Cognitive Dissonance

Chapter Nine: Middle Ground

Sometimes when you lose things they'll turn up if you just let life go on and don't think about them too much. Usually when you least expect it. Once, Cyborg lost his toothbrush and found it in the refrigerator. Turned out that Beast Boy had just put it there as a prank. Sometimes, things worked out and you didn't have to interfere.

This was not one of those times.

Terra was missing her gloves. Luckily, they hadn't had any fights since the last time she had them, so she hadn't realized until tonight, when she'd remembered on a whim that she hadn't worn them in a long time. After…well, everything that had happened, Terra didn't remember stuff like that so well. It didn't seem to matter.

But she liked her gloves. And she would need them if they had to fight somebody. She'd need them to—Terra wasn't exactly sure what they were for, actually, but they were important, anyway. And Terra knew exactly where they were, too.

That stupid Bunny Golf.

It was fun at the time, even when Starfire stunned the bunnies and they had to leave, because that had been hilarious. Really, it had been one of their better evenings, with almost no silly arguments. Even Robin and Raven had fun. Probably. Terra figured that there was something wrong with you if you couldn't enjoy yourself when there were a million cute bunnies around.

In any case, Terra had taken her gloves off to play, and she could remember setting them down on a bench beside hole number three, and she wanted them back.

It was already late. Starfire had just gone to sleep, leaving Terra alone on the couch with Beast Boy, paying much more attention to his arm around her shoulders than she was to the cartoon on the screen. For some reason, Terra kind of wished Starfire had stayed. They didn't hang out enough, and besides, she would feel much better to be able to talk to another girl, even if she couldn't talk about that. And, well, she wouldn't talk to Raven because Terra would like to keep breathing. She wondered if Raven would find out about her conversation with Robin.

That conversation…had not gone well. Robin never really answered her, just kept saying over and over that she was too young. Whether Terra was too young to worry about it, too young to ask questions, or too young to do it, she wasn't sure. Probably too young for any of that. Then, he'd had to bring up Beast Boy and pressure and "unacceptable behavior," which was just mean because Beast Boy really hadn't said anything about it…though Terra knew he would, eventually, because weren't you supposed to, when you loved somebody?

"Why does it matter if it hurts if you aren't planning to do it any time soon?" he'd asked, and there had been something in his voice that meant he knew something that he wasn't telling Terra. Then, Robin had started asking too many questions, like why Terra wanted to ask him and not Raven or Starfire, and why she was asking in the first place—and Terra had worried that she'd run out of answers, would run out of lies, so she'd had to stop and pretend that Robin believed he'd fixed everything.

Even when he hadn't. Even when Terra was still wondering six hours after their talk, wondering what Beast Boy meant by the arm around her shoulders and wishing that Starfire would come back because she had super strength and Terra wasn't sure why that mattered, but if anything happened, she could…

Right. Her gloves. Bunny Golf would be closing soon and she needed to get there tonight.

She shrugged off Beast Boy's arm and stood, squeezing a smile across her face like the last bit of toothpaste out of the tube. "Hey, I have something I need to take care of—I'll be back in thirty minutes, okay?" That would give her enough time.

"Wait, woah, it's almost ten. What's happening that late that can't wait till tomorrow?" He looked up at her, confused, attention wandering from the television.

"It's no big deal, I just need to go get something that I forgot; I'll be back soon, really," said Terra as she moved toward the door.

"But Ter-ruh," he whined. "You've gotta tell me where you're going, at least; Robin'll kill me if I let you leave by yourself at night when nobody knows where you are!"

Terra rolled her eyes. "You guys are so over-protective." It really was almost funny, given all the times Terra had been outside past midnight when nobody but Slade knew, though it occurred to her that this would be the first time she was out alone since…since March 2nd. Since the Bad Thing that happened on March 2nd.

Beast Boy climbed over the back of the couch to stand next to Terra, taking her hands. "Seriously, babe, tell me where you're going," he said.

Part of her wanted to squirm away and leave without telling, but then she had that cold, slippery thought again, about how this was her first time out alone since, and that idea made her open her mouth and say the words. "I forgot my gloves at Bunny Golf, and I really need to get them back, so I need to go now, before they close, 'cos it's already been a long time and maybe they have them in the lost and found—anyway, I'll be back in thirty minutes."

"Great, now was that so hard?" He grinned and released her hands, kissing her on the cheek before he stepped away. "You sure you don't need any help looking for them?"

