Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: A Girl with Wings

November 11th
Gotham
Nightwing

It was warm for November that year. Summer had arrived late, but when it finally did, it was reluctant to leave, resulting in a summer-like September and October, and a mild November. Gotham was as dark as ever, but the unusual heat removed that cold, unforgiving feel the Narrows usually had this time of year. Not that they were any less dangerous. The only safety you could get in this kind of place was just avoiding it altogether, really.

Though, there was also the safety that the Batman and his team provided. It was a well-known fact that if Batman wasn't out at night, then one of his protégés - or former protégé - was bound to be. Sometimes more than one. The more observant – or perhaps obsessive – person would know that there were four of them in total: Batman, Batgirl, Robin, and Nightwing.

The even more observant person would has noticed that it had been a long time since Nightwing was last spotted on patrol in the city.
The young hero in question was, for the first time in months, once again to be found on a lone rooftop, looking out over some of Gotham's more questionable streets. His eyes were constantly scanning the area, his ears ready to pick up any sound.

But the streets were quiet. There was no sound to hear, no crime to see.

With a bored sigh, Nightwing fired his trusty grapplehook and swung over the building's edge, landing soundlessly on the fire-escape of the apartment complex across the street. In a few, fluid moves, he clambered up the stairs and pulled himself up onto the roof of the building, running to the other side of the flat surface, where he proceeded to stand still and listen for any incriminating sounds in the streets again.

Tonight was, without a doubt, one of the slower ones.

Still, he was glad for the opportunity to be out again. And he should've actually been thankful for such a quiet night, as the only reason he was out was because he needed to relax for a little bit.

Nightwing wryly wondered when patrolling Gotham's slums signaled relaxation.

He already knew the answer to that question, of course. Since Kaldur's 'betrayal', which had made Nightwing the leader of the Team back in March, he'd been feeling very thinly stretched. Had he known how much of a burden becoming team leader was going to be, he might not have been as eager to be leader back when the team was originally formed. He felt like it was a role he’d been training for, for a decade – everyone around him kept insisting that he was born to lead, and he was eager to step up to the challenge and prove them right.

Still. He felt stretched.

So, the simple patrol, a routine he'd done so many times for the past ten years, he could do it in his sleep, was a nice relaxing exercise. It was alone-time, something Nightwing felt that he sorely needed. Time away from the endless responsibilities that seemed to keep piling up on his metaphorical work desk.

Or not as metaphorical anymore, as he had literally installed a work desk in his bedroom back at his apartment that was solely for team leader business.

He groaned quietly to himself. When Batman had asked him if he felt up for patrolling the city tonight, he'd jumped at the chance to do something that would stop him from thinking about his responsibilities, and yet here he was, thinking about his responsibilities

He stepped back a few paces from the edge of the roof top and then took off at a sprint, summersaulting over the small gap between this apartment building and the next, willing himself to stop thinking about team stuff.

You're here to fight crime, so focus! He mentally reprimanded himself in his best Batman imitation.

Only, there was no crime to fight. The streets underneath him where empty, save for a single elderly man walking his dog.

Nightwing ran the back of a hand across his brow to wipe some sweat off it, the unusually warm November night getting to him. He really shouldn't have worn his winter gear, but he had been an idiot and forgotten to check the local weather reports.

Looking up into the sky, he briefly wondered if there was going to be a thunderstorm later, with all the heat and rain they'd been getting for the past week.

Tonight was, thankfully, a dry one. He continued on his way, not even bothering to run anymore. Walking up to the end of the apartment building, Nightwing heaved himself up to the roof of the slightly taller building, right next to the one he was standing on now.

Still no crime to fight. Maybe the criminals were just getting lazy. Or perhaps they'd all just been apprehended already.
I guess Babs and Tim are a lot more effective than I gave them credit for.

He decided to just do a quick scout of the rest of the streets, and then head home. Maybe he would even get home early enough to do some homework and still get enough sleep that night. A small smile quirked the right side of his mouth at the thought of getting a good night’s sleep.

Between his schoolwork, training, crime fighting, and being the leader of the team, sleep was one of the things he sometimes had to do without. His disciplined need to do everything perfectly didn't allow him to slack off on anything, and sleep really was quite a time consumer.

Half an hour later, he'd covered the entire area he usually visited, without any exciting results.

He was almost itching for a good fight.

He'd continued on his way back to where he'd parked his bike, when a commotion beneath the building made him stop in his tracks.

Nightwing ran soundlessly for the edge of the roof top and peered down, almost hoping there would be someone for him to confront.

In the large and dirty alley directly underneath him, brightly lit by the yellow-tinted streetlight, he spotted a gang of five tough-looking men cornering a girl.

The most noticeable thing about her was the mop of thick, blonde curls on her head. Next was how slight she was. She was small of build and short – and she looked young – maybe Nightwing's age – compared to the five grown men around her.

They were leering at her, their intent obvious in the way their eyes roamed along her body, which was hidden underneath a hoodie that had to be four sizes too large, reaching her mid-thigh. She had pressed herself to the brick wall of the building opposite the men, and now she had nowhere to go.

One of them lunged for her and got hold of her shirtsleeve, pulling on it roughly. When he heard the girl's surprised and fearful squeak, Nightwing was about to jump to her rescue, but then he saw something that made him freeze so suddenly, he almost toppled over the edge of the building he was crouching on.

The guy that had grabbed hold of her shirt sleeve pulled on it, with enough strength for the zipper to break and open up completely. Another tug, and the shirt fell clean off her, revealing a mangled and ill-kept pair of..

Wings.

The girl had wings sticking out of her back.

The five guys all recoiled, surprised shouts reaching Nightwing's ears, but before they could run away, the mountain of trashcans that was stacked at the back of the alley fell over, seemingly on its own, and buried the men underneath it.

The girl wasted only a few seconds to look at the incapacitated men, and then she picked up her hoodie and threw it on. She ran as fast as she could out of the alley and away from the pile of more or less conscious men that were all groaning in pain.

Nightwing shook his head and brought himself back to the present. He'd been too shell-shocked at the unexpected turn of events to see what had made the trashcans fall over, and now he was almost losing the girl.

At that moment, he had no idea that the split-second decision he made was going to completely change his future. But Nightwing decided to leave the men be, and follow the girl instead. He took off at a sprint along the rooftops, effortlessly catching up to her as she ran down the street.

Keeping up with the girl was easy, and he spent the chase mulling over what he had seen.

In the brief seconds he got to see the wings, he could tell that they were ill-kept. He could see that the girl was doing what she could to hide them, as she had belts strapped around them to make them smaller and have them flatten against her back.

His homework and promise of sleep were long forgotten now that the night had taken such an unexpected turn.

He followed the girl unnoticed for perhaps another five minutes. They were out of the Narrows and in a slightly better neighborhood now, a part of Gotham that Nightwing was rarely in. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd decided to follow her, but the rational part of his mind told him that Batman would want to know about any oddities in Gotham. And a girl with wings was certainly an oddity. The detective part of him also wanted to investigate further. After all, maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe it was part of a costume (possible) or maybe she was hiding a bird under her hoodie (unlikely).

So, if he wanted to report anything to Batman, he needed to make absolutely sure that the girl did in fact have.. wings..

Maybe she was the same species as Hawkgirl and Hawkman.

That didn't explain why it looked like she was hiding her wings, though.

She ran up to an old, yellow apartment building and dug out a key, disappearing inside. Nightwing scowled and slammed his closed fist down on the top of the brick wall he was hiding behind. He'd probably lost her now. Still, he stayed where he was for a moment, thinking that perhaps he'd be able to spot her through one of the windows in the building.

He was in luck. Two minutes after she had gone inside, a light turned on in one of the rooms on the fourth floor. He spotted her walking by the window and then the curtains were closed, leaving nothing but a dark silhouette for him to spy on.

He squinted his eyes and moved a building over to get closer to the window he was looking at. The silhouette was still there, and he paused when he saw that it was taking the hoodie off, revealing the wings again. She removed the belts that had strapped the wings to her back. He tensed when the wings spread out and moved once, then twice before folding and resting against her back again.

Definitely not a costume and definitely not a hidden bird.

Nightwing swung down the building and landed gracefully on the street, running across it. He reached the locked front door of the building and studied the nameplates there.
Left apartment on the fourth floor..

He found the right name plate and read it, memorizing the names for later use.

Abigail Grant & Morgan Louise Jørgensen, it read.

He wasn't sure if the girl was Abigail or Morgan, or what her relation to the other person in the apartment was. All he knew was that Batman would certainly want to know about this, Nightwing had work to do, and he would probably not get any homework done tonight after all.

He checked his position, calculated the fastest route back to his bike, and then he was gone.

--------

Dick leaned back in his chair, his chin in his hands as he studied the screen in front of him. His mask was off, and he had opened the front of his suit to let in some of the cool air. Somewhere, in a distant corner of the Batcave, the flutter of leathery wings and the screech of a bat could be heard.

How fitting, Dick thought absently, though his mind wasn't really focused on the cave's wildlife.

After getting home from his patrol around Gotham, Dick settled down in front of The cave’s massive computer, as he'd done so many times before. Here, he had punched in the first name he'd seen on the address that belonged to the apartment.

Abigail Grant. The picture that showed up didn't match the girl he'd seen, so he assumed that the girl with the wings was Morgan. Abigail was a grown woman, working as a nurse at Gotham Central Hospital. Formerly married to Henrik Jørgensen, the father of her daughter Morgan Louise Jørgensen.

Dick researched the man and found that they'd gotten divorced ten years ago and he had gone back to his homeland, Denmark. Explained the unusual name.

Next, Dick looked up the daughter's name. A picture of a young girl with big, unruly, blonde curls and grey eyes popped up on the screen and Dick knew he'd found her. This was the girl he'd seen. From what he could see, there was nothing unusual about her, except, perhaps, for the defiant look that shone in her eyes, accentuated by her subtly frowning brow. But that wasn’t so unusual for someone who’d grown up in this city. Gotham natives were a special breed.

She was eighteen years old, about seven months younger than him, and attending her first year at Gotham's community college. She lived with her mother and worked at a pizzeria every weekend, as the delivery girl.

The important thing was that she was completely ordinary according to the files. And her mother seemed like a perfectly normal human too, not that Dick hadn't learned long ago that looks were deceiving, and the bat-computer wasn't always right.

But it was right most of the time.

Still, he made a mental note to check out the father, if nothing came up about the mom. He wasn't from America, and he hadn't been in the country since he divorced Morgan's mother, so digging up dirt on him might prove to be a bit trickier.

Dick felt his mind whir with the promise of a new mystery to unlock. He wasn’t yet sure what this was about, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it – if for no other reason, then to sate his own curiosity.

With a sigh and a glance at the watch in the corner of the screen in front of him, he decided that he'd have to continue this little investigation tomorrow.
And he hadn't even gotten any homework done.

I usually have longer chapters, but I like shorter prologues. I remember when I thought up this character originally, I wanted to make her half danish because I thought it would be fun to have a bit of my own culture in this otherwise america-centric story. Mostly, the thought of her cursing people out in a language they wouldn't understand just made me laugh a bit. When I began this story, Morgan was my age - and now I'm a decade older than her, which is /fun/

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: The Girl with the Wings

November 18^th

Gotham

Morgan

As her alarm began its incessant beeping, Morgan let out a low groan and burrowed further beneath her covers, hoping she could drown it out. Staying up late last night to finish a project that wasn't even due until next week, had definitely been a bad idea. Her overwhelming want to stay in bed for just a little bit longer, combined with the knowledge that she didn't have the time for that, almost made her want to cry.

She considered faking sickness, but she'd already done that once this week, and twice the week before, and three times the week before that..

Her mom thought she was just frail and blamed herself for letting her daughter grow up in Gotham, with its regularly poisoned air or water. The truth was that often, Morgan just couldn't face the day. She was too exhausted, and so tired of spending every single moment she was outside terrified that someone would finally discover the monstrosities growing out of her back. It was a miracle that she'd been able to hide them this long, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they grew too large to hide underneath a big sweater, a scarf, and her mane of hair.

She'd considered removing them herself. She had done research - had even held a knife to them once, but she'd been too afraid of the pain and potentially bleeding out. No matter how unnatural they were, the wings were undoubtably part of her body, and attempting an amputation on herself was too risky.

Her cat, Perseus, or Percy for short – a name she could only excuse by explaining that she'd had a serious Percy Jackson and the Olympians obsession back when she'd gotten the cat as a kid – jumped up on her bed and sat in her hair, licking its paw casually. Morgan scratched him briefly behind his ear before pushing him off her hair. Knowing that she had to, she sat up in bed and swung her legs over the edge, rubbing her face and running her hands through her hair to wake herself up fully. Her mother had, as usual, been on a night shift at work and was fast asleep right now, meaning that Morgan wouldn't have to worry about her mother seeing her wings.

