017

— what could have been —

PAST THE CITY, THROUGH THE BACKROADS OF TEXAS AND INTO THE HILLS OF JACKSON WAS AN OLD FARMHOUSE. The house had undergone a subtle modern upgrade, prominently to fix the old foundation, yet it still retained its rustic charm. The pens and animal houses that dotted the property lay empty, the weather taking its toll on the old foundations.

Hazel and Gar had embraced the simple life, far enough from the towns no one would bother them for nine months. It was Hazel's gift to Gar on his twenty-third birthday.

The Titans had hit more than a rough patch. A web of concealed secrets and unaddressed problems threatened to unravel the group. Over the years, the accumulation of unspoken burdens had ultimately imploded. Amidst the battles, near-death experiences, and relentless encounters with psychopathic foes, the weight of their past had become too much to bear. And it was all too much to be fixed.

A life where the only arguments would be who would be cooking dinner was the most enticing thing either could dream of.

Their mornings would start earlier for Hazel. She would wake as the sun rose, taking a tea and a book out to the front porch. She would throw seeds out to the birds before settling onto the outside couch and reading for hours until Gar woke up. With a coffee in hand, he joined her, listening to her read until they finished their drinks. Later into the morning, they would work on fixing the broken animal houses and gardens.

When it reached midday they would race back to the house, whoever reached the house last would cook dinner. It usually ended in Hazel losing. Occasionally she would venture to town to get dinner food but normally the gardens held all they needed. In all fairness, Gar would finish making dinner as Hazel sat in the lavender fields, playing her hand-carved guitar.

Once every two weeks the town held a market and the two held a stall to sell the produce from their gardens and the guitars Hazel had carved herself. While the promise of solitude was welcoming, having small interactions with the townspeople kept them sane.

As the day wound down, the sun setting and the sky shifting to hold all sorts of colours, they retreated to their cozy farmhouse. Evenings were spent by the fireplace, where they recounted stories and dreams, sharing their hopes for the future. So far, the conversation had gone as far as what animals to have on their farmyard, but the conversation to expand their family was growing closer and closer.

On clear nights, they would lie on the grass, stargazing. Hazel would explain the constellations, recounting the myths and stories. She would point to the sky, bringing both their hands up as their fingers stayed intertwined.

As of recently, persistent foxes, driven by the promise of shelter from the rain, had continuously burrowed beneath the fence and sought shelter under their home, their eerie screeches in the night adding a layer of unsettling ambience. Gar had reached his limit, the promise of a night with no screeching pests ridding his guilt as he spent the day clearing out their makeshift nests.

As he worked, the distant rumble of an approaching car cut through the tranquillity of the moment. However, Gar, continued his efforts, staying focused on the task at hand. He chose to delay his investigation into the newcomer's identity, knowing that Hazel, inside the house, could occupy whoever had just arrived, granting him the time needed to address the issue with the fox's nests.

Gar huffed and walked up the steps on the back porch. He grabbed the garden hose, the cool water washing away the dirt and muck from his hands. Once satisfied, he pushed open the creaking door and walked through the hall, his boots echoing softly on the wooden floor as he entered the cozy kitchen.

Hearing the footsteps, Hazel peered her head out from the living room. She called out to Gar who was hidden by the diving wall. "Gar?"

He turned to face Hazel, his features softening as he met her gaze. "Yeah, just me, babe," he replied, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Who's here?"

Gar rounded the corner, a large smile gracing his features as he laid eyes on Dick sitting at the table. "Dick, hey, man," Gar warmly greeted his old friend. Dick extended a hand for a customary handshake, but Gar slapped it away and pulled him into a heartfelt hug. Hazel, observing the reunion, couldn't help but smile as she gathered the empty beer bottles, heading towards the kitchen to throw them away.

Curiosity evident in his voice, Gar questioned his old friend, "What are you doing out here?" With a casual air, he took a seat at the dining table.

