Author's Note: I don't even know where to start. It seems to me like I just updated this a month or two ago max, but I know that's not true. My mind seems to be functioning some what outside the normal temporal zone... I don't know how what I've done could possibly have taken so long! I'll blame IB, Facebook (Don't do it! It eats your life!) and my deteriorating mental condition. I'll start an IB Update-er on my profile so we can all keep track of what I've finished and what I still need to do. Perhaps it will induce compassion and no one will feel the need to slap me. ^_^ As far as this chapter, I have probably put in a good 48 hours writing it (not including: eating, sleeping, vege-ing, doing homework, going to school, driving, riding, being a ninja, etc.) into it in a desperate attempt to make vital exposition just as fascinating as people getting thrown against walls. A difficult process. But the plot has reached the cliff of death and I must give you the bridge of explanations so you might cross. I have worked long and hard to make said bridge strong and aesthetically pleasing so, although it might not get your heart pounding, it should prove to be most interesting. All (well, most) Questions Answered Here!

Disclaimer: I love sushi way too much not to be spending all profits I make off of this on it. I am sushi-less, therefore no profit. Hence, still don't actually own Teen Titans. No suing please, almost starving college student. Can't afford a lawyer.

There's always something very therapeutic about beating the life out of inanimate objects. The irony is amusing, the exertion and strain are soothing, and the pain of impact is a sharp reminder of the life that still animates your body. The knowledge of your own strength is reassuring and power of your body intoxicating. Robin liked that feeling. He thoroughly enjoyed knowing that his efforts were having the intended effect. Hit the bag, it flies away, it comes back, hit it again. Simple, easy. He liked to have his book and have things go by it. Robin said punch and his fist punched. Robin said get away and nothing moved faster than said inanimate object. Predictable, controled. Every situation has its plan and every plan has its orders and every order is followed to the letter. Robin often felt that if his system were adhered to a little more strictly in the field, every operation would go more smoothly. Not that he didn't appreciate his Team's initiative, it was just that he was right and they were wrong. After all, he was in command.

In a nut shell, Robin liked power. He liked to have power, liked to be in charge. It sounds a little creepy, as he had been told on several occasions, but it was nonetheless true. Besides, it wasn't like he was talking about taking over the world or anything. He didn't want to enslave humanity and launch some kind of crusade for the sake of gaining more power. Heck, he thought most politicians were nuts, let alone weirdos with world-concoring ambitions. No, that sort of classic, easily defined power was not on his wish list. He wanted a different kind of power- had a different kind of power. Stronger, maybe. Cheesy-er, definitely. But power was power, and he liked to be powerful. People listen to you when you're powerful, things get done. In dangerous situations the powerful people decide how the story ends. A good person can make a happy ending and a bad one... Robin often found himself and his friends in bad situations and he liked to be the one with the power. Because when you have power, when you have command, you can do something. You can make a difference. With power you can make it right.

His heel slammed into a semi-soft mass, the impact shooting through his bones and sending the stuffed back flying. It strained against the chain which held it to the ceiling for a moment, then came swinging back with enough force to knock a 300 pound male to his rear. It was met by an iron knee, halting it before it could conceive of a goal, and a spinning back kick to send it back to wait for another attack. The punching bag swung back and Robin caught it against his chest, breathing heavily through his nose. He'd snuck back into the artifacts room after the 'Team meeting', which couldn't really be called such because they had been missing a member, to stare at the ruins and documents until he was seeing them in a whole new language, trying to make sense of some of it. It might have helped if he could read ancient Greek or whatever the stuff was written in, but that's not the point. The point was that there was no visible indication of exactly what he had witnessed at the museum, how or why it had happened, and what it meant. No mater how he spun it, there were no replies in the old vases, no riddles to be solved, no answers to be had.

Who ever had locked the siren up, be it man or gods, obviously didn't think the why or an instruction manual on how to put her back were important. He/They clearly didn't foresee her landing in some innocent teen super hero's lap. If it had been up to Robin, there would have been at least one vase giving people a strait answer. But no, that wasn't part of the deal. The genius masterminds had only left one artifact that could explain anything. One database of information that knew what actually happened and what was going to happen. And it could lie. She had the knowledge and the power and only she could share it. The girl- siren called Zinara, the enemy. There were no words to adequately describe how much that... annoyed him.

Starfire, being the extremely intelligent woman she is, had known better than to trust him to sleep, and had found him pouring over ceramic vases with paintings of nude women on them an hours after she had explicitly told him "Please go to sleep". There had been nothing for it but to be thankful she wasn't a human woman who would find 'her man' looking at other women, even painted women in the course of an investigation, a crime punishable by 'breaking up' and be marched back to his room, tucked in, and subjected to surveillance until she fell asleep at the foot of his bed. He'd covered her up with a blanket and tried to follow suit for her sake. No such luck. He gave up the pretense of sleep very quickly and left the room. At that point he'd had three options: go back to the evidence and stare at it some more, go to the safe room and beat it out of the little siren, or go to the training room and take his irritations out on the punching bag. Since the first would have led to weeks of Starfire's pudding of sadness or whatever, tearful/ betrayed looks from big green eyes, and a lifetime of no-dates-because-you-just-ignor-me and guilt trips, it was out. The second would probably lead to something similar, but from the whole Team, the media, and quite possibly the old Greek gods... and maybe death, so that was out. Leaving him with nothing to do but promise himself that, if he split the punching bag and had to buy a new one, then he was sufficiently frustrated to risk the other two options and would go actually be productive.

