Cognitive Dissonance

Chapter Seven: Two Wrongs Make a Right

Counter cutting into her stomach as she leaned into it, trying to keep herself from running away, Terra pressed what seemed like the millionth button on the phone, hating the maze of offices and answering machines you had to go through just to talk to a real, live person. It was like that when you tried to call any big organization, really, but the hospital was especially difficult. And the fact that she only had a first name and a striped uniform to go on didn't help.

"Umm, yeah, hi, I'm Terra," she said, jumping when a human voice finally came on the line. "I was wondering if you could tell me about Maureen, the girl who was hurt in the fight on February 20th."

She'd waited over a week to call. Several times, she'd tried to, had picked up the phone and played their little game that asked her to press 'one' if she wanted this and 'two' if she wanted that. But she always hung up, too afraid to hear an answer she didn't want to hear. Or worse, a not-answer. Terra figured that after almost ten days, they'd know one way or another, anyway.

"Are you a family member?" A friendly but unyielding female voice. "We don't release personal medical information over the phone."

"Err, no," said Terra. "I was…well, I was there. Because I'm one of the Teen Titans, and I was trying not to let anybody get hurt—I really was trying, ma'am—and I should have called sooner but I was too scared."

"I see. I do want to tell you that…"

"But can you please, please just tell me if she's alive?" Terra felt her voice starting to rise hysterically as she gripped the counter with her free hand and thought about the stripes and the blood and the scream. "I have to know, please; I promise I won't bother her or anything, but I can't keep wondering if she's okay or not—you have to understand!"

"Terra, it's okay," said the woman. "Maureen's been discharged."

"Does that mean she's alive, or what?" Please, please not or what.

The woman laughed. "Yes, she's alive. Sweetie, there were no casualties."

Relief flooded into every part of her. "Thank you," she breathed, closing her eyes. "And I'm sorry about your parking lot…and all the cars that got smashed up…and I'm sure somebody had to go out and clean up all that sand—I did that, and I'm sorry about it, too."

"If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be answering this phone call because I wouldn't have a place to work. We all know that you did your best. And if anyone tells you that you didn't, don't listen to them."

But the woman was wrong, because if it hadn't been for Terra, Slade probably wouldn't have attacked the hospital in the first place… "Thank you. A lot."

"If you kids ever need anything…"

Terra nodded before remembering that she was talking on the phone. "Thanks, but we're fine, I promise. I know you're busy so I'll let you go now, but…thanks. About Maureen."

An uncomfortable pause, then finally an audible sigh. "Glad I could help you. And…thank you, Terra."

The words made her feel warm and bubbly, and at that moment Terra couldn't understand why she'd almost been ready to give up and run back to the desert and never set foot into the Tower again. "Oh, it was nothing," she said, feeling herself blush through her grin. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

She hung up the phone, smiling, taking a moment just to look around the kitchen at the messy dishes from dinner and the ketchup stain on the counter…and to think that she was lucky, just so lucky. Almost like somebody was taking care of her. She'd been too worried to ask about Maureen, and she'd been fine the entire time. Everyone on the team had been fine, too: Raven had woken up an hour or so after they brought her to the infirmary, and they were all relieved to discover that Beast Boy just had cuts and bruises everywhere. Terra sometimes wondered if they were invincible.

Of course, Robin was acting all funny now, and nobody really knew what to do about that, but that was okay. He'd stayed in his work room analyzing stuff for three days straight, and then suddenly stopped one night: the night that Beast Boy and Cyborg had found out about a mini golf place that had rabbits on the course, and they'd all gone to play. That had been fun (Starfire had loved the rabbits…a little too much, actually…), though Terra had avoided Raven as if she had a contagious disease. After the hospital, she just didn't want to make her mad. At all. Ever.

And now, Robin and Raven were acting weird. They were spending a lot more time together—alone—and both of them were a lot quieter than usual. Not that either of them talked much to begin with, but still.

It was like they were going out, or something. Terra giggled. That was probably it. They would be good together: they were both boring and no fun and they both scared Terra.

Oh well; wasn't her problem, anyway. And if they really were going out, maybe they'd both calm down a little and start being nicer.

Arms wrapped around her from behind. "What are you doing?" Beast Boy asked playfully, face close to her ear.

