Summary:
"You will eat."
Gar is standing over the bed, watching Dick sleep soundlessly. He listens to his faint heartbeat under his breath, and it grows louder as he focuses. Heat stirs beneath his skin and he closes his eyes, letting the sensation roll over him. He wants to give in and sink deep into the pleasure of the unknown shift he can feel tugging him closer to the edge. But he hates how much he wants this, and the two sides of him fight for dominance.
His nails grow sharp and curved, and his teeth push through his gums, leaving a rusty taste on his tongue, a taste that leaves him hungry. So hungry.
The gentle tap at the base of Dick's throat, his heart throbbing there, makes Gar's gums itch. Catching himself licking his lips, he reels back, away from the bed and falls on his backside with tears in his eyes. He's back in the room, realizing where he is and what he's doing, and he's disgusted.
"Dick," he sobs. "Help me. Please." Dragging himself into the corner of the room where he's enshrouded in the dark, he watches the older man stir awake. "Dick?"
"Gar," his voice is heavy with sleep as he searches the room with heavy lids.
"Help me," Gar winces as his canines pierce his lower lip, and he grips the carpeted floor, tearing into it. "I can hear his voice – in – inside," he stutters. "in my head, he's in my head." He groans, squeezing his head between his palms.
Dick slowly sits up and swings his legs over the bed. The sheets fall, revealing the deep, angry gash on his side, stitched up. The bloods now congealed and healing, but Gar can smell it, sharp and fresh. He can hear it rushing to the wound, to heal it, and he all he wants is a little taste. A tiny drop. "Don't come any closer," he shouts as Dick moves off the bed.
"You have to let me see you," Dick says, holding his side.
"I can't," Gar's eyes widen as Dick reaches for the light and throws his arms over his face to hide as it washes over him. "No," and then he hears the stutter in Dick's breath and the elevation of his heart. "I can't change back."
Dick kneels in front of him and gently holds his wrist. "It's okay. We're going to figure it out."
Gar looks up at Dick, watches him struggle to hide the horror on his face and it's enough to make him want to run. Fur covers every inch of his body, talons curve from his fingers and toes and his teeth spill from his mouth, but his body remains human. "he wants me to hurt you," he quivers.
"Trigon's gone," Dick whispers. "I won't let him get to you."
Gar stands as Dick pulls him to his feet. "I'm sorry," a rumble of electric rolls through his body, warm and exciting, forcing his hair to stand on end. It surges him, unrelenting and overwhelming every nerve in his body. "he already has,"
Dick frowns. "Gar, what do you mean?"
Gar launches forward with a growl in his throat and grips Dick by his shoulders, digging his sharp talons into flesh to hold him still.
And then…
He wakes up, jerking forward, his hands reaching for thin air. "No," he cries. Panting hard and fast, he searches the room for any Trigon shaped shadows, sighing when he finds none. His T-shirt and hair's drenched with sweat and his eyes prickle with tears. Clutching his chest, he groans, leaning forward, it's so tight he thinks it may burst. So, he breathes deep into his belly, and presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth to trap the sob lodged in his throat from escaping.
Soft light peeps into the room, dawn is approaching, it's warm pink light streaming across the floor, stopping short of the foot of his bed. He's relieved he at least doesn't have to attempt going back to sleep.
Slowly, he reaches up, pushing his fingers into his mouth to brush against his gums, and when he finds no teeth, stares down at his hands. His normal, human hands.
His skin vibrates and his heart won't stop slamming, like he's downed too many energy drinks. He's afraid of this thing he is becoming. Afraid this gift isn't a gift after all, but a curse and a danger to the people he cares about most, and worse, a growing dread telling him he can't stop it.
"You need your strength back," Donna argues as Dick carefully slips into his jacket before he circles the bed to pick up his boots. "Are you even listening to me?"
Dick raises an eyebrow at her and sits on the end of the bed, giving her his full attention. Donna doesn't get rattled or spooked easily, or at all, but the crack he heard in her voice gives him pause. "I'm fine, Donna, really,"
"You collapsed," she says. "You have bruised ribs, a twisted ankle and concussion. Two days ago, your temperature was through the roof. You are not fine," she grinds out.