So there he was, not helping, not figuring anything out, not doing his job, hitting a bag like a giant child and moaning "Woe is me", and probably bruising his knuckles. Not improving the situation. And this was perhaps the most... hateful thing of all. Usually he had the power he needed to do what must be done. Usually he didn't have to resort to beating bags at ungodly hours of the night. Usually he was strong enough to fix whatever was wrong. From dirty socks to crazed villains to forgotten anniversaries, Robin had it covered. He could coax and scheme and cover with the best of them. If all else failed, he could usually beat the problem into submission, but that was only in extremely rare cases and hadn't been considered since Slade's last appearance.

Not this time. No, this time he had to resort to asking nicely. This time she had something over him, a consequence for any action he took. Do nothing and she'd destroy the world, act and she'd destroy the Team. There should be no question, he should choose the world, but she had that blocked off too. With a wink of her eye, a twitch of her finger, she could take almost everything he'd ever loved away from him, the family he'd found to replace his own, murdered just like the first. Even before she was physically there she'd had control of all their hearts, like a cancer who's spidery fingers reached out from the consumed organ to infect the rest of the body. Disabled, debilitated, and cursed to remain so until they had some information on how and why she did it. Zinara was the one pulling the strings- his strings- the one writing the script they had no choice but to follow. This time, Robin was powerless.

He elbowed the bag viciously, leaving a dent in its padded surface and yanking out a groan from the fabric flesh. As it hesitated in the air, he hit it again with an open palm strike, then a side kick. The bag moaned, pleading with him to take a break, but he would not relent. Sweat dampened his brow and back, causing the skin to rub uncomfortably against his uniform, his breath grating across the otherwise silent air. There were so many things, so many ways he knew, to hurt a person. Things you couldn't do to a bag. A strike to the joints ensures they won't move, a twist of the wrist the easiest way to send the body to the ground. Two fingers in the right places possess enough power to bring anyone to their knees in pain. Against a body Robin was deadly; but this bag, it seemed, was immune. Protected from him. Just like Zinara. Robin back-hand sprung away from the bag, clipping it with his steel-toed boots as he did so and, with the blistering cry he had held in since entering the room, he launched back towards it, spun is body around twice with his leg out to gain momentum, and smashed his foot into the bag's side. There was a second of stillness where he felt the impact radiate out like a shock wave. Then the bag let out a grunt of surrender and caved. A ripping sound pierced the air and the next thing Robin knew he had landed crouched on the ground and there was stuffing raining down around him.

"Does your kind not believe is privacy for the freaks, or is it just you?" Robin had thought his entrance had been stealthy and silent. Apparently, the insanity in the pit of his stomach had given him away. That, or maybe it was the loud sliding noise the door made when he'd pressed his hand onto the scanner... Robin needed sleep, his brain wasn't working. Not that he had any intention of getting any, he just needed it. He slid into the room, emerging from the shadows to face her full on. There was a sloppy cot in front of the door, as if someone had tossed it in in a hurry without really caring where it went or who it was for. The apathy with which the sheets and pillow were strewn across the thin, foam matters was a testament in itself to what the Titans felt for Zinara, and how she felt for them. A means to get what they wanted. The room was tall and large, extending up into blackness like most in Titan's Tower, despite the fact that it was maybe 30 feet from the floor. Anti-magic symbols glowed in bands across the dark walls boldly, offering shallow promises of containment. At the center of each wall there was a large, white circle glinting with what was supposed to be the most powerful symbol of them all, at least for their purposes. To Robin it just looked like a pompous sigma with a couple dots on top, but all the books said this was "The best mojo there is!" according to Beast Boy. He'd been one of the central researchers for this room. Across from the door near the ceiling there was a huge, bright pink rectangle that served as a window into the room. If he'd been thinking strait, Robin would have been up there watching the girl, not down in the trenches trying to take the direct approach. The room surged with Cyborg's security installations and enhancements and the air was charged with defense. In theory, this was the most secure room in the Tower. Their best attempt at protection. It had failed them the last time, so why they expected it to work now was quite the mystery.