"You know, just calling somebody." She put the phone on the counter and twisted around to face him, hands on his shoulders. He still had the bandage over his cheek, where the deepest cut had landed, but he wore it like a badge—and never forgot to remind everyone exactly what a dangerous situation he'd been in.

"Ohhh, I get it: you were on the phone with your other boyfriend."

She swallowed with difficulty, staring hard at the ceiling and giggling—not a real laugh. "Yep…that's what I was doing, alright." Terra didn't know why she felt dishonest, because obviously she'd been talking to the woman about Maureen, and why would she think there was a sick truth to Beast Boy's joke, a hidden reality that he was unaware of—

"You wanna play some video games?" His grin told her that he had no idea that anything was wrong. And maybe he was right—because, really, what could be wrong?

"Yeah!" Terra stretched a smile over her face, but it didn't quite fit, like the pair of pants that wouldn't go over her hips this morning. She'd have to get new clothes, soon, but what would be the point if she'd just grow out of them again?

He kissed her briefly then dropped his arms from her waist, stepping away. Terra had decided that she really liked kissing: well, it was a lot better when the other person didn't taste like blood and stuff, like after the fight at the hospital. But after that morning, the awkward moments between them had stopped pretty much altogether. Obviously, they'd gotten a lot of the awkwardness behind them before he'd asked her out, so they could just skip some of it, now. But Terra had a sneaking suspicion that it was mostly because of the hospital; when someone could kiss you after you'd just thrown up, you couldn't really feel embarrassed around them anymore.

"Great—and you can pick which game, 'kay?" A sly smile. "But I'm gonna tickle you if I win, just so you know."

Terra picked out one of the games that she knew he was good at.

When she told him goodnight and closed her door, Terra immediately noticed the beeping. For a wild moment, she felt sick with fear because she thought it was the communicator—she couldn't deal with another fight like the hospital, not yet, not so soon. But it wasn't the communicator, of course—Robin would have killed her if she left her communicator in her room. It was her computer, beeping insistently that she had a message.

It was a little, blinking text box in the corner of her computer screen: a handle she didn't recognize on one of her instant message clients.

Respond.

Terra gasped and skirted around the desk to sit in her chair. She knew who that was. It could only be one person. He hadn't contacted her since the hospital, probably too busy fixing his robot army, but she'd known he would, eventually. Their last meeting had been weird. Maybe this time would be better. Heart in her throat, she typed what she hoped was an adequate answer for him. She was reminded of the time she'd pretended to be sick and met him instead of going to dinner, when he'd made her rephrase her greeting.

He asked her a few questions, ensuring that she was alone and that it was really her; Terra answered mechanically as she told her heart to shrink back to its normal size. Then, finally:

Usual location. 2300. Take a shower first, if you wouldn't mind.

She stared at the message for a full minute, but it didn't become any clearer why he could possibly want her to do that. It did make her feel a little sick, though. As if she'd been pushed onto a rollercoaster and had only just realized that the big drop was coming up.

Leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, she wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing. Slade had done some bad, bad things. Terra thought about Maureen's blood soaking into the pavement and shuddered, opening her eyes again to keep the unwelcome images at bay. She traced a pattern along the ceiling with her eyes instead of thinking, connecting the stars with an invisible pencil. They'd given her this room. They didn't have to, but they did anyway, and what was she doing to thank them? Stealing their information and pretending to be their friend and meeting with their enemies when they weren't looking? But she was their friend, she really was, so maybe that part was okay, at least. They were fun to be with and they made her feel…wholesome. She lied a lot, but she didn't lie about that. Especially not about Beast Boy. Terra really did like Beast Boy.

Except when she liked Slade.

Terra took a deep breath, then gathered up a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Slade didn't have to explain to her what "the usual location" meant tonight; he'd told her last time that their next meeting would be at his headquarters. Which actually wasn't all that usual, but she wasn't going to point that out. The place was perpetually under construction, had been since Terra started living there last January. Supposedly, there had been another building before, somewhere else, but something had happened to it. Slade never said what.

It was pretty easy to find once you knew what you were looking for. There was more than one entrance, but Terra only knew about this one, in one of the caves on the outskirts of the city. She couldn't get in by herself, though. He'd be waiting there to put in the codes, like he always did. Slade didn't trust her with his codes. And anyway, there were so many to remember that Terra didn't think it would have done her much good, so maybe it wasn't really that he didn't trust her at all.

