Oh, yeah. She finally knew her way around the Tower, and Slade probably knew that she knew her way around the Tower…but she hadn't said anything to him about it yet. In fact, she hadn't been doing much of anything she was supposed to do. Terra wasn't sure why. Defying -- or even just, sort of, forgetting -- Slade's direct orders did seem like an irrational thing to do, now that she was standing here unable to look him in the face. "I…I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

He laughed. It wasn't a very nice laugh. "Of that I have no doubt. But you have to consider the possibility that a day may come when sorry…" The hand pressed down on her shoulder, slowly, until it became just slightly painful. "…isn't good enough."

And then, the weight was gone, quickly enough for her to forget what it felt like. He directed—not forced—her to turn around. "Stop hiding from me, Terra. I want to see your eyes."

She shivered, but looked up at him because she knew she had to. "I am sorry. If that helps. At all."

Slade stared down at her and finally took his hands away. "It's okay, my dear. In all actuality, it is I who should apologize."

Terra couldn't help it: she choked on the breath she was going to take. "But…but…wha?" Hearing him say that was somehow both awful and appealing.

"Do close your mouth, Terra."

"Yes, sir." Whoops, not supposed to talk.

Nodding gravely, Slade took a small step away from her so she had a bit more space. "As I was saying, of course I owe you an apology. It's such a cruelty, really, to force you to be in the constant company of such…people."

Another gust of wind teased the hem of her shirt. "People, sir?"

"You're quite right. 'People' gives them too much credit. The Titans, then. Absolutely abysmal teenagers, and I'm sorry for subjecting you to them," said Slade, voice thick with sympathy.

"Err, what's 'abysmal' mean?"

"Possessing traits similar to those of the Titans," said Slade cryptically.

Thanks, that helps a lot. Maybe she didn't ingest dictionaries on a regular basis, but Terra was pretty sure that Slade wasn't paying them a compliment. She thought of Starfire's affectionate (if slightly random and more than a little life-threatening) hugs, and how Cyborg had some inexplicable maturity that made you just sure that everything was going to be alright. And…well, basically everything that Beast Boy did. Sure, Robin was no fun, and Raven still hated her, but she'd hardly say that living with them had been anything approaching unpleasant. Certainly nothing that would be grounds for an apology.

Living with Slade had taught Terra that he tended to turn most everything into a potential lesson, and she was sure that there was some key puzzle piece that she just didn't have. But not answering would be worse. "Well…umm…they're actually not all that bad, really. In fact I…kind of like living with them."

His eye softened considerably as he took a microscopic step towards her. Another pause, a really long one. "Of course. You've forgiven them. I should have known; you were always too kind. I do want you to be happy, Terra." Slade knelt in front of her, tracing his index finger against her cheekbone. "I just don't want you to get hurt again."

Jaw clenching involuntarily, Terra tried to hold herself as still as possible. Whenever Slade touched her, it always felt a bit like walking through a mine field. Dangerous. Exciting. Some other stuff. She hadn't decided if that was a good thing or not, but it definitely made concentration difficult. "I…I…" She sucked in an uncomfortable breath. "…I'll be good, I promise."

Maybe he was smiling, though she couldn't see it because of that horrible, creepy mask (why couldn't he just take it off?). But it wouldn't have been a nice smile. "It's alright, Terra. I know it's a lot to process. Just…be careful with yourself." He gave her a pointed stare. "Especially with that kind heart of yours. They might not realize how fragile you are, but I do."

Terra nodded, even though she wasn't really sure what she was agreeing to. "Yes, sir." It was pretty much an all-purpose answer for Slade anyway, so she figured she was safe.

"Excellent. Now I do hope that you're ready to talk about those security codes I need," said Slade.

"Yes, sir," said Terra. Oh, oh, but his mask was so creepy, and somehow she never seemed to get used to it.

The conversation was almost casual. He even sat on a particularly flat rock during most of it, and urged Terra to do the same. Remembering everything he said was going to be the real challenge, but she didn't even have to do that, because he had a very innocuous-looking folder for her that had everything she needed, he said. When he handed it to her, his fingers brushed Terra's wrist. She was supposed to burn the whole thing after she was finished with it. ("And please make sure you don't burn the Tower down in the process; that defeats the purpose of the operation just slightly.")

So basically, all she had to do was somehow get past all the locks on the main computer without anybody knowing about it, write down all the crud that Slade wanted, and figure out how to make it impossible to tell she'd been in there. Oh yeah, and, by the way, she was going to have to outwit a guy who was half computer himself, another guy who might as well be a computer, and a girl who hated her guts and was all telepathic and stuff.

Well, that would be fun. Not. "Look…I…I'm not sure if I can do…"

He glared at her. Hard. "You will do whatever it is that I require—certainly I had made my opinion on that matter quite apparent."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Terra, looking at an overhanging cavern because she wanted something else to look at besides Slade. "I'll get you the codes."

"Good girl," said Slade. "Now, I believe you've been away from your regrettable companions for a great deal of time. And I also believe that it would be prudent if they had no reason to suspect that you were anywhere but in your bed, oh-so-dreadfully ill." He put a sardonic edge to the last few words, standing up and offering Terra his hand.

She took it, feeling him keep a hold on her for a fraction longer than was necessary—or appropriate. "So I can go now?"

"I think you'd be a better judge of that," he said derisively. "Can you?"

She stared at him, uncomprehending, for a moment, and then resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "May I go?"

"You may." Slade nodded. "Remember what we discussed earlier: it doesn't do to disobey me. I want to protect you, Terra…but I cannot protect you if you fail to follow my direction. I trust you'll consider this when you are obtaining those security codes, yes?"

"Yes, Sir," said Terra. She shivered visibly.

"Next time I contact you, we'll meet in the cave a quarter of a mile east of here."

"The one with the rotting cactus outside?"

"Precisely," said Slade, folding his arms deliberately across his chest. "Such a clever girl."

"Alright…well…I guess I'll go now," said Terra. She knew better than to wait for him to leave; Slade always watched her go, probably because he wanted to see how shaky she still was with her powers.

Come on, Terra, don't make a total retard of yourself, not in front of himShe concentrated on a section of the ground, willing it to do what she wanted (for once). The dry, crumbly rocks started to melt together. Breathing became difficult.

"Through your nose, Terra; you sound like a dying giraffe."

Terra halfway-laughed, and it calmed her to the point where she was able to finish. Okay, it was hovering; just keep it there for goodness sake. Stepping onto the rock platform, she looked over at Slade one more time, just to make sure she was allowed to leave. When he nodded slightly, Terra returned her attention to not falling off that rock. It was a lot easier once she got it in the air, if she could just focus until then…

She felt Slade's eye on her back long after she had left the desert and the cave behind.