There was a large white circle in the middle of the floor and on that circle stood Zinara. She was waring what Robin recognized as some of Beast Boy's street clothes: cacky shorts and a green tea-shirt. Both clashed horribly with her and were pathetically too big. Her back was turned and her dusty/feathered hair was pulled over one shoulder. Her sparrow feet were bare and her taloned hands relaxed by her sides. Like Beast Boy's shirt, they looked much too big for her. Cyborg's equipment emitted a soft cyan light, same as everything he built, that clashed terribly with Zinara's almost golden aura. It reflected off her sickly pale skin and glittered in her hair, shining, making her look dirty. Robin could hear her breathing, quick and shallow, like she was terrified, but her voice held nothing but relaxed disdain. She didn't even turn her owlish face to him as she tossed insults carelessly over her shoulder. "Of course, a silly question. I already know the answer. But I feel like it would be rude not to ask. I know what humans are like; Garfield's optimism is just a little infectious." Robin's jaw tightened, but he refrained from moving. Something, either his own wavering self control or her hypnotic voice, was keeping him grounded. She laughed like crystals singing. "So, you've come to see me, human. What for, I wonder."

"I'm going to ask you some questions," Robin said firmly, trying to assert his control over the situation. The person in control would be the one getting what they wanted from the other. He wouldn't be decieved by that sparrow body; Zinara wanted something from him as well. "You're going to answer. Short, civilized."

"Civilized," she snorted. "I can smell the hatred on you. Don't try to deny it."

"I'm not," he said coldly, holding his ground.

"Is that so," she quipped, bitterly. "Well then." She tossed her hair over her shoulder so it could breath down her back and pool on the floor behind her. "Let's be frank then. What do you want to know?" Her head followed her hair, one raptor eye locking his in a surprisingly fierce gaze. Robin met it with equal intensity, folding his arms and letting the door close. Locked in together.

"I want to know why you were imprisoned, what you've done to Beast Boy, and what you're planning," he said calmly. She cocked an eyebrow and grinned, a shadow of Beast Boy's mischief, before turning away from Robin to face the opposite wall again.

"Interesting. And where- excuse me for asking- are your little friends? Aren't they just as curious as you? Are you denying them that right or did it just not occur to you that I might be more willing to divulge my secrets to one of them? Maybe the half-breed. I like her. Where is she, I wonder" Silence. He wasn't about to tell her he was there alone and give her the impression that she could take him. Nor could he confirm their support for an action they had explicitly forbidden him from doing. But she knew that. "Did you leave them behind? Did you decide they'd get in your way again? Teammates can be so annoying like that. It's really a wonder you put up with them at all. Then agin, it was all Raven's idea, right? You never really liked the 'team' notion. You work alone." That little tidbit had never gone past the five of them. It made Robin nauseous, knowing that she knew. His expression remained impassive.

"Yes," he said shortly. "Raven was the one who suggested we form a team. I used to work alone, before we met." Zinara gave a euphoric tweet, sensing his aggravation. "Don't think your regurgitation impresses me. We know about you, there's no reason you shouldn't know about us."

"Know about me, do you!?" She spun around, her voice and eyes sharp, gold repelling the blue for an instant, all pretense of civility lost as her own wrath flared. He'd struck a nerve, a very sensitive, very volatile nerve. Robin grinned openly, smirking at her. Her head moved toward him and cocked to the side in two sharp, bird-like movements, her lips tight and eyes ablaze. Her talons flexed and scraped across the floor, though her hands and posture remained relaxed.

"You're not the only one with an information source."

"Yes, I'm sure whatever you have on me is much more relevant and informative than everything in Garfield's mind!" His smile twitched. She was right... again. Whatever they knew about her, she knew tenfold about them. Zinara raised her chin and narrowed her eyes defiantly. Back in control. "Why else would you resort to talking to me? Don't assume for an instant that you have the faintest idea of what I can and can't do. You perceive nothing of what is relevent. I know about you, human."

"Obvoiusly."

"You know what I hate the most," she bit sharply, pointing a trembling talon at him. Her face was a mess of barely controlled emotions seeking an outlet. Robin braced himself apathetically. "It's vermin like you; humans who cozy up to the freaks like they're one of them. You pretend you care, that you actually love the mongrel you call a friend so they let their guard down. And then, as soon as they trust you, you stab them in the back. You take away everything they ever knew, everything that matters, and leave them with nothing but the truth. It must be sheer agony for you to be standing here with me. It must just eat at your soul to acknowledge that I have what you want. That we have what you need. How does it feel, I wonder, to consort with the freaks you pretend to call friends whom you really detest-"

"I feel nothing," Robin said calmly as his skin crawled with suppressed anger. "About any of that."

"I'm sure you don't," Zinara spat, turning her back in him once again. Robin narrowed his eyes and leaned against the wall. The moments ticked by silently, each trying to wait out the other. Each waiting with a dagger clenched behind their back for the other to make the first move. How dare she presume to understand the workings and feelings of his complex Team. How dare she even suggest that there was anything but friendship, trust, and affection between them. How dare she insinuate that he, Robin, had anything against those who lacked a certain degree of normalcy. That he would ever willingly betray them. If anything it was among the Titans that Robin felt any sense of belonging. The only things that had more influence over his behavior were duty and justice. The Titans all knew and respected that; Zinara's words held no weight for him. He wasn't about to tell her any of that, however. He didn't need to. She'd crack soon enough without a personal debate. His presence all by itself was doing the job of grating on her nerves quite nicely. All he had to do was wait her out, and he'd get what he came for.