She brought the rock to the ground, slowly. Much, much better. It barely made any noise when it touched the cold sand. Tonight, she actually hoped that he had seen her land, because that was some impressive control. Especially considering that her mind was elsewhere.

"No sneaking around this time?" a voice from the shadows, gently mocking.

She shook her head at the darkness, knowing full well that he was watching. "No, sir. Good evening, sir." It had long since become clear that trying to fool Slade was futile. Terra had learned to just present herself to him, out where he could see everything. It took less energy, and the result was the same in the end.

"Likewise," said Slade, outline of his mask visible in the darkness now that Terra had crossed the threshold into the cave. "Come with me; we have a lot to accomplish in a short time."

After he'd entered the security code into a hidden panel, a boulder slid back, revealing a heavy, steel door. Terra had done this hundreds of times, and she followed behind him almost casually, down a short flight of stairs and into the elevator. It was a long, awkward ride down to the base, and quickly became anything but casual. He kept staring at her in a way that made her feel funny, made her feel naked. And why had he asked her to take a shower? Terra backed into the corner of the elevator, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Without a word, he directed her past half-finished rooms and tunnels covered in debris, into a wide, open room that she'd been in many times before. They used to train in here: with him making her try her powers on every type of substance that existed in order to find out what worked and what didn't, what gave her trouble and what was easy. Hours and hours, every day, of her facing him and wondering what he would throw at her next. The big windows were what she'd always noticed. They were in almost every room, steel reinforcement beams cutting through them to make interesting, random patterns. An eerie, orange glow shone through the windows, and Terra knew there was nothing on the other side because they were underground, of course, but she supposed that even Slade had to have some kind of light where he lived. She glanced at him, wondering if this was the reason she'd been called out here: maybe he wanted her to train some more, to make sure her powers were working properly.

Sure. Train at eleven o'clock at night. And her powers were fine.

It became clear, however, that whatever she was supposed to do, she wasn't going to be doing it here. He led her to a door on the opposite side of the room, the side closer to the windows, opened it for her so she could walk through first. Terra hesitated, looking up at him in confusion, afraid to ask.

"Don't worry, Terra. You know I'd never harm you."

And she did know, so she walked through the door, trying not to cringe as she heard a lock click when he closed it. She'd never seen this place before but it looked pretty normal, and much smaller, like somebody's room: desk, drawers, closet, bed. Windows. The same windows that were in every other room. They made the whole thing look kind of like a church; Terra had never been inside a church before but she knew what stained glass looked like and…well, that's what this looked like, anyway.

People got married in churches. She knew that much.

Overall, though, the room was completely ordinary; like something she might find back at the Tower. Funny how she'd been expecting a torture chamber or something. Though the furniture strongly indicated otherwise, Terra somehow didn't think that this was really Slade's bedroom, because he wouldn't show her that. The idea that Slade even had a bedroom was suddenly ridiculous, even though she guessed that he would have to sleep somewhere, and she only just managed to fight down the laughter.

Why were they in here? Why were they in here when she'd never been in this room before and what was he going to do here that he couldn't do anywhere else and…

"You know, laminated safety glass is built to shatter on impact, rather than cutting." His words made absolutely no sense, but he was staring down at her as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"…I…I…what?" Terra took a step away from him.

He sighed. "Your little display at the hospital. I trust you had some exceedingly clever plan involving the layer of polyvinyl butyral, yes?"

"The what?" Terra tucked her hair behind her ears, and it fell back into her face so she did it again. And again. It was hard because her hands were shaking.

"Plastic, Terra," said Slade, the disappointment cutting into her like a real piece of glass, not the kind with that poly-whatever stuff. He walked toward her, and she couldn't take any more steps away because then she'd fall onto the bed, and he probably wouldn't like that. When he stood over her with that look on his face, it reminded Terra of how big he was—somehow she didn't think about that all the time, but he was, and it was kind of scary. "Which is precisely why you found it difficult to control the glass from the broken windshield."