She shook her head, hair swishing. "Nope, I can handle it." She had to handle it because if she didn't, it would mean that she could never be a good, whole person again. She wasn't sure why it would mean that, but it would.

Beast Boy looked a bit doubtful but then waved, crawling back over the couch to adjust the volume on the television. "Alrighty! If you're not back in thirty minutes, I'm coming to rescue you!"

"Can't wait," she said, moving through the doorway and down the hall until the sounds of whatever cartoon he was watching faded entirely. Rescuing sounded nice, actually. She wanted Beast Boy to rescue her from everything.

As she leaned against the wall of the elevator, Terra wondered if she was glad that Beast Boy had let her go alone or if she'd just started lying to herself, on top of everybody else she lied to.

Bunny Golf closed at ten. Just perfect.

Fifteen minutes too late, but there were still a few people around, probably the employees, cleaning up and all that. You entered the golf course through an arcade, whose doors were currently locked, but a teenager in a blue uniform was close enough to the door to see her and wave, setting down his vacuum to walk over to Terra. He looked around nervously (he was probably going to be in a lot of trouble) before unlocking the door and pushing it open.

"Hi," he said, in a voice that was just a little too friendly.

Terra hugged her chest, trying to hide. "Umm, hi. I just…I was wondering if I could check the lost and found for something."

The boy glanced over his shoulder. "Well, I'm not supposed to…" He turned back to Terra, and the apologetic expression told her that he was about to say no, but then some realization dawned on his face. "Hey! Oh, wow, you're Terra from the Teen Titans, aren't you?"

"Umm…"

"It was so awesome what you guys did at the hospital. My mom works there; I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come. Of course you can come in—can I help you with something?" He opened the door wider and Terra stepped into the arcade. The machines seemed strange, silent and dead without all the blinking lights and yellow tickets.

"I think I can handle it," she said, trying to stay as far away from the boy as she could without being rude.

"Lost and found is just outside, by the go karts. My name's Josh. What are you looking for?"

Terra indicated her hands as if that would explain everything. "I left my gloves when me and my friends were here awhile back. I was just hoping that you'd still have them."

Josh led her outside past a few picnic tables and the mini golf area, and Terra looked up at the floodlights, which were currently being invaded by moths. She was mostly looking so she wouldn't have to look at Josh. He was tall and smiled too much and she kept wondering what he was thinking about. "Well, I don't remember seeing any gloves, but hey, if you can't find them, I can maybe get you some new ones. I have to close, but if you hang around for fifteen more minutes or so we can take my car and…"

Terra's heart settled somewhere between her stomach and her shoes. "No, no, that's okay, I really just wanted to find these gloves and if I can't find them, that's really okay, it's not the end of the world, y'know, so I think I'll just look for myself and I'll let you get back to your vacuuming or whatever because—anyway, I'll just go look."

"Hey, that's cool," said Josh, though his smile faded somewhat and he didn't stand quite so close. Which was a good thing. "You're sure you don't need anything else?"

"Yep, positive!"

"Okay, I'll be inside if you change your mind." He winked at her. "You're my favorite, you know."

"Umm…thanks?" Terra fought the urge to throw up. She was already somebody's favorite—two somebodies', actually—and she was still trying to figure out if that was a good thing; she really didn't think she could handle adding a third.

Finally, finally Josh left her to walk the rest of the way by herself—and it was longer than she'd expected. Bunny Golf's main attraction was obviously the bunnies, but there was also a go kart track further away. The place wasn't exactly deserted, but it was pretty far away from the golf course and the arcade and the employees in blue uniforms. Terra had never been on a go kart before—they'd had to leave too quickly to try it last time—and was pretty sure she wouldn't be very good at it, but this course looked simple enough. It was a small figure-eight, brightly colored cars held in the station with blocks of wood between the wheels. Lights were placed around the general area but it was pretty clear that this was mostly a daytime activity. Terra had to get very close to the station before she saw what she was looking for, a simple, plastic box under an awning, marked Lost and Found. Dropping to her knees, she dug through the contents—watches, wallets, various prizes that probably came from the arcade, a shoe without a mate, an unholy number of t-shirts (Terra wondered how many people were walking around without their shirts on), a book about microbiology or macrobiology or something like that… No gloves.