Finally, with a hiss like a hammer to a piano, Zinara made a move. "What do you want?"

"Answers," said Robin plainly. It was intended to irritate her into an informative rant and hopefully end the exchange peacefully. Instead Zinara paused a moment and then relaxed, turning to face Robin again and folding her arms to mirror him. There was a triumphant smile on her thin, wide lips, and her large yellow-gold eyes seemed to glow enthusiastically. Her entire demeanor was in utter contrast to what it had been not a minute before. That made Robin a bit nervous.

"Answers..." she said contemplatively, as if to taste the word. Her smile was really starting to worry Robin, but kept his mouth shut. In truth, there were very few things she could tell him that he didn't want to hear. After all, he'd come down here to find out what she knew. That meant everything. "Answers. Well, all right then. What questions do you want to ask?"

"Are you serious," he asked skeptically. Was she going to give it up, just like that? She laughed at him as she would a small child.

"Quite. But let me ask you something first. A point of clarification. Are you sure of what you came here to find? What decisions you want me to help you with?" He just stared at her in what could best be deciphered as 'huh?' shaking his head. "I don't think you are."

"Really."

"Yes, human, really." Great, now she was going to patronize him. "Here, I'll make this easy for you. I know how, I know you want to believe in 'your team' and that you're all one big happy family and that the misfits can concur evil. I've seen it in Garfield's mind."

"In Beast Boy's mind, huh? Look, I'm sorry, but that really isn't a credible source as far as I'm concerned."

"I think you'll find him more perceptive than you assume," she snapped. She took a deep breath and continued in the same, child-scolding voice. "I actually know quite a bit about you. Your apprenticeship with a monster, your abandonment of your 'friends' to pursue that monster, your certainty that, when it comes to what is really important, only a human like yourself can make the right decision. I've seen your kind's smug, ignorant superiority continues to this day, seen that what I set out to do still needs to be done." Her façade was slipping again, the pent up anger she was barely containing seeping through like a spill across a cloth. Her arms dropped to her sides, her hands balled into fists. "You're all so full of yourselves, you humans. You speak of science and progress and acceptance when you don't even know what those words mean. You understand nothing!"

"Enough. We're not here to discus humanity."

"I think you'll find we are."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" The edge in his voice caught her, reminding her that, for the moment, it was more satisfying to taunt him than to yell at him. Hurt the heart first, and leave the shell to its own useless endeavors.

"All in good time, human. All in good time. First, I'm going to help you with this whole situation. Take you through the process step by step. So you'll have all the information before you make the wrong decision. Then you'll have no one to blame but yourself." Zinara leaned forward slightly, folding her arms behind her back staring, baiting him. "You don't deserve it, but I'll help you any way. I'll make your fight easy."

"What are you talking about? The only fight I have is with you and from over here it looks like I'm winning." He sat up and took a few steps toward her. "You are in my Tower, locked up, defenseless and powerless. I am interrogating you and you're going to tell me what I want to know. That's how it works in my world. Welcome to the 21st century." She tossed her head and laughed like bells.

"You really don't know what's going on, do you. So I am your opponent? Your only opponent?" He froze, she smiled wickedly. "Please correct me if I'm wrong (which I'm not), but have I tried to kill you yet? Am I the one who ruined your cute little cape and tore your little outfit?" It took him a minute to fully understand what she was implying. She smiled hauntingly and dropped her arms, moving to meet him. "Your blood isn't lingering on my hands." Zinara placed a scaly, three fingered hand on his cheek, scrapping her talons across soft flesh. "Nor is that of your alien friend." Robin hit her wrist with his forearm, nocking it away defensively and leaving it quite numb.

"It wasn't Beast Boy either." She was so tiny, he had to stare down to make eye contact like a child, yet so deadly. "It wasn't him. It was all you in his skin. I don't know what you've done with him, but Beast Boy wasn't in that exhibit last night." It was difficult to allow her to remain so close to him, but there was no other option. She was like the cat that kept coming back regardless of how many times you shoved it off the couch. She smiled at his dilemma.

"Wasn't he? It looked like who you call Beast Boy, sounded like him, thought like him. Tell me why it wasn't him?"

"You may know him pretty well, but so do I. Beast Boy isn't capable of something like that." Her smile widened.

"Are you certain? Do you actually know you're little friend as well as you think you do? Do you know Garfield Mark Logan?" He recognized the first name, Beast Boy's given name. But the rest of it he'd never heard before; they'd agreed to keep their pasts in the past. He knew Beast Boy, but Mr. Logan... "Let me tell you a story about a little, green boy and his adventures in where you call Africa and the States."

