A/N: I promise we have a few more chapters before this fanfic is finally (and I MEAN finally) done. This chapter, I guess, is a pivotal event that'll lead to the end.
Enjoy and don't forget to review!
Chapter 20
"Jesus, Chris, how long is this going to go on for?"
Garfield grumbled as they took yet another blood sample from him with their confused faces and their constant murmurs. It was Chris, however, that he was most pissed off at because at such a crucial time as the experimental sessions, he always looked vague and far off, as if nothing could really faze him. He had been the head of the Sakutia research team, Garfield discovered, and apparently he was the smartest and most knowledgeable about Sakutia from the whole lot. The fact that it looked like Christopher Conrad knew nothing at all didn't comfort him a bit.
He was getting sick of this whole situation actually, a feeling that he thought was rather overdue. He had been stuffed into machines, strapped into other mechanics, jabbed in every spot possible in order to obtain his blood and to obtain the base virus of Sakutia to try to manipulate it in order to create an improvised version from the one his parents created. The details were shady but from the way everyone reacted around him—either really worried or really excited—the people here at S.T.A.R Labs were getting nowhere and it had already been four days. That was four days out of the seven days that he promised he would be coming back. Of course, he knew that he wouldn't be back in a week but at the same time he had been hoping that the scientists at S.T.A.R Labs had skills superior enough to at least create a crude cure, something that would, at the very least, postpone the effects once more.
But then, Garfield remembered, he was their lab rat and the lab rat was expected not to complain.
He shuffled around in his hospital gown for a few moments as he lay down on the bed and found them sticking an IV into his wrist, "Look, I've got an appointment with my cousin at lunch and it'll be great if we hurried this damn thing up." He grumbled in frustration.
Chris looked up from his tablet after a moment and smiled, "We'll be done soon, Mr. Logan. There is absolutely no chance of you missing your appointment." His smile widened, "Scientists here are a stickler for schedules, so you have nothing to worry about."
"I hope not."
A few moments of silence was overcrowded by the sounds of shuffling and beeping, constantly intruding his thoughts as he tried to think calmly about the possible positive outcomes that were to be expected…or hoped for, in the very least. The smell of disinfectant filled his nose and surprisingly, his nose didn't react badly to it, despite the strong smell, and the walls of the lab was so clean that he could see his face in half of them. He felt sorry for the janitors here; they were probably overworked by the looks of it.
The sterility made his sense of smell even stronger than before due to the monotonous smells of nothing and disinfectant. Everything was so clean here that they smelled the same and a foreign scent was detectable from a mile away; despite this being a boon to his senses, he really didn't like it.
Suddenly a thought occurred to him.
"If you can cure me of Sakutia," Garfield found Christopher's gaze even vaguer than ever, "can you change my complexion back?"
There was no sign of concentration as Christopher seemed to ponder—or not ponder—on the question. Garfield couldn't sense any rushing of the heartbeat or smell nervous sweat. Christopher Conrad smelled too clean and too…relaxed…to be a scientist. Usually, there was an air of excitement and nervousness when he was surrounded by scientists but with Chris…there seemed to be the opposite. He didn't know why but it freaked him out a little
"I suppose that is a possibility." Chris spoke slowly, "We'd have to do more genetic testing but that may be possible." The lilt in his voice made the doctor seem mischievous rather than serious, "We would see what the side effects of switching your complexion would be. If the risks are too high that we will probably not attempt it," he paused for a moment, pressing another button on his tablet, "if it is possible."
This got Garfield curious, "What side effects?"
"Possible side effects." The doctor corrected him, "Your body may be used to the green colour and may be unable to handle reverting back to normal." He spoke the last word in speech marks, emphasising it almost amusingly, "There is also a chance that you may die in the process since it would be the first time that we would be attempting it."
"Encouraging." He groaned.
A small, but significant pause was breathed by Christopher Conrad, "There is also the chance that it may jeopardise your morphing powers." There was no emphasis anywhere in that sentence but the lack of emphasis made Garfield even more aware and…alert.
He finally caught on to what the spaced-out doctor was talking about, "Which would be the highest risk of all."