The thought comforted her somewhat, as it meant an hour less of constant worrying. She could even blow dry her feathers after her shower without her mother asking why she was taking her so long to dry her hair and then raise suspicion.

Unfortunately, an hour passed by quickly, and before she knew it, she was already out the door and headed for the metro, just like every other morning.

"I need some change in my life.." she grumbled to herself as she stuck her keys into the pocket of her jacket.

A big change.

Sometimes, Morgan felt like she was about to explode. She couldn't go on every day like this, trying to blend in with all the normal, wing-less people. It wouldn't last forever. If only she could figure out some way out of this.

At the same time, she wasn't fond of the solutions that presented themselves. She wasn't stupid. If she was discovered, chances were that she'd spend the rest of her life as a lab rat, scientists poking and prodding at her day in and out, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with her. And if there was one thing she hated more than needles, it was people trying to control her.

Or maybe I'll just join a circus or a traveling freakshow. I bet I'd fit in just fine there. 

Morgan had jokingly thought that joining the circus might've been her best shot countless times. Obviously, she knew it would only be a matter of time before someone would find her there too, and she'd still end up in a lab somewhere either way.

So, all she could do was continue like she always did. Isolate herself as much as possible. Never talk to anyone. Neither get grades that were too good or too bad to draw any attention to her. By now, Morgan had mastered the art of appearing aggressively uninteresting and average.

Her day passed as most did. She arrived early and sat in the last row in class so no one would notice the weird way her green sweater bulged in the back when she sat down. She ate her lunch, standing in some dark corner close to the bathrooms on the second floor. At one point, another student had bumped into her from behind and given her a weird look before walking off. Morgan's heart had climbed into her throat and pumped furiously for ten minutes straight afterwards, and she’d gone and hid in a bathroom stall until her next lecture.

Other than that single incident, it had been an okay day. They'd gotten a biology test back and she’d had a perfect score. Her teacher had talked to her about pursuing biology more seriously, which Morgan couldn't wait to tell her mom, as she knew her otherwise average grades disappointed Abigail a bit.

She didn’t want to disappoint her, just like she didn’t want Abigail to know her daughter was actually a Grade A Freak. Morgan had already been abandoned by one parent.

It was true that Morgan always made sure to never do her best on her schoolwork, but she couldn't help it in biology. She had a knack for it, something her mom said she'd gotten from her dad. And as stupid as it sounded, she felt closer to him whenever she did her biology homework. He'd been a genius in biology, and Morgan, even though she hadn't seen the man in a decade, felt, or hoped, that she was making him proud by getting good grades in the subject. A small part of her thought that maybe if she got a degree in the field, he’d reach out to her again. A much bigger part of her told her that she shouldn't give a shit what he thought. She hadn't heard a thing from the man since she was eight years old - he obviously didn't care. And neither should she.

A weary sigh left her lips as she finally rounded the corner of her street and spotted the apartment building, she lived in. Almost home. Almost safe. As long as she lied about having a lot of homework and barricaded herself in her room so her mom wouldn't see her, that is. She was never really safe.

"Hey mom," she called out into the apartment in an attempt to locate her.

"Hi sweetie." Her mom poked her head out the door that connected the hallway to their small kitchen, "How was school?"

Morgan entered the kitchen and jumped up onto the kitchen counter, where Abigail was busy preparing dinner. She had gotten home a bit late because she'd stopped by the library, so it was almost dinner time already.

She shrugged her shoulders and plucked a carrot off the counter, biting into it. "Same old, same old."

Her mother tutted at her and attempted to push her off the counter. "How many times have I told you not to sit on my tables? Honestly girl, you'd think I raised you better."

Morgan smirked and hopped down, leaning against the counter instead.

"Well, I've got schoolwork to finish. Call me when dinner's ready." She hefted her school bag off the floor and walked as fast towards her room as she could without it seeming suspicious.

Once the door was shut behind her, she heaved a relieved sigh and leaned against it, finally feeling at ease for the first time since she'd left the apartment that morning.

She ate dinner with her mom half an hour later, eating her small serving as slow as she could so Abigail wouldn't notice how little she was eating.

Once her wings had first started growing, Morgan had quickly realized that the more she ate, the faster they grew – like a teenage boy experiencing a growth spurt – so she'd started eating less and less to slow their progress. Not the healthiest solution, but she had been young and desperate, and now it had become a habit. The result was a pair of sad and weak wings, that she wasn't even sure could fly.

Some days she wondered what her wings would look like if she started eating more than just enough to get by with. How large they would grow. If she could fly with them. She usually pushed the thought away as fast as she could, as she preferred to pretend that she had absolutely no desire to fly with her wings, and that she hated them too much to attempt it.

"Well." Her mom stood up, stretched, and then began putting the dishes into the dishwasher. "I think I'll be going to bed soon. I've got an early shift tomorrow."

"Alright. I'll be in my room. I've got homework anyway."

Morgan stood too and helped her mom, and with their combined effort the dishes were dealt with in a matter of minutes.

Morgan retreated to her room and sat listening to the sounds of her mother getting to bed, waiting for the moment where she could take off her outer layer and all the belts that tied her wings to her body. Allow them to be free for the rest of the night. That was the time of day she savored the most. Tying her wings to her body with belts wasn't always without pain, and after a whole day of moving them as little as possible, they were stiff and uncomfortable.

Fifteen minutes after Morgan had entered her room, she heard her mom leave the bathroom, and then the telltale sound of the creaky springs of her mattress as she settled into it. The small apartment they lived in carried sound like nothing else, and Morgan could always hear exactly when Abigail had gone to bed. After years of this routine, her ears had become extremely attuned to the noises her mom made, as she moved through the apartment.

She waited ten more minutes, and then the ache in her wings made her slip off her sweater, revealing a black tank top underneath. She took that off too, and started undoing the belts around her stomach, waist, collarbone, and hips.

Once done, she dug out one of the tank tops she'd cut open in the back to allow her wings movement. Morgan settled in the chair in front of her desk again, her wings flopping lazily over the back of the chair, fluttering, and stretching in delight at being freed. She gave them a good shake and let out a groan of relief.

Percy jumped up onto her chair and climbed onto her shoulder, pawing at her wings in curiosity. She massaged her temples slowly, feeling a big headache coming.

Morgan sat there for two hours. She got a bit of homework done, but mostly she just wasted away time on the internet because she was unwilling to go to bed earlier than ten or eleven.

In hindsight, it had been a stupid thing to do, but she had firmly believed that her mother was asleep, so she plugged in her headphones and listened to music as she sat there.

That was why she didn't her the footsteps in her mother's room, or the creaking floorboards in the hallway. She didn't even notice her own door opening, but she heard Abigail’s voice.

"Morgan, can you-" Her mom froze midsentence as she got a good look at her daughter, who was sitting panicked and wide-eyed in her chair. Abigail’s eyes had been bleary, but she quickly woke up.

"Mom!" Morgan cried and instinctively folded her wings against her back, hoping against hope that her mother hadn't seen them. That had been the wrong move, as the movement destroyed any chance, she may have had at convincing her mom they were fake.

Abigail began to panic.

"What is that!" Her mother shouted and pointed with wild eyes at Morgan's back.

Morgan scrambled out of her chair, feeling terror climb up her throat. Abigail wasn’t ever supposed to know. She would throw Morgan out, she would send her way to a lab somewhere, and then Morgan would never see her again..

She took a step towards her mom, and as Abigail fell a startled step back, stumbling over the door frame, Morgan felt a spear of ice pierce her chest. She had to get out of here – before her mom could send her away, before her mom got the chance to reject her.

Morgan panicked completely. She grabbed a hoodie and pulled it on, and then she ran, jumping over her mom, who sat frozen in shock on the floor.

“Morgan!”

She left the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Even though it was late at night, she ran as fast as she could down the streets, not caring how dangerous Gotham was at night, not caring that she'd forgotten her phone and that she wasn't wearing shoes in November.

She just needed to get away. Away from her mom, away from that apartment, away from her life.

I guess now's the time for me to join that circus, she thought bitterly as her legs brought her down another street and then turned the corner into a small alleyway. Here, she collapsed from exhaustion as the adrenalin wore off. She sat against the wall, sniffling quietly to herself, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, resting her forehead against her arms. Maybe if she curled in on herself tightly enough, she would simply disappear. The alley was quiet and dark, and all she could hear was her own ragged breathing and her pounding heart.

She felt more alone than she'd ever felt before. More hopeless and lost.

If she'd known how her day was going to pan out, she probably would've called in sick that morning.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, a slow drizzle started raining down on her, soaking into her hair and her sweater. She became even more aware of the fact that she wore only socks on her feet. The cool rain made her shiver.

She realized that, eventually, she would have to get out of there. The alley wasn’t safe – nowhere in Gotham was safe, especially at night, and especially when you were a small girl, all alone.

She felt her tremors grow as she remembered what had happened last week, when she’d been out on her own at night. The five men that had approached her, their unspeakable intensions clear in their cold, hungry eyes. And what was somehow worse – they had seen her wings.

The memory made her glare, and she lifted her face from her cocoon, aiming her fierce look out into the darkness.

It was good that she had ways of protecting herself. Those men got what was coming to them.

The silence stretched on. The shadows around her deepened.

Morgan supposed she had gained good instincts for self-preservation from growing up in the most cursed city America had to offer – and some might call it paranoia, but she preferred to think of it as street-smarts.

Which was why she lifted her head and looked around when she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise as a sense of foreboding creeped down her back.

The streetlamp was broken, allowing pitch black shadows to swallow the alley she hid in. Morgan couldn't see much, which made her more sense than see the presence of someone else in the alley. She wasn’t alone anymore.

She sniffled once, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and then she stood up and looked around with narrowed eyes. She tried to peer through the darkness, but all she could pick out was shadows moving.

"Who's there?"

She'd hoped to sound brave, but her voice was raw from crying, and she felt another tremor of fear shake her bones.

Morgan gasped loudly and took an instinctive step back when the person stepped out of the shadows. She suddenly understood why she hadn't seen the person before. He was so dark, he appeared to have been borne from the shadows he had just stepped out of.

It was Batman.

Morgan had never seen him, despite living in Gotham all of her life. Now, here he stood in front of her, and she got a good look at him. For only a moment, she forgot her fear as curiosity got the better of her, and her eyes roved over the Dark Knight, taking in every detail she could discern in the darkness.

While she was busy staring at the superhero in front of her, she heard someone above.

She glanced up just in time to see Nightwing jump off a balcony above, performing a somersault and landing in an easy crouch by the entrance of the alley. He stood and walked further in, effectively caging her in between the two heroes.

Pressing herself to the wall behind her so she could face both of them at once, Morgan felt an unexpected annoyance flare up in her. She was kind of going through the absolute low point of her life thus far – she did not need to be dealing with a pair of spandex-clad heroes.

"I'm not a criminal or a victim, so you can leave," she said, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. She trained her glare onto the pavement, refusing to meet their masked eyes.

"We know," Nightwing said. Morgan’s ears perked up at the sound of his voice. He sounded.. young.

Nightwing took another step forward, his arms held out show her that he was open and non-threatening. She wasn’t falling for it.

"We're here to talk to you about something else,” he went on, and there was a knowing tinge to his voice that told her all she needed to know.

Morgan felt herself stiffen as she realized the two heroes before her were somehow privy to her darkest secret. Her blood ran cold in her veins and her mind started to reel. How did they know – and why were they seeking her out?

Lab rat, here I come..

She fixed him with a cool look, shoving all her fear far away to the back of her mind.

"You're here to talk about my wings, aren't you?"

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: A Bunch of Freaks

November 19th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

"And I guess this'll be your room from now on." Nightwing opened the door to one of Mount Justice's many bedrooms. The girl, Morgan, peeked inside and nodded silently, her face a mask that didn't give anything away. After her initial glares, she had retreated behind a carefully blank mask. The longer Nightwing and Batman had spoken, telling her about the Team and offering her a place to stay and food to eat, if she considered joining them, the harder she had become to read.

Harder for someone without his knack for reading people, that is. He could tell that she was sad, scared and feeling like she was in way over her head.

Honestly, when he and Batman had approached her in Gotham, he'd expected her to need a lot more persuasion than had actually turned out to be necessary. Batman had only had to point out that she didn't really have anywhere else to go anyway, and she'd agreed to come with them back to Mount Justice.