Well, she supposed she shouldn't be all that surprised. She'd left them here for so long, in the rain and with tons of people coming every day and all that, and probably some little kid had picked them up, or maybe one of the bunnies had dragged them off to make a nest. Actually, Terra could live with it if that's what had happened. The image of a little rabbit making a nest out of her gloves made her smile, and maybe there were baby rabbits and of course they'd need a place to sleep and stuff. In any case, the gloves weren't here, and she needed to get back before Beast Boy came after her. Because he probably would.

Not wanting to have to face creepy Josh and his promised car ride, Terra decided that she'd just get herself over the fence and back home without even going back through the arcade. Besides, if she ran into him, she couldn't even lie and say she found the gloves because he'd see that she didn't, and then he'd probably never leave her alone.

"Looking for these?"

Out of the corner of her eye, a big hand dangled a pair of familiar brown gloves over her shoulder, and Terra's world stopped spinning.

She jerked away from them as if they were two spiders crawling on her, spinning around and backing away instinctively until she had her back pressed into the ticket booth, looking up at Slade. It wasn't real, he wasn't here, how could he be here, he just couldn't be. But he was. He was the monster hiding in her closet that somehow always knew when she wasn't really sleeping.

No. No, it was okay. Slade loved her: he wasn't here to hurt her (except that he already had), and she was wrong to be afraid. And yet…the way his eye stared down at her, filled with…something…Terra didn't really think that was love. She didn't think it was love at all. Maybe she was wrong because she was stupid, but she really, really didn't think so.

"I was only trying to help, you know," he said, sounding almost hurt. "You seemed extremely distressed about the loss of your gloves, but if you don't want them anymore…" He trailed off deliberately, waiting for her to respond.

Terra didn't want to take the gloves because that meant getting closer to him and besides, his hands had been on them and everything, but she swallowed her fear and leaned over enough so she could reach out and take them. Slade let the gloves fall to the ground, not actually handing them to her, and she just managed to catch them, scooting back and hugging them to her chest as if they could protect her.

"What do you want?" she managed, staring hard at his boots as she pulled her gloves on and prayed that he didn't want what she thought he might want.

"Now, that's not a very cooperative tone of voice, is it?" Slade took a step closer. "Why don't you try that again."

It was not a suggestion.

"What…what do I need to do, sir?" She tried to make her voice sound cooperative like he wanted but figured that it mostly just sounded terrified. But that turned out to be okay because Slade liked terrified almost as much as he liked cooperative.

"Much better," he said. "I've missed you a great deal during our time apart, my dear, but determined that perhaps you needed some time to yourself…to think. Now, you seem more than capable of continuing our business—and these two weeks have proved very lonely indeed." He stepped forward again, closing the small distance between them to pat the top of her head, and then didn't take his hand away, moved it to her cheek.

Terra squirmed out of his reach, head bumping against the rail of the fence. "I—we—this isn't—not—and…" She squeezed her eyes shut, stuck on something she needed to say but couldn't.

"If time allowed, I would no doubt enjoy immensely you interpreting that marvel of gibberish, Terra. I don't believe I've ever heard any quite as ... incomprehensible." Sighing heavily, Slade stepped away again, but not far enough so that Terra's heartbeat returned to normal. "But unfortunately, there's work to be done." Then, Terra noticed that he was holding something—how long he'd had it, she didn't know, but he drew it to her attention, nodding to the innocuous plastic bag in his right hand. "I have a present for you. Or, more accurately, I have a present for your happy little red-headed friend."

Starfire. And Terra knew enough of Slade to know that this wasn't the kind of present that she would like. She didn't respond, because if you didn't have anything productive to say to Slade, he didn't want to hear it. So she just waited, and let the sickness and dread and terror seep into her veins, running through every part of her, pressing familiar buttons that she'd rather not have pressed.

"It's quite a simple task, really." He dangled the plastic bag in her face like a ball of string for a kitten. Terra could see that there was something in it, a small amount of white powder, and, though it looked like so much flour, for some reason it seemed…sinister. "All you need to do is ensure that Starfire ingests the contents of this bag within the next twenty-four hours. Do take care that it does not come in contact with your mouth, nose or eyes. I daresay that you would not like the results."

"But how do I make sure Starfire gets it?" She felt stupid as soon as she said it, but had needed to ask a question.