Dick offered a shrug and took a place across from Gar. "It's been a while, figured I'd stop by and see you both," Dick explained, his gaze drifting to the large kitchen window that looked over the well-kept farm. "Farm's looking good, still animal-free?"

A chuckle escaped Gar. "We can barely keep the foxes out," he admitted.

Dick's demeanour shifted, and his fingers drummed against the table, a sign of the weight on his mind. Gar, noticing the shift, questioned, "Why are you here?"

After a deep breath, his shoulder tensing, he answered, "Something's happened. Jason and I were watching Gotham when he suddenly went AWOL."

"Dick, you know-" Gar began, but Dick interjected, anxious to express his urgency.

"I know, I know," Dick rambled, pre-empting Gar. "You both deserve a life away from everything. But you're the only ones Jason will listen to."

Silence hung in the air, and Gar's smile faded as he cast a lingering gaze on Dick's restless fingers. Hazel, standing by the wall, couldn't hide her unease. Hazel intervened, holding out a pair of beers.

"Thanks," Dick responded with a grateful smile.

Gar, his expression clouded with concern, focused on Dick's agitated tapping. "We don't do that anymore, Dick," he said softly.

Dick sighed and shifted his attention back to Gar. "Gar, I know I did things, and you have every right to be mad at me," Dick acknowledged. "But you're the only one who can talk any sense into him."

Gar tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze drifting towards Hazel. "We don't do that anymore, Dick," Hazel echoed firmly.

Dick persisted, seemingly desperate. "Just come into town," he started. "See if he'll answer your calls."

Gar shook his head softly, but Dick couldn't hide his frustration. "Really? After everything, you don't have anything to say?"

"Dick, that's enough," Hazel snapped.

"No! No! Fuck you, Hazel," Dick erupted. He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "You begged me to let Jason back into the Titans, and I ask you to help him-"

"Get the hell out of my house," Hazel shouted.

Dick scoffed and locked eyes with Gar. "Seriously?"

"Richard," Hazel snapped. Enraged, Dick grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. However, he paused and flung the door open again.

"When Jason's body shows up, know it's your damn fault!" Dick's words cut like a blade. Gar turned his gaze away, and Hazel, seething, pursued Dick, forcefully throwing the door open, narrowly missing his face.

"What's your fucking problem?!" Their voices clashed in a heated confrontation, but Gar, overwhelmed by the turmoil, lowered his head onto his arms, concealing his face.

❁

THE SKY HAD DARKENED, STARS LIGHTING THE SKY. In their cozy living room, couches pushed out of the way, throw rugs tossed onto the floor like a carpet with soft melodies echoed through the house, and Gar and Hazel danced. Cast in the warm, mellow glow of the room's soft lighting, swayed back and forth.

Gar swiftly guided Hazel through a twirl under his outstretched arm, her laughter soft, a harmonious accompaniment to the music. "Now where did you learn to do that Logan?" Hazel teased. Gar's arms wrapped around her once more, and he dropped his head to rest against her forehead.

"Mmm, a magician never reveals his secrets," Gar hummed, spinning Hazel again.

With a symphony of laughter and the grace of newbie ice skaters, they swayed and twirled, surrendering to the enchantment of the night. Their journey led them through the corridors of the house, where each room echoed with the echo of their shared joy. As the clock hands inched toward midnight, they finally succumbed to weariness, tumbling onto the bed, entwined in the warmth of their love, ready to embrace the dreamscape that awaited them.

2:46 am

The room was cloaked in a serene stillness, interrupted only by Hazel's gentle, rhythmic breaths that echoed through the air. She lay in peaceful slumber, the covers lovingly tucked under her chin, wrapped tightly in the embrace of restful dreams. At her side, Gar sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly spinning Jason's old Robin R emblem, his mind racing faster than he could comprehend.

