It's kind of hard to appreciate a road trip when basically everyone in car tried to kill you earlier.

Gar Logan

The countryside whizzed by, open fields blending with dirt roads. They hadn't passed a city just yet, but at the pace Dick was setting, they would be gridlocked in multi-laned highways in no time. Gar watched as a cow stumbled on the side of the road, tripping over its own thin legs. As the car whizzed past, he craned his neck to look back, but they were going too fast to see if it picked itself back up.

They had been driving for a little more than an hour, and already, the fallout from the earlier fight seemed to have set in. Rachel was starting to slump in the shotgun seat, her fingers moving restlessly every few minutes, massaging her chest, then going to touch the jewel on her forehead, then back to her chest again. Dick, to his credit, seemed completely fine, fingers clutching the wheel only a bit too tight, tapping a beat that only he could hear. Gar, himself, was probably the worst off, but that was okay. His body ached in places he didn't know it could, and there was a crick in his neck he couldn't massage out, no matter how many times he rubbed his aching muscles. He made sure not to do it too many times, though. The third time he reached his hand up, his eyes met Dick's in the rear-view mirror. The older man quickly averted his eyes, and Gar dropped his hand as if it had been burned. He stayed stock still for the next few minutes, heart thundering in his ears. Dick kept glancing back in the mirror, eyes still avoiding Gar. Were they being followed or something? He turned back and craned his neck, stretching it out a bit to see if it would help. It didn't. They were alone on the two lane dirt road.

Jason Todd, his usual annoying self, popped from the back, appearing 2 inches from Gar's face. To his credit, Gar managed to not jump away, screaming and flailing. He settled for tensing up and putting some space between them.

"How much longer are we going to be driving for?" Jason complained.

Gar turned exchanged a gleeful look with Rachel, smirking. His face felt a bit stiff, but it was a smile nonetheless. They had promised not to be the first ones to complain about the ride, but now that Jason had said something, all bets were off.

"Yeah, Dick, are we there yet?" Rachel chimed in.

At the same time, Gar leaned over to the front seat and remarked, "I'm getting a bit hungry."

Jason grinned wickedly, catching on.

"I gotta use the bathroom."

"Are we going to stop on the way?"

"Where are we going again, anyway?"

"Are we there yet?"

Dick didn't crack a smile.

"We'll hit a town in the next forty minutes," he said, with a face as serious as Batman's, "we can stop for food and the bathroom then."

Rachel's brow furrowed, and she turned to give Gar a questioning look he couldn't decipher. He just shrugged.

"Forty minutes?" Jason cursed and flopped back into the trunk. For some reason, he had opted to hole himself in the back on the car, rather than share the row with Gar. It wasn't that Gar didn't appreciate the space, but every time he heard Jason moving in the back, it was as if he were back in the house.

Surrounded by friends.

Always alone.

Rachel had stayed, a voice in the back of his head reminded him, and he got her back, even once she had turned.

He owed her everything, and she owed him everything. That put them on even ground, the best place to be in a friendship.

"You alright, Tiger Boy?" Jason asked with something that might have been his own warped version of slight concern, "You're actually looking a little green."

And he was, really. The green tinge that showed up whenever he transformed was slowly getting darker and darker on his skin. Gar swallowed and tried to curb his nausea.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he let out a breath, trying to rein in his powers and his anxiety.

Dick's eyes swept over them again.

"Do I need to pull over?"

Gar shook his head quickly. "No, it's fine. All great in the back. Perfect."

"Speak for yourself, dude!"

Jason pushed him gently on the shoulder, and this time Gar did flinch violently, whacking his head against the back of Rachel's seat.

A loud crack sounded and pain erupted in his skull, coupled with Rachel's shriek.

The car jerked to a stop and all of a sudden-

They were all around him-

oh, God, he was going to die-

"-ar, try to take a deep breath!"

Gar sucked a breath into his burning lungs and began coughing.

punching, and kicking, and the pain-

he couldn't breathe-

hands around his throat-

"Get away from me!" Gar growled, lashing out at the person closest to him. There was a grunt as his leg connected with something, and Gar managed to finally open up his eyes.

He was lying on the side of the road, in a field. The sun seemed far too bright, and it seemed unimaginably quiet. He pulled in another breath of the country air and tried to sit up. Rachel popped up in the side of his vision and placed gentle hands on his chest, holding him down. She offered him a relieved smile, but her eyes were deep and dark, almost like- He bit down on his lip, drawing blood.

"You alright?" she asked.

Gar took another deep breath and nodded, not trusting his voice to crack or something embarrassing like that. He reached a hand up to his head instinctively. There was a small bump on the side of his forehead. Rachel gently pushed his hand down.

"Jason's looking for the first aid kit. Dick says he tossed it in first, so it's probably underneath everything, but it'll be there."

Gar clung to these words, the one connection he had left.

"What- happened?" he rasped.

"You had some sort of attack where you tried to change and couldn't for some reason," Rachel moved her hands from his chest and picked at the grass next to them. "It was like you couldn't breathe- Dick could explain better."

Gar grabbed one of Rachel's hands and took a measured breath. Sitting up this time was easier, even though he hissed when the blood rushed to his head.

"Are you turning into a snake?" Rachel asked anxiously. Gar took one look at her serious face and fell back into the soft grass, laughing.

