Chapter Text
It had been a week since Donna died.
A week since Rachel left, a week since Rachel somehow broke him free of Cadmus, and a week since Gar has felt some semblance of comfort in his own skin.
For the past week, he’s felt some sort of itch, a thrum under his skin, threatening to rip free.
Gar felt like tearing his own skin off. He wanted to let the beast crawl out and roar.
He couldn’t, though. He didn’t quite know what Rachel did - if she really “cured” whatever Cadmus did, or if the beast just really latched onto Rachel. Like he, himself, had.
He didn’t want to know.
So far, he had already scratched himself multiple times, the beast becoming more and more jittery being locked behind his human psyche.
He had been scratching at his arm when the beast flared, and he tore four long, bleeding lines down his forearm. Gar yelped in surprise, looking down to find his fingernails - no, claws - reddened, blood blooming on his now green skin.
Dick jumped up, grabbing the emergency kit and Gar’s non-bleeding arm, dragging both to the couch in the titans’ towner.
The beast growled unhappily as Gar shoved it back. He watched as the green faded from his skin.
Dick sat him down, immediately getting to work patching him up.
“You probably won’t need stitches,” Dick commented, pressing gauze to Gar’s arm. “Hopefully,” Dick grumbled afterward.
“Sorry,” Gar mumbled.
Dick gave him a look. Why are you apologizing, dumbass? Gar knew he wanted to say. Instead, Dick laughed softly. “Be thankful. I'm shit at stitching.”
Gar laughed, but it was weak, even to his ears. Dick didn’t glance up from his arm. Gar looked away, feeling even more restless than before.
Dick gripped Gar’s hand between his. “Gar, you’re twitching.”
Gar jumped. “Oh, sorry.”
Dick rubbed his hand. “Feeling restless?”
Gar shrugged. “I guess.”
“Training always helped me get energy out,” Dick said, releasing Gar’s hand. Gar immediately pulled his arm away, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “But that might not help you.”
Gar shrugged. “I might try it.”
Dick stood up. “Yell if you need me.”
Gar smiled thinly. Dick looked concerned, but nodded anyway and headed to his room.
Gar took a deep breath. Might as well try taking everything out on the punching bag.
Gar found the training room blissfully empty. He pulled out his phone, put his earbuds in, and hit shuffle on his playlist.
He grinned as one of his favorite songs played. He rolled his neck, shook out his hands, and leveled his gaze at the punching bag that hung from the ceiling.
Everything seemed to slow down as Gar flung punch after punch. He could barely register his music playing, and was pulled out of his reverie by Dick yanking him back from the punching bag. Gar heard a growling sound, felt a rumbling in his chest, and realized belatedly that the growling was him.
The beast pushed at Gar, who pushed back as hard as he could.
“Gar!” Dick yelled. “What the hell?”
Gar looked up at Dick, pulling his earbuds out and then looking back at the punching bag.
There were ten long, thin lines in the leather, bleeding sand as rapidly as he had bled earlier.
Gar swallowed. “sorry.”
Dick shook his head. “Gar, something’s wrong. what’s going on?”
Gar shook his head, turning fully to the punching bag, looking at the sand piling below it. The beast growled to be let out, prowling around like a caged animal.
Gar supposed it actually was just that- a caged animal within the confines of his psyche, his fear, his… human-ness.
“Gar, answer me.” Dick’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“I'm fine,” Gar mumbled.
“No, you’re not.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Gar replied, feeling a growl claw its way up his throat. Gar took a deep breath, beginning to push it back down when Dick spoke again.
“Gar, is this because of Rachel?” Dick asked.
Gar was so startled that the growl ripped its way out of his throat, falling out awkwardly past his clenched teeth and tightly pressed lips. “What?”
“I thought that you might have a bit of a pack mentality,” Dick replied with a shrug, ignoring the growl. “Like a wolf or a dog or something.”
The beast bristled. “I'm not a dog,” Gar ground out.
“I know,” Dick replied easily. “We just don’t know how much your powers affect your normal functions.”
“I'm not some animal.”
“I know,” Dick replied, just as easily, but growing concerned. “Gar, something's going on. if it’s not Rachel, what is it?”
Gar shrugged. “Probably just me missing Rachel,” he dismissed. “I'll get over it.”
The beast prowled restlessly in his chest. Gar felt it claw at its cage, wanting out.
So Gar started to move, shaking his hands out.
“Want to train with me?” Dick asked, apparently giving up on getting anything out of Gar.
Gar’s head shot up. “Uh... sure.”
Dick grinned. “How’s hand to hand sound?”
Gar shrugged. “Fine with me.”
Dick settled into a fighting stance, staring at Gar, waiting for him to do the same. Gar avoided eye contact, knowing it would just set off the beast, but settled into a defensive stance all the same.
Dick lunged out, throwing the first punch. Gar blocked, but eventually, Dick landed a solid blow to Gar’s ribs.
Gar stumbled back, breathing hard.
“You okay?” Dick asked, rubbing his hand.
“I'm fine,” Gar ground out. “Stop asking.”