Four months had slipped away since Hank found himself ensnared in trouble he couldn't get himself out of, his voice trembling with desperation as he placed a last-ditch call to Dick. Recognizing the urgency, Dick, unwilling to endure the loss of anyone else after Donna, swiftly reached out to Gar, Hazel, and Jason. Even with the tension between them, they raced against time to come to Hank's aid.

However, the universe seemed opposed to anything they tried. Amidst a frenzied battle against hordes of armed adversaries, Hazel, with sheer determination, managed to fight through the chaos and locate Hank. But tragedy loomed close. In her fervour to reach him, she unknowingly triggered a concealed bomb, a malevolent device that claimed Hank's life and nearly her own.

Jason managed to hold the oncoming men off as Hazel healed herself, fixing the burns that covered her face.

The harrowing incident rippled through the group, leaving scars that ran deep. Gar, his heart heavy with guilt, made a valiant effort to reach Hazel, but a fateful bullet found its mark, piercing his chest. With Jason and Dick able to hold back the men, Hazel crawled to Gar, and without her, he might have met a similar fate to Hank's.

His body moved of its own accord, grabbing a bag and filling it with clothes and the bracelet Hazel had gifted him two years ago. He wrote her a note, leaving it on the nightstand before making his way to the kitchen. Internet couldn't reach the farmhouse but with Bruce Wayne's money, they had the house connected with a landline.

Gar quickly dialled Dick's number. "Yeah, hey, it's me," Gar said, keeping his voice quiet as he toyed with the phone cord. "I can meet you in town in an hour."

"Thank you, Gar," Dick said, his voice soft.

"See ya soon." Gar hung up the phone and dropped his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry, Hazel. I am, but I have to try," Hazel's voice rang out in the quiet of the kitchen, startling Gar. He turned to find Hazel standing at the entrance, clutching a note tightly in her trembling hands. "I'll be back before you know it. Love, Gar."

Hazel's frustration and fear bubbled to the surface, and with a mixture of anger and sadness, she flung the notebook away, sending dishes crashing to the floor. "A note?" she scoffed, her voice carrying a trace of hurt. Hazel sighed and ran her hands through her hair, her eyes tired. "Just... come back to bed. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Gar let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, his resolve unyielding. "I can't just sit here and do nothing, Haze," he said, his voice weighted with determination. He adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder and turned toward the back door. "I'll be back in a few days."

"Garfield Mark Logan," Hazel shouted, desperation lacing her voice. He turned back to look at her. "Please don't do this."

Gar's head drooped, the weight of Hazel's words bearing down on him. "Trust me, Hazel, please," he implored, his voice quivering with uncertainty.

Hazel shook her head, her emotions raw. "Rachel's dead! Hank's dead! Donna! No one's heard from Kory in years!" Her voice trembled with the weight of their shared losses. "I can't sit here and wait, Gar! I know what happened hurt, but I can't live like this, waiting for the next time you run off and almost get killed."

"I'm not like you, Hazel," Gar's voice reverberated with frustration and a sense of helplessness. "I can't just pretend I don't see this shit. You couldn't save Hank, but maybe I can save Jason." His words hung heavily in the air, and he immediately realized the weight they carried. Gar took a tentative step closer to Hazel, the gap between them narrowing. "I-"

Hazel's voice wavered as she struggled to find the right words. "That's not fair," she stammered, her emotions in making her shake. Gar reached out for her, taking her hand, but she brushed his hand aside and turned away, her heart heavy with grief and uncertainty.

"Don't make me choose," Gar's plea tried to cover the desperation in his voice but Hazel heard it all the same. Hazel shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. Gar heaved a deep sigh through his nose, tears building in his own eyes. "Please." Hazel's heart grew heavy, her body begging to turn back and jump into Gar's arms. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the back door.

As the door closed behind him, a profound sense of solitude enveloped Hazel. Her strength gave way, and she crumpled to the floor, her tears flowing freely. He had broken her heart, and he couldn't even look back at her or the home they made.