When Dick opened his eyes this morning, it wasn't the bruised ribs, ankle or his head he felt first, it was regret. Seeing Donna's concerned, sparkling eyes hovering over him two days earlier, feeling Kory's frantic and quiet energy from the across the room, and Gar's panicked voice outside trying to get in. Now all he's worried about is if he'd did the right thing letting Rachel go, or if he's ruined the little girl's life just by being in it?
He feels better now, physically anyway. He isn't healed or fixed. He doesn't know if he'll ever be either of those things, but at least he can think straight. His mind is clearer than it was days ago, as if the sickness has purged the remnants of Trigon's poison from his system. He's still taking in the fact Dawn is up, Hank's alive and Kory's safe, and he hates that they're worried about him.
He's light when he moves, though he hasn't done much of that over the last two days, and he appreciates the worry even though it makes him squirm. But Rachel is the mission, and he's beyond ready to get a move on, still, it isn't often he sees Donna's hair out of place or a cloud over her eyes. So, he doesn't rush her. Pulling her to sit down beside him, he bites down on a hiss after stretching himself too far. "Look at me," and when she does, he smiles. "I'm good. Promise."
"Barely," she mutters. "I really want to punch you in the face right now," and he laughs at that, until she glares at him.
"I'm sorry," Dick says in all seriousness. "I know it's been a rough couple of days, but you don't have to worry about me,"
"I didn't think I had to," Donna argues. "but it turns out we have an idiot in the family, that's you by the way, you're the idiot." She sighs, standing to pace the small room. "You're right about one thing; it has been a rough couple days, but it's about to get worse. We all know how dangerous this rescue mission is. I need to know you're at your best so I can be at mine."
Dick huffs. "What do you want me to do, Donna? Huh. Lie down and sleep some more. Get more rest?"
"Yes," Donna yells, and he pauses, looking closer at her, stunned when he sees the emotion rushing through her face, darkening her eyes. "I want you to take it easy and not rush into another fight without backup, and believe me, I know how hard that is for you on a normal day, let alone now with Rachel out there, but I am asking you anyway."
Dick swallows, and glances down, staring into his hands. He has and continues to fail miserably when it comes to letting others close enough - but to him getting close means close enough to get hurt. He ran because he didn't think, he acted, and though he didn't know Kory and Donna would be trapped outside, he was relieved they were. He couldn't be sorry about that, even though he was sorry it had left her shaken.
The door knocks and Donna sniffles, quickly wiping her face with the back of her hand. She walks over to the door and pulls it open, shooting him a look behind the door before letting it swing, revealing Kory on the other side.
"You're up," Kory's face lights up, and something in his chest shakes loose at the sight of her. Her magenta curls are pulled back in a loose bun and she's wearing a T-shirt of Gar's, green with a polar bear standing next to a black bear and the words 'let's make a panda' on it. She has on a grey pair of leggings (Donna's) and no makeup on, but she's never looked more exquisite, even though she's frowning at him now. "but why are you putting your boots on," she turns to Donna. "why is he putting his boots on?"
"The world can't wait," Donna shoots him a look.
"It can't, actually, and neither can Rachel," Dick adds, standing up. "Kory-,"
"You're no good to Rachel hurt." Kory argues. "You should wait at least another day," she glances at Donna, and finds her confirmation, and he sighs, he was afraid of this - they're pairing up. "You can't just jump back in after collapsing like that,"
Dick offers her a small smile. "Thanks to Hank, I can barely feel a thing. The man carries a mini pharmacy with him everywhere." He moves to the door and Kory steps in his way, her eyes big and worried, and gently presses her hand to his side. He tries not to flinch.
"No one will think any less of you for needing time to heal."
"Kory," Dick starts.
"Dick," Kory's voice strains. "You collapsed. Hit your head. Just, one more day, please. I'm not asking you stay in this room and do nothing, Donna and I have spent the last two days trying to find Angela's history before and during her stay at the asylum, looking for places of significance. Your friends, Hank and Dawn have been turning over every stone in relation to Adamson and the organization. Jason's supercomputer has been running scans looking for any sightings of Rachel. I don't want you to sit still. I just want you to wait a little before heading out there looking for a fight."