Now it was clear what he was talking about, and she thought immediately of Beast Boy crashing through the Mercedes and not getting up. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. That had been so mean. "I'm sorry that I'm so dumb…but why did you do it, sir? He didn't do anything to you and…"

"He attacked first—I had to defend myself. Had to keep myself alive so I could continue to defend you." Something about that didn't seem right, but when he ran his fingers through her hair, she couldn't add up the thoughts properly, and then it stopped mattering altogether and she couldn't even remember what they'd been talking about. Slade was right, that was all that counted; he was always right and it was getting hard to make her lungs work properly and she felt funny in places that she shouldn't…

Halfway into the act of twisting away from him, she found that she didn't have the resolve, so she settled on nodding fervently. "Yes, sir, you're right." Terra couldn't remember what she was agreeing to. Maybe she was agreeing to everything.

"Indeed," said Slade. It was one of the scariest things she'd ever heard him say.

That was it. He hadn't brought her in here to talk about car windshields. And as much as she was afraid of the real reason, she had to know. Terra steeled herself and asked the question that had been on her lips since she'd gotten his message about taking a shower: "But why did you want me to come here—why here, why now, what do you need from me?"

Leaning closer to her—even closer than before—he stared at her in a way that made her want to squeeze her eyes shut, but she didn't. She couldn't. She had to look at him. "Oh, Terra," he said, one hand on her shoulder…under her jacket, and it was warm—almost hot—and she always expected his hands to be cold, somehow. "I daresay that the purpose of this meeting will become clear in due course—if it hasn't already."

The touch was intense, electric, like the first time she realized she could use rocks to fly. "I—I don't think that I…" She couldn't say any more. Lower back pressed against the bed, she swallowed with effort and gave up, gave up on trying to think about how and why and wrong and right. All ability to sort it out was gone, lost to his presence and the way he stared at her and how that made her feel; she'd just have to let him contend with the wrong and right part, had to let him do it. Slade was always right, anyway.

His breath was hot on her neck, hot like a fire poker. "Undress yourself, Terra. Unless, of course, you'd like me to do it for you."

Who was he kidding: of course she could take her clothes off by herself…wait a minute, what was she doing? She looked down and realized that she'd already zipped off her jacket and chucked it onto the floor. Whatever he was going to do that involved a lack of clothing, well, it probably wasn't a good thing—but she wanted him to do it, really wanted him to, no matter what it was. That tingly feeling was back, warm and frightening. She lifted her t-shirt over her head and forgot how to breathe.

Terra kept her eyes on the windows. They made her feel better. Their soft, artificial light didn't hurt her eyes and didn't make her sick, and if she could just keep staring at it, she wouldn't have to think. She was almost able to tell herself that she was somewhere else, someone else, even; maybe she could pretend to be Maureen, pretend that she was going to the hospital in her striped uniform, except the uniform wouldn't fit her because Terra was too skinny and boney and gross and anyway it had been burned up, and that was Terra's fault, too. The windows' reinforcement beams made outlines of light and dark on the floor, on the bed. She looked at them and everything was okay.

People got married in churches. People got married in churches.

He was over at the desk—probably doing work. Personally, Terra didn't see how anybody could do that; how they could possibly just go right back to whatever they were doing before, as if nothing had happened at all. Because she felt like something was wrong, something had been tampered with, torn, and that she probably shouldn't move because that would make it worse. She hurt. Everywhere. She thought that maybe even the end of her nose hurt. But mostly she hurt there.

Terra didn't know how much time had passed, and she didn't care. She just wanted to lay as still as possible, blanket pulled up to her chin because she didn't want him to see her. (But why did that matter? He'd seen everything.) There was a clock on the desk, but Slade's arm was blocking it, and she didn't want to try to see it because then she'd have to move—and Terra fully expected something inside of her to just break altogether if she tried to move. He hadn't said a word to her, and she wished he would, because she was filling up fast with the sick suspicion that she'd been bad, that he didn't like her anymore because he wasn't talking to her.

They hadn't talked, hadn't really said much of anything but what on Earth were you supposed to say afterwards? And Slade obviously knew more than she did, so if he wasn't going to talk, then Terra wouldn't say anything, either. That would make it worse. It would make everything worse.

It was hard to put a name on everything that had happened, but she knew it wasn't good. Wasn't good, or maybe it was—because it kind of had been, a little bit. Terra tried to think of something, anything, that would make this okay, but all she could come up with was that movie that she'd watched with Starfire. She wanted…well, she wanted love, like in the movie, but she didn't know if love was an embarrassed half-glance from Beast Boy or if it was…well…that. It had to be more of that, though, because everyone did it and everyone talked about how great it was and that had to be the way you were supposed to love somebody.