That wasn’t reassuring to Dick, however. He didn’t want her to stay here just because she had no other choice. And if she decided she wanted out, he knew Bruce would help her set up some kind of life for herself, that wouldn’t involve any superheroes.

Batman had left after the initial talk, but not before promising that he'd be back tomorrow and the three of them would have a talk about her possible future as a member of the team.

Nightwing looked at the small, thin, shivering girl and couldn't help but think that she didn't much look like hero material. And yet, the defiance that had given her the fortitude to glare at Batman, spoke of a little more strength than she was currently letting on.

Nightwing shot another look at the bedroom, noting how empty it was. He looked back at the girl and realized that her only belongings where the clothes on her back.

"If you decide to stay, we'll provide the means to make this room more like a home and less like a-"

"Prison cell?" the girl – Morgan, he mentally reminded himself – suggested dryly.

"Yeah, that." He scratched the back of his head and placed his hands on his hips. "And you’ll get some more clothes, of course. We’ll figure something out tomorrow."

She nodded once and stepped into the small room, sitting silently on the bed.

He had to admit, he was curious.

"Can I-" He cleared his throat and tried again. "Can I see them? Your wings?"

That, at least, got a reaction from her. She looked up at him with a stiff gaze, her grey eyes cutting like steel,

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I just want to see what we’re dealing with.”

She scowled at him for a moment. He thought about dropping it, except he could see she was fighting an internal battle and he decided to let her battle it out. The girl let out a small sigh and shrugged her shoulders, a defeated air about her.

"Sure. Why not." She stood and pulled off the hoodie, turning her back to him. She was wearing a black tank top underneath the hoodie, but the back had gotten three inches cut off, so her wings weren't hindered by the fabric.

Nightwing could sense how uncomfortable she was, so he kept his distance, choosing to study her wings from the doorway.

They were smaller than he'd remembered. And pretty ill-kept. Originally, he'd thought they were white, but he could now see that they were actually a light grey, which faded into a darker grey at the tips. He wasn't sure if she would ever be able to fly with them. They twitched sadly and he looked away.

He cleared his throat and she turned back around to face him, pulling on her hoodie again.

"Batman’ll be here in the morning. We'll sort out everything then. For now, sleep well and I'll introduce you to the others tomorrow, after your talk with Batman."

As an afterthought, he added. "I think it's for the best if you stay in here until I come and get you."

She nodded and sat back down on the bed.

Nightwing was about to leave and close the door behind him when he hesitated for a moment and took a step back into the room. The girl had looked so defeated and sad, he wanted to offer her some kind of reassurance – anything that would make her feel just a bit better.

"You're amongst friend here, Morgan. And you won't have to worry about hiding your wings."

"I'm not amongst friends. I'm amongst fellow freaks," she mumbled moodily, glaring at her feet. He was unsure if the words had been meant for his ears. Nightwing pegged it down to her being tired and sad about the new turn her life had suddenly taken, so he chose to not take the harsh statement personally. Instead, he closed the door behind him and left down the hall, into the main room. Superboy was there.

"Who was that?" he asked, not bothering with any niceties. Dick wasn't surprised that Connor had either seen or heard something – he did have superhearing, after all.

"Maybe a new member of the team." Dick paused, feeling unsure about the whole thing. "I'll explain everything tomorrow. For now, please make sure no one else bothers her. She's had a rough night."

Connor nodded and Dick offered him a grateful smile. "Thanks Connor."

With that, he left the cave.

November 19th

Mount Justice

Morgan

Morgan woke up with the feeling that today was going to one of those days. She looked around the room she was in, and immediately understood why. She wasn't at home. She wasn't even in Gotham. She was in Happy Harbor, inside a mountain that she'd heard Nightwing call 'The Cave' the night before. She was here to talk with Batman about possibly joining a team of teenage superheroes.

At least, that was what the two men had told her the night before. She didn’t buy it at all. She was sure the moment they saw her today, they'd remember how small and unthreatening she was, and they would realize that her wings were good for nothing. And then they would realize that she was anything but hero-material.

No, she knew they were going to walk back on their suggestion. She had only accepted their offer because she figured spending the night in a bed was at least better than on the streets. If she was lucky, she’d get breakfast out of it too.

She soon realized what had woken her up. There it was again, someone knocking on her door. It wasn't really her door though. She refused to call this room hers, not when she knew she was about to be thrown out. There was no point in trying to get attached to anything– not this room, and not the other people who lived here.

Sitting up in bed, she reached a hand up to her head, doing damage control. As per usual, her thick curls were a huge, tangled mess, and she decided to just let them be. Perhaps one day she would start caring about her hair.

There was another knock on her – no, the door, and Morgan finally stood up to open it.

She was faced with a tall, admittedly good looking, black haired boy with blue eyes and a muscular build. He looked younger than her by a couple of years, but something in his eyes told her not to make that assumption.

"Breakfast is ready if you want any,” he informed her, and pointed his thumb behind him in the direction Morgan figured the kitchen was. He hadn't bothered with any introductions or other awkward small talk, which Morgan had to admit she liked. After years of isolating herself from other people out of fear of being found out, she wasn't very good at talking to other people her age. She only had her mom.

Had only had her mom, until she saw her wings and freaked out just like everyone else would if they saw how much of a freak Morgan was.

The thought stung, so she put it away hastily, turning her attention back onto the boy, who was waiting for some kind of reaction from her.

Nightwing had told her to stay in the room.. but really, why did he get to decide what she did. She wasn’t a prisoner, was she? He had said she was amongst friends, right?

Morgan nodded, accepting the guy’s offer of breakfast, and followed after him as he turned to walk down the hall.

"I'm Superboy, by the way," he said over his shoulder.

"Morgan," she muttered awkwardly. She was at least grateful for one thing: He didn’t appear to be much of a talker either.

They entered what she saw was the combined kitchen and living room, where a colorful group of people of varying ages were sitting around an island table. And she did mean colorful.

The only girl at the table – who was green by the way – floated off her seat and landed in front of Morgan, an excited and open look on her face.

"Hi!" she said with a big smile. “I'm Miss Martian, but you can call me M'gann."

Morgan looked at her uncertainly, her eyes roving over M’gann’s alien appearance – she wasn’t exactly used to meeting people with green skin and it had momentarily stunned her.  

Then again, I have wings so I guess I shouldn't be judging.

"I'm Morgan," she eventually said.

M'gann grabbed her hand and began pulling her towards the table, but Morgan flinched, at the sudden contact, and took a step back, pulling her hand from the other girl’s grasp. She felt like an idiot when M'gann's smile fell and there was a beat of awkward silence. But the cheery girl recovered quickly, smiling sheepishly, and motioning for the table instead.

"You can sit next to me; I'll introduce you to the others."

Morgan relented and ended up sitting between M'gann and the black-haired guy from earlier. She looked at the people sitting around the table, her eyes growing wider with each new person she caught a glimpse of. Maybe having green skin was a new trend, as all the kids around the table were various tones of green, except for Superboy and her.

There was a younger boy that cheerily introduced himself as Beast Boy, a grumpy sounding, fish-looking creature that introduced himself as Lagoon Boy and said he came from Atlantis, and then of course the Martian and the Kryptonian.

She filed the Atlantis thing away for later questions because what the hell. Atlantis was real? And inhabited by fish people?

Then, she simply introduced herself as Morgan. She didn't bother with her last name as people could rarely pronounce it, and she hated a group-setting like this were people would inevitably make a few bad attempts and then laugh and tell her she had a strange name.

The girl – Miss Martian or M'gann or whatever – coerced her into eating some breakfast, and Morgan settled for toast and bacon, declining the offered scrambled eggs. She ate more than she usually would, figuring her usual attempt to stop her wings from growing was moot now. She had been found out, after all.

The people around the table settled into casual small talk, and while she mostly just sat and listened, she found herself enjoying breakfast. Everyone there seemed nice. She realized with a start that this was the first time in years she had felt even slightly at ease in the presence of her peers, as she knew all of them were abnormal, like her, and none of them seemed to mind. Not that she had shown them her wings, nor felt comfortable with the thought. And none of them had thankfully asked prying questions.

Too bad she was going to leave soon.

Fifteen minutes later, Nightwing came in, surprised to see that she was already at the table. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a tired sigh escaping his lips.

"I thought I asked you to stay in your room."

Morgan frowned at him. Would he rather she had stayed in her room to starve?

"I was offered breakfast,” she said, as if that explained everything.

Miss Martian rose from her seat and began cleaning up by levitating everything into either the sink or the fridge, depending on where it belonged. Morgan watched the show of power with rapt interest.

"We're just being friendly, Nightwing. No harm done," The Martian said placatingly.

"I guess not," he said, though he didn't sound convinced. "Batman’s here. Let’s go."

Morgan jumped off her chair and shuffled after the tall teenager, shooting a look at the people behind her. Lagoon boy and Miss Martian were being all gushy with each other, which Superboy was pointedly ignoring, but Beast Boy offered Morgan a thumbs up and what was supposed to be an encouraging smile, but came off as more of a pained grimace.

She swallowed dryly and turned around, following after Nightwing.

From Beast Boy’s reaction, she could only guess that talking to Batman wasn’t always a pleasant experience.

November 19th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Nightwing looked between his former mentor and the girl. She was shifting her eyes nervously between the two of them. Batman was keeping his eyes firmly on her.

The three of them stood in the caves common room in a small triangle.

Nobody spoke, and he could see she was actively trying to stop herself from shuffling around. Batman was simply studying the girl, the look on his face the same one he'd given Nightwing many years ago when Dick had first asked to join Bruce in his nightly activities.

It was the look of a man that was sizing someone up, trying to read their thoughts and understand how they worked. The calculating look of a man that was discovering what the other person was made of.

Eventually, after Batman had finished his study, he spoke up. "We brought you here out of kindness last night, and because you had nowhere else to go. But now we need to talk about what’s going to happen next."

The girl shifted from foot to foot, and one of her hands reached up to start pulling at a curl.

"We've known about your.. condition for a week now. Are you an alien?” he knew the question was direct, and from the way her eyebrows rose on her brow, she was caught off guard.

“Not as far as I know,” she let go of her hair and let her hand fall back to her side. “I don’t know what I am,” she admitted, voice laced with bitterness.

“That might be something we can help you figure out,” Batman said. “Your case isn’t unusual to us.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s pretty unusual to me.”

Nightwing interjected quickly, “If you’d like our help getting some answers, then we’ll do all we can. In the meantime, if you’re interested, you could start training with the intention of joining our team, when, and if, you’re ready.”

Morgan’s grew wide and she looked between the two of them, she appeared like she thought they'd been kidding when they'd mentioned the same thing the night before.

"But I have no experience in fighting. The only thing I have is a pair of pretty useless wings that’s never been used."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow.

"You've never attempted flight?" Batman asked. That was exactly the question Nightwing had been about to ask.

She scowled at the floor and stuffed her hands deep into her pockets, her shoulders raised high from how tense she became at the question.

"I hate those stupid things. They're the reason my life sucks." She looked up at the two heroes, her grey eyes flashing. "Of course, I haven't attempted flight."

"Well, can you try now?" Nightwing asked before he could stop himself. He quickly realized that it had probably been the wrong thing to ask as she stiffened and sent him an incredulous look.

"Look, dude, I've been strapping those things tightly to my back for years and moved them as little as possible." As if to prove her point, she pulled the hoodie over her head and spread her small wings as far as they could go. He could tell she was uncomfortable to have them out in the open, but that her frustration with them allowed her to push past it. "Their muscle-mass is pathetic, and they hurt to move. I'm pretty sure I've as good as mutilated them in my attempt to keep them hidden. They. Don’t. Work."

Even as she spoke, her wings fluttered and twitched almost angrily, rising and falling with each annoyed breath she drew.

Dick felt a pool of deep sympathy settle in his stomach at what she told them. He couldn’t imagine having to live like that, intentionally hurting yourself every day to hide a part of yourself from the world out of fear. He began to understand just some of the bitterness that rolled off her in waves every time they interacted. She appeared like a wounded animal to him, then, as she stood with angry eyes and fluttering, mangled wings.  

"We'll have someone look at them. For now, all you can do is train them. Are they still growing?" Batman's voice was as calm and put together as ever, not at all fazed by Morgan's attitude, nor did he appear as moved as Dick.

She huffed out a breath, but nodded all the same, a small pout on her lips.

"They're growing all the time. I think they could've been larger, but –“

She halted and looked away, her shoulders drooping in apparent shame. She was deliberating whether to admit whatever she had been about to say and he could see her begin to close off.

“It’s okay, you can tell us,” he assured her, keeping his voice neutral. Something told him she would react badly if she perceived his sympathy.