Dick looks across her shoulder at Donna whose resolve is steeled, and he knows he won't win this one with them on the same side. He relents. "Fine,"
"Good," Donna says.
"Great," Dick retorts. "Try not to enjoy it so much."
"I make no promises, bird boy," Donna goads.
"Donna would you-," before Dick can finish his plea, she's holding her hands up in surrender and slipping out the door. Now he and Kory stand alone, and he has no idea where to start, all he knows is, she's here, close, and he at least has some solace from that.
"Yo, Gar, are you seeing this?" Jason dry heaves as Dawn cleans around Angela's stump, and Gar rolls his eyes. He hasn't had enough sleep for this.
"Alright," Dawn glances at Jason over her shoulder. "Give me some room, please."
Angela is propped against her bed with her wrist handcuffed to the post. Dawn has popped a towel behind her other arm. Her face is paler than usual, but thanks or not thanks to Kory burning the wound, she'll live. But he doesn't want to look, and it isn't because it makes him nauseous – over the weeks he's been with Rachel and the others, he's seen worse, done worse. He doesn't want to look because he can't stand to see her being taken care of when she is the reason they are in this position.
Glancing around the room, which to him, with its drab walls, ancient furniture and old pictures looks like something out one of those black and white movies from the 40s, he leans against the wall. Folding his arms, he peers out the window, finding interest in the field ahead.
With the nightmare still leaning heavily into him, he wishes Rachel was there to talk to. Not because she was some dark thing who understand, but because she would find a way to make him laugh even though he was scared. Sure, he could tell Kory, but then she would keep a closer eye on him to make sure he was okay. Then she'd tell Dick, and the pair would keep him out of this fight, and there was no way he was going to let that happen.
"So, what it's like," Jason asks with a nonchalant shrug. "having one arm?"
"It's a goddamn party," Angela coughs. "What's it like wearing a suit that doesn't belong to you?"
Jason smirks at that, but Gar catches the little twitch of his cheek and now he's back in the room. He leans off the window. "Why is she even still here?" he asks. "We should hand her over to the police, she isn't going to help us. We don't need her."
"We might," Hank steps into the room with a bottle of water and an extra towel, handing both to Dawn.
"We don't," Gar retorts.
"I don't know," Jason pushes his hands into his pockets. "Boyfriend left her behind. Must sting," he smiles. "Maybe she wants a little revenge."
"Doesn't sting as much as this," Angela lifts her stump. "And not enough to help you."
Gar feels a hot current of electric roll through his body. His heart is pounding something fierce and his fingernails indent his palms from clenching his fists so tight. "What about helping your daughter?" He spits. "She came to that Asylum for you as soon as she found out you were alive. She came to rescue you and you handed her over to a monster."
"Gar," Dawn stands, placing her hand on his arm, stopping him from moving any closer. "I know you're upset, but this isn't going to help anyone, especially you." She turns to Hank. "We should seriously get her to a hospital."
"You want to save the woman who jump started the apocalypse?" Jason asks, incredulously.
"I don't know about you, but I don't see it raining frogs outside, do you?" Dawn says. "It isn't the end of the world yet, and whatever he's planned is a mystery until he does it. We need to figure out what we're doing right here and now."
"I say we wait and see what Dick thinks," Jason adds. "Kory too."
"Kid has a point," Hank says. "There's a dead cop downstairs turning blue because of her – what we do with her shouldn't be up one of us. Should be up to all of us."
"Why should we help her?" Gar cries. "She didn't even help her own daughter."
"Because we're not her," Dawn says, softly. "Gar, I understand-,"
"Whatever," Gar spins on his heels and is across the hall in a few long strides, skipping down the stairs to escape this horror show. By the time he's on the last step, he's already feeling sorry for being rude to Dawn, that's not him, but he hasn't been feeling much like himself lately.
"You finally have some color back in your cheeks," Kory breaks the silence first, making him realize he hasn't said anything since Donna left. "Still look like a ghost," she shrugs, "but better," finding interest in her ring, she twists it around and silence falls again because he's choking on his words before he can even get them out. She wants answers and it knows it, it hangs in the air like a rain cloud, but the dream – nightmare still grips his chest, everything he felt in there, still lingering. Her laying there, cold.