"Terra. Your friends will be wondering where you've gotten off to." Hearing his smooth voice, Terra looked up to find him suddenly standing over her.

"But can't I…can't I at least stay here for a little bit?" Everything hurt. She wished he would hug her. Or at least hold her hand. You were supposed to do things like that, you just were.

Slade shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's simply not prudent. We wouldn't want them cognizant of what transpired tonight, would we?" He handed her clothes to her, at arms length, his preoccupied eye glancing over at the clock. He had been like that…when it happened, too, like he was putting in time at the office…she shuddered.

Too many big words. She just wanted a hug; that's all she wanted. "I…but…" Terra bit her lip. "Yes, sir."

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited expectantly, and Terra realized that she'd have to get up, because getting back to the Tower required movement and…ouch. Bad, bad idea. She muffled a cry as she forced herself to sit up, trying to keep the blanket wrapped around her for as long as possible. Slade watched her like she was one of those animals that had been tagged for experimentation; she knew there was no hiding from him, and she couldn't figure out why she even wanted to because he'd already seen, but her face still burned when she had to drop the blanket to pull on her clothing. She dressed as quickly as possible, but he saw anyway. When Terra stood up, pain shot through her, strong and stabbing and nauseating. Don't puke, don't puke; he'll think you can't handle…well…that…

Terra couldn't decide if she wanted him to think she could handle it or not.

She didn't know how she'd get back. She couldn't even walk, let alone use her powers. But Slade made her: he made her stagger out the door and into the big training room and down the hallway, telling her that he was sorry but it just couldn't be avoided, and Terra was glad when they finally got to the elevator because at least she didn't have to walk anymore. She leaned against the wall, hand pressed against the slick metal, fighting the urge to throw herself against Slade and cry.

But what was the point of crying? This was just the way things were: it was the real secret that everybody hid from people who hadn't experienced it for themselves. The real reason nobody talked about it was that it was actually awful and it was just something you had to put up with if you wanted to make babies and stuff. If you wanted to be considered an adult. But maybe it would still be okay. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Slade loved her. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't. And now that she thought about it, Terra did like being in on the secret, knowing that it was all rotten and there was nothing worth waiting for at all. She bet that none of her friends had any idea.

I know something you don't know; I know something you don't know; I know something…

"Are you alright, Terra?"

The cave was cold, colder than she remembered it being. Why was it so… Oh. Whoops. She'd left her jacket. Not about to ask to go back for it, she stared at the little hairs on her arms, until Slade closed the steel door behind him and it got too dark to really see properly.

She somehow got her brain to remember that it had been asked a question. "I'm fine, yeah…just tired." And she was. But she mostly just hurt.

"You most definitely could benefit from a good night's rest. I'm quite proud of you; you did well tonight." Nodding sympathetically, he unfolded one of her arms from her chest, took her hand in his. It was different from when Beast Boy held her hand. Slade's hands were huge, and how he almost-squeezed her fingers in a way that probably wasn't meant to be comforting but somehow it was, because he'd direct her where she needed to be directed…

His words reminded her of the way he hadn't talked to her, and how that made her think that she'd done something wrong. Except, Slade didn't think she'd done anything wrong, it seemed like; she couldn't hold back the smile. "Really? I was so worried, and I just didn't know…and sir, I was wondering, actually, if you don't mind telling me of course…" She faltered, unable to say the rest of it. The wrong answer would hurt more than anything else, and she just wouldn't be able to…

"Please, my dear: ask your question. I don't mind." He'd be smiling one of those not-nice smiles under the mask. Terra still didn't know what his face looked like. He'd kept his mask on through most of it, and then it had been too dark…and anyway, she'd had her eyes closed.

She shuffled her feet. "Well…why? Why me, why now, why…that?" Terra knew what answer she wanted, and if she didn't get it, she was absolutely going to cry. And then Slade would really think she was worthless.

Slade dropped her hand gently so he could reach up and run his fingers through her hair. It was a mess of blonde snarls and was probably disgusting, like the rest of her—why'd he ask her to take a shower before when she really needed to take a shower after? "Oh, Terra," he said, seeming genuinely distressed. "Even now, you continue to believe that you are undesirable."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand," said Terra, back to staring at her shoes. One of them was untied, laces dragging in the dirt.

"Why not, is the better question," he continued. "My dear, you are quite beautiful."