“I've been eating very little for years to slow their growing," she admitted, her hand going back up to pull at her hair. A nervous habit, apparently.  

Nightwing looked at her again and was once more forced to notice that not only her wings, but the rest of her too, looked thin and weak. He'd noticed before that she was a short girl, sure, but now that her hoodie had come off, he truly noticed the results of her attempts. He felt even worse – had she really been starving herself for years?

Batman nodded slowly, but he didn’t react to her statement, which Dick figured was for the better.

"Do you want to join this team?" He asked firmly.

"I-" she looked a little lost for a second, and vulnerable,, but she quickly recovered. "I still don't have any training what-so-ever. I'm-"

"You’d get training. We don’t allow people to enter the field unprepared. If you’re willing to put in the work, then so are we. We’ll teach you anything you could possibly need to know about fighting and surviving. And you’d be provided with weapons or tech – as long as you don’t use any of it to kill."

She hesitated for another moment, but then shrugged her shoulders once. She sighed deeply, but then she slowly nodded. "Then I guess I'm in?"

"Good." Batman said shortly.

The moment was incredibly anticlimactic for such a big decision. Nightwing remembered how excited he'd been himself when the Team was formed. This girl looked like she only said yes out of vague curiosity.

But, he supposed, he had his reasons to be excited. She had two options: join the team or find somewhere else to go.

Maybe she thought she was just choosing the lesser evil.

"One last question," Batman interrupted Nightwing's thought stream. "Do you have any other powers, other than the potential for flight?"

".. No."

Morgan hesitated for a moment. It was only for a second, but Nightwing noticed. He narrowed his eyes at her from behind his mask. She looked the picture of innocence.

Batman nodded, accepting her answer, no matter how skittishly she’d provided it.

"I’ll be back tomorrow. For now, go and get to know your new teammates."

The girl understood the dismissal in Batman's request and started walking towards the living area.

"And Morgan," Batman spoke up before she could disappear down a hallway. She turned around and looked at him expectantly, her face carefully blank. "Your first assignment is to eat. You need to start caring for your body if you ever hope to accomplish anything on this team."

She stood straighter and Nightwing could tell she was fighting the urge to salute. "Yes sir."

"Welcome to the Team." Batman said. With that, the conversation was ended, and Morgan slipped around the corner without a second glance.

"I don't trust her." Bruce immediately concluded. He spoke in a low voice that didn’t carry.

Nightwing looked fondly at him. "You don't trust anyone. But I agree, she's hiding something."

Batman kept his eyes trained on the spot she'd been in moments before.

"Which is why I am assigning you as her mentor. I need someone to keep an eye on her for now."

"Me?" Nightwing asked incredulously. "Batman, I'm stretched pretty thin already-"

"You’re the best and most knowledgeable hand to hand combatant on this team. Except for Robin, you’re the only other member of the team who doesn’t have any superhuman enhancements, which makes you the only candidate for the job,” Batman said sternly. “And until we know if our distrust is justified, we’ll keep that suspicion to ourselves, so I'm asking you," – and with asking Nightwing knew he was really ordering – "to train her and keep an eye on her."

Nightwing sighed, but he already knew the battle was lost. "Fine."

"Thank you, Dick." Batman said, suddenly sounding more like Bruce than Batman.

There was a pause and then he stepped closer, speaking in a lower tone. "Alfred wants to know if you're going to be home for Thanksgiving."

A small smile crept onto Dick’s face. “Of course."

"Good." For a split second, Batman had a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And then he was gone.

November 19th

Mount Justice

Morgan

Morgan wasn't sure what had made her say yes. She wasn't a superhero, and to be honest, she wasn't sure she really had the desire to be one. Then again, she didn’t really know what she wanted to do with her life in general. There was no reason this couldn’t be as good as any other thing she could’ve chosen to spend her time on.  

Still.. her new living situation was so far from what she'd expected from life, she was having a hard time comprehending what was even going on. Twenty four hours ago, she had been at university, feeling stuck and scared and bitter, and begging for a change.

Well, the change had certainly come about. Didn’t make her feel any less scared and bitter. Perhaps less stuck?

But at least she now had something she could work towards, some kind of future that might fit with what she was.

She'd planned on getting good enough grades in biology to be able to retire to a lab somewhere, and then spend the rest of her life hiding herself away, doing research all by herself.

In a way, that actually wasn't that far from her ultimate nightmare, except this way around, she had chosen to be in that lab, and she was the examiner, not the examined.

And now she was neither. Now she had suddenly been recruited to a team of.. well, she didn’t know what to call them. She supposed freaks worked, but it already felt too mean, now that she’d sat with them at breakfast and gotten to know them a tiny bit.

No, this was far from how she had expected her life to turn out. But she found that she didn't really mind. She'd chosen it for herself, and to Morgan, the freedom of choice was what made all the difference.

So, maybe she wasn't a superhero yet. But she would certainly attempt to become one. Even now, Morgan could feel herself wanting it more and more. Maybe the reason she hadn't wanted to become one was because she'd just never considered it before. 'Becoming a superhero' wasn't exactly a career, school councilors tended to bring up. She had to admit, it didn’t sound so bad.  

Working with a team of people that traveled the planet, did something good in this world – something that mattered – and had all sorts of adventures actually sounded very appealing. And the heroes she'd met so far seemed nice.

Most importantly of all, she knew they wouldn't think she was a freak because of her wings. That was very important.

Morgan found herself in the kitchen again, where, to her surprise, the four from before were all seated around the kitchen table in silence. At the sound of her entering, they all looked up simultaneously.

Creepy.. Morgan thought.

"So, how did it go?" The youngest one she remembered as Beast Boy asked her.

“Uhm,” she said, mind reeling at the sudden attention on her. She was almost about to turn around and walk back out, when a voice behind her spoke up.

"Guys," Morgan jumped in her spot. She hadn't even noticed Nightwing enter the kitchen after her. "Meet our new teammate, Morgan." He placed a hand on her shoulder and Morgan fought the urge to flinch and edge away. She kept the react under control, not wanting to create the same awkward silence as the first time.

The four heroes all offered smiles, some more convincing than others. Miss Martian – M'gann – beamed at her and flew off her chair, landing in front of Morgan. "It's always so exciting to get a new member of the team! If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Morgan offered her a close-lipped half-smile. "I'll remember that."

"She'll be staying at the cave, so I guess you guys will have lots of time to get to know each other." Nightwing explained. Morgan wondered when he was going to stop talking for her. "I've been assigned as her mentor by Batman."

Morgan stiffened and looked at the tall boy behind her. She'd gotten a mentor? What did that mean? And why did it have to be him?

"So," Lagoon Boy asked, his voice forcibly casual. Morgan got the feeling he didn't do small talk very often. "What are your powers?"

"Uh," Morgan reach her hand up and started pulling at a curl. "None. I just happen to have wings. Don't ask me about those either. I have no idea what they’re doing on me."

The three boys at the table all looked caught in a mix of disappointed and surprised looks. They’d better get used to it – Morgan knew she was a pretty disappointing person in general.

M'gann quickly covered for their looks. "Well, powers aren't everything! Nightwing doesn't have any and he's the leader of the team."

Before she could stop herself, Morgan snorted incredulously.

"Really?" she turned and looked at the hero that was apparently her new 'mentor'. "You don't have any powers?"

Nightwing eyes – which were just white slits because of the mask he wore – narrowed a fraction. He didn't answer for a second.

"No," he eventually admitted. "But powers aren't what makes a hero."

Morgan scoffed slightly and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Tell that to Superman," she muttered.

What followed was a tense silence that Morgan hated to admit that she'd actually created. She sucked in her bottom lip to keep the grimace off her face. She knew she’d been isolating herself for a long time, but were her social skills really this bad? It felt like everywhere she went, tense silence and awkwardness followed.  

"It'll be so nice to have another girl live here again. It's been lonely for me since Zatanna moved out." M'gann plowed on, obviously doing her best to level out any tension that Morgan had created. "I'll show you around, come on!"

She looked like she was about to grab Morgan's hand again but stopped herself just in time, probably remembering how the blonde had reacted the last time she had touched her. Morgan felt more embarrassment squeeze her insides. Looking up and across the room, she got the distinct feeling that what the others saw was a cactus, her prickles poised to strike at them, should they get too close.

She tried to smile, but her face was stiff.

“I’ll see you around,” she said, hoping the greeting came off as casual.

"I'll be back later this afternoon with money for you so you can buy some clothes," Nightwing called after her. "Remember to get exercise clothes; you'll need them tomorrow morning when we begin training."

This time, Morgan did follow the urge to salute. "Aye, captain."

With that, she began the tour of her new home, leaving behind a mentor that, rightly so, had the sinking feeling that she was probably going to be more of a handful than he'd prefer.

As the day went on, the cave started to slowly fill with more heroes. Morgan hadn't expected the Team to be as big as it was, and she feared she'd never be able to remember all of these names. Luckily, most of them wore strange enough outfits for her to remember them by.

Like the one in the blue suit that looked like he had a huge scarab of some kind hugging him from behind. He'd introduced himself to her earlier, but she'd forgotten him name again and had resorted to just mentally call him Bug Boy.

Then there was the overly excited blonde girl that was apparently Wonder Woman's sidekick.

Morgan couldn't remember her name either.

And then there was Robin. If there was one category she could keep straight, it was the Gotham faction of the heroes. Those, she had grown up with. She keenly remembered thinking Robin had been so cool when she had been ten or so. Distantly, she wondered what had even become of that first Robin – one day, he had disappeared, swapped out for a younger model. And if the rumors were correct, the second Robin had been switched out very quickly too. Maybe he hadn’t lived up to Batman’s standards. By that count, this must have been the third Robin. She couldn’t place Nightwing with certainty. Locally, people speculated on some wild theories. He was a younger clone of Batman. He was the former Robin. He was something else entirely.

Morgan didn’t necessarily count him as one of the Gotham heroes. Everyone knew Nightwing was Blüdhaven’s hero – he just helped out sometimes in Gotham.

And then there was Batgirl. Morgan had previously speculated that Batman only associated himself with young, black haired boys, but Batgirl blew a giant hole in the theory.

With her blazing red hair and the playful attitude Morgan picked up on during their short introduction, she could tell Batgirl was cool. She hoped she got to hang out with her more, once she really settled in here at the Cave.

One thing the winged girl noticed was that the heroes seemed to leave as soon as they came. There was this huge, muscle-y and extremely tall dude with a deep voice and dark skin that stood by those weird, floating screens that appeared out of nowhere, and he assigned missions in small teams for all the young heroes. She hadn’t been introduced to him yet, but he seemed cool too.

She couldn't help but notice that this was probably what the more seasoned superhero would call a 'slow day' as none of the assignments were particularly dangerous or difficult. Some of the squads even groaned out loud and asked him if he didn't have anything more exciting for them.

Secretly, Morgan wondered if it was part of the superhero life to be an adrenalin junkie. Seriously, they were asking for something more dangerous to do?

Maybe, she thought, it's something that comes with time. Maybe I'll start getting eager for my next adrenalin kick too at some point.

Not for the first time since she'd joined the team a couple of hours ago, she wondered if it was the right decision to make. Doubt gnawed at her, but every time, she reached the conclusion that she really had nothing better to do.

It was the only decision to make, she reminded herself.

Miss Martian had finished her tour, as well as a very thorough retelling of how the Team was formed, and then most of her life story to boot. Afterwards, she'd allowed Morgan to just wander around on her own, and she'd ended up in the main room half an hour ago. She’d spent that time watching the guy-she-had-yet-to-be-introduced-to assign missions. 

Not too long ago, she'd also pulled her hoodie back on. She had started to feel extremely uncomfortable with her wings being exposed like that. Deep down she knew that these people wouldn't think she was a freak because of them, but it had become too engraved in her mind, in her everyday life, that the wings had to be hidden. So, when the feeling of panic had started to crawl up her throat, she'd found her abandoned hoodie and slipped the huge thing on. The familiar sensation of its fabric brushing against her thighs and slipping over her hands was comforting. It was a familiar thing in an entirely unfamiliar environment.

She looked up when the eerie, bodyless, female voice that was connected to the transport tube thingy announced Nightwing's return.

He made a beeline for her, and she stood up straighter from her slumped position against the wall, uncrossing her arms.

"Here you go." He reached out and dumped a small, thin plastic card into her open palm. Morgan held it in two hands, her thumbs and forefingers each pressed against one of the card's four corners. "If you ask nicely, I bet one of the girls will go shopping with you."

She narrowed her eyes slightly at him, instantly annoyed at his tone. Why did he have to sound so condescending?