Dick sighed but settled into stance again. Gar settled back, still breathing hard. This time, Gar lunged forward, landing a blow to Dick’s forearm before Dick pulled him into a headlock.
The beast growled, and Gar felt it bubble up in his chest and pour out his throat.
“Gar, something is wrong, and you’re not getting out of this until you tell me.”
Gar groaned. “Please let me go.”
“You growled at me. Twice.” Dick scoffed. “C’mon, Tiger Boy.”
Gar huffed. “Let me go, Dick.”
“Nope.”
The beast clawed harder at the cage. Gar pushed back as hard as he could, but the beast was angry.
let me go Let me go Let Me go Let Me Go LEt Me Go LET ME GO LETMEGO LETME GOLET MEGO LET ME GO
Next thing Gar knew, Dick was screaming at Gar to let go, and Kory, Conner, and Hank were pulling at Gar. Black spots danced in his vision.
Gar slowly registered the taste of blood in his mouth and something clenched between his teeth. He quickly recoiled, releasing whatever he had in his mouth.
His vision cleared, and he saw Dick holding his arm to his chest, blood seeping out of several small tears in his forearm.
Shit.
Gar felt his stomach roll, and the beast was quiet for once, satiated. “I- I- I- I didn’t- I didn’t-” Gar stumbled over words, disoriented and horrified.
Kory, Hank, and Dawn quickly let go of him. Dick stepped forward cautiously. “Gar-”
“No, no, no, no, nonononononono-” Gar stumbled out of the training room, muttering to himself.
“Gar, wait!” Kory yelled after him. He distantly heard Dawn yell his name as well.
Gar stumbled to his room, slamming the door shut and falling back onto it.
He slid to the floor, the beast quiet, and felt like he could throw up.
Gar sat in the darkness of his room, ear pressed to the door, listening for all for the other titans.
He could go once they were all asleep.
As soon as he could hear Dick (the last one asleep) snore, Gar began to pack as quietly as he could.
He opened and closed his door softly, thanking Dawn for her particularity.
He stopped at the front door. The beast whined pitifully. As much as it protested when Dick compared it to a dog, it was a pack animal at heart, and Gar was leaving.
Gar took a deep breath, gently pushing the beast down, and walking through the door.
He had to do this.
Gar crept through the streets of San Francisco, hoping for some sort of sign. He attempted to rely on his instincts, hoping the beast could guide him.
After a couple of hours, he began to lose hope. The last time he got taken there, he was unconscious- how would he remember where it was?
Then, just as he was considering heading back to the tower, Mercy Graves stepped out of the shadows of an alley.
“Garfield,” She drawled. “What are you doing out so late?”
“You said you could help me,” Gar replied, ignoring her question. “Can you help me?”
A smirk snaked its way onto Mercy’s face. The beast growled, and Gar let it. Mercy smiled.
“Of course, Garfield. That’s what Cadmus does.”
“What do you mean, Gar’s missing?!”
Dick pulled the phone away from his ear as Rachel shrilly yelled her question into the receiver. Once she was quiet again, Dick pulled it back.
“Just that, Rachel. He disappeared a few days ago in the middle of the night.”
“A few days ago?!” Rachel’s voice began to raise, but she took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you call me as soon as you knew he was missing?”
Dick sighed. “At first, we thought he had gone for a run. Then we thought he might’ve gone on errands.”
Rachel scoffed.
“We think he ran away,” Dick finished. “I don’t think he wants to be found.”
“Gar would never just up and leave,” Rachel complained.
“Then what did he do, Rach? There're no signs of struggle, he didn’t even take food.”
Rachel was silent on the other end of the line. A few moments passed. “I’m coming home.”
“Rachel, you don’t-”
“I’m coming home. See you soon.”
“Rachel-” The dial tone cut Dick off. He sighed.
Gar, what happened to you?
Project Ts, or “little T” as some of the scientists liked to call her, did not like the boy Miss Graves had dropped into her room.
Granted, she couldn’t tell much about him, considering he was completely asleep and growled whenever she got too close. He was no fun, though, Little T was sure.
His hair was bright, nauseating green, and his clothes were very much not Cadmus-issued like hers were.
Little T supposed that would change soon.
After an indeterminable amount of time, the boy awoke abruptly with a yell.
Little T recoiled away from her spot at the edge of her bed, retreating towards the wall.
The green-haired boy, breathing heavily, looked around the room, eyes suspicious. His eyes landed on Little T, and his suspicion morphed to surprise.
Little T noticed that his eyes were brown- possibly the most normal part of the boy.
“Uh…” The boy started to talk hoarsely. He coughed and began again. “I’m Gar.”
Little T assessed him. She said nothing.
Gar sighed, turning towards the other parts of the room. The door opened, and both Little T and Gar looked towards the newcomer.
Miss Graves, her sickly-sweet fake smile omnipresent, entered the room with her hands clasped in front of her.
“Ah, Garfield, you’re awake,” She said, some fakeness slipping from her smile. “I see you’ve met Project Ts.”
Gar looked to Little T, eyes sympathetic- or pitying, Little T couldn’t tell the difference- and then back to Miss Graves.