A single nod was all it took for Garfield to find the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
He thought about it with the mindset of a scientist and truly, truly found himself disturbed by the whole concept. Similar to sickle cell anaemia, Sakutia was one of the few diseases that disfigured one's self to differentiate with other normal humans and rendering them weak in some aspects while—he agreed begrudgingly—also giving them an advantage that most other normal humans didn't have. With sickle cell anaemia, you were immune to—or at least had an advantage over—malaria while with Sakutia, you were able to morph into any living animal that roamed the Earth. Of course, others may see this as a clear disadvantage but Garfield knew—like all these scientists knew—that an ability that no one else had was always an advantage. Garfield didn't know whether they wanted him to study evolution—he guessed that they would try to get a strain of it from him that didn't have the green pigment to see if they could artificially promote punctual equilibrium into everyday people—or to used the strain on others to create weapons but he knew that if he died then they would lose a rare case. Though it isn't pure Sakutia—he had the mutated strain, they told him—it was still a miracle that he was alive and in the scientific world, miracles were there to be studied.
Just like every other person in the world, scientists were cunning. Disguised by their impossibly white lab coats and their intricate words, scientists fooled everyone to think that they were different and selfless. As a son to two scientists, Garfield Mark Logan knew better.
Finally Christopher looked up at him, "You are an interesting case, Mr. Logan. Rare enough that there is so little research about it and dangerous enough to pique interest from both the government and from the scientific world."
"I guess that's kind of a compliment." Far from it, Garfield thought to himself.
Christopher arched a brow at this comment, "It is so." A small, vague look was thrown at him, "It is not every day that we find a viral infection turn into a full-fledged genetic disorder. Extremely unheard of before your celebrated parents went to Africa."
Garfield pondered on this for a moment before speaking, "Is it recessive? Sakutia? Is it?"
"We have no knowing just yet," Christopher pursed his lips, humming a soft tune under his breath so only Garfield could hear it, "since most of the people who have contracted Sakutia have died." Another tune, so soft and so low, "However, it is my belief that Sakutia would be recessive, just like sickle cell anaemia is as it is so rare but then…at the same time…we haven't had a case that survived long enough to have an offspring. It is difficult to predict and by testing…well…as the son of the Logans, you know the risks well, I presume?"
He did know and as Christopher gently took the IV out of his wrist, he had to acknowledge that Sakutia was so rare that there wasn't that much information on it and that meant that these doctors and scientists were running blind with the cures and therapies they were throwing at him. They had no idea what to do and only had the crude notes that his parents and their assistants had created all those years ago. Garfield pitied them; however, he pitied himself more; if the scientists were running blind then what was he doing? He must have lost all senses to be here. At least he was trying, he thought blandly to himself, at least he was being proactive.
"There." Christopher said with a finality in his tone, "We are all done for this session. As you are going out I presume that I will be seeing you back in your rooms at two, sharp? Do not do anything too dangerous, Mr. Logan, and do not forget your holographic ring. You are advised to remain inconspicuous while being treated at S.T.A.R Labs."
"Thanks." Garfield gritted his teeth before leaving the room and in essence, leaving the school of other doctors alongside the ever-dreamy looking Doctor Christopher Conrad in there with them.
As fast as he possibly could, Garfield strolled out of the place, rushed to his room to grab his holographic ring and changed into normal day-to-day clothes. He looked in the mirror briefly as he put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that he didn't remember packing and found himself wondering about the guy in the mirror with the peachy skin and the blond hair.
He wasn't so sure whether he liked him or not.
Garfield raked his fingers through his hair, making sure that it didn't look like the mess he felt inside and despite the fact that he was only meeting his cousin, he was a little nervous because he was also integrating almost completely with true human society and in L.A he didn't have to be alert all the time; it was not his city to protect and he was actually allowed to relax, albeit only for two hours. He wanted to enjoy this freedom for as long as he was able to.
He brushed up a bit more and finally found the courage to stroll through the hallways that would lead him towards the door to the outside. The metal hallways of the building was similar to the Titans Tower in some aspects but it lacked the familiarity…the scents that made it home. It also lacked the huge windows that he was so used to seeing; here, there were barely any windows except for the accommodations…and he wasn't sure that all the accommodations had windows.