"Use your imagination," he said sardonically. "You might, for example, pour it into one of the foul concoctions she so adores, tell her it's a rare and coveted food that can only be found on Earth, or stir it into her meal on your night to cook—"

"But I don't cook; Cyborg does. And anyway, the only thing I can make is sandwiches—"

"Your lack of culinary skills is irrelevant to my request, Terra." His voice was terse, short: a sure sign of his patience wearing thin. "I do not know how you should best go about administering the contents of this bag to Starfire and I do not care. The fact of the matter is that there will be serious consequences if you fail to carry out this request." Slade lowered himself to her level, forcibly opening her fingers and pressing the bag into her hand, closing her fist around it. "Do we understand each other?"

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"…What's this gonna do to Starfire?"

It was the question she'd been afraid to ask, so afraid that she'd covered it up with stupid questions. Terra squeezed the bag tightly between her fingers. And even before Slade spoke, she knew she was going to get the answer that she didn't want. "Terra. Does it really matter what it will do to Starfire?"

And Terra was suddenly bombarded with a thousand afternoons on the couch, laughing at movies and explaining board games and talking about boys, the images bubbling up inside of her, into a place where she couldn't ignore them, and suddenly she knew exactly what the flour stuff was going to do to Starfire, and she couldn't do that, she just couldn't, no matter how much Slade wouldn't like it. Because Terra wasn't very good at right and wrong—it was easier to just let Slade or Robin worry about things like that—but she knew, right then, right in her heart, that that was wrong, and bad, and that good girls didn't do stuff like that. This, she realized, was a moment, a fork in the road like the dusty not-paths she'd followed in the desert, and whichever one she chose, it would be too hot and dry and exhausting to go back and change her mind. She had two choices. And only one of them would make it possible for her to ever be good again.

So Terra took the bag and threw it in Slade's face.

It didn't turn out quite the way she was hoping.

The bag's seal must have broken in her hands, because most of the flour stuff spilled out as she threw it, spilled right into Slade's face and she hadn't meant for that to happen. But it did, and though the mask probably protected him from most things like that, his eye was still exposed and he jerked violently away from the bag. Terra had never seen him actually afraid of anything in her life, but he was afraid of this, and that alone told her that she couldn't give it to Starfire, no matter what. That thought played itself over and over in her head, the only thing she was sure of as Slade stared down at the bag and the powder on the pavement, breathing hard. For a moment, he didn't move, just looked at it, not paying attention to Terra at all, the floodlights illuminating the flour stuff like a giant highlighter. Then, he started paying attention to Terra.

He started paying attention to Terra in the form of his foot connecting with her ribcage.

Almost too shocked to feel the pain, Terra didn't make a sound, telling herself over and over that she just couldn't hurt Starfire, she would be bad to hurt Starfire, and she was on her feet before she realized, whimpering and clutching her side and backing away from him.

"I'm sorry!" she screamed, looking around for help and really starting to wish that she hadn't sent Josh away.

"You will be." And then he was holding that big stick, the one that immediately made her realize just how right he was and just how sorry she was about to be.

Terra took one backwards step too many, caught her legs on a guardrail and tumbled onto the go kart track, landing flat on her back with a sickening thud. She knew what was going to happen—Slade's deliberate steps spoke as clearly as his clipped voice ever did. He was going to make her sorry: sorry for disobeying and disappointing and being—doing—

Sorry for doing what was right. Anything that didn't involve killing Starfire was what was right. It was simple and perfect and easy, and Terra thought that maybe she finally understood what the world looked like to Robin: this was probably how he saw things all the time, but in this one moment it made sense to her, too. And Terra wouldn't be sorry for doing the right thing. He could never make her sorry, no matter how much he was going to hurt her. There was still so much, so many things she didn't understand and couldn't explain, but for this thing, this one thing, there was an answer.

I won't hurt Starfire. I won't hurt Starfire, I won't, I won't, won't, won't, won't…

Before she was aware of really thinking about it, a three foot slab of concrete was between her and Slade, ripped out of the track and leaving an awful hole just in front of the station. Terra stared at it for about half a second trying to figure out when she'd given it permission to appear, and then bolted, fighting the pain in her back from where she'd fallen because she would be in a lot more pain if Slade got her. Now she guessed that maybe he just wanted to get her, take her back to his headquarters, and she didn't want to know what he might do to her there so she kept running. She was fast but Slade was faster, and finally she had to turn around, looking straight into the nightmare she'd found herself in, reacting before she had time to think about the consequences.

The concrete rippled and cracked under her command, squashing itself into a misshapen, gray mountain that was even taller than Slade and kept him out of view. Terra stared at it wide-eyed, breathing hard, almost unable to believe she'd really done it, without even having to try too much. It was a good idea until she realized that now she had no idea where Slade was.