Rachel rolled her eyes at him, then laughed, too, flopping back on the grass with him. It felt good to be short of breath for a silly reason. A happy one.

When he finally got his breath back back, he turned his head so he could see Rachel.

"What happened?" he repeated.

Rachel stared directly at him. "You hit your head on my seat. Dick thinks you might have a concussion. How many fingers am I holding up?"

She waved two fingers in front of his face until he swatted it away.

"Just two, right?" When Rachel nodded, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "See? I'm fine. Where is Dick, anyway? Usually he's all over us when we get hurt."

Rachel helped Gar sit up and leaned in conspiratorially. "I mean, you did land a pretty good kick on him earlier."

Gar nearly fell back down in surprise.

"I kicked him?" he asked incredulously. He carefully turned his head around, but the nausea from earlier seemed to have stopped. He could make out two figures next to the blurry splotch of the car, which was only about 10 feet away. He blinked again. Maybe his vision was still a bit off.

"You don't remember?" Rachel asked, sounding a bit concerned.

Gar shook his head. "The first thing I remember is just lying on the grass." He gestured to the flattened grass underneath.

She pursed her lips and stared at him, scrutinizing him. Gar just stared at the ground and pulled out a clump of grass.

"I'm going to go ask Dick," she said finally, expression unreadable. Gar sighed, but nodded. He watched her receding back and closed his eyes, still a bit numb from what had happened. Had he blacked out? Had he been attacked? The sensation of hands around his neck started up again, and he opened his eyes, just to ground himself. It didn't help that a pounding headache had started up, throbbing behind his recently acquired bump. His eyes darted back and forth nervously.

"Gar!" Rachel's voice called out, "We're coming over!"

Had her voice always sounded so... Strange? He squinted at the approaching figures, but he couldn't focus, only making out colors and the vague outlines of things. The pale white of Rachel's face came into focus, but it seemed a bit too drawn, a bit frightened. Dick's face swam into view, with dark ink smeared below his eyes.

Gar yelped and stumbled back, tripping over his own feet before he even realized he was standing up.

"Stay back!" he warned, voice sounding pitifully exhausted, "Come any closer and I'll transform!"

Dick set down the case he was holding and stared at him with dead eyes. He lifted his hands up in surrender, but his mouth twisted in a horrible sneer. Rachel seemed more afraid than ever, and she stepped closer to Gar anyway, holding her hand out to him like he was some sort of wounded animal.

"It's okay, Gar," she soothed, "He's just going to take a look at your head."

"Look at his eyes!" Gar shouted hoarsely, "He's tricking us all, he's still with Trigon!"

Rachel still seemed scared, which was odd. If she wasn't afraid of Dick, what was she afraid of?

"I'm not with Trigon," Dick said tiredly, "Rachel killed him, remember?"

The coal black eyes watched Gar as he stared at the grass.

Rachel had killed Trigon, he was pretty sure of it. He couldn't control anyone if he was dead, could he? Dick was clean, he was okay. So why was he staring at Gar with those dead eyes and a wicked expression?

Gar took a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut, then wrenched them open.

Dick's entire features seemed to shift slightly. The only darkness on his face was dark circles underneath exhausted eyes and the side of his face was starting to bruise.

"You're not possessed?" Gar asked cautiously. He kept his eyes open, barely allowing himself to blink. He was so tired of not knowing if things were real or not.

Dick shook his head patiently.

"Can I take a look at your head now?"

Rachel hovered over to the side nervously, while Dick opened the case he was holding and pulled out a bag of ice. "Mini cooler in the back," he explained, handing the bag over, "I'm still getting used to this car. Rachel, would you mind helping Jason with repacking the car?"

She nodded in agreement, throwing an apologetic look back at Gar.

The cold from the bag seemed to seep into Gar's fingers, turning them into icicles. He felt strangely disconnected, as if a gust of wind could knock him down any moment. Dick crouched down next to Gar and tilted his head, apparently checking for bleeding or permanent damage.

Even if there wasn't any, Gar felt terrible. His whole body ached, and he probably had a few new bruises from lying on the side of the road. His vision was blurry, and his ears were starting to ring.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" Dick asked softly as he brushed his fingers over Gar's forehead. Gar tried to ignore the way the other man's fingers trembled where they got near his face. He tried to concentrate on not flinching when Dick inspected the bump on his forehead. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful on both counts, and Dick pulled his hand back as soon as he could, expression drawn.

"Did that have something to do with what happened in the car?"

Something in Gar snapped.

"Stop acting like you care," he said stiffly, and tried to get up, his sore muscles groaning in protest. Dick froze, his jaw clenching as he stared at a patch of flattened grass.

After a painful silence, he looked up at Gar.

"I care about all of you," he said, a moment too late, watching Gar carefully, as if he expected the boy to burst into shards of glass at any time. Gar just watched him.

The older man swallowed hard. "Gar, I'm sorry."

Gar scoffed and pressed the ice pack to his forehead.

"Yeah, me too."

Some may say to forgive and forget, but he can remember his neck being snapped, remember how it felt to be beaten within an inch of his life.

He stumbled towards the car, leaving Dick Grayson hurt on the ground.

It's still not nearly enough to make up for last time.