Morgan had no doubt that both Miss Martian and the Wonder Woman girl – Cassie, was her name? – would love it. They both seemed overly friendly.

She raised an eyebrow at him and slowly drawled, "and here I was hoping for shopping tips from a guy."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow back at her but didn't respond to her comment. Realizing she was probably being rude to her new 'mentor' – and she called him that with extreme prejudice – she sighed and pocketed the card.

“Thanks,” she said.

He nodded appreciatively at her show of good manners, and then gave her the pin code.

"How much is on it?" she asked, not out of greed but simple curiosity.

Nightwing looked like he didn't want to dignify her question with an answer.

"Enough," he said shortly, and then walked towards the missions-guy, who was talking to the bug guy and someone new Morgan hadn't met before. She watched the group for a moment and then jumped in surprise when girl suddenly shrunk and started flying away, her black and yellow suit making her look like an oversized bee.

Maybe that's the point, Morgan figured. How fitting to put the two bugs together on a mission.

She then focused back on Nightwing, thoughts drifting. Morgan got the feeling her new mentor didn't have much patience with her.

Then again, maybe if she'd stop being so standoffish, he'd probably like her more.

She pushed the thought away, telling herself that she wasn't that bad, and then went in search of either an overly friendly Martian, or a hyper Amazon to go shopping with her.

Morgan spotted M'gann in the living room with Lagoon boy and was about to go to her when she hesitated.

If she was being quite honest with herself, Morgan had no idea how she was supposed to approach the other girl.

The thought of going up to M’gann and ask her if she wanted to go shopping, and then get turned down, made Morgan want to just shrivel up and die. Somehow, she was too scared to be told 'no' to even contemplate asking the question.

Luckily for her, she didn't have to. Miss Martian looked up from her cuddling session with Lagoon Boy – whom Morgan by now had figured out was probably her boyfriend– and asked her if Nightwing had given her any money for shopping yet.

"Yeah," Morgan said slowly, pulling out the card from her pocket.

"Great, let's go then!" M'gann levitated herself off the couch and landed in front of Morgan.

"I'll come with, Angelfish." Lagoon Boy said as he stood up too. Morgan felt her stomach sink.

"I'm sorry La'gaan," M'gann looked sort of pained. "But you don't really blend in in a crowd and we don't want to reveal our secret identities."

"Oh," He looked like he hadn't considered that, "I'll wait for you here, then."

Even though she was relieved that he wouldn't come with them, Morgan still felt like pointing out that M'gann didn't exactly fit in either because her skin was, you know, green.

Before she could comment on it, M'gann suddenly started changing appearance, going from green to Caucasian and from her uniform to a pair of jeans and a jacket.

Morgan watched with her mouth fallen open in shock. How many powers did this girl have?

"Shall we?" M’gann asked.

Morgan shook her head once to pull herself out of her gaping, and then nodded, following behind the Martian.

If Miss Martian was as talented at crime fighting as she was at shopping, Morgan was convinced that the world would be crime free by the end of the year.

The girl was a hurricane at the mall, picking outfits for Morgan at the speed of sound. And all were nice outfits too. The Martian had good taste. And Morgan, still uncomfortable in any place that had too many people there, was fine with just letting the other girl run the show. Impressively, the Martian was also good at finding clothing where Morgan's wings didn't get in the way, something Morgan herself hadn't quite mastered, hence why all her tank tops had just had a few inches cut off.

If it stood to M'gann, they would probably have bought the whole shop, but Morgan was a bit more reserved. At the end of their trip, she had about three bags of new clothes. Although Nightwing had told her there was 'enough' money on the card, she didn't like spending money that wasn't her own, so she only got what she really needed – plus the extra that M'gann had insisted on.

Such as completely useless things like a dress and a pair of high heels, a bathing suit – like she'd ever wear that – and knick-knacks like sunglasses, hair bands and the like. You know, things Morgan wasn't ever going to use.

She never put her hair up anyway. With her hair down, it helped cover her back, and thus make it harder for anyone to see her wings.

It was one of the many sacrifices her wings had demanded she make.

Once they were done, M'gann led them out on the street, where she intended to hail a taxi. She didn't really need to use one as there was a zeta-tube – M'gann had told Morgan that that was what they were called – near the mall, disguised as an old telephone booth. But the older girl had just giggled happily and said that according to the TV-shows she'd watched back on Mars, it was tradition that a trip to the mall ended in a taxi-ride

Morgan wondered what kind of TV-shows the other girl had been watching.

"Wait," Morgan stopped and put a hand on M'gann's raised taxi-searching arm. She immediately slipped her hand away after the initial touch, but it had been enough to get the full attention of the other girl. "I forgot to buy work-out clothes. Nightwing specifically told me to get those."

M'gann smiled at her. "Well, I guess we should get back in there." She led the way back inside, and Morgan wondered how anyone could be this friendly.

A treacherous voice in her head whispered that maybe she was just pretending to be friendly. Maybe she didn't like Morgan at all. After all, she was a prickly cactus.

She angrily attempted to shut the voice out, but the stupid thought had already deeply rooted itself in her brain and she couldn't stop herself now from doubting the other girl's intentions.

This new making friends thing was hard when her own worst enemy was herself.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Things to be Thankful For

November 20^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

When Nightwing said that he was going to train her tomorrow morning, Morgan hadn't thought he meant this early.

Her head felt like cotton as she woke slowly, becoming aware of someone pounding on her door.

Reluctantly looking up from her pillow, she squinted at her alarm clock. It was six thirty. In the morning.

"Wake up!" she could hear the voice of her mentor bark from the other side.

Morgan groaned and pulled her blankets over her head.

"Why?" she whined. She barely knew the guy but her opinion of him was falling by the second, the longer he knocked on her door.

"Because you need to train, and I haven't got all day to do that." his voice was muffled by the door between them, but Morgan could still hear the annoyance in it.

She responded by drawing her blanket closer around her.

"You have two minutes or else I'm coming in." he warned, as if he could that she’d gone back to sleep. "And don't bother showering; you'll be needing one when I'm done with you."

Morgan snorted at the badly worded phrase but got up all the same. She didn’t comment on it, aware that their rapport was awkward at best. She got the distinct feeling that he saw her as a child and that bugged her.

Getting out of bed, she slipped into the tracksuit pants, sports bra and black, tight-fitting tank top she'd bought the day before. With a malcontent grunt, she realized that she'd forgotten to buy any training shoes, and so she pulled on her new converse instead, knowing that her mentor would probably comment on them.

Exactly two minutes later – she mentally gave him points for punctuality – there was a new knock on her door. "Are you done?"

Instead of answering, she simply went and opened the door, coming face to face – well, face to chest because of the height difference – with her mentor.

She craned her neck to look up at him, trying her best to keep her distaste of her face.

And yet..

He really was handsome, she had to admit, despite her best efforts not to notice. From what of his face she could see, of course. The mask did cover his eyes and part of his cheekbones. She found herself wondering what color his eyes were. Perhaps a warm, deep brown? It would suit his hair.

She assumed she would never get to know, and so she would have to content herself with the parts of his face that she could see. And what she could see, she had to admit was alluring. The mask didn't cover his straight nose, attractively messy, black hair, strong jaw line or his lips, which she noticed were pulled into a lopsided, teasing smirk.

"Nice hair."

Too bad she found him annoying, and slightly stuck up from what she'd gathered about him so far.

She self-consciously brought a hand up and patted at her wild curls.

"You're one to talk,” she grumbled and pulled out a hair band which she'd stuffed into her pocket on a whim a few seconds before he'd knocked.

He instinctively reached a hand up to his own hair but stopped it before it could land.

"Mine is supposed to be messy.” He lowered his hand back down to his side.

"Well, who's to say mine isn't?" she retorted and stepped out of her doorway, hands busy combing through her locks to tame them enough to use the hair band.

"Perhaps the fact that you're tying it up now,” Nightwing said dryly, making her halt in her ministration. She dropped her hands, making her blonde curls bounce and fan out around her.

"Well, of course I'm tying it up, it'll just get in the way while I exercise,” she pointed out, her tone slightly hostile with annoyance at the tall superhero in front of her. “Do you want me to take this seriously or not?”

Was she being a jerk? Well, he really should’ve thought of that before he made her exercise before breakfast.

"Fair point." Nightwing started walking down the hall and Morgan followed after him, bunching her hair into a tight bun and then tying the hair band around it.

She hadn't worn her hair up in several years, Morgan wryly remembered. Her wings were folded against her back, feeling exposed in only her tank top. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, determined to act like she had absolutely no shame in displaying them. It didn’t stop the discomfort from crawling up her throat like acid.

"Did you eat more, like Batman told you to?" Nightwing asked over his shoulder as they arrived at a pair of doors at the end of one of the Cave's many halls.

"Well, I've only been on his new diet for half a day, but yeah, I've been eating." Nightwing looked at her over his shoulder as he pushed the door open, and Morgan hated the critical purse of his lips, combined with the silence. She could only imagine the judgmental look in his eyes. It made her feel like a bug he had just discovered under his shoe. She bristled with annoyance and went ahead.

She pushed past him, hitting her shoulder roughly against his arm – He didn't budge but to her consternation, Morgan was actually thrown off balance at the collision – and entered the new room.

"We usually do all of our fighting matches in the main room of the Cave, but this is the official gym," Nightwing said behind her, to introduce the room. Morgan ran a critical eye over the place. There were ropes and hoops and all sorts of equipment you'd find in a school gym, plus a few extra gadgets that looked very high-tech. when they spoke, their voices echoed hollowly into the room. In a smaller room to the side, she could see regular gym equipment like weights, treadmills and a rowing machine.

"Well, I guess you should just start running. In the beginning, we'll mostly focus on building your stamina and muscles. Get you in good shape. Then we move on to the hard stuff." Nightwing pulled out what looked like a normal wristwatch and handed it to her. She noticed he was also carrying a laptop. She accepted the wristwatch and raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. "It monitors your pulse and breathing."

Morgan slipped on the thing and looked at him expectantly. She'd decided that while training, she'd do her best to squash down her annoyance at him. It was easier for the that way.

"You can just run in circles around the gym," Nightwing said dismissively and walked out of her way.

"Oh," he turned back to face her. "If you can flap your wings as you go that'd be a good idea. Those wings will need training too, if they're ever going to let you fly.”

He sat down, leaning his back against the wall, and opened his laptop.

She started running hesitantly. It felt a bit weird to run around the room and flap her wings while he just sat there, ignoring her.

Even worse, Morgan knew she was in horrid shape, and she wouldn't be able to keep running for very long until she'd be too breathless to go any longer. She knew, as a superhero, Nightwing must’ve been in crazy-good shape, and the thought of him seeing how quickly she would fold, made her furious with preemptive mortification.

She decided to jog slowly so she could keep at it for longer than usual, and only flap her wings every once in a while. It wasn't like he was looking anyway. He had his nose buried in his laptop, his fingers typing away furiously on the keyboard, a concentrated frown on his face.

There was silence between them for twenty minutes, the sound of her feet rhythmically pumping against the floor the only noise in the gym.

Eventually, she couldn't keep going. She had kept going to longer than her body wanted, spurred on by her stubbornness. Her throat was raw and painful from her ragged breathing, and she felt slightly nauseous. Her wings already ached from the sudden use, something they weren't used to at all. She stopped in front of Nightwing, bent over with her hands on her knees, her breathing labored. She felt like her vision was only moments away from swimming.

"And that's about what I'll be able to accomplish for now,” she gasped out between breaths.

"Alright." Nightwing looked up at her. Morgan was surprised he didn't comment on how poorly she'd done, but she was thankful for it. "You can do the same routine once this afternoon and then tonight. You'll see improvement in no time. How are your wings?"

She grimaced and reached a hand over her shoulder, rubbing at the base of her right wing. "Aching."

Nightwing snapped shut the computer and stood up. "The pain means it’s working. But it won’t hurt forever.”

Morgan nodded, her eyes on the laptop in his hand. "What are you doing anyway?" she asked, her breath still embarrassingly uneven.

"Homework. Some of us have school today," he smiled a half smile and walked further into the gym, heading for the room with the gym equipment.

He was still in school? She had thought he sounded to be about her age, but it was difficult to know for sure when he wore a mask. Curiosity gnawed at her, but she didn’t ask; he probably wouldn’t answer anyway.

Instead, she followed him into the smaller room, listening as he explained.

 "This in here is where we have all our weights. Cardio is important to build stamina, but if you want to pack any muscle, you’ll need to lift.”

Morgan could tell Nightwing knew what he was talking about, so she listened intently, hoping to memorize how all the different machines worked, which muscles they trained and how long she was supposed to use each.