Beautiful. It wasn't exactly the word she'd choose to describe herself, not ever and certainly not now, but it filled her with hope that Slade thought she was. Now this, this was okay. This was how things were supposed to be. "Umm…thank you?" She thought that maybe she should say something else, but couldn't think of what.

"Don't thank me for honesty," said Slade, twisting some of her hair around his finger.

She shut the window and shuffled over to her closet. Peeling her clothes off carefully, she stuffed them in the corner of the closet; there wasn't really any place to hide them, because Terra hadn't lived here long enough to have a suitably messy closet, but she tried to get them out of sight as much as possible. Terra didn't want to see them. They were gross, like her.

Terra tried to decide whether the idea of taking a shower was worth having to walk all the way to the bathroom. And besides, she shouldn't feel as filthy as she did, it was something wrong with her—she was supposed to have liked it, and if she let on that she hadn't everyone would know there was something wrong with her--so she should just try and convince herself…

But she was sticky. And it was gross.

She found some sweatpants, and a faded shirt that Beast Boy had given her. The shirt was old and soft and it smelled like him. That made her feel a little better. But not much. Wrapping one of her towels around herself, she snatched up the clothes and made her decision. She had to shower, because if she didn't then the others might find out, and oh god they could never find out. Well. A part of her was kind of proud of it, of course, but all the same, they would not be happy.

It occurred to her as she walked down the hallway, floor chilly against her bare feet, that she was walking around naked. That was a little weird, sure, but it somehow didn't matter anymore.

What Terra really wanted to do once she'd turned on the water was to scrub herself until her skin turned red all over, but even that wouldn't make her clean again, not really. No. No, she couldn't think that, because that's how bad people felt, and Terra hadn't been bad. Slade had told her that. She was beautiful. He'd said.

So Terra stayed in the shower just long enough. And she didn't let herself scrub, just tried not to watch the water turn pink as it ran down her legs and disappeared into the drain. Besides, wasn't it wrong to want to want to wash herself forever so she could somehow just erase…that's not how it was supposed to be; nobody ever did that in the movies or anything. Of course, maybe the movies just didn't talk about what it was really like, but now Terra knew what it was really like, and…

She pulled her clothes on, glad that she didn't have to look at herself. And when she looked down at the shirt and felt the fabric against her skin, she knew what she wanted at that moment more than anything in the world, even if it was so late that it was early and he was probably sleeping or whatever—

When she finally got to Beast Boy's door, she wasted no time in knocking. It started out cautious, but she put more force into it when she remembered that it took a national emergency to pry Beast Boy out of bed when he didn't want to be pried. "Hey—it's me—are you asleep?"

She had to try a few more times, but finally the door slid open. He squinted at her, sleepy and confused, but he got a lot more confused when Terra threw her arms around him, wet hair soaking his neck. Making an unintelligible noise, he staggered back slightly, but Terra clung to him, not even caring that she was probably scaring him out of his wits. She just wanted him to hug her, wanted somebody to tell her that she was good and clean and okay.

"Well, I'm not asleep anymore, anyway," he managed after he'd regained his balance, arms encircling her slowly and uncertainly. "Terra, what's wrong?"

Terra hadn't really thought about how she'd answer that. Another lie bubbled up from the pit of her stomach before she could stop it. "I—I had a bad dream, a really, really bad one…I dreamed I was back in the desert and it was so cold and I didn't have any food and I was just so lonely and I needed—needed…" The dream wasn't real, but the feelings behind it were, and the tears were coating her cheeks before she'd put conscious thought to them.

His heart was beating really fast. He didn't say anything for awhile: just held her, and that was alright because that was what she wanted, anyway. Everything still hurt and she really hoped that it would stop hurting by tomorrow—somehow she doubted it—but she was safe with him, safe from all the things she couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't think about.

"Terra, it's okay; it was just a dream," he whispered into her ear, words more than a little uncertain. His fingers were touching her hair in the middle of her back, and that was nice so she tried not to think about how Slade had touched her hair, and what else Slade had touched, and…Terra cried harder.

Because it wasn't just a dream. It wasn't, and she'd never wake up from it, and Terra knew that she'd done something there was no turning away from, had taken that last step that would send her falling into something she couldn't take back. And Beast Boy's voice didn't make it go away. Couldn't make it go away.

Nothing could, not anymore.