Her carefully crafted smile was pieced back into place as she looked at the two children. “Project Ts, please be hospitable to Garfield. He will be a valuable asset to Cadmus.”
She nodded stiffly, then turned sharply on her heel. She exited, the door slamming shut behind her.
Once the door had closed fully, Little T turned to Gar, seeing that he had also watched Miss Graves exit.
“So, is your name Gar or Garfield?” Little T asked softly.
Gar whipped his head towards her, startled. “Huh?”
“Miss Graves called you Garfield,” Little T replied. “But you said your name is Gar.”
Gar paused, scratching at his green hair. “Well, my full name is Garfield. Gar is a nickname. I like Gar a lot more.”
Little T paused to consider this and nodded after a few moments. “Miss Graves calls me “Project Ts,” but I don’t like it very much. Some of the scientists call me “Little T.” I like that a lot more.”
Gar looked at his lap, finding his fingers very interesting for some reason Little T didn’t know.
“Do you want a name?” Gar asked, still looking down.
“A name?” Little T echoed, tilting her head.
At this, Gar looked up to her again. “Yeah, a name.”
Little T considered this. “Maybe.”
The two children fell silent.
Two weeks passed.
Gar supposed the Titans were worried, but Graves happily reported just how many attacks, attempted infiltrations, or other security breaches happened each day- exactly three since Gar had gotten here. None of which were the Titans.
The beast had been fairly quiet since Gar had left, almost sulking in his chest. He had only growled at Graves twice in the two weeks he had been there.
He eventually made friends with Cadmus’ other “pet project,” Little T. They began training together, on Graves’ prompting, and Gar discovered that she could lift rocks with her mind alone.
He called her a badass when she first demonstrated, but she just raised her eyebrow the way she did when he made some stupid joke.
Gar, after their first meeting, committed himself to find her a name. No one should be called a “project,” Gar had told her. And not just a letter, either.
He cycled through nearly every “T” name he could- Terry, Theresa, Therese, Toni, Tommy, Tilly, Tabitha- all of which Little T shrugged at, scrunched her nose at, or shook her head at.
When she showed him her powers, Gar knew what the perfect name would be: Terra.
Little T agreed enthusiastically.
So, despite all of the other workers, Gar called her Terra as often as he could.
Another week went by. Gar wanted to cry- though, in sadness or happiness, he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t really want to go back to the tower, but it meant that Gar’s fears were confirmed- he was useless to the Titans.
The beast was so quiet Gar worried sometimes that it was dead. But he still transformed, so he assumed the beast was okay.
So far, Graves had helped him transform into different animals. After he kept refusing to turn into the tiger, no matter what words or force she used, Graves turned to different avenues. She acquiesced to him learning different forms and even requested the scientists to develop him a suit he could transform in, and stay in afterward.
He and Terra still trained, but she was distant, for reasons Gar couldn’t figure out.
It was early one morning (which day, Gar had no clue) when Graves entered with a silver briefcase.
“Garfield,” She said with a smile. “This is for you.” She held it out, and Gar scrambled to retrieve it. The beast, for the first time in three weeks, perked up at Graves’ surprise.
“What is it?” He asked, turning the case around and over in his hands.
Graves smiled. “Open it.”
Gar looked up at her. She nodded, and he opened the case. He gasped.
Inside, was a lump of fabric, patterned nearly exactly like his favorite jacket.
“Is this-”
“Doctor Felding finished developing a suit for you,” Graves tapped the top of the briefcase. “It should allow you to transform smoothly, at least from human to animal. No more worrying about changing mid-fight.”
Gar grinned, and the beast rumbled happily. “Thank you so much, Miss Graves.”
Graves smiled. “Of course, Garfield. Care to test it out?”
Gar looked up, still grinning ear-to-ear. “Can I?”
“Of course,” Graves replied with a small nod. “Report to me once you do. If there are any kinks at all, I’ll let Doctor Felding know.”
Gar nodded vigorously. The beast, seeing the excitement was over, curled back up and was quiet once again.
Graves smiled, turned sharply on her heel, and exited. As soon as the door slammed shut, Gar turned to Terra.
“Terra! It’s my suit!”
Terra smiled. “I heard. You’re trying it out immediately, I suppose.”
“Duh,” Gar grinned. He dashed into their shared bathroom, changing quickly.
He stopped to look at the suit in the mirror. It was patterned like his jacket, with short sleeves and pants. Gar thought it looked a little silly, but he still liked it.
Rachel would tell me I looked like an idiot, Gar thought.
Gar cringed as the beast whined pitifully at his thought of Rachel.
I miss her, too.
Gar shook thoughts of the Titans away and headed back out to his and Terra’s room. “So, whaddya think?”
Terra looked him up and down, assessing him like she had when they first met. “Why the shorts?”
Gar shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe Doctor Felding thought it looked cool.”
Terra snickered. “Uh-huh. Cool, meaning cold.”
Gar laughed. “Well, I’m not complaining. I’m testing it out. See ya later!”
The beast perked up again, intrigued at the idea of running free, and rumbled.
Gar dashed out the door, leaving Terra to her own devices.