He didn't know that his illness could trap him in more ways than one.
Soon, after a lot of formalities—wearing a watch with a tracking device, locking his doors and then checking out with the security guards—he found himself outside in the sunshine and the unbearable heat. There was no wind, and whatever little there was, was only detected by the slightest ruffling of leaves. If he wasn't wearing his holographic ring, he knew that people would be able to see how his pointed green ears pricked up at the constant rushing of the people, of the laughing and of the happy atmosphere. The scent of the city was happy, sexual and full of ease and there seemed to be nothing that disturbed the atmosphere. The heat pressed upon his shoulder like a light burden, small sacrifice in exchange for what small freedom he had, and his feet felt as light as the burden upon his shoulders. People were either lounging about in nearly nothing or running indoors to bask in the glory of the air conditioner but no one he saw was walking as aimlessly as he was, his feet trying to pick themselves up every few seconds.
Feeling a little silly for looking like he was walking around without a goal, he shoved his right hand into his pocket to take out a crumpled piece of paper; delicate and fragile against his roughly calloused hands. He took a few moments looking at it and wondering where the hell he—practically a tourist in such a city—would find the apartment that his cousin lived in. It was a big city and though he had no problem with speaking to others, he did feel slightly intimidated by the sheer atmosphere, the sheer scents and sights of flamboyance that filled every corner like a decorative flowerpot. Still, he was running late and so he had no choice but to confront the flamboyance with as much flamboyance as he could muster.
After a few awkward conversations with a couple of people that he found strolling around the pavements, he finally found the building that held the place he was looking for. It was an O.K looking building, nothing too lavish but not too ordinary that it looked out of place in the grand city of Los Angeles. There were vines climbing up the walls prettily, as if trying to sneak into the rooms, and from what he saw of the people entering and exiting the building, the place seemed friendly. He was supposed to come a few days ago to this place but he had been exhausted by all the tests and the medication he was given and though he would've loved to meet Matt earlier, he knew that he didn't really have the strength to.
Garfield pushed the buzzer to his cousin's apartment—number 23—and waited for Matt to pick up. After a few minutes and no answer, he kept buzzing constantly until he finally found a muffled voice from the other side of the reception.
"Um….what?" The voice called out.
Garfield grinned to himself, his fingers wringing at his ring, "Oi, you! It's Gar."
There were a few moments of silence before Garfield heard the familiar sigh of recognition, "Gar! Wait a sec, yea, I'll buzz you right up."
He did just that and Garifeld scrunched his brow up as the buzzer rang like that of an angry land lord. The door finally let him in and the cool rush of the air conditioner slapped him in the face, causing him to shudder momentarily, no matter how refreshing and relieving the cool air felt on his skin.
As soon as he got to upstairs and in front of Matt's apartment, Garfield knocked and waited patiently for his cousin to open the door and let him in. Despite how close he was with Matt, the fact that he hadn't seen him in a long time made Garfield a little nervous. So did the holographic ring, he pondered as he continued to wait, Matt had only seen Garfield wear the ring once and he wondered whether or not Matt would recognise him in peach and blond gear.
The door opened.
"Gar!"
He only had seconds to take in his cousin before Matt flung his arms around him in an attempt to show off his brotherly love to Garfield. It had been a couple of years since Garfield had actually physically seen Matt Logan, but he couldn't help but notice how familiar and how…the same…his cousin as despite the years. He was still—as he had always been—taller than Garfield by a few inches—well, OK, a lot—his brown hair was always messily perfect, he moved in the way that showed that his body was built—though not as built as his own—and he had dark brown eyes, a complete juxtaposition to his own naturally blue eyes. In fact, when the features were selected individually, the two seemed to not be related at all, but when seen as a whole, everyone he knew pointed out that they were an exact mirror image of each other except in the way that they were both the opposite of each other. It was complicated, but it comforted Garfield to know that there was someone out there that was guaranteed to look like him, to be his relative, and to be there when things got too tough inside the superhero circle.
