Chapter Text
Titans Tower, San Juditas Bay
Jump City, California
2:53 a.m.
Gar doesn’t know when he got so fucking old.
It was probably around the time that Jackson looked at him with those big fish eyes and said 'dude, you’re twenty-six?' Which, twenty-six isn't even old, what the hell does that idiot even know?
Okay, maybe that's a bit harsh. Jackson is a good kid.
Highly preferable to his predecessor as far as Aqualads go.
Speaking of, maybe it was Garth’s wedding. That sure as hell made him feel old. They didn’t even make him sit at the kids table. He was a groomsman. Because apparently that’s what happen when you get old: somehow your teenage rival becomes one of your closest friends and they start asking you to do things like stand up at an altar with them while they take blood oaths (Atlantian weddings are fucking intense).
At some point, Gar turned into the guy who tells other people not to leave empty milk cartons in the fridge. At some point, he stopped being the guy the rest of the team second guesses because he's younger, less experienced than them, and turned into the guy they all look to because he's regularly the only real adult in the room.
And now he's the guy who can barely handle staying up till three in the morning and just wishes his girlfriend would come home so he can stop playing video games and go to bed.
Um, about that.
Raven isn't his girlfriend. Technically. At least he doesn't call her that out loud and he should probably stop calling her that in the confines of his own head before he slips up and does.
Raven is a girl who is also his friend who also sometimes lets him put his mouth on her mouth, but they aren't together. He'd asked, of course. After the first time he woke up with her sheets tangled around his legs. Because he's a gentleman. (And also because he was- is mildly in love with her.) But she'd just said that she didn't want a boyfriend and it didn't need to be complicated and he hasn't brought it up again two years.
And he's not waiting up for her. She just so happens to not be home yet, and he just so happens to be up. It's not like he's waiting by the door like some overeager puppy. Well, not exactly like that.
It's just that Raven has been spending a lot of time at JC General. Like way more than any of the actual doctors and those guys get lunch breaks and like… paid. Not that he thinks she should be asking for money, that kind of violates the whole creed of a hero thing. But still. The fact that she's been coming back worse and worse for wear after hours of healing people is not, like, great. She's gotta get some work life balance or something.
The dim backlights in the kitchen flicker at the same time that the screen of his switch glitches, and then Raven appears in the kitchen out of thin air.
All things considered, Gar should be very hard to startle. He’s got advantages in the sight and smell and sound department, and besides, he was expecting her. Still he manages to jerk at the sudden second person in the room.
He aims for casual, trying very hard to focus on the little cat person on the switch screen and not the cortisol soaked E.R. smell rolling off of her. He's not up because he's been worried about her and waiting with baited breath for her to come home; he's up late indulging his impulsivity by playing video games like a properly irresponsible, young (definitely not pushing 30) adult.
"Sup."
Sup? What the hell was that? Raven doesn't respond and Gar can't say he blames her.
“Late night?” He tries again, cringing at himself. He'd sound embarrassingly transparent even if she weren't able to read his emotions as if they were plastered on a big neon sign above his head.
“Go to bed, Gar.” The sternness of her words is slightly undermined by her immediately crashing against the counter and throwing up into the kitchen sink.
He trips over the back of the couch in a scramble to help her, she's shaking like a leaf, white knuckle clutching to the steel sink, her skin is clammy to the touch. "Jesus, are you ok-"
“Don’t touch me!” Raven shrieks like his touch burns and Gar jumps away from her.
“Shit- fuck- sorry.”
Raven gasps and dry heaves into the sink. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have-“
Her legs buckle and she crashes against the countertop, Gar catches her before he can think better of it, carefully lowering them both onto the floor.
“Sorry- fuck- sorry.” His fingers hover around her arms, trying to minimize contact as he stabilizes her against the wall of cabinets. Fuck, this is bad.
It's been bad before, but it's definitely worse now. She is getting worse. Fuck. It's a miracle she even made it home. The last time he saw her this exhausted she'd literally just been to hell and back. Which means this is not good. This is really not good. Fuck.
“You need to calm down. Now.” Raven heaves. The cabinets rattle around her, like she's trying to keep from literally combusting.
Fuck.
“Right, sorry, sorry.” Deep breaths, slow, don't forget to count.
One.
Two.
Three…
Take all those useless feelings and shove them in a little box in the back of your mind. Pretend you don't have any feelings at all. Mold the anatomy of your amygdala into something else and hope you don't give yourself lasting brain damage in the process.
It's Steve's voice in his head telling him that he needs to learn how to control his emotions or he's going to get them all killed, as if that's a normal expectation to put on a kid. Be the master of your own mind, Garfield. Gar would be less annoyed about it if it didn't work.
Out. Two, three, four…
“Thank you.” Raven’s voice is soft and quiet even through the labored breath, like she's ashamed for asking. He might feel something about that if he were feeling anything at all in the moment.
“Do you want to go to the med bay?” Not that it would do her much good. She is the team's resident healer and it's not like an I.V. would repair her exhausted magic.
Might not hurt though.