Gar straightened as turned towards Hazel and Rachel, black veins running down his cheeks. "No," Hazel whispered. Rachel's hands gripped Hazel's arm tighter.

"I hate to have healed you..." Trigon started and Hazel's rage-filled eyes met his. "Just to hurt you all over again." He looked over his shoulder at the possessed group. "Cue the final betrayal. You know what to do." Trigon stepped back and the other slowly closed in on Hazel. Dick seized Rachel and held her back as she kicked.

"Guys, it's me," Hazel spoke, holding her hands up as if calming down a wild animal. "Please stop!"

Dawn swung at Hazel, but she quickly dodged under up, kneeing her sternum. Hazel clenched her hands and vines shot up from the ground and wound around Dawn and Hank's legs, holding them in place. Donna kicked Hazel's back, adding extra power as Kory threw a punch across Hazel's face, splitting her lip open.

Hazel tried to throw her arm up, but Jason grabbed it, kicking her elbow and snapping her arm. Hazel screamed and fell to the floor. The others swarmed her, throwing heavy kicks into her body.

"No! Hazel!" Rachel screamed.

Gar kicked across Hazel's head, cracking her skull, and staining her skin with blood. Jason slammed his foot down on her side, cracking her ribs. Hank and Dawn kicked at her stomach, bruising every part of her skin. Donna stood on her hand, breaking her bones, stopping her from growing any vines. Hazel's skin was bruised and swelled and split. Her bones cracked and bent. Blood spilled from her mouth and opened wounds.

Quickly they all stopped and cleared a path for Dick. Rachel watched with hope as Dick stopped to look down at Hazel who wheezed and gagged on her blood. Dick looked up at Rachel and she smiled softly. Dick knelt and pulled Hazel onto her feet.

Hazel swayed slightly; her vision blurred but she could make out Dick's figure.

Dick's hand shot out, gripping her throat and raising her into the air. "Dick, no!" Rachel sobbed. Hazel kicked and whimpered, strangled chokes breaking through with bloody hisses. Dick squeezed his hand, bones inside her neck popping out of place. Dick tossed Hazel to the side with inhuman strength. She smashed into a cabinet before slamming into the floor.

"No!" Rachel screeched rushing to Hazel and falling next to her. "No, no, no," Rachel sobbed, rocking Hazel's shoulder. Hazel's head rolled to the side; her eyes open but glazed over. Rachel used every ounce of strength she could muster to search for Hazel and heal her wounds but there was no response.

"No, no, no." Rachel stood and faced her father, who walked to her. Rachel breathed deeply and screamed out, the glass and windows shattering throughout the house. "Save her!" Rachel ordered.

"Not this time," Trigon said, shaking his head. "I told you it would end. You should have listened to me. Maybe she could've lived. But now her death is on your hands. Your friends are murderers because of you. You're a monster inside. A bringer of death. That's all you are. All you've ever been. Just like... me."

Rachel sobbed weakly, "No."

"I'm sure it breaks your heart. Yes. I can see that it does. Good," Trigon said darkly. Trigon's hand shot through Rachel's chest, grasping her heart. Rachel choked and gasped as Trigon reeled his hand back, her heart in his hand, covered in blood.

Rachel whimpered softly before she fell to the floor. Trigon squeezed her beating heart, and his skin broke into flakes, revealing the demon lying underneath. He was over eight feet tall, with dark horns sprouting from his skull and his teeth twisted into fangs.

A large red shard lay in his palm. Low growls and snarls ripped from his throat as he twisted the diamond in his talons. He stepped over Rachel, his hooved feet crushing the glass.

"With this, you have the power to rule the world with me," Trigon's voice bellowed as he pushed the shard into Rachel's skull. Her forehead split open and a red diamond pushed through her skin. Rachel's eyes snapped open, her skin a ghostly white, her eyes an endless black with the black veins on her cheeks.

Rachel pushed herself up to stand in front of Trigon. "I understand now," Rachel spoke in a demonic voice. 

— gods —