He clears his throat – she laughs, dragging him back into the room. "so, what do we talk about first?" there's a hint of agitation in her tone and he knows he deserves that and more. "You running in after a powerful, inter dimensional demon by yourself – what I saw in your head – or you making everyone think you were dying by falling on your face?"
Dick scoffs and scratches the side of his face, trying to buy himself some time, and a boat load of courage. "Kory, listen-,"
"You scared the shit out of everyone, by the way," she interjects. "collapsing like that," her voice is quiet, and her eyes are downcast, and he can see her pulse hammering at the small cave of her neck. "you scared me," she adds, and he swallows hard, because, same. It scares the shit out of him that she could get hurt, a thought he hadn't considered before Trigon. "First Rachel, and then-,"
"I'm sorry," he clears his throat. He wishes he could muster up more. Something, anything. The truth: that seeing her at his feet frozen, shook loose an insatiable rage and all-consuming grief in him, how she had broken his heart, not in the real world, but it had felt just the same. But he couldn't tell her, burdened her with a fake life, confess that hours felt like months and because of it, he had a lifetime of memories and moments with her that weren't real. "I really am,"
She nods. "About which part?"
Dick dares to take a step closer to her, close enough to touch, and he wants to more than anything. "All of it," he swallows when she finally looks at him. He's never wanted her more.
"Are you okay?" she asks, glancing up at his stitches, and then down to his lips.
Dick kisses her then, ferocious and hard, and he's relieved when she responds with equal strength and fervor as he pushes her up against the door, slamming it shut. He buries his tongue deep, lapping at her mouth, tasting her, and breathing her in.
He presses his body against her, his mouth traveling along her jaw, down to the crook of her neck, where he sucks hard, eliciting a moan from her.
"Dick," she murmurs, but he's busy getting hard, his pants growing tighter. He leans back to look at her, running his hand across her cheek to cup the back of her head. "Are you okay?"
And he nods, and the look in her eyes says she doesn't believe him, but he hopes by the time he's done, she will. That tasting her and pressing his skin to hers will be enough to convince her – enough to convince him he's awake and not stuck in some fever dream, that she's safe and real. He needs this. He needs her, so he swallows everything down. "M'fine."
She licks her lips and leans in, capturing his mouth hungrily, and he groans as heat rushes to the tip of his dick. Rushing his jacket off, he leans back to pull his T-shirt up, stretching too far and winces when his ribs clench. "Motherfu-," he hisses.
Kory smiles. "Let me," she gently lifts his shirt and he slowly raises both arms, helping her to get it over his head and off. After flinging it to the floor, she makes quick work of his trousers, dragging them down his thighs and kicking them away. "You have to take it easy or you'll be on bed rest indefinitely," and he laughs, because it doesn't sound so bad right now.
She stands, and gently rubs her fingers along the purple, blotchy bruises floating up his side, the shape of a cloud, and he watches her, brushing the pad of his thumb along her cheek, over her nose and lips until her eyes finally find his. He draws her close, slow this time, and kisses her tenderly, and her hands glide over his shoulders as they walk backwards.
He falls back onto the bed, grunting as he lands, and watches Kory peel her leggings down her thighs with her underwear inside before kicking it aside. His dick twitches, his eyes glued to her as she crawls up the bed and carefully climbs onto him, resting her hands on either side of his head.
Dick cups her hips instinctively, as she leans down to kiss him.
"I don't want to hurt you," she whispers, teasing his mouth with the tip of her tongue, gliding it across his lips.
"You won't," his breath is ragged already, from feeling her heat against him and he bucks his hips impatiently, prompting a smile from her. He slides his fingers down her stomach and between her thighs where she's wet and silky, and his dick, now throbbing, drips with anticipation. "Kory," he grunts.
Kory leans back and pulls his dick, rock hard and hot, from his grey boxers, and then she pushes herself up, pressing against his shoulders and slides down onto him. He practically chokes as she flexes around, warm and tight. She bows down to kiss him, slow and soft, and he groans as she starts to move on him.
"Does it hurt?" she whispers.