"The traitor?" Raven coughed, still rubbing her neck with one hand. The other was sprawled against the wall, supporting her as she recovered. When she'd walked into the interrogation room, she'd expected some harsh words, maybe some banging. A verbal fight, an assault of the mind, if you will. Something she would win without a doubt. She had not expected to be attacked. Yet there she was, nursing her wounds and grateful Beast Boy hadn't done any real damage. Go figure.

"That's right Rae," Garfield said, stopping hardly three feet from her, smirking. "The one who's helping Zinara, the one who's been taking the individual you call Beast Boy to see her, the one who orchestrated her release. The one you accused of all those nasty things." He reached out and caught a lock of her violet hair, twirling it about his finger affectionately. "The one who almost defeated the Titans. Who would have defeated the Titans if a certain half-blooded demon hadn't turned up." She grabbed his wrist and gave it a sharp twist, bringing him to his knees. He grinned at the pain. "The traitor."

"What did you do with Beast Boy."

"What's wrong," Garfield shot from the floor, his eyes gleaming and a laugh chafing his throat. "I thought you wanted to talk to me? I'm here now, we're talking, so what's the problem?" She dug her nail into the pressure point between his thumb and pointer, ripping out a hiss of pain and a snort of amusement. "Did you change your mind? Women are like that."

"Do not talk to me about women." She locked his elbow and shoulder with another twist and shoved him away, setting her face into absolute apathy.

"Oh, so cold! But what did I expect from the one who resorted to effectively smoking me out." He pushed himself to his feet and brushed imaginary dirt from his front "Really Rae, you were pretty harsh there. Why he loves you is beyond me, like much of what he feels. He does though. He thinks about you all the time. And then you go and do something like this and he is completely devastate-"

"Enough," Raven snapped, jerking her head to the left and closing her eyes, trying to calm the violent reaction of emotions he was stirring within her. "We are not here to discuss Beast Boy's irrationality."

"Ouch."

"Shut up!" Raven advanced on him. Garfield stood his ground. "The truth is the truth."

"And the truth is you don't feel the same way." Raven froze, her violet eye like ice as she met his unblinking, luminous gaze, her jaw set, her teeth grinding. How was she supposed to know if she felt the same way? She'd been trained to suppress all emotion, not express it as obviously as she could. To hide, not to seek. She'd been in love, or what she thought was love, all of once and the guy turned out to be an evil dragon intent on destroying the world. Not an experience she wanted to repeat. Yet there she was, and she had no answer.

"That is none of your concern," she said shortly, not blinking. His smirk widened, like he'd just been given the final piece to a puzzle. Like she'd just given him exactly what he wanted.

"You know he can hear everything, feel everything. We share a body, a mind." He reached out to her again, this time to brush his fingertips across her cheek. She didn't recoil. "He may not be in control, per say, but he's still here. He felt the fight, felt the ride here, he knows what you're doing to him. I can't describe just how much it hurts everything you open your mouth, when you look at him, when you don't." He let his hands dropped, still smirking. "The truth is the truth, right?" Raven snapped. She raised her hand and swung it with enough force to chip a tooth at his face. He caught it just before impact, his grip soft but firm, his eyes gentle and hurt and emerald. Then the moment passed and the smirk was back. "Touchy."

"Do not presume to know what I think of Beast Boy or how I feel about him. You have no right to meddle in our relationship or even to formulate opinions on it! You will cease and desist." She pulled her arm from his grip and spun around, cooling her temper.

"As you wish." She gave him a very unamused look. There was a glimmer of Beast Boy in the quote, but only a glimmer. "So, my princess, what would you like to discuss instead?"

"You are going to tell me who and what you are, what you're planning, and why your doing it. And what you did to Beast Boy."

"Here I was under the impression that you were smarter than this," he said with a sigh. "I am Beast Boy."

"No. No you're not."

"No, really, I am. See Rae: same face, same voice, same body and powers. By all definitions the same person."

"Not the same," corrected Raven, a 'gotcha' smile glinting in her eyes. "I know what happened at the museum. Beast Boy can't turn into a manticore or any kind of mythical creature. You can. Beast Boy would never attack me. You did. Beast Boy would not be speaking to me the way you are. Your mannerisms are different, your eyes are different. You are not him." Garfield raised his hands and clapped a few times mockingly.

"Very good Rae. Very observant. But what was I expecting? The manticore came from Zinara, though I must say that figuring out the technicalities of it during a fight was quite difficult. I quite literally had to put the pieces together in my mind before the body caught on. You may already know, but this body can change into any known creature whose genetic structure can be created by rearranging the preexisting one. Of course, your Beast Boy does it without thinking; I had to work through the process. The flip side is that I understand it, hence, I can do what he cannot. Whatever I want whenever I want. It's a skill that's proven to be most... useful. I'm surprised he never thought of it."

"I'm not interested in the technicalities of Beast Boy' s body."