Half an hour later, not just her legs, wings, and feet, but also her arms and stomach were aching.

Nightwing hadn't been kidding when he said she'd need a shower when he was done with her.

"And I'm officially done," she groaned from her position on the floor, her arms and wings spread around her. "I'm quitting this superhero business. It's so not worth the effort."

Nightwing nudged her stomach with his foot and told her to get up. "Don’t be silly, you're done now anyway. Just remember to run once again this afternoon and then tonight. And remember to use your wings throughout the day."

He offered her a hand, which she ignored and then stood up by herself.

"I have to leave now if I want to go to school on time," Nightwing said. "I'll see you same time tomorrow, in front of the gym. Now go eat a big breakfast."

Morgan groaned and spoke in danish, knowing her mentor wouldn’t understand her complaining. "Jeg orker allerede ikke mere. Dumme træner."

"Come again?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. She supposed her tone had conveyed enough for him to guess she hadn’t said anything nice.

"Nothing," she said innocently and quickly started walking away.

Nightwing followed her, his interest piqued. "What language was that?"

Morgan looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm going to assume you already know that my dad was Danish, so I think maybe you can figure that out for yourself," she said dismissively.  

Her tone was clipped and frustrated. Morgan really just wanted to go have a long shower now, and to be alone for a while. She wasn't used to all this contact with other people, and it was really exhausting.

"Well yeah, but I didn't think you'd be able to speak the language."

She shrugged. "He taught me. Seemed really important to him, back when the asshole was still around.”

The last part she had murmured mostly for her own benefit, but she realized he had unfortunately heard her, when his expression morphed into one of sympathy.

"So, what did you say just now?" Having reached the door that led them out of the gym, Nightwing opened it and walked out, looking back at Morgan.

She smirked cheekily at him. "If I had wanted you to understand, I would have said it in English."

Then, she swiftly walked past him and disappeared around the corner, feeling, for once, like she had gotten the last word.

Translation: "I'm already so done. Stupid mentor." 

November 22th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

From his leaning position against the grey wall next to the Cave's infirmary, Nightwing studied his mentor behind his dark mask. Batman stood still, silent, like a dark guardian, lingering in the shadows as he always did. The two men didn't speak but conversation was unnecessary at the time. They simply waited.

Sooner than he'd expected, Hawkgirl opened the door to the infirmary and stepped outside. She looked first at Batman and then at Nightwing, and the two men approached her as one.

"Her wings are young yet, and any damage done to them will recover. Crippled as they are, she can't fly, and won't be able to for some time. All she can do is strengthen them with rigorous training, and then eat properly to allow them full growth,”  Hawkgirl relayed, her mouth and brow drawn into a displeased line. So basically, Morgan just needed to keep doing what she'd been doing for the past few days and her wings would be up and running in no time. "She is not kin of Hawkguy and I. I have no idea why she has wings."

The infirmary door opened silently and Nightwing spotted Morgan peering out from behind it. Hawkgirl stood with her back to the door, so she didn't see the girl as she listened in on the conversation.

"If her wings are still the same in a month's time, I will have another look at them. Since Neither Hawkguy or I am interested in taking on a protégée, we cannot help you in this aspect," Hawkgirl said. She handed Nightwing a piece of paper with instructions on how to care for Morgan’s wings. Then, she made to leave, but halted in her steps and looked at them with blazing eyes.

"Anyone who treats a gift like that with the level of neglect and disrespect that she has should be ashamed of themselves," Hawkgirl spoke in a low hiss. Then, she swiftly went down the hall and disappeared.

Nightwing inwardly winched at the hard words, which he knew Morgan had heard. He looked at her quickly, seeing the hurt look on her face quickly morph into anger. Batman placed a hand on his shoulder, gaining the teenager’s attention. He didn't speak, but the message was clear. Make sure Morgan follows the instructions given by Hawkgirl.

Batman left too and Nightwing finally turned to face her fully. Despite the angry slant of her mouth, there was a wounded look in her eyes at the harsh words spoken by Hawkgirl, but she wrapped her arms around herself and strengthened her glare.

"Bitch,” she murmured before pulling on a giant blue sweater.

Nightwing leveled her with a look of disapproval at her disrespectful words, but he didn’t correct her. He could understand Hawkgirl's anger. She considered her wings a gift and a large part of her life, and to see someone else treat the same gift like it was a curse would undoubtedly seem disrespectful. And yet, he understood Morgan’s perspective too.

"She left behind instructions for you to follow while training and caring for your wings,” he said. He scanned the paper quickly, filing the instructions away in his memory before handing her the paper.

There hadn't only been exercise descriptions, but also how to tend to them in other aspect. Grooming, if you will.

Morgan eyed the small piece of paper with a disgruntled look on her face, obviously not pleased with having to follow instructions from someone she'd already deemed a 'bitch', but she took the offered paper anyway.

"Can I go now?" she asked, her tone tinged with discomfort as she carelessly stuffed the paper into her back pocket.

Nightwing inclined his head and told her yes, and walked in the direction of the kitchen, in search of a glass of water. He needed to find Connor anyway.

She quickly scuttled off in the opposite direction.

Walking into the kitchen, Nightwing found he was in luck. Connor was in there already, and he wouldn't have to go looking for him.

"Superboy, I've-"

A loud, female scream echoed through the halls in the cave, drawing the attention of the two guys in the kitchen. They looked at each other briefly before taking off running in the direction of the shout.

It took a moment for Nightwing to realize that the scream had been Morgan's, but when he did, he felt a cold hand of worry clench at his insides. He'd only been her mentor for a few days; surely she hadn't already gotten herself injured.

The two heroes ended up in the garage, where they were met with a rare sight.

Morgan was pressed against the wall with her eyes closed tightly, and Wolf was sniffing at her curiously.

"Wolf!" Connor ordered, "Come here!"

The large animal shot one look at the terrified girl before it stalked over to Connor's side, settling at his feet where the tall boy knelt and scratched it behind its ear.

“Be nice to the new girl,” Connor admonished.

Nightwing fought to keep his laughter down. There was absolutely nothing funny about the situation.

Okay, there absolutely was.

He chuckled slightly under his breath when the Morgan finally peeked an eye open and pushed herself slowly off the wall after she noticed the lack of giant, white wolf in front of her.

"What is that?!" she cried, her legs quaking in fear.

"Wolf," Connor said shortly. He elaborated when he saw the way she was eyeing the large animal with a mixture of wonder and fright. "He's mine. We found him on a mission once."

Nightwing could kind of understand why she was so scared. Wolf, with its white fur and sharp eyes, looked ferocious. The animal was also taller than her, something a normal wolf wouldn't be, despite her short stature.

"And you just let it walk around free?" she spluttered, her eyes still wide. "He could swallow me whole if he wanted!"

"He's harmless as long as I don't tell him to attack you." Connor reassured her with a small grin.

"Oh, okay,” she said nervously. "Please don't tell him to attack me then."

She made to leave, but unfortunately, to reach the door she had to pass by the three of them.

The wolf growled at her as she shuffled by it, and she squeaked and hid behind Nightwing. This was an entirely new side to the usually prickly girl, and he had to admit it sparked curiosity in him. Perhaps, there was more behind the sarcastic façade.  

"Wolf, behave."

"Oh my god I hate dogs," Morgan breathed, her hand keeping a firm grasp on Nightwing's arm. Her head leaned against his back, and he was surprised at the contact. "This is why I'm a cat person!"

Nightwing coughed to stop the laughter from bubbling out of him. The large animal approached her and started sniffing her wings suspiciously.

"He's probably confused, because you're part human and part bird." Connor helpfully offered.

Morgan glared at him from behind Nightwing’s arm. "I'm not part bird. I just happen to have wings."

"Well, whatever you are, the wings confuse him. Probably mixed smells and all that." Nightwing added.

"Oh god please don't eat me." She pleaded when Wolf took a step further towards her, bumping his large snout against her wings. Morgan leaned her forehead against Nightwing's back. "Jeg lover at jeg nok skal være sødere fra nu af hvis bare jeg slipper levende fra den ulv."

As usual, Dick understood none of the muttered Danish. Connor shot him a confused look, and he shrugged in response.

"She does that sometimes," Nightwing said.

Morgan squeaked and leapt away, jumping behind Connor instead. "Save meeeee!"

"Not a big fan of wolves." Connor smirked at Nightwing and Nightwing grinned back before the two of them took pity on the poor girl.

"Wolf, go away," Connor said sternly. The large animal sniffed and stuck its nose in the air as if deeply offended, and it stalked off.

Morgan stepped away from Connor, a faint blush on her cheeks, looking deeply embarrassed. She brushed herself off, attempting a haughty look, now that the danger was over.

"Well," she said, clearing her throat. "That was mortifying. I’m going to go hide in my room now.”

She ducked her head down and practically ran for the exit, her hand hiding her face from them from sheer embarrassment.

"So," Connor said once the door had closed behind her. He looked at Nightwing. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Nightwing, eyes absentmindedly aimed at the door, shrugged. "I forgot."

Translation: "I promise I'll be nicer from now on if I survive the wolf."

November 24^th

Blüdhaven

Dick

Dick really thought he'd been pretty patient with Morgan in the beginning, but after four days of training her, he was starting to lose his temper.

He understood! He really did! Moving somewhere new and having your whole life suddenly drastically changed in a few hours was stressful. Being irritable and even angry was a perfectly understandable reaction.

Snark, sarcasm and attitude were also to be expected from time to time, and Dick had excused her behavior, thinking that she'd get better once she'd properly settled in.

Hell, he sometimes even almost enjoyed the bickering. She was fun to exchange wisecracks with. And she looked cute when her annoyance made her all flushed.

But..

But it had been four days now and Morgan had only become snarkier and more difficult with each day. He got the impression she'd attempted to be somewhat polite in the beginning, but the longer she stayed and the better she got to know him, the less respectful she seemed to get.

And for a guy that was used getting respect from his teammates, and a guy that had had so much respect for his own, former, mentor, it was a tough pill to swallow.

It might've sounded vain, but he was used to people treating him with reverence as soon as he introduced himself as Nightwing. His reputation and his association with Batman ensured that people treated him with respect.

Heck, even in normal society he got points for being Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's adopted son.

He wasn't used to having to prove to people that they should respect him. After working his ass off as a superhero for almost ten years, he had earned the right to be taken seriously by people. He'd worked so hard as Robin, and then as Nightwing, for some random girl to ignore all that.  

Now, he met someone that didn't understand that she was supposed to respect him, if not because of who he was, then at least because he was her mentor.

He smirked at the thought of Morgan training under Batman. She wouldn't last a day with that attitude.

So, Dick wondered, if Batman wouldn't have allowed her behavior, why did he?

I don't want to be the Batman anymore.

The smirk dropped from his lips as his own words from five years ago came back to him.

He allowed it because he wasn't Batman, nor was he ever going to be. At least, not the kind of Batman that Bruce was.

Dick glanced away from the computer on his desk and up at the clock on his living room wall. It was almost time for his patrol around Blüdhaven, and he wasn't even remotely done with his homework yet.

Well, nobody had ever claimed that the superhero life was without sacrifice.

He shut down the laptop and stood up, stretching his back to rid it of the tension it had gained while he hunched over the computer.

He found his thoughts drifting back to what he'd been thinking about before. He groaned quietly to himself as he slipped into his bedroom. He hadn't thought about that mission-gone-wrong in months now. He'd gotten good at ignoring it or pushing the memories away as soon as they came. He didn't like how he still, after all these years, felt phantom hands squeeze his heart painfully at the memory of losing all his friends, some because of his own actions. He hated the uncertainty that had plagued him since that mission, this fear that he was destined to become some ugly version of himself, willing to sacrifice his friends for the greater good.

Even though the whole thing had been fake, his feelings certainly hadn't been, and nor had his choices been. There was sorrow there, but most importantly, a gut-wrenching guilt that almost rendered him breathless.

And then afterwards the realization that he'd never be able to be the Batman. That had almost been as terrifying as seeing all his friends die. His entire life’s plan had come tumbling down around him, because at thirteen years old, he hadn't considered that he could still become Batman, just not the same Batman that Bruce was.

He tried to get his thoughts back on track: He'd been thinking about what he was supposed to do with his new – and if he was being perfectly honest, kind of unwanted – pupil.

If she kept up her annoying attitude, he was afraid he'd blow his top. He didn’t even want to be her mentor – the responsibility had been pushed upon him. But he was doing all he could to rise to the challenge, even though she was making it difficult with every turn.

He didn’t want to address it, because he was sure she would find a way to manipulate it into being all his fault – that he was being too sensitive over a bit of wisecracking, or he was the one provoking her. He had realized that she was good at manipulating situations to her benefit. She was stubborn and clever like that.