Shaking his head, he buries his fingers into her hips, strong and bruising, as she rolls them. He drops his head into the pillows, moving with her, their bodies together making undignified sounds against the chorus of squeaks from the old mattress. Heat pools in his stomach and it clenches, when he looks down where they're joined, watching her bury him inside her.
"oh, oh," she stutters out, pressing her hands against his shoulders when he reaches up, palming her breasts, through the fabric, his thumbs rubbing her nipples until they're hard.
Her mouth is feverish on his when they meet again, briefly, and she moves faster and rolls harder. She's so sure of her body, arched and powerful, rocking her hips, and he moves too, shifting and rolling while he clutches at her skin.
Their movements get sloppier and sweeter and Kory's eyes fall shut, when he slips a hand between her thighs, stroking her where she's throbbing. She throws her head back, whimpering out his name as she comes, clenching fiercely around him and it's enough to make him come. Snapping his hips up, he groans as the last of his control slips.
Breath harsh, Kory comes down, pressing her chest to his and presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, her body still quivering. He gathers her up and pulls her down with an arm around her back, their bodies sticky and sleeked with sweat, and other stuff.
He closes his eyes, listening, feeling her heart pound against his chest, taking in the scent of rose and honey from her hair, tangling his fingers with hers. She is real, and she's here, and why is that so terrifying?
Dick tries to focus on her skin sticking to his, but memories of the other her seeps in – how her death broke him, and how ever since he'd woken up, the dreadful feeling that she wasn't safe gnawed at him.
He smiles when she glances up at him, her eyes sparkling. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Dick laughs softly. "No," he closes his eyes when she reaches up to kiss him, savoring the taste and pulls her close as she settles beside him. He swallows. It niggles at him, everything that Trigon showed him, how he used his own emotions against him, to what – warn him. break him.
He can't help wondering why, why Trigon killed her in his dream – if it was some sort of test to see how much he could endure – or if it was a threat. A threat against Kory – the possibility, even if it is was small, turned his heart into a fist.
Jason hustles behind Gar as he leaves the house and skips down the porch steps. The kid hasn't done a whole lot of talking since they arrived, which strikes him as hella odd, considering the first and last time they saw each other, he was so excitable, he couldn't stop talking. He asked question after question, theorizing about who Batman was, if he drove the Batmobile, what if felt like to wear the suit.
At first, it was irritating. Mostly because Dick didn't seem to be taking him seriously and was more preoccupied with the bombshell in the fur coat. But Gar wore him down, actually, made him realize how alike they were.
When he first put on the suit, he felt like an idiot – after hearing so much about Robin, like a fraud. But soon, after being on the streets a while, taking down thugs and gangs, he felt connected to Dick Grayson and Robin somehow. Behind the same mask, walking the same streets, he wondered if they felt the same in the suit. Alive. Powerful. Unstoppable.
Wariness became excitement and doubt became self-assured. He was going to make Robin proud so that one day, when he stood face to face with him, he could do it with his head held high. And Gar had the same enthusiasm, and hunger to be in the middle, involved in the fight – not because he was blood thirsty, but because he wanted to do stick up for others.
This Gar. Well, he was a little less enthusiastic. "Hey, beast boy,"
"Gar," he corrects, stopping beside the tree with the tire swinging in the breeze.
"Hey, I get it, we've basically been sitting ducks for two days and your girl's mom is a one-arm wielding nutjob." Jason starts. "but I mean, there's sulking and then there's what you're doing," he shrugs. "it's a waste of time, man."
Gar frowns. "She's not my girl,"
"Friend," Jason shrugs. "We'll get her back and hopefully, she'll still be chill."
"It's not just that," Gar groans, and turns to face him, but he seems unsure. Leaning back and forth on his heel, pressing his thumb through the sleeve of his T-shirt.
"Then what is it?"
Gar shakes his head. "It's nothing."
"Just spit it out, man." Jason groans when Gar clamps his mouth shut. "You want to know why I put the Robin suit on?" he has Gar's attention now. "I was tired of bullies getting away with picking on people."
Gar swallows. "How'd you end up with Batman?"