"Really? I thought you wanted to know about me. The little secrets you were never privy to before. I'll tell you what he won't. Are you going to throw that away? Aren't you curious?"

"So you admit you're someone else."

"No, not someone else. Not exactly. I am Beast Boy." Raven's nostrils flared and her lips tightened light she was going to hit him again. "But not as you define him."

"Tell me who you are," she barked.

"I've been thinking of myself as Garfield." Raven's brow furrowed in confusion and Garfield laughed outright. "That's what Zinara calls both of us, but it seemed a more appropriate title for me specifically. I'm no supper hero."

"That is obvious." Garfield's smile dropped and for a moment he looked annoyed. It was Raven's turn to smirk.

"Cute." She remained passive and focused, much to Garfield's aggravation.

"So you're a separate personality created by Zinara. For what purpose?"

"Here I thought you were catching on." Raven narrowed her eyes and Garfield smiled again smugly. "I'm not a complete person nor was I created by Zinara. I wasn't created by anyone for that matter, unless you count Beast Boy, of course. I am a natural response to natural, human, emotions."

"Will you stop speaking in riddles and give me a strait answer! What are you? Some kind of psychological schism? A fracture in his mind? Some other form of psychological nonsense?"

"Schism, yes. That's a good word," Garfield replied pensively, ignoring the hostility and agitation in her voice. "I am him, but only a part of him, as complete an individual as the emotions in Nevermore." Raven turned away from him and tugged her hood into place defensively at the mention of her own mind. She still wasn't sure if she'd forgiven the real Beast Boy for going there in the first place. To have this impostor speak knowledgeably about it was intolerable. Garfield grinned a little sadistically. "Now now, I'm not going to talk unless I can see that pretty little face. Besides, it's not anything we haven't talked about before. On occasion. When you're upset, remember?" He reached up to push her hood back, but she slapped his hand away, removing it herself reluctantly, disconcerted.

"Not with you," she snapped, walking away from Garfield and leaning against the wall. "Just so we're clear, you are the last person I would go to when I'm upset."

"And yet here you are, upset and with me. Interesting, isn't it."

"I'm not talking to you because I was upset, I am upset because I'm talking to you!" The words hissed out before she could restrain them, causing her to mentally slap herself for indulging in his banter. This was not Beast Boy, he did not want to help her, he wanted her to leave. Getting mad was exactly what he wanted her to do; get mad and say/do something stupid. She took a deep calming breath and forced herself to look at him. "Continue." He pouted his lips and rolled his eyes, bored.

"Fine, be that way."

"Now! What part of Beast Boy are you? What is your function?"

"Do you really want those answers, they might shock you. And I know how well you handle surprises." Her steely gaze was his answer. He wrinkled his nose in disdain, but kept talking nonetheless. "I am what you might call a guardian. My purpose is to protect you Beast Boy from emotional trauma."

"I don't understand."

"Think of it as... an emotional callous. A callous forms to protect the skin from damage after exposure to potentially damaging activities. Your feet get calloused when you walk barefoot outside too much. I'm sure yours are as smooth and soft as rose petals though."

"We are not here to discuss my feet," Raven bit angrily. She was finally getting the answers she needed and would not be distracted now. Her gaze and voice hardened, comanding. "Explain." He raised his eyes indignantly. As if he didn't appreciate being ordered around.

"You should know that I'm only saying this because it's you. Don't push it." Raven felt like she was going to bite her tongue off holding back the smart reply. Instead, she took the high road.

"Please explain." He grinned and looked like he was going to try and pat her on the head, but refrained.

"When you go through a traumatic experience, involving loss and/or guilt or just plain pain, it hurts as much as any bodily wound. But when it's over, your tougher. Your heart creates something to protect you from the pain, a strength you use to get through it. That strength remains with you. It grow with each incident, an internal defense against the agony of feeling. I am a manifestation of that emotional callous and my purpose is to protect your Beast Boy from inner harm."

"So," Raven said slowly. "You are, in essence, an emotion."

"A defense against emotion, given a separate existence by Zinara. I cannot feel, I cannot leave, but for the first time I can take direct action in the external world." Raven held up her hand to silence him and furrowed her brows, thinking hard. "Think of it Rae," he continued. "Change is coming, and we'll give you a piece of it. Zinara and me. All you have to do is-"

"What do you mean by 'given a separate existence',"she cut in, not looking at him. "Zinara, near as we can tell, is just a siren-human hybrid. She shouldn't be able to do that, nothing should. None of my research indicates-"

"Shhh." Garfield brought a finger to his lips and smiling. "If you want to know, I'll tell you. No need to get flustered." His tone was joking and his eyes bright with good humor and affectionate amusement. It was familiar... Very, very familiar. It took her a moment to realize it.

"I am not flustered. I am simply-" Raven's voice dropped off suddenly and she cocked her head, regarding him analytically and, almost, hopefully. "Beast Boy?" He smiled affectionately, a large toothy grin she was very accustomed to. "Beast Boy!" He twitched at the name, looking away abruptly and grabbing his head with one hand, frowning suddenly.