He grinned, and then they both released each other from the rough embrace.
"How're you doin' man?" Matt grinned, and Garfield knew that his grin was a direct mirror image of his own, "Come in, come in. Shit, sorry my place is such a mess."
Garfield didn't need to be told twice and was greeted by a sneezing fit. Matt was right, his room was a mess and his nose knew it even better than his brain did. It was almost clean, maybe if he had hidden his dirty clothes better and maybe taken out expired food, maybe it would've been passable, but there really was no way of knowing just because at this rate he really couldn't imagine what the apartment would look like without all the mess.
Matt ushered him to the couch—which was, thankfully clean—and offered him a cold beer which he thanked him gratefully for.
"The place looks good. Better than I thought, man. You got a flatmate?"
Matt shook his head, taking a sip before shrugging, "Nah, man. The parents wouldn't lemme. They knew how much shit I would get in if I had someone else with me here. Plus, its easier with the ladies, they like to know that they're men are independent. If you know what I mean." He winked at Gar, who laughed.
"Do they know that you don't even pay your own bills?" He laughed even more, "God, even I pay my bills man, and you know how I am."
"Well, it's not like they need to know right?" He smirked, "What they don't know won't kill 'em."
He had to laugh again; Matt Logan was a character. Despite being around two years older than he was, sometimes Garfield felt like he was the older one and sometimes that made him feel better. It gave him a different perspective to who he is and who he was and maybe, quite possible, who he will be. Garfield knew that given half the chance and if he wasn't a superhero, he knew that he would be doing all the crazy, irresponsible things that Matt had and was still doing right now. He had been forced to learn about responsibility at such an early age because he was different. He wondered now whether he would have ended up like Matt if he wasn't different and though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it wasn't really a good thing either.
"So, yea, man. What's up with you? How're things goin' in Jump?"
Garfield sighed, "Not that great, Matt."
"Impossible." Matt smiled, though Garfield saw a hidden shadow behind it, "You guys are always kickin' it up like its nothin'. And you got yourself Raven, so how the hell can you look as miserable as you do now?"
"We broke up. Me and Raven. Too much shit happenin'." His brow rose, "Not kickin' it like we used to."
Matt frowned, and then patted Garfield on the back, "Ah, shit happens. Raven still hot as she used to be?"
Garfield grinned, punching Matt on the shoulder, "Don't talk about her like that, man…but…" he sighed, "she's still hot. Actually, no. She's way hotter now."
"Awesome." Matt exclaimed, "I cannot believe that you got to hit that."
In that one second, Garfield snarled, "Seriously, dude, don't talk about her like that. She's not a piece of meat. Give her some respect; she deserves it more than you do." He felt his brows furrow deeper and deeper and knew that his fangs would be showing prominently if he wasn't wearing his ring.
The air was thick with tension as Garfield saw Matt trying to resolve the situation into one that he could handle and one that wasn't so…angsty. Garfield hadn't meant to react in that way but it was automatic, almost like a reflex that had been conditioned for the past year and a half by his relationship and inadvertently by Raven. Yet at the same time, Garfield could see that Matt had just realised something and was trying to grapple with this thing that he had just suddenly understood. There was a seriousness in his face that Garfield rarely saw and his face was a myriad of expressions and emotions; ranging from concern to amusement.
He flexed his fingers and placed his beer bottle on the coffee table. Garfield was starting to feel sick now.
Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to visit Matt.
Matt took a good, long hard look that caused Garfield to automatically sniff at the air to try to discover his cousin's scent and to try to figure out what the hell he was thinking, through that scent.
"You guys didn't sleep together did you? Two years and you didn't sleep together."
Garfield didn't say anything. He refused to say anything. There was no mocking strand in his tone of voice but Garfield suddenly felt like his age and he finally became conscious of the age gap between them and the fact that it was actually Matt that was older than him, and not the other way around.
Matt frowned, and to Garfield's acute eyesight, he saw the wrinkles deepen. It was subtle, but it was there and there was a sense that Matt was forcing himself to breathe slower and more fully than he normally would.