Jason sighs. "Not such a long story, but I'll skip for the sake of your entertainment. I was boosting cars, got caught and the rest is history." He glances behind him at the house. "You know, I heard what happened at the asylum, heard Donna filling in Dawn and Hank last night. You killed someone and now it's messing with your head - but it shouldn't, cause you did what you had to do."
Gar scrunches his face. "Someone's dead – because of me."
"It was either him or you, man. You were protecting yourself against a bunch of freaks, and you need to be prepared to do it again,"
"I can still see him," Gar shivers, looking down at his hands. "Smell him."
"Look, there's a difference between being a monster and beast," Jason explains. "When I was a kid, I got picked on – every day. I was the kid with shoes that were too big and clothes that were too small, like some used toy no one wanted. The kids loved it. Ate it up like catnip. Ragging on me. This one kid – twice my size, used to kick the shit out of me after school. Chase me down."
Gar chokes on his words. "What did you do?"
"One day, I decided I wasn't going to run home from school." He squares his shoulders. "I was going to wait for him outside the school gates, right outside, and only one of us was walking away, just one," Jason holds his finger up. "I had a pipe in my hand – hidden behind my back."
"You hit him?"
"I beat the shit out him," Jason boasts. "Shattered his knee. Figured, if he couldn't run anymore, then I wouldn't have to."
"What happened after?" Gar questions, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.
"He never so much as looked in my direction again," Jason reveals, pridefully. "I got kicked out of school, the first of many – point is, I stood up to him because I had to. It's called survival." He slaps Gar's chest. "You were just standing up for yourself, after they burned and tasered you for hours. Rachel stood up to her father so she could save you. It's what Dick's trying to do. We stand up to the bullies by whatever means necessary so they can't bully anyone else." He shrugs. "But if you can't see that, maybe you don't deserve the powers you got." Jason turns on his heel.
"I had a nightmare," Gar shouts, looking sheepish when Jason turns back. "I wasn't myself – not really," he glances down. "but I hurt someone I care about,"
Jason walks back. "Dude, you're having nightmares because you're looking at this all wrong,"
Gar bites his lip. "H-how should I be looking at it?"
"As it is, not as it could be – not as it should be." Jason smiles. "You're a fucking tiger. Do you know how insanely cool that shit is?"
"I'm not just a tiger," Gar cries. "I don't know what I am now – I – two days I was a gorilla. Tomorrow I could wake up a – grizzly bear. What if I can't control it?"
"Who says you can't control it? You've controlled the tiger all this time. No leash. No safe word." He shrugs. "I say have fun with it or what's the point of being special. Let the beast out. Don't just turn into an animal, become it. Free your mind from this bullshit fear that you're a monster. Give yourself over to the thing and see where it takes you, and I promise, if you get out of control. I'll tranq you." Jason throws his hands up. "Fuck, if I could do what you do, I'd be fucking shit up."
"You would?" Gar raises a quizzical brow.
"Gar, you're not like the rest of us. Embrace it. Parade that shit, man."
Gar's face cracks wide, into a smile. "I did embrace it, when I was – when I first turned, it took a while but then I loved it, you know. I loved being a tiger, feeling all that power. Being able to run so fast it felt like my feet weren't touching the ground. The air so thin -," his smile disappears.
"So, what's the difference – you controlled the tiger. You can control anything else." He moves closer. "You're freaked. I totally get it, but you gotta see the flip side of this thing – you may be able to turn into any animal, any thing you want, anything you can think of, that's got to be a little exciting."
"But what if-"
"Enough with the ifs, alright, you're giving me a fucking headache." Jason chastises. "As the tiger, you're still Gar, right? You have the same emotions, memories, you recognize people you know," Gar nods. "sounds like you're complicating things to me."
"so, I should, turn on purpose?" Gar questions. "Practice?"
Jason nods, finally, the kid gets it. "I think it's fucking cool you're green by the way. You're not an ordinary tiger, so you shouldn't look like one. "You're an alpha," Jason says, wrapping his arm around Gar's shoulder as he pulls him back towards the house. "so be an alpha."
Gar smiles. "Thanks?"
Jason digs his phone out. "want to see some footage of batman kicking the shits out a Russian gang?" Gar nods, and Jason tries not to pat himself on the back for thoroughly and successfully giving his first pep talk. This gig isn't so bad.