She looks like absolute hell, skin the color of a corpse and covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes puffy and reduced to slits. She clenches them shut.
“No.”
“Alright. Do you want me to go get M’gann? Or Dick?” M'gann might actually be able to repair some of the damage to her… psychic energy? Gar understands frustratingly little about demon anatomy. Biology he gets but the magic element that really throws him off.
And Dick is… well, Dick.
“No, no, let them sleep. You should be asleep.” Raven's eyes narrow at him like she's aiming for stern, but with the way she's slumped back against the cabinet, it doesn't quiet land.
Gar shrugs. “Yeah, well… you know me, night owl.”
He shifts into Bubo virginianus like a reflex, flapping his wings and slipping back into his human form as though the bit of showmanship might get him out of admitting to waiting up for her like some sort of jilted housewife who's husband has been staying too late at the office.
“Gar.” Raven's hands come up to press along the sides of her nose and up her brow bones. He'll take that as failure.
Gar drops his chin onto his knees. “Fine. I was worried about you, sue me.”
“I am fine.” Raven grits her teeth as she speaks: convincing.
“Yeah, clearly.”
“I have it under control.”
Not knowing when to quit is practically occupational hazard in their business. Gar doesn't know a single Titan, a single hero, who doesn't push too hard, who isn't willing to give anything and everything for the sake of saving a life, even if it means giving their own. But this isn't sustainable. Nevermind the fact that Gar fucking hates seeing her like this, she's not invincible.
“Look, I know I’ve been known to make women swoon from time to time but you’ve gotta admit that wasn’t exactly normal. And this is what- the third time this week? Rae, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
If he really wanted to make a point, Gar would remind her that she gets dangerous when she loses control of her powers. And wearing down her ability to control her powers through overuse is a fucking stupid thing to do.
At least the cabinet doors have stopped ratteling.
“It’s just temporary, I’ll recover by the morning.”
“That’s not- ”
“Stop talking.” Pain spills out of her and burrows into his skull like a mic screech. Wave of nausia hitting him square in the gut. Raven whimpers and pulls the pain back.
See? Fucking stupid. Raven is quite literally leaking her emotions. Which, whatever. She can offshore all her pain onto him for all he cares, but he's having a hard time convincing her to stop for her own sake.
This is why Dick would be better at handling this.
“I-um- right.”
Gar can't stand being useless, and he may not exactly understand the relationship between Raven's physical body and her spiritual one, but she was at the hospital for eleven hours (not that he was counting) and he doubts she ate or even bothered to sit down the whole time.
The entire top shelf of the refrigerator is full of prepackaged protein drinks Dick insists on keeping stocked for emergencies. 'Emergencies' being times when someone leaves the blender unwashed in the kitchen sink. Which is most of the time. Despite being specially formulated by Star Labs at the request of Bruce Fucking Wayne (who is just like, really into health and fitness, normal billionaire behavior) to contain all the vitamins and nutrients needed to recover from high intensity endurance activities (again, because Bruce Wayne is super into racket ball, no other reason) it still tastes like absolute shit.
Gar rips the cap off and shuffles through the silverware drawer for a pink swirly straw, as if that might distract an already nauseous Raven from the terrible taste.
“Here.” Raven scowls at the straw. “You need to eat.”
A moment passes when she begrudgingly takes the box and begins to drink where Gar thinks she might actually throw up again. Instead she just cringes hard and gulps the entire thing down in one go.
“There’s leftovers from dinner too, if you want. Don’t worry, Jaime cooked.” With Vic gone, and half the team being made up of aliens and nepo babies who’ve never so much as turned on a stove, they’ve been a little lacking in the edible meals department.
Raven shakes her head, it rolls loosely against the cabinets like she can hardly hold it up.
“Jesus Christ Rae.”
It's not uncommon after a fight for her to spend a few hours erasing the cuts and bruises or worse if their unlucky from everyone on the team, (invincible aliens not withstanding) without so much as a headache after. Hell, just last week Raven healed that little scratch he got (his intestines were falling out of his stomach after being mildly impaled by dismembered lamp post) like it was nothing.
He's no stranger to the extent of her capabilities. Someone that powerful takes a lot to bring down. It takes a lot to push her to the limit.
“How many people did you-”
“Don’t know.”
“Raven.”
“It’s fine.” Raven scrunches her eyes shut even tighter, really selling it.
“It’s not fine, you can’t keep doing this to yourself, it’s dangerous-“
Her entire body spasms and she twists into a tight knot. "Shut up."
Gar shuts up.
Raven stays curled in on herself and Gar tries not to feel sick to his stomach. Tries not to feel anything at all for her sake. Slowly, her body starts to uncoil and she relaxes back against the wall.
“Thank you, you should get some sleep, I’ll be fine.”
And everyone thinks she's so reasonable. Gar bumps his big toe against her boot. “Sorry, friends don’t leave friends alone on the kitchen floor.”
“Gar, I can’t- I- you- please.”