"Is it that serious? Look, I know you Gar. You might hate me for this but I know that you'd jump Raven given half the chance. I'm gonna take a good guess and say that Raven would do the same at this point of the relationship." Garfield crossed his arms as Matt tried to analyse the situation. Tried wasn't really the right word though since he was hitting all the right points, "But there's somethin' stoppin' you two and whatever it is, it's serious." He paused, his index finger resting on his chin, "It's what got you at S.T.A.R Labs isn't it? Whatever this is?"
Garfield stayed silent not out of will but because he didn't know what to say. He found his throat going dry and the words ripped off his tongue. The way that Matt was looking at him was so intrusive that it bothered Garfield slightly; he had come here in hopes that it would be an oasis of light fun and protection against the serious tone that life had seemed to take on recently. It seemed that he wasn't safe from it, not even this far away from its normal location in an apartment that smelt like a party in the sunny saccharine sweetness of Los Angeles.
Slowly, reluctantly, Garfield gulped, "It's pretty bad. Nothin' I can't handle."
"But something she can't handle." Matt said, stating the obvious statement that Garfield didn't voice.
Another bout of silence; strained and almost beautiful.
"I don't wanna talk about it." He said finally.
"Then don't." Matt placed his own beer bottle next to Garfield's, "But you've got it bad for the girl and it's not helpin' you is it? It feels like you're rushin' everythin'. I dunno, I'm no expert but you said you were gonna stay in L.A for a week, right?" Garfield nodded, "Well, as I said, no expert but…you know that you've gotta stay here longer. Look, I've never even heard 'bout Sakutia before I met you but I reckon its some serious crap that you're dealin' with right now, and as far as I'm concerned, there is no miracle cure."
Garfield pursed his lips and went on to chew and nibble at the soft flesh of his lower lip. He didn't know whether or not this was really happening but due to the solidity of everything, he had to force himself to agree that this conversation he was having with his cousin was real. It still felt slightly surreal though, and it was partly because it was his cousin who had taken the role of the older one, the more serious one and the more responsible one.
"The minimum amount of time that I might possibly be cured in is a month…and that would be short of a miracle." He admitted begrudgingly, "I know this, the doctors know this. The only thing keeping me is that I'm only officially off leave from the Titans for a week." He sighed, "I'm not even sure whether even Vic believes that I'll be done in a month. He's smarter than that."
The scent of the room changed to that one of revelation, and Garfield's eyes suddenly caught Matt's brown ones in confusion while Matt's seemed to be twinkling with amusement. The slight upturn of his cousin's lips were never really a good sign but they were in the middle of a strange conversation and Garfield thought that anything was possible in a time like this.
"Move in with me."
The Titan froze, not sure whether his acute hearing senses heard right, "What?"
"You heard what I said, man. Move in with me." He enunciated the last sentence slowly, as if he was dealing with a foreigner.
"Yea, OK. I heard." Garfield grimaced, "What the hell? I can't move in with you! I need to be back within the week. Less, actually."
Matt smirked though that frown-shadow was still there, "Look, dude, we both know that your condition will get worse if you go back to Jump without proper care and we both know that you won't be cured—no offense to anyone—by the end of the week."
He saw how Matt let his words settle for a moment first before stating whatever else he had in his crazy mind.
"I know it sounds crazy, Gar, but you look like shit, man. You look so effin' miserable that it's makin' me miserable. You're sick and you're heartbroken. L.A might be able to fix that, man."
"How, you idiot!? Look, you've been living here for two or three years, you can't really believe that L.A's glitter is real gold. I don't see how I can be happier here than in Jump." His voice felt like a bark, but he knew that it sounded nothing like it, "Really, Matt, I'd feel more like crap here. I'd be stuck in some snotty little lab with needles sticking in me and I'd have no friends."
That last sentence seemed to genuinely upset Matt, "Aw, Gar, ain't I your friend?" It was almost playful, if not for the context.
"Matt, I knew you were dumb but not this dumb. What kind of logic got you to think that moving to L.A would be an awesome solution?" His words were wrapped in salacious sarcasm, dripping thickly in numerous places, dirtying the apartment.