Terra wondered if the employees would come save her. But no, they probably wouldn't. Josh was leaving soon, and he was closing—they were all gone, she bet. At least nobody was around to get mad at her for messing up their go kart track.

Behind her, out of thin air, something grabbed her arm and twisted, forcing Terra to turn around and look up at him. He held her there for a moment, silently glaring down at her as if he were thinking about all the things he could possibly say to come up with the meanest one. "I truly thought you were better than this, Terra. You got what you wanted, and now you resort to belligerence, hostility and attempts on my life." Armored fingers bit into the back of her forearm. "Is this your way of telling me that you do not value our partnership?"

Maybe she did and maybe she didn't and maybe Slade's hand was just hurting her a whole lot, but Terra vehemently shook her head. "No, no, that's not it, I totally do, I'm sorry, I'll be good, I swear I will, it's just that…you wanted me to…hurt Starfire, didn't you? Like, kill her." She looked away at the sagging go kart track and bent guardrails. "And I can't. I shouldn't. And I can't."

"That," said Slade, "is a most admirable quality."

Terra's eyes jerked back to his face, frozen there in shock. "A-admirable?"

He nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Even more admirable, in fact, when the ones you are trying to protect would not show you the same courtesy."

"Huh?"

"I shouldn't think it need be any more apparent exactly how much the Titans do not value your life, Terra," said Slade.

That wasn't true. Wasn't. "They do so! They care about me!"

"Do they? None of them seemed terribly eager to assist you during our confrontation at the hospital. Luckily, I meant you no harm; otherwise, the consequences could have been dire. Robin, as I recall, did not see fit to even make an appearance that day."

"He was sick!"

Slade paused to move her closer to the concrete wall she'd created, leaving her less room to escape. "I see. Just as sick as you were the day you skipped dinner to visit me?"

It was wrong, it was, that couldn't be the way things really were—could it? Why was it that when she was at home, safe with her friends, what they said to her made sense and their motives were just as she thought they were, but when Slade was around, he…he made them change, made everything different, turned on its head so many times she didn't know how it had looked originally…

"I…I know it looks bad but it's not like that, it's not!"

"It's alright, my dear. I had feared that being forced to live in such company would confuse you in this way." Without releasing her arm, he ran his free hand across her neck and shoulder. "Perhaps we simply need to be together for a time, so you can reacquaint yourself with reality. Would you like that?"

Terra thought about how she'd felt when he'd kicked her, decided that she would most certainly not like that at all, thank you very much, and had opened her mouth to say so when somebody else interrupted her.

"Hey! Freak of nature! Let her go!"

Terra prayed that Beast Boy was too far away to hear what they'd been talking about. He didn't wait for a response, just transformed into a hawk and was right in front of them in seconds, reverting to human form and glaring at Slade. Terra didn't have a watch but she figured it was well past ten thirty; he had kept his promise and come to rescue her.

"Okay, I don't know why you're here, but whatever you're trying to do is a bad plan."

"Is it?" Slade asked casually.

"Get away!" She screamed it before she realized what she was saying. Even though she was glad Beast Boy was here and wanted him to save her, something inside of her made her say it, because…he needed to get away, needed to get away from her. There was something—poisonous, about Terra. She'd been caught in something and couldn't get out, and nothing would save her, not even Beast Boy's defiant look and unshakable bravery.

He shook his head. Forcefully. "No way; I'm not leaving you with that creep! Let her go, Slade. I'm not gonna ask you again."

"How precious," said Slade. "Your valor is charming, but I'm afraid that you do not have the authority to be issuing threats."

"Wanna tell me why not?"

"Because…" He paused, deliberately trailing off, and the silence was almost lulling until Slade's hand tightened around Terra's right arm. It was kind of like the time that Cyborg had taken her blood pressure, except way worse. She tried not to make a sound. "I believe I have some leverage in this matter. Make a move to fight, and I'm afraid there will be consequences." He yanked Terra around in front of him, holding her tightly, though Terra wasn't stupid enough to try and get away. She was really close to him, back of her head pressed into his chest. Cringing, she listened to her heart beat faster and faster.