It was admirable traits in a superhero – traits he, Robin, Batgirl and Batman all possessed, something they had found necessary due to their lack of other powers.

Admirable traits in a personality? Not as much. It made her difficult to work with,

Dick pushed the false back of his closet aside and pulled out his Nightwing get-up. Slipping out of his clothes, he donned the suit. He grabbed the black mask and hesitated, twirling it in his hand and looking at the white eyeholes.

Unlike Wally and Artemis, Dick knew he'd never find the courage to leave the hero life behind. Right now, he didn't want to either, but it would've been a comfort to know that if he wanted to, he could.

Squaring his shoulders, he stood up straighter and put the mask on, securing his escrima sticks at his side. He pushed the thought away.

Then, Nightwing opened his bedroom window and slipped out, the dull 'thud' of his grapple hook firing and lodging itself into the red brick wall of the neighboring building the only sound in the night.

November 25^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

Thanksgiving was in one day, and Morgan had to admit the growing excitement in the Cave was infectious.

M'gann had dragged her to the local mall and together they had done the grocery shopping. Morgan's back had been hurting all day from lugging the turkey around while M'gann kept remembering new things they would need, on top of the already long grocery list.

Morgan liked M'gann, she really did, but her endless optimism and cheerfulness sometimes grated a bit on her nerves. Maybe she was just jealous – she wished she could’ve held such a positive outlook on life. Truthfully, Morgan knew there was a whole list of reasons why she’d become such a pessimist this early in her life – her dad abandoning them, for a start. Her years of solitude and fear – just to mention a few reasons. She was sure she hadn’t always been so bitter.

Back when her dad was still around, she'd been pretty chipper herself, the kind of child that always smiled and bounced around with energy.

Would she be able to regain that disposition?

She liked to think that she could.

And she really did do her best to be nice to the others and try to be part of the group. They were all nice people – albeit some of them were a little grumpy – and the kind of group of people she could easily see herself becoming part of.

At least, she tried to be nice to most of them. There was always Nightwing. To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure why she treated him differently from the others, but in some way, she guessed it was a defense mechanism.

Out of all the members of the Team, he was the one who knew about her background, and he was the one who'd seen her when she was well and truly defeated.

He was the one that had taken pity on her and made her a member of the Team, and Morgan hated that. She hated his pity, and she hated the sympathy she had read on him in the beginning.

She was embarrassed by it. Embarrassed by having shown him weakness.

Even worse, she had to spend time with him so often because of the whole mentor thing. So, her embarrassment had turned into snark and hostility. He was too calm and collected, and he had too much dirt on her, and it frustrated her beyond belief, so she did her best to try and rile him up. Try and prove to herself that he was just a human too and she shouldn't be embarrassed.

She attempted to get a rise out of him because it would make herself feel less weak, but he hardly reacted. He was like a marble statue, and his composure annoyed her to no end. She knew he was irritated with her, but it wasn't enough. She needed a reaction.

She hated the way he seemed to expect her to respect him as an authority figure, when she didn’t feel like he’d really given her any reason to.

Nightwing aside, she could feel herself settling at the Cave. Although the constant social interactions often left her tired and she usually went to her room early in the evening from the sheer amount of headaches she got. But being around other people her age, and actually bonding with them was.. nice.

She'd even offered to bake a pie for Thanksgiving.

Nightwing was watching her as she poured flour into a bowl with butter, and started mixing them by hand.

"I didn't know you baked," he remarked.  

It was one of the increasingly rarer moments where neither thought it necessary to exchange any wisecracks, and the tone was mostly light. He had showed up in the afternoon, fully expecting to train Morgan. But she had already done her routine because she had promised M’gann to bake cookies and pie, and she knew it would take up all her afternoon.

Surprisingly, Nightwing had not only allowed it, but also chosen to stick around, claiming that he didn't have anywhere more important to be anyway.

"Well, when you spend years hiding from the rest of the world, you need hobbies,” she said, shrugging.

Her comment had been casual, and she’d become a master at talking casually about the stuff that actually hurt.

Which was why she was narrowing her eyes at him when she saw his lips press into a line and his shoulders droop with sympathy.

"How long was that?" Nightwing asked, his tone suddenly low and serious. "When did you first start hiding?"

He was asking the exact kind of questions she'd hoped he would avoid. The sympathy she could hear coloring his tone made her want to puff up and start barking at him.

Still, the same reason that drove her to snark at him any time he tried to be serious, made her answer his question without as much as the smallest flinch: She didn't want to appear weak.

She turned her back to him under the pretense of washing butter off her hands.

"I guess it's been five years now." Her tone was deliberately breezy, and she turned back to him, a small, dark smile on her lips. "Time flies."

She wiped her hands on the apron she wore and blew a stray curl out of her eyes.

“That’s a long time to be alone.”

“I wasn’t alone, I had my mom,” she quickly dismissed him, but even the mention of her mom sent her into a whirlwind of hurt thoughts, that made her halt what she was doing as she got lost in her own mind.

Had her mom. Was she ever going to dare to face her mom again? Would Abigail even want anything to do with her?

Aware that he was watching her like a hawk, Morgan shook herself out of the painful thoughts, and quickly – angrily, some might say – began rolling out the dough for her piecrust.

Wisely, Nightwing didn't say anything after that. As she finished rolling out the dough, she shot a glance back at him and saw that he was busy typing away on the thing he'd explained was a holographic computer, which was installed in his glove.

She set aside the dough to cool in the pie tin and moved on to the pumpkin filling. M’gann had bought all of the spices she needed, and as Morgan got ready to use them, she began to realize the problem with the only person regularly using the kitchen having the power of telekinesis.

The spices were all on the upmost shelf in the tallest cupboard. Somewhere Morgan could never hope to reach, unless she went and got a chair.

She looked over at her mentor, who looked too relaxed as he stood leaning against the counter with his long legs.

"Nightwing, please make yourself useful and hand me the cinnamon up there." Morgan pointed at the tall shelf, doing her best to keep in her pout.

"Why can't you just get it yourself?" he asked, looking up from his computer after he said it.

Morgan sighed impatiently, placing her hands on her hips. She could see his masked eyes dart from her face to the top of the cupboard. But he didn’t get up to help.

"Are you really gonna make me say it?" she all but groaned.

"Absolutely," he said dryly, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Morgan harshly sighed again, this time in annoyance.

"I can't do it because I'm too short. There. Now get your noodle legs over here and do it for me."

Nightwing was behind her in a second, reaching up and grabbing the spice easily.

"Since you asked so nicely.." he said snidely.

Morgan gnashed her teeth together but accepted the cinnamon from him.

He walked back and settled against the counter, same as he'd been before. Soon, he was typing away on that thing again and they both started acting like the other didn't exist.

It was for the best, Morgan decided. She could feel her heckles rise, and she knew if he tried to have more fun at her expense, she would start an argument.

The pie was in the oven by the time either spoke again.

"I was thinking," Nightwing said as she began cleaning up.  He halted, waiting for her attention.

She looked up at him. "Yeah?" Biting into her bottom lip, she caught herself before she could say 'I had no idea you could!'

"After Thanksgiving, I'm going to start on your proper lessons. You should still keep up your other training, but I'll start teaching you some fighting techniques."

The prospect was exciting. As reluctantly as she had first accepted this offer to become a hero, now that she’d decided to go for it, it felt good to know they were really getting into it. The more she trained and learned, the closer she got to joining the Team for real.  

"Awesome," she said with deliberate casualty. She didn’t want him to know she was excited.

November 26th

Mount Justice 

Morgan

M'gann had been in the kitchen all day, creating the perfect Thanksgiving dinner, and then some. Morgan had helped her from time to time when she hadn't been training in the gym or avoiding everyone by being in her room.

M'gann had been glad for the help, but at the same time it was obvious that it was more because of the company than the actual help. She was perfectly capable of fixing the whole thing herself. She had three knives working at the same time, a spoon stirring the gravy, and a few other kitchen utensils floating around.

Morgan was kind of afraid of losing a limb when she helped, due to all the floating sharp objects.

Nightwing hadn't been in all day, much to Morgan's relief – she didn't mind a full day of not seeing his face – because he was home celebrating Thanksgiving with his family.

"So, are you going to attend Black Friday tomorrow?" M'gann asked conversationally.

Morgan shook her head with a grimace. "Nah. I'd be terrified of someone seeing my wings. Too many people for me.”

"I have to admit, it was scary for me the first time too." M'gann said. "But I like going now! With my powers, it's kind of easy to navigate through all those people."

"I can imagine. You just float right through them or use your powers to push them out of the way." Morgan looked up at M'gann, a smirk on her face. "Or even use that jedi mind-trick of yours to convince someone that 'these aren't the boots you're looking for'."

M'gann obviously got the reference because she laughed at it, but it came out pretty forced.

"If I can avoid it, I don't enter other people's mind. I've been told it's an invasion of privacy." There was a tone to her voice that made it clear M’gann had a story there. So, naturally, Morgan changed the subject immediately.

"So, when's dinner ready?" The change was poorly executed, but M'gann took the bait anyway.

"In five minutes," M'gann said. "I'll call for the others."

Morgan sat in her chair and waited for M'gann to either shout for the others or go looking for them, but instead she just stayed silently in the kitchen, scooping salad into a bowl.

"Erh.." Morgan was about to offer to go get the others, since M'gann didn't look like she was about to. Before she could, though, the two green boys both came walking out, all on their own.

M'gann noticed Morgan's surprised look and smiled at her.

"Like I said," she tapped the side of her head. "Only when I have to."

The four of them settled around the table. Usually at this time of day, some of the other team members would've joined them. A lot of the younger heroes went to the Cave straight after school and often stayed there for dinner, making it a loud and interesting affair, but tonight it was just the four of them.

"Hey, where's Connor?” Morgan asked.

"Connor's gone with Superman to stay at their parents' place." Beast Boy explained, his eyes firmly set on the steaming turkey M'gann was putting down in the middle of the table.

"I thought Superman was Connor's father." Morgan realized that she was pretty clueless when it came to the background of her team members. She scratched her bare shoulder awkwardly – M'gann had insisted on them wearing nice clothes, so despite her initial instinct, Morgan had worn a nice top that left her shoulders bare and her wings horribly exposed. She let them flop flatly against her back, hoping to attract as little attention to them as possible.

"Well, most of us thought so in the beginning, but Superman was reluctant to adopt him.." M'gann winched, clearly lost in a memory. "Eventually, he accepted Connor, but as a brother and not a son.. But they have a great relationship now!” She added the last part hastily, like she felt she needed to reassure Morgan.

Lagoon Boy grumpily changed the subject, claiming that he was hungry and wanted to eat. Morgan got the feeling he didn't like Superboy very much, or rather, he didn't like M'gann talking about him.

They did the usual thanksgiving traditions, and then M'gann started serving, cutting the turkey open. Instead of using her telekinetic abilities, she did it manually.

"It makes it feel more authentic that way," she claimed.

Morgan wondered, if she ever went to another planet, if she'd be as in love with their traditions as M'gann seemed to be with Earth’s.

"Turkey, Morgan?" M'gann offered, snapping the other girl out of her thoughts.

"Uhm," Morgan cleared her throat, "No thanks.”

"What?" Beast Boy – Garfield, Morgan reminded herself was his real name – gasped. "You don't like turkey?"

"I.." She cleared her throat again and wrapped her index finger around a curl. "I don't eat bird meat."

"Why not?" Lagoon Boy asked, obviously making an effort to not sound hostile. Morgan had come to realize that he was just a forceful kind of person, so she didn't mind his aggressive tone much.

"Oh, I don't know.." she trailed off sarcastically, a single eyebrow arched. Then, even though every instinct in her screamed at her to not do it – don't draw attention to them, keep them hidden! – she spread her wings out and flapped them twice, casually.

Beast Boy laughed at the 'duh' expression on Morgan's face.

“It makes me feel like a cannibal,” she shrugged.

La'gaan cracked a small smile, proving that he did have a sense of humor, and passed her the potatoes instead.

She accepted the potatoes, and his friendly smile, returning it easily.

The four of them dug into their food, and eventually, easy conversation and laughter flowed across the table. Afterwards, they sat in the huge couch and ate the pie Morgan had baked the day before, watching some movie that none of them really paid any attention to. They were all too stuffed to do anything but sink low into the couch pillows and groan and complain about their full stomachs.

This, she found herself thinking as she went to bed that night, this is what it’s like to have friends. To have a family.