The domino chain that follows is unavoidable: Raven hiccups into a sob and that breaks the last thread of his shakily held back composure, heart twisting like a knife and Raven breaks into a dry heave which sends them both spiraling and-
(dontpanicdontpanicdontpanic)
He's not panicking. He is completely calm. He is in full control of his mind and body.
(dontpanic)
In, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
(don't panic.)
He's acknowledging his feelings about the woman he loves shaking from tears in front of him, aaand he's letting those feelings go.
He's acknowledging that he really fucking hates bullshit yogi-speak and he's ignoring that.
He's letting all of the muscles in his body relax. No fear, no pain, no nothing.
Raven isn't crying anymore, she's gone still as a statue, both hands gripping at the root of her hair. "Sorry." Her voice is gravely.
"Shit, I'm the one who should be sorry. Lets just- let’s get you to bed, kay?”
He stands up and leaves his hand out for her to take. Raven stares at the hand like it's a riddle, jaw going ridged when she takes it and stumbles to her feet. She crashes hard against his chest, grip biting into the meat of his forearms. Even now she is shockingly strong.
“Want me to carry you?”
Raven doesn't answer for a long breath and then harps out. “Just hurry up.”
She's rude like this. "Yeah- yeah, okay."
Gar gets one arm under her knees and doesn't waste time getting her to her bedroom. Raven never unlocks her door, since walls usually aren't a barrier for her. He doubts she even has the key anymore. Instead it's an awkward scramble of setting her back on her feet and shifting into something small enough to fit between the crack in the door and then opening it from the inside.
Raven steps into the room and all but flings herself on the bed. It would be funny if not for the everything else about the situation.
By the time he's finished pulling her boots from her feet and hanging her cloak on the back of the closet door, Raven has buried herself beneath her comforter, apparently skipping proper jammies for the night.
“Thank you.”
She looks so fucking small beneath the pile of blankets. Breakable. It’s wrong, it’s all fucking wrong. Raven isn’t fragile. Gar hates seeing her like- nope, no. He doesn’t care, it’s all fine. Feelings? What feelings.
“All in a day’s work ma’am.” Gar tries to wink and realizes he's still got owl eyes, which is a bit overkill for the situation and probably makes him look goofy as hell. He blinks them back into something closer to human then sits on the edge of the bed, smoothing out the twisted blanket on top of her.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Stop worrying about me.” He would, if she'd stop being so worrisome. Actually, probably not then either if he’s being honest.
“Sorry, no can do sweetheart.”
Gar sprawls out on top of the blankets, head resting on his fist. The whites of her eyes have mostly drained of blood.
“Seriously, are you okay?”
“I'll recover.”
“That… wasn't what I asked."
"I did what was needed of me." People are always going to need her. Is the problem. Seven fucking billion people on this planet, someone will always be hurt and dying and she can't heal every single one of them.
"Okay, but you also need to be able to get home without passing out mid flight.”
“Didn’t pass out.”
“Barely. You can’t save everyone you know.”
“I know that.”
Thing is, he's worried she doesn't.
Gar bites his lip, he should probably just shut up. “Just… you should be more careful, it's dangerous, not just for you, but for the team, our healer can’t be out of commission all the time.”
“You sound like Dick.” Good.
“Yeah, well… he’s kind of a smart guy.”
The corner of her mouth twitches, eyes crinkling. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”
There's is girl.
“Traitor!” Gar holds a hand to his heart in mock gasp and tries not to feel too happy that she’s looking better already.
Raven runs a finger across the back of his hand, brows pinched in concentration, which is a far cry better than shrieking at his touch. Still, Gar knows she isn't like a normal person. She avoids large crowds, hates hospitals for this very reason: it's constant work for her to keep the feelings of others from soaking into her like a sponge. Just being around other people is an effort, even if it's one that she's practiced her whole life to withstand.
“D’you need me to go?”
"It's okay." Which means it isn't.
But Gar is selfish. "Kay."
"But can you-" Raven's fingers tap along the tops of his knuckles. "-not be human? For a while?” Her voice is wrecked with shame. There's another reason why she shouldn't push herself so hard: she hates asking to be accommodated.
“Sure, honey.” Raven prefers cats to dog, specifically the short haired kittenish ones with slightly too big eyes and ears. The crisp edges of his human mind blur as he shrinks down into the tabby. It's easier this way, he doesn't have to work so hard to keep his feelings down.
He can hold onto his human mind when he changes, hell he can even hold on to the crude anatomy of his voice box if he has something especially important to say, but it's like keeping a muscle flexed, the natural inclination is to let it go, slip fully into the cohesive anatomy of the animal.
It's fucking terrifying, if he's being honest. Worse because the deeper he goes the harder it is to even remember to be afraid. It's a miracle he hasn't gotten permanently stuck as a worm yet.
But it is nice, sometimes: to turn his brain off, endless inner monologue smoothing out into baser instincts.
Gar burrows beneath the blankets and curls up against the base of her belly. He likes the way she smells, the cadence of her heartbeat. Fingers run over his head and draw out a rumbling in his chest. Sleep comes quickly.