"Dude, shut up. You know I'm just tryin' to help."
"How the hell are you helping!?"
Matt snapped his fingers, "Its simple, OK Gar, so get it through your thick skull while I'm talkin'." He tapped at the side of his head for emphasis, "I can tell that you really wanna commit to curin' this whole Sakutia shit and that for some odd, inconceivable reason, you not bein' over Raven is holdin' you back." There was a flurry of hand movements that Garfield felt too dazed too see, "I don't got nothin' against Raven you see, but…man, you've gotta move on to get better. Be selfish. You know why everyone's so grumpy in the hospital? It's coz they're being selfish and thinkin' bout nothin' but themselves and they're gettin' better."
"C'mon Matt, that's not how it really works." Garfield groaned at his cousin's weird sense of logic.
"Yes it is and you know it. And you know that it'll go smoother if you stayed here in L.A permanently—or at least until you get cured—because you know that it'll b easier for you and it'll also be easier for you to transition into normal life." Matt's frown deepened, "You know that you need to move on faster than the others, Gar."
That made Garfield genuinely stop to think and for that small moment, Garfield hated Matt for this. He did know it actually. He knew that to be cured of something took the effort of both the doctor and the patient; if the patient was holding back, if he was worried by something else and if he wasn't putting in all his efforts into getting better, the chances of getting better was next to nil. He himself didn't believe that much in psychology but he knew that the body responded to the state of the mind and if the mind didn't really mind dying then the body would follow suit. It was strange, almost mystical, but it was real.
Garfield also knew that what Matt was saying about Raven was true. He had to move on one way or another since their final decision to break things off and to hold onto whatever crumbs there were was not the right way to go about things. He loved Raven, and he hoped that she still did too, but…but he knew that since the fates obviously thought that they were not meant to be with each other—by throwing all these stupid problems at them both—he had to make an effort to make that work. To make not being in a relationship work. Raven, obviously the smarter of the two, had known this and had jet-setted off to God knew where so that she could sort her own priorities out. Garfield, despite the disease, found that his own priorities still circled around her; most of them, if not all.
He frowned and gazed into empty space for a while. The apartment was eerily silent and all he could hear was the uneven breaths of an excited and invigorated Matt Logan and he listened closely to his own heart, only to find that it had slowed in order to calm his nerves down and his own breathing seemed more relaxed than he was feeling.
So much for pathetic fallacy.
"I'll think about it." Garfield finally stated and automatically saw how Matt's face lit up, "I won't promise anythin' but I'll think about it."
Matt smiled, "Awesome."
The tense air still hung around them greedily but Garfield refused to comply.
He groaned as the air pressed on, "Damn, Matt, what the hell is wrong with your AC?" His frown shifted and his throat felt parched, "Get the rest of the beers out, Matt. I don't think I can handle this freakin' heat."
And that was that. For the rest of the hour and a half, the two talked about everything that only touched their lives lightly; girls, parties, university and the like. There was the sense that one heavy conversation topic was enough for the both of them and their bodies were both heaving with the weight of that conversation. They didn't touch anything like religion or parents or families and both felt contented at that. Not satisfied, just content and being content meant feeling hungry after only a few minutes. He knew that their pretence of not having had that conversation wouldn't last long.
It was too much and Garfield knew that Matt felt it too, so after a good bout of mindless conversation, Garfield left and promised Matt that he would meet up with him before he left for Jump once again. So, once again, he entered the blinding sun and felt its heat weigh upon his back like a comforting blanket of warmth and happiness. He, once again, found himself distracted by the sheer scents of the city and how one city could smell so friendly and so harmless despite it being such a large city. No superhero he knew of lived in Los Angeles, but that may have just been because he wasn't well informed, but from what he saw and smelled, he could understand if this particular city didn't have one. It was too darn clean for his nose and though he knew that there must be crime in any city on the Earth, any type of bloodshed of bad deed was disguised under the burden of life, money and sex. It wasn't the best of scents but it sure beat the hell out of the horrid scent of a burglary gone bad.