Aaaah okay these earlier chapters I swear are going to be the death of me. Like I get it - you want to see her slowly become part of the group and settle in at the Cave, but plotwise it just feels like a lot of nothing. Stuff like this is why this story is soooo fucking long, but I'm trying to stick to the original plot as much as possible and just sort of fix up the writing and tweak the characterization a bit. 

That said, I can't wait until we reach the part of the plot where season 2 actually begins.
Also I edited most fo this while drunk so bear with me if there's a bunch of mistakes

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Size Matters

November 28th

Mount Justice 

Nightwing

The grating sound of metal slamming into metal could be heard every few seconds in the gym. Beneath the loudness of the gym equipment working came Morgan’s heavy breathing, accompanied by a few pained groans every now and then.

Nightwing sat with his nose in his computer as usual, catching up on homework.

Normally he'd be at home doing it, but since being assigned as Morgan's mentor, he'd had to combine homework-time and training time. He wasn’t sure how he was going to balance his workload once her training would begin to demand more of his attention – he supposed his schoolwork would have to suffer.

Fifteen minutes went by, Morgan switching to another machine once in that time. Nightwing finished his homework five minutes ago, and now he was looking up the spending history of the credit card they’d provided her with. He'd noted that she hadn't done anything to redecorate her room, and that she usually wore a combination of either one of two pairs of jeans, three hoodies and four t-shirt or tank tops.

As he finally accessed the information, he could see that, indeed, she'd only used the card once and she hadn't bought much with it.

"Why haven't you been using the credit card?" he asked, breaking the silence between them, which had lasted thirty minutes by now.

"What?" Morgan panted, looking at him from around the machine she was on.

"Why haven't you been using the credit card?" he repeated himself louder.

She disappeared behind the weights again. "I don't like using money that isn't my own." Her voice had gone flat.

"Morgan, that money is yours. It was a gift." He shut his computer down and stood up. "We want," he cleared his throat, wondering if he really meant what he was about to say. "We want you to feel at home here. "

She peaked out from behind the machine again, an incredulous look on her face. She got up, and Nightwing noted how her legs were shaking a bit, probably from the strain she'd been putting on them during training.

"So, I can just use as much as I want?"

Nightwing shrugged one shoulder. "I mean, within reason. But you should at least try to make yourself more at home in your room. And you can buy more clothes, if you want. You don't have to life with as little as possible."

Her face did a sort of twitch he honestly wasn't sure what meant. Then she turned her back on him and sighed harshly, her silence clearly telling that something was wrong. As if something wasn’t always wrong with her, he thought with annoyance.

His instinct as a leader and – as he liked to think – a compassionate person, was to ask her what was up. But by now, he knew she was like a hedgehog, ready to roll into a ball and prick him if he asked the wrong thing.

Was he in the mood for a fight with her? Not really.

Maybe he should just leave her alone to sulk – anything that made her quiet and not sass at him was good enough for him.

But there was that compassion. And his wish to be the best possible mentor for her.

Dick sighed, knowing he was losing to his better urges.

"Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly, telling himself that it was the right thing to do.

She rounded on him, a fierce glare on her face. Nightwing immediately knew that it probably hadn't been the right thing to do.

"No! I'm not! And it's none of your business!"

He blinked at her. She glared at him.

Then, she huffed and stormed out of the room, her wings fluttering agitatedly on her back.

Dick felt his own glare slip into place and his nostrils flared as he breathed out harshly with sheer annoyance. No one blew up at him and then stormed out like that.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice, his hand closing around her shoulder to stop her in her tracks.

Morgan paid no heed to his attempt. She wrenched herself free and turned to face him, taking two steps backwards to create space.

"What?" she snapped, her voice thick with attitude.

"If something is bothering you, you can tell me!" he informed with a clipped tone, spreading his arms out on what he hoped was a welcoming gesture. "As your mentor it’s my responsibility to-"

"Oh please," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "We both know you're only my mentor because Batman forced you to. We're both stuck we each other and my guess is you're as unhappy about it as I am. And you don't really care; you're just doing you 'duty'."

She was speaking the utter truth, but Nightwing instinctively sought to deny it. "That's not true. I'm not heartless, of course I care."

"You don't!" Morgan exploded, uncrossing her arms, and clenching her hands into fists at her sides. She got up on her toes and in his face, a snarl on her face. "You don't care. You pity."

Then she turned on her heel and marched out of the gym.

Nightwing stood in the same spot for a moment. Then he let out an angry growl and punched the wall, leaving a small dent. His careful mask slipped as his temper ran off with him.

Out of all people on the planet he could've had been assigned as mentor for, it just had to be her. He swore he had never been this much of a headache to Bruce.

"Of all the childish, annoying, bratty..” he grumbled under his breath as he too left the gym, slamming the door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the empty hallway.

"Morgan!" he practically roared as he reached her closed – and locked – door. "Come out right now!"

Beast Boy had been walking down the hallway, but as soon as he heard Nightwing's angry shout, he flinched and scurried away around the corner.

At least someone knew to respect him.

"Go away!" came her muffled voice from the other side. He did a double take when he realized she, despite obviously trying to hide it, was crying.

A small sob came from the other side of the door and Nightwing felt his anger ease away slightly. What was going on?

Make no mistake, he was still angry, but now he was less inclined to just rip her head off.

"I swear to god, Morgan," he was no longer shouting but his tone wasn’t less aggravated. "If you don't open this door right now, I'm going to break it down!"

A few seconds passed by and then he heard movement on the other side.

"What is wrong with you?!" she her voice sounded like a mix between a growl and a whine, as she unlocked the door and threw it open, meeting his mask-covered eyes. She glared at him before turning around and marching back into her room. Nightwing followed her, slamming the door shut behind him.

"It's like you go out of your way to humiliate me!"

"What?" Nightwing sounded incredulous, with good reason. “I'm not trying to humiliate you!"

"Oh sure, that's why you insist on confronting me when you know I’m crying!" She wiped angrily at her eyes, trying to stop the flow of tears.

"I'm not trying to humiliate you; I'm trying to do my job!"

"Well, your job can screw me!" she shot back. "I just want to be left alone and for you to stop trying to force me back outside when I can't!"

Her eyes widened and Nightwing knew she'd said something she hadn't wanted him to know.

He beheld her with narrowed eyes, trying to figure her out.

"Why can't you go outside?" His voice was calmer, his tone cautious. This was probably what had been bothering her.

She sighed harshly and let out a frustrated growl, her hands coming up to pull at her curls. "Please don't tell me you don't see it."

Nightwing didn't move a muscle, clearly showing that he had no idea what she was talking about.

"My wings!" she shouted, and Nightwing finally understood, as he looked at her wings, which had already grown visibly in the time she’d been with them. "They've gotten too big, I can't hide them under my hoodies anymore, and I-I can't leave this place!"

There was a look in her eyes like a caged animal, her voice pitched and panicked.

Nightwing mentally scolded himself for not realizing this sooner. By now, her wings were obviously too big to just stuff underneath a hoodie and tighten to her back with a pair of belts.

And he honestly should've known that that was going to be a problem. He knew Morgan had been doing everything she could for years to keep her wings hidden, and that this new dilemma must've been scarier for her than he could imagine. He remembered how uncomfortable she'd been the first few days whenever her wings were visible. Heck, now that he thought of it, she still seemed uncomfortable whenever she was around the others with her wings out.

"Morgan-"

"Just leave me alone!" she screeched and pushed him out her door. Nightwing could've easily held his ground, but he let her push him out and slam her door shut in his face.

He could hear her crying on the other side of the door, and he waited for her to calm down before speaking again.

"Morgan.." He hesitated. "I'm going to help you find a solution."

She didn't answer and Nightwing left the cave soon after, his anger long forgotten. He needed to see Zatanna.

November 30^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

It was a Monday and Morgan found herself asking questions she wouldn't be able to answer.

What was she supposed to do about college?

She hadn't really thought about it before, but she'd been missing school for about two weeks, and she probably couldn't go back to her old college. She wasn't even in Gotham anymore.

Though, she supposed the Zeta tubes could fix that problem.

There was one problem they couldn't fix, though. As she'd been stupid enough to reveal to Nightwing two days before, she couldn't go out in public anymore without someone discovering her wings.

She cringed visibly as she remembered the fight and then his promise afterwards.

The day after, Nightwing had showed up as he normally did and trained her, going through self-defense techniques before leaving again. It had been.. incredibly awkward. She was embarrassed by her outburst, but even more so that he had seen her cry. Anger, she could deal with – she knew it well. But vulnerability? Sadness?

Yikes.

He hadn't mentioned anything about the argument or if he had any sort of solution for her and Morgan certainly wasn't going to bring it up either. Not under threat of torture.

It had been exactly the same thing today. He'd shown up and been extremely focused and no-nonsense, trained her and then left because he had some test he needed to study for. He hadn't mentioned the fight that time either.

But the mention of classes and school had reminded her of her own school-less weeks

She wasn't sure what to do about it. She couldn't show up at her old college again, for several reasons.

Firstly, you can't just go disappear for two weeks and then show up without expecting some questions she wouldn't be able to answer.

Secondly, she was afraid the school would have tried to contact her mom, when Morgan suddenly stopped showing up.

The thought of her mom stung so she redirected her thoughts quickly.

She knew she needed to do something about this. She wasn't going to be a crime fighter for the rest of her life. Besides, it was an occupation that didn't exactly come with a pay check. She would need a job and an education, and she needed to go back to school.

Morgan wasn't sure who to ask what she was supposed to do because she knew that no one would have an answer.

Running away and becoming a grown up all of a sudden, was hard. She used to have her mom help her with stuff like this. Now, she was expected to figure everything out herself.

With a small sigh she left her room and went into the kitchen. Batman had told her to eat, and right now she was craving chocolate.

"Ooh," she said appreciatively, when she entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, finding a bowl of big, red, perfect strawberries.

She was about the climb onto the counter to reach into one of the cabinet M’gann stored the snacks in, to grab some chocolate, when Beast Boy entered the kitchen.

"Morgan," greeted the boy cheerfully, and then giving her a strange look. "What're you doing?" She had one leg on top of the counter and was about to pull herself up, with an astounding lack of grace she was sure, when he had entered.

"Oh, hey Garfield," Morgan answered, jumping down onto the floor again. "Can you hand me that Hersheys?"

Garfield jumped over and climbed up, agile as a monkey, and threw her the bar of chocolate, before landing easily on the counter again.

He watched as Morgan pulled out a pot and a white ceramic bowl. She poured water into the pot and put it on the stove.

"Seriously, what are you doing?" he asked, scratching his head as she started breaking the chocolate into smaller pieces.

"I'm melting chocolate so I can dip the strawberries in it," Morgan finished cutting the chocolate and put it into the bowl, placing it over the slowly heating pot with water. "Wanna help?"

He smiled brightly and hopped off the counter. "Sure!"

Morgan liked Garfield, and that was why she offered. He was so young and innocent and energetic. Morgan didn’t know a lot of kids. She had a younger cousin, Jamie, in Alaska, whom she had meet only twice. But he was still a toddler, and nothing like the energetic Garfield.

Morgan pulled the strawberries out of the fridge and handed him a knife and together they cut the top of the strawberries off, throwing the green leaves out. Garfield joked around and Morgan found herself laughing genuinely for the first time in several days. Being stuck in the Cave had filled her with a sense of paranoia, with an undercurrent of claustrophobia, that she’d been unable to shake for days. That was probably why she had snapped at Nightwing. Why she had been sleeping poorly.

As she joked around with Garfield, it melted away ever so slightly.

"Can you find a tray for me?" she asked as she pulled on a pair of oven mitts and took the bowl of melted chocolate out of the pot and onto the counter.

Garfield put a tray next to the bowl, and they started dipping the strawberries in the chocolate.

"So, can I ask you a question?" Garfield asked.

Morgan looked up at him, her face blank, not sure what to expect. "Sure?"

"What were you and Nightwing fighting about?"

She sighed softly and ran a hand through her hair, grunting with annoyance when her hand got stuck in several tangles. Her hair really was impossible.

"Just.." Did she want to admit it? Not really – but she knew she had to make an effort to be more open with her future teammates. she took a deep breath as she decided to tell him. "I’ve been stressed out because my wings are too big to hide, and I can't go out in public because of it. And he was just pushing all the wrong buttons, the annoying shit."

Garfield ignored her last comment gracefully. "I can understand how you feel. When I first became Beast Boy, I was so embarrassed when I went out because of, well.. You know."

"Because you're green?" Morgan deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, that." He smiled at her and stuffed a strawberry into his mouth.

"How did you stop being embarrassed?" Morgan asked him after a few seconds of silence.

"Once I went public as Beast Boy, I was accepted, