Chapter Text
Terra watches as Slade’s smashed into pieces in front of her, speechless as all the rest of the Titans.
Robin has a special alert for any news of Slade, and they’d been peacefully eating breakfast when it had gone off. There’d been a series of swears and sleepy grumbles as Robin had herded them all to the main monitor, turning on the live video that was appearing on the local news station.
Slade had been fighting Wonder Woman, of all people. Everyone had immediately started asking questions, speaking over each other and gesturing to the monitor. Why was Wonder Woman here, in Jump City? Why was she fighting Slade? Didn’t she have higher priorities?
Terra hadn’t joined in. She had stared silently at the monitor, eyes wide and unblinking. Slade was superhumanly strong and fast, skilled from his years of mercenary work and time in the military. Wonder Woman was stronger, faster, and had such a fluid grace and ability with her weapons that she seemed almost godlike.
It had ended abruptly when she’d blocked Slade in close to a building and punched his skull in.
Now all of the Titans had quieted abruptly, staring at the screen in complete stillness. Terra felt…odd. Her fingertips were almost numb, divorced from her bodily sensations. Her chest felt sore, or maybe heavy, but it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt, she just feels…a strange separation from herself.
What should she be feeling right now? Her mentor just died in front of her. Should she be sad? Angry on his behalf? Relieved?
She feels nothing at all.
“Terra.” Raven’s voice, always so cool and composed, has a noticeable tremor running through it. Terra wonders if she’s ever watched another person die before. Terra swallows and turns to the shorter girl, blinking down at her expectantly.
Raven’s grey skin looks paler than normal, her shoulders stiff.
“What?” Terra responds belatedly.
“Sit down.” Terra backs up a few paces, the backs of her thighs bumping into the couch. She allows herself to collapse into it, accidentally slamming her elbow into Beast Boy, who’s already sitting dazed beside her. He grunts in pain but doesn’t speak, looking up at her with wide eyes. He looks impossibly young.
Normally, Beast Boy hesitates to transform around her out of combat. He never shies away from pestering Raven as a puppy, wrestling with Cyborg as a bear or cuddling with Starfire as a lion. But he usually transforms back to his human form when he spots her watching, cheeks flushed a dark green. Right now, he doesn’t seem to care, turning into a raccoon beside her. He doesn’t get any closer to her, just stays in a curled up little ball by her legs, dark eyes closed tightly.
“—And then you can contact The Batman. All will be well, Robin.” Terra abruptly tunes into the conversations happening around her, Starfire’s calm voice filtering in first. Robin is backed against the wall, shoulders up to his ears as Starfire stands close, hands clutching his arms.
Starfire is almost eerily undisturbed. She’s not floating like she normally does, and her brows are creased with concern, but she doesn’t seem as wrecked as Robin, or any of the other Titans.
Robin looks up at her, furious and scared.
“All will not be well, Starfire. We don’t know why Wonder Woman did that, or if that was even the real Slade—”
“That was Slade.” Her voice comes out emotionless but sure. She didn’t intend to volunteer that information, but controlling her own impulses seems to be miles away from her right now. Most of the heads in the room turn to look at her.
Beast Boy stays completely still, eyes closed. She’s not sure he’s hearing anything. Cyborg isn’t in the room. When had he left the room?
“How can you be sure?” Robin asks harshly, fists clenching. Terra blinks slowly and breathes out through her nose. She knows because it was embarrassing. Slade would never, ever let himself lose so publicly, so pathetically. Wonder Woman had batted him around like a cat with a ball of yarn. No matter how beneficial, Slade would never humiliate himself, not for a plan or for anything.
His head had splattered like a watermelon hitting a concrete road.
Terra can’t explain how she knows this, so she just stays silent. She reaches out, almost without meaning to, stroking Beast Boy’s fur. He doesn’t protest or move.
Robin turns away from her.
“Here.” Cyborg says, stepping into the living room with a tray full of mugs. Raven gravitates towards him, folding herself into his shadow with her mug clutched tightly. She trails him as Cyborg walks around the room delivering his drinks to everyone. He sets Beast Boy’s on the coffee table. Terra compliantly takes hers when he hands it to her, staring at the brown liquid within.
Hot chocolate. They just watched their nemesis skull get blown up on television and his first instinct was to make hot chocolate.
He sets the tray down and turns to Raven, pulling her to his side with one arm. She looks miniscule tucked into him like this, the shadow from her hood hiding her expression.
Batman calls the Tower, and they’re all sent out so Robin can talk to him alone. Starfire hovers in the hallway and looks worried in Robin’s general direction. Terra finds her room and slams the door.
She sleeps for hours. Doesn’t bother to take off any of her clothes, just falls into bed and is dead to the world.
When she wakes, she finds she hasn’t even turned or tossed in her sleep. Her body is covered in sweat, which dries against her skin in the air-conditioned room. Her mouth tastes like salt and garbage.
Terra sits at the foot of her bed and thinks.
So. Slade is dead. She can have (or not have) as many feelings about that as she wants, but she needs to think practically. Earlier, she’d been in too much shock to think of what his death meant for her.
Terra mechanically takes out the contact lenses that have little cameras in them. She pokes herself in the eye for her troubles, working without a mirror in the darkened room. Did she turn the light off when she went to her room? She can’t remember.
The lenses are almost invisible on her fingertips, just faintly reflecting the light from the small window at the top of her room.
Her mission is over. It hadn’t been any contract, just Slade’s personal issues with the Titans that had found her as a spy, so it wasn’t like she had to inform anyone that the mission was cancelled. Could she just…continue as she was? Pretend to be a Titan forever? Pretend that she’d always been genuine and had never planned on stabbing them all in the back?
That would be easiest. She wouldn’t have to do anything she wasn’t already doing.
Somehow, the idea revoltes her. How clean and easy it is, how it lets her get away scot-free. As if she deserves any of this.
What was the alternative? Betraying them for no reason was just stupid.
She could…tell them. Reveal her original motivations. They’ll probably arrest her, kick her from the team for sure. She doesn't get points for coming clean when the jig is already up. They would know that the only reason she’d said anything was because Slade was dead.
Terra traces her finger over a scar on her knee. She’d gotten it dodging a blow from Slade, skidding her knees over the debris from the concrete she’d overturned. She’d done pretty well in that fight; Slade had been almost proud of her. She can still remember his hand heavy on her shoulder, a small smile on his face.
Terra stands abruptly and begins to pace.
Whatever choice she makes; it would change everything. She can't just make some impulse decision and hope things work out—Slade isn’t here to clean up her mess. She always hated the scolding and punishments he’d dole out whenever he thought she fucked up with the Titans, but without his keen eye for strategy she feels set adrift. Better a heavy hand than no hand at all.
Except…if she doesn’t tell the Titans, then she can still make another choice. As long as she plays it cool, she can still change her mind and confess later on. It's taking the least nuclear option.
It's also cowardly and spineless, but she's always been those things.
With this decided, Terra leaves her room. The Tower is dark, the lights from Jump City occasionally reflecting against the floor from the windows in golden shards. Creeping past the other rooms felt even more illicit than it had when she’d been snooping.
The kitchen is just as abandoned as the rest of the Tower.
It lookes as homey and disorganized as it ever has. The cupboard door is open, Raven’s neatly organized teas catching her eye. Starfire’s minifridge hums loudly on the counter, its contents hidden from sight. She’d mistakenly opened it once, when she’d first arrived at the Tower, and had almost gagged from the smell alone. She isn’t sure what concoctions Starfire has created and saved, but they smell strongly of dumpster. Terra is very familiar with dumpster smell—the vague idea that some of these foods might have smelt pleasant by themselves, but together trapped in a hot metal container they had taken on a horrible stench.
Beast Boy has left a plate on the counter. Traces of sticky syrup remain on the porcelain, which means Cyborg will likely lecture him in the morning, complaining that ants are going to show up. Terra will applaud any ants who manage to get all the way up the Titans Tower, but she keeps her nose out of that argument.
He probably won’t lecture Beast Boy this morning. He’ll probably just clean it up quietly.
Terra cracks her knuckles in the dark.
She isn’t sure shes hungry, but she hasn’t broken her late night snacking habits since she’d arrived at the Tower, and she wouldn’t start now. Slade had always banned her from eating outside of meals (with the exception of water and granola bars), which she hadn’t been too bitter about since he’d made large meals. Slade hadn’t been a bad cook—nowhere near Cyborg’s excellence, but not bad for a single man living alone.
She’ll never eat his chicken sandwiches again. He always insisted on having the chicken be cold.
Terra throws open the fridge door, squinting at the sudden flash of the fridges lights. She pulls out several tupperwares, piling them on top of each other. She crouches, scooting back till her spine presses against the lower cabinet. She drags her bounty with her, the Tupperware bracketed between her legs.
She opens up the one on the top of the small tower. Spaghetti. She doesn’t have a fork.
Terra leaves the fridge door open, because she’s too tired to close it. She eats the spaghetti with her fingers, because she’s too tired to get cutlery.
Terra cries into her cold noodles, because she’s too tired not to.