He entered S.T.A.R Labs feeling rather poignant but without one central reason and that bugged him to no end. For the past few months he was comforted by constant questions that filled his head day and day out and now that the questions were being answered by rather vague and even comical sources, he realised that he had to forget all the questions he called home; all the questions that rocked him to sleep at night and forced him to live life to the fullest. Garfield realised that all the questions that made him feel safe were parting from him physically and mentally and he knew that the answers would haunt him, hounding him until he produced new questions. Before, when he was sure of his standing in life, the questions didn't mind not being answered but now they forced him to face the truth, whatever that particular truth was. He never knew that he would hate answers so much, and resent them as he would of family enemy.
As he made his way back to his room—which, he realised, he would be called out once more to stab more pointy things into his skin—he felt his concentration glue itself on his holographic ring and found himself still amazed at the slow transformation from peach to green as he plucked it off. He was so entranced that he wasn't looking to where he was going and with an uncomfortable thump he found himself bump into something.
Scratch that, he thought to himself, he had bumped into someone.
He looked down and found himself looking into the face of the smallest boy he had seen in a while and he seemed smaller still because he had the biggest grin Garfield had seen in his whole life time. Despite being thrown off course, the boy still obliged him a smile while rubbing at his head quite comically.
"Hey, kid. Sorry bout that."
The kid just beamed at him, "It's OK." He paused for a moment, his lower lip protruding quite adorably, "You're Beast Boy right?"
Garfield laughed and he wiggled his pointy ears for effect. The kid squealed in utter delight and Garfield had to beam back; someone had to have a heart of stone not to laugh along with this kid.
"You're funny." He pointed and revealed that the boy had no teeth on the top row except for one on each side.
Garfield crouched in the middle of all the hustle and bustle of science to take a closer look at this kid. He was a short, round kid that had brown eyes that sparkled with mischief and a laugh that tickled your insides. He also noticed that he was wearing a Spiderman costume and that the kid seemed to take delight in the way the red and blue was worn all over his body.
"Yea, but my friends don't think so." He laughed, "So, what's your name, kid?"
He rocked his body back and forth, almost as if he could listen to the rhythms that was life, "Um…" he seemed to ponder on whether to answer before giggling, "My name is Didi. Didididididididididididiididididdididi…!" He laughed at his own name, his cheeks going red.
"Hi, Didi." Garfield held out his hand for him to shake and was instead greeted by a sideways Hi-5, "I'm Garfield."
"But you're Beast Boy." He said in a confused manner.
"Well, yea, but that's my nickname. My real name is Garfield."
Didi nodded slowly and then seemed to get an idea, "Like the cat?" it was almost pleading.
He nodded back, biting back the pure hatred of being compared to that cartoon, "Yea, like that cat."
"Meow."
Did spent a good five minutes imitating a cat and urging Garfield to do the same, but in true cat form. As amusing as this kid was, Garfield started to wonder why there was such a young kid in S.T.A.R Labs; he didn't look sick but maybe he was visiting someone?
He asked.
"Didi, why are you here?"
Didi frowned for a moment, his cheeks deflating pretty quickly, before turning to him with a smile, "Didi lives here."
"You live here? Why?"
"Didi is…sick…so me being taken care of by uncle doctor. Mr. Doctor says that I'm a special case. It is…" another frown, "it is Didi's home."
So, Garfield was wrong, Didi was sick and he was here because, like Garfield, he was being treated for some disease, most probably genetic or newly found. He rubbed the top of Didi's head and sighed to himself, life sometimes—no, most of the time actually—wasn't fair and kids like Didi who didn't know any better had to pay for life's amusement. Sometimes, he wondered why anyone bothered to do anything at all when everything had some sort of consequence to it. The consequences weren't always bad—sometimes they were extremely awarding—but he figured that life felt that good things were boring and the abundance of bad events was huge in comparison to the small things in life that everyone cherished.
Another question popped into his mind, "Didi…how long have you been here for?"
"Um…" he looked at his stubby fingers, "I am four years old. So…four years. I think." He added as an afterthought, smiling broadly.
"Four years…wait a minute! All your life?" Didi nodded, his face screwed up in the way that told Garfield that he didn't understand Garfield's predicament, "Didi, where are your parents?"