Beast Boy's face registered no recognition whatsoever, only fury, and his eyes were locked on Terra's as she prayed he'd just listen. But he didn't. "Leverage this!" And an instant later, there was a cheetah where he'd been standing, and the huge claws looked like they'd really hurt stuck into her chest, and Terra tried to squirm out of Slade's grip but he held her easily and—

White hot pain tore through Terra's arm and she couldn't see anything, wasn't aware of anything but pain, and god what had happened, she had no idea, something awful, her legs stopped working and she halfway sank to the floor before Slade caught her and hauled her to her feet, holding her up by her wrist—oh, no, touching that was bad, and now she was aware enough to scream because she just wanted Slade to let her go, just don't touch her arm oh god it hurt so much…

"Terra!"

Beast Boy was back in human form: he had been something else before, a tiger, or a lion like in that movie that she'd watched with Starfire about the wizard and the shoes and, god, she wanted the shoes and to be able to just say 'There's no place like home,' and to be there, but maybe they wouldn't work, because she wasn't sure what home was, and he— Wait, why was he… Oh. Oh yeah, that's right. He turned into animals sometimes. Her arm hurt. For some reason, Beast Boy was staring at her in horror, seeming afraid to get any closer or to back away or do anything at all, really. And she was screaming and crying and her arm hurt.

"A pity." Slade's deep voice behind her, his hands under her arms. "Perhaps next time you will be just slightly more intelligent. Now, I believe I'll need you to resume your position over by the ticket booth, or I will be forced to begin breaking this poor girl's bones."

He hadn't already started? Oh god.

"I—you little—" Beast Boy didn't move at first, stuck on a decision that seemed ridiculously easy to Terra, because Slade could have told her to do just about anything at that moment and she would have been happy about it if only it would make the pain stop. Then, Slade prodded her arm unceremoniously with one finger and Terra screamed again and Beast Boy ran to the ticket booth, backwards, eyes on Terra the whole way. "Stop it, I did what you wanted, okay, just leave her alone, let her go!"

Terra felt herself moving, realizing that she was being dragged with Slade, away from the floodlights and the ruined go kart track and Beast Boy and safety. The only thing that kept the panic from boiling over was Slade's controlled voice whispering in her ear. "You know how it pains me to harm you, but no misbehavior goes unpunished, I'm afraid. I trust you will remember this the next time you are asked to perform a simple task. We will be in contact, and you will do as I ask." He still held her in front of him like a shield, with Beast Boy watching nervously as if weighing his options.

"If you don't drop her right now, you can forget that thing about me not attacking you."

She felt a low chuckle send shivers down her neck. "Remember who your real protector is." A gentle finger ghosting over her hurt arm. And then, raising his voice, "Drop her? That seems like a reasonable bargain."

He gripped Terra around her ribcage and half shoved, half threw her into the dirt, with her face landing inches away from the guardrail. An exhausted sigh oozed out of her, and she dropped her head into a little clump of clover and dried up leaves.

The ground felt nice and soft, compared to all the times she'd fallen on the concrete that evening, and Terra just lay there for awhile, breathing in and out and staring hard at a dandelion, thinking that maybe she'd try to count how many seeds it had. A hand on her back interrupted her at seventeen.

"Are you dead? Please, please don't be dead."

Terra groaned, smiling just a little bit. "I hope not."

"Can you sit up?" Beast Boy was on the other side of her, away from the dandelion, so Terra couldn't see him.

Sleeping out here sounded okay—she could keep her arm still, at least. "I don't really wanna."

"I think you should, please, for me? I'll help." Avoiding the arm that felt like it was on fire, Beast Boy gently pulled her into a sitting position, and then moved around to sit right in front of her, two hands on her shoulders. "You okay?"

"No."

He reached up and touched her cheek. "What happened, babe? What did Slade do to you?"

Terra fought down the nausea and shook her head, breaking eye contact and staring at her arm. "I don't—I can't talk about that right now. My arm…"

"Oh, man, lemme see that…"

"No!" Terra loved Beast Boy, but she also knew Beast Boy and he was about as careful as a three year old who'd been given permanent markers and an invitation to draw on the walls. "I, umm, think Cyborg needs to see it. I think maybe it's broken or something. 'Cos Beast Boy?"

"Yeah?"

"It really, really, really hurts."

He squeezed her good hand. "It'll be okay, babe. We'll go get Cy."

As she walked shakily past the ticket booth, Terra looked down and remembered what she'd thrown there, and thought that she should wash her shoes and Beast Boy's as soon as she could. Because whatever she'd spilled had scared Slade.

Whatever she'd spilled that she'd almost used to kill Starfire.

To murder Starfire.