"Nice try, but it's still me." Raven couldn't help but sigh, looking up and letting her shoulders drop. "Don't look so disappointed. I'm not giving up control; we're to close to go time and I'm not going to let your little boyfriend incriminate himself any more than he already has. Guilt is counter productive. Now, if you want to know how Zinara separated me from him, say so. If not, leave. I've got plans." Raven bit her lip, caught. It was so cold to continue to interrogate him especially after she'd seen Beast Boy, her Beast Boy, fighting to get through, but she needed this information. She needed Garfield to stay. She'd gone to the interrogation room to understand what was happening, she couldn't leave until she knew everything. She just couldn't. Closing her eyes and praying Beast Boy would forgive her for taking advantage of his offer, she said so.

"Tell me what she did."

"It's not so much what she did, but what she used to do it," he said cryptically, his voice and face devoid of any expression. Raven raised her eyebrows at him. "The Half-Heart."

"The thing that's pulsing in you stomach now, linking you to Zinara. What of it?"

"Correction, only half of it is in my stomach. The other half is in Zinara's chest. It's important because it is the source of everything. What it is, I have no idea. What it does, though... I am, what you might say, an expert in what it does."

"Really, I would never have guessed since you swallowed it."

"You know your beautiful when you're sarcastic."

"The Half-Heart."

"A remarkable piece of ancient magic that has the ability to separate anything from anything else with only one restraint. The two must remain attached. Independent but linked. I am not Beast Boy, but we share a physical existence."

"Does that mean..." Raven was staring at the floor, her heart racing against her ribs, her breath coming faster than was normal, trying to supply her brain with enough oxygen to assimilate what she was hearing. "Can you two be reintegrated?"

"The power to break, not to fix. If there's a reverse process I don't know it. Zinara probably does, but I didn't ask. It's not my job. My job is to keep Beast Boy from emotional damage and Zinara's plan is my best chance. That's all I care about."

"Her plan," Raven snapped angrily, the reality and disparity of the situation finally getting to her, blasting past her defenses and setting her emotions loose like a torrent spills over a dam. "Is to destroy the world! Destroy all of humanity."

"I don't care about humanity," Garfield snapped back, suddenly right in her face. "And unless your Beast Boy decides beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'm wrong and fights me, then it's my decision and my call. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep him safe."

"How did this happen? And Why?" Raven snapped, her voice rising with the panic and anger in her chest. "Garfield, if that's what you want to call yourself, I don't understand your part in any of this! Why are you helping Zinara? What possible reason could you have for doing any of this? What do you have against people!"

"Are you so blind to the damage around you," Garfield snapped, dropping his charming act and throwing his arm out as if to gesture to the world. "Family, friends, society, humanity! All monsters waiting to rip his heart out again. They will hurt him, have hurt him, in ways you cannot imagine. I will not let that happen!"

"So that justifies attacking your own team," Raven yelled back, her fists tight by her sides. "That justifies taking him away from us? The killing of innocents? The destruction of the world? For what! So Beast Boy doesn't have to cry a few tears because some girl at the mall wouldn't giver him her phone number?"

"You have no idea," he said softly. "No idea. You think you got answers? You understand nothing! I don't care about any of that! I will not let him suffer any more, even if it means I have to lock him away forever! I will freeze the pain he's feeling and destroy anything and anyone I perceive as a threat. That includes you Raven."

"So this is about me now, is it?" Garfield lunged at her, grabbing her wrists and pinned her to the wall, speaking very softly into her face.

"It's always about you. Do not underestimate your own importance. I may not be able to hurt you, not significantly anyway, but I am in control and I will do what I must, Never doubt that. Beast Boy has been through enough; don't try and stop me." He let her go with a small shove, turning his back on her and walking back to the center of the room. Raven watched him go with a seething look, rubbing her wrists. "You're Beast Boy has put up with more than you could imagine. Things that, if the dear Team knew about, could get him into some very serious trouble. Things that would send him back into the lonely isolation he so fears." Raven paused for a moment and then, swallowing like she was about to walk into a house of horrors, she moved behind him and placed a thin, pale hand onto his shoulder.

"What sort of things?"

"Tell, me fearless leader, did you know that America's most wanted eight year old is sitting in your interrogation room?"

"Excuse me," said Robin very, very quietly. "The only proven criminal here is you."

"Not just me," she corrected. "Your Beast Boy is too. Unless the definition of 'proven' has changed to 'what Robin knows about' since I've been away."

"What are you talking about? We're discussing you, not my Team."

"Me..." She brought her face up to his to whisper into his ear. "And my plan. My partner. You know, the one who's helping me behind your back and against your orders? The one who set me free. Who got you involved in all of this. Garfield. Mark. Logan." Robin couldn't help himself. He shoved her away, sending her to the ground. It had been a gentle push (comparatively), but she was so light and frail. He'd tossed feather pillows that were heavier than her. Zinara hit the ground with a yelp, but looked pleased by his reaction.