Gar stares at the ceiling, listening to Jason snore like a freight train on the floor. He's been asleep a while. Down the hall he can hear Hank and Dawn discussing Dick's capabilities as a leader, the former isn't convinced – outside his window, he can hear Donna making excuses to her boss about missing work. But he can't sleep. He's in the room he got sick in and can't help feeling, somehow, its poison is what crept into his dreams, so he decides he'll wait for daybreak this time.
But he can't rest either.
He can smell blood, and burnt flesh, and dirt, taste rust on his tongue. Feel every singular thread of the sheet he's spread out on grazing his skin. Every nerve in his body is alert and firing messages back and forth in his brain and he can't shut it off. He can smell things he shouldn't be able to smell; hear things he shouldn't be able to hear – and he feels everything around him.
Climbing out of bed, he slips out of the room to wash his face in the bathroom. He hopes the running water will steal his focus, but like he wants it too much, distraction evades him – he is still sinking deep, into the other side, the animal side. Which animal, he doesn't know, but its senses are sharp, so much that his body hair tickles, standing on end.
Shutting off the tap, he steps out into the hallway, and hears Angela coughing. He should go to bed, pretend she doesn't exist, but his feet move in her direction anyway. Her door is ajar, and she shifts and grunts, pulling on the handcuff – freezing when he pushes the door open. She sighs with relief when she sees him, because he's just a stupid kid.
"Can't sleep?" Angela deduces, sitting herself up, with a struggle that flushes her cheeks.
Gar swallows but says nothing.
"If you need someone to say it, if you need to be reassured by a real adult, I'll say it – everything is going to be fine." She smiles warmly.
"What did he do to me?" Gar asks, and when she frowns, he adds, "your psycho baby daddy,"
Angela makes a 0 shape with her face and shakes her head, smiling. "Kid, you are what you are. Embrace it and take your place in this world – like Raven."
"Raven?" Gar takes a step closer.
"Your friend is the bringer of death." Angela says, adding, "yes, it's what she was born to do," when he shakes his head in disbelief. "I love fables, my mother read to me when I was a child, and I read to Rachel when she was a baby," she glances up at him. "Did your mother ever read stories to you?" He clenches his jaw. "My favorite was always the one about the Scorpio and the frog. Have you heard that one?"
Gar shakes his head, no.
"A scorpion met a frog on the bank of a steam one day – he asked the frog to carry him across on its back, but the frog was cautious because, well, it's a scorpion. Prey always has to be smarter than its predator, remember that," She narrows her eyes on him. "'How do I know you won't sting me?' the frog asked, and the scorpion said, 'if I did that, we would be die.'" Angela shrugs. "Sounds logically, right? 'so the frog lets the scorpion on its back, but midstream, the scorpion stings the frog, and as its wicked poison spreads through the frog's body, paralyzing him, he gasps, 'why?' the scorpion simply replies, 'it is my nature.'"
Gar shakes his head. "That's not Rachel. She would never hurt anyone."
Angela tilts her head at him. "I'm not talking about Rachel,"
Gar backs away from the bed and pulls the door, but his hands is glued to the handle.
"All we can do is what's in our nature to do, Gar. Fate has much bigger plans for us. And no matter how hard we try to be something else, anything else, we can't help ourselves." Angela laughs. "Even if it goes against everything we could hope to want - against our own survival. Nature always wins."
Gar turns to her, his eyes hot and wet.
"You are an animal." Angela growls. "You will always be an animal. And those people trying to keep their lives together, won't understand you because they're not like you. They don't see a child now, they only see a weapon-,"
"Stop," Gar cries.
"They will use you up and spit you out all in the name of fighting the good fight. They don't know the real fight is with themselves. Human nature. She's mother for a reason. Dick will run. Kory will explode trying to save this precious thing she's found. And you. You will eat."
"Stop," Gar growls, and his teeth descend and his fingernails turn into claws. Angela smiles and he runs, across the hall and back into the room where Jason sleeps undisturbed. He presses his palms against the wood and breathes deep, watching his claws shrink back.
Jason turns on his side, and sighs, and all Gar wants to do is wake up.
Note: I was nervous to write Jason, so I hope I didn't botch him.