"At the house. They come here every weekend. Mummy always brings me special snacks and Daddy always brings me toys." He pointed at his costume suddenly, "I like Spiderman toys. I wanna be Spiderman when I grow up."
"That's awesome, Di. So, um…Didi…one question." Didi looked up at him questioningly, "Don't you want to go to that house? Where your parents live? I mean, then you would get special snacks and toys every day!" He added, disguising the whole point of the question.
Didi shook his head and looked at him straight in the eye. Garfield felt a chill go down his spine and had to force himself not to shudder. The kid's eyes were magnetic as they lost the mischievousness that they retained so dearly before and now was brimming with life and determination and so much vigour that it scared him to death that someone so young could posses so much power in their eyes. Garfield wanted to step back but for some reason, he felt compelled to stay there in that powerful silence, waiting for Didi to answer.
"Didi does want to go home." He said finally, "But I…Didi wants to get better. I wanna get better for Mummy and Daddy but mostly…" he seemed to hesitate, "I wanna be normal. Didi wants to be big and strong when I grow up." He patted his chest but Garfield wasn't sure what this meant, "I wanna be not sick."
Garfield stopped before he could say anything. His words were so simple and yet they possessed so much heart that it was pretty painful to listen to. Garfield himself felt silenced by those words and held his gaze for longer than necessary.
"So Didi wants to stay here." Didi said finally, "Until Didi is better. The best."
"I…" Garfield started before pausing again, "You're gonna get better, kid. I promise."
"Didi knows." He nodded, "Now I am going to go to Mr. Doctor again," he broke into another smile, his toothy—or lack of teeth—grin broad and happy, "Didi will see you again?"
Garfield nodded in return, "Yea, of course. My room is number 123. Easy right?"
Didi seemed to agree and laughed, before running and waving him goodbye. As soon as he disappeared, Garfield felt himself stand up and his feet quicken their pace towards his room. He needed to think…except…he knew already what he was going to do before he was going to think about it. He had had three conversations today that struck him to heart and three of those impacted his decision. He didn't know whether it was the right decision but he knew that it was what his intuition—without reason—was leading him towards, collar and all. There was no doubt that everything that happened today had been a coincidence but that didn't mean Garfield couldn't find a strand between these coincidences, strands of thematic concerns and words. Still, even after dating Raven for all those two years, still he wasn't sure about God, but right now he knew—or at least, he felt—that there was some kind of higher power that was directing today and everything had been perfected, from setting to dialogue. It seemed too much of an effort to think this out and for all his carpe diem-ing, he knew that he had to but…but he figured that it was OK.
Today, he didn't have to think; the world could think it out for him and everything would turn out OK.
The thought lingered in his mind, repeating itself like a dull drumbeat against his skull. The journey towards his room seemed like a blur and all he remembered was picking up the phone, punching in the right numbers and conversing heatedly—albeit warmly—with the person on the other side of the phone. It was long and while the conversation kept going, he made a mental list of the things he had to do before the decision was finalised; mental things, physical things. It was as if his mind and body knew before him what he was going to do and just by observing the sheer speed that he did these things, he felt like they had predetermined everything for him to make it easier.
Garfield felt his mind swirl around the three people today and had to force himself to nod as everything fell into place. Puzzle pieces proved to produce and easier and more harmless sort of befuddlement.
It was then that another thought occurred to him; all sin was selfish and he had heard from someone that selfishness was the root of all sin.
So, maybe for the first time in his life, Garfield was wondering if it was worth it all and he knew that Raven—if she knew, as she would soon, what he was about to do—would conceive a sin a sin no matter how big or small and maybe…just maybe she would whisper…
Azar, help him.
A/N: Another chappie, another day. This one was a tad dramatic, especially towards the end. And no, he's not going to kill himself or someone else just in case someone thought that. I like drama, but as you all know, even dramatics must come to an end. Soon, I promise.
Didi was actually based on a real kid I know, and yes, he has no teeth and runs amok in his spiderman costume.
Anyway, thanks for reading and please don't forget to review!
Until next time!!!!