"Don't change the subject. This doesn't have to do with anything," he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at her. She smiled at the pain, savoring the bitter sensation that gave her life purpose.

"Are you being intentionally obtuse? It has to do with your decision, how you plan on continuing. The next step." She pushed herself back to her feet gingerly, whimpering a little. Robin thought she was being dramatic to make him feel bad, but felt uncomfortable none the less. "When he was little he watched his parents die. Then a witch doctor hired some American thugs to kill him. They saw what he could do and decided to kidnap him instead, brought him back with them to steal. Who've known he'd adapt so quickly to his knew life. So- how to phrase it in a way you'll understand- efficiently." She hadn't said his name- hadn't needed to. Robin stood frozen to the spot, staring at her with as much skepticism as he could, but the words were seeping into his brain faster than he could push them away. She had every reason to lie, yet his gut told him that this, all of it, each delicately crafted, beautiful word, was the truth. Something about the little green boy, the way he sidestepped every question about his past, the way they had to learn his name from the Doom Patrol and even then only his first, the knack he had for hacking and sneaking into places he wasn't supposed to be. As far as Robin knew it had always been in good humored fun; questionable, not-quite-illegal, friendly, childish fun. But little green changelings don't just show up on the streets of L.A. and live normal lives. What had he been expecting? Had he honestly thought that a crane had just dropped Beast Boy onto the Doom Patrol's doorstep? Had he though Beast Boy more innocent than himself?

"Garfield was particularly good at his job. Eight year olds are so easy to manipulate, especially eight year old creatures with no where else to go. All they had to do is tell him that, no matter what they did, the rest of humanity would do worse and he believed them. One day he hid the gems and gold instead of delivering it and the two mercenaries killed each other while he cowered behind a crate. Then he took to the streets until a certain band of self-rightious misfits caught him and felt sorry for the kid. I take it from the look on your face this is all news to you."

"You're wrong,"Robin said quietly, tilting his chin down and giving her is sternest gaze. For most people that would have been enough to freeze their bones, but Zinara's grin just widened, pulling her lips into something between a smirk and a snarl. "Beast Boy couldn't have; he was a member of the Doom Patrol, a crime fighter since childhood. He's a hero, not a thief. Not a killer."

"Beast Boy, no. But that's not Beast Boy in your little room, is it? That's Garfield, the shapeshifter who has as much reason to hate humanity as I do. That's the man whose hidden in plain sight all these years, who tricked you, who lied to you. Attacked you. Beat you."

"He did not beat me." Robin articulated every word precisely, his patience beginning to ware thin. He couldn't let her turn him against his own Team, he just couldn't. And yet every conditioned super-hero, overly righteous, law/ rule abiding, leader fiber in his body told him Garfield fit his definition of a criminal. In the black and white realm of criminal justice he was firmly in the black. That he had to stop both of them, regardless of personal feelings. It was a cold sensation, a chill he nonetheless fought to keep localized. Because despite all that, despite the analysis his brain produced, Beast Boy was still his friend. Still a Titan. "You've been manipulating him, forcing him to fight us. Whatever Beast Boy's done before now, whatever is on his hands as opposed to yours, will be dealt with as soon as you've fixed him and are back in that cell where you belong!"

"So now you're going to threaten me? Typical. I should have guessed that's what this would deteriorate to."

"Why's that?" Not a denial, enforcement. A reminder of who's finger was on the little red button. With a snort and a snarl, Zinara threw back a retort, tossing her huge mass of hair and allowing it to ripple back to the floor.

"Have you been listening? I've seen your world through his eyes." She pointed, with surprising accuracy, to the interrogation room. "I know what you did to Garfield, what you're going to do if I fail. I remember. You don't absolve guilt or monsters. You lock them away. No sun, no warmth, no love. I won't let it happen, you know. I'm going to save him and everyone like him. From you and the rest of humanity!"

"That's funny, because that's not what it looks like from where I'm sitting The way I see it, I'm the one that needs to save Beast Boy and humanity from you."

"You just don't understand, do you," she yelled. "I am not controlling anything! He helps me because he chooses to; because he gets it! He understands that what I'm doing, what I've begun, must be finished. That it's the best thing for us. Humans cannot be trusted, they can't deal with our kind. You can't stop us! It's already started; the moment I reentered this world it started again. And this time there are no gods to stop me. No prisons left to hold me. The only thing in my way is you, and I must say I don't feel very impeded."

"Then you don't know who you're dealing with," retorted Robin coldly. "I will stop you, no matter what it takes, no matter what you try. I will stop you."

"Stop me will you," Zinara mocked with a laugh like wind chimes. "The Greek gods couldn't do it, what makes you think you can? You don't even know what I'm planning or what I'm capable of. You cannot play my game."

"Well, that's why I came down here," said Robin in a monotone that rivaled Raven's. "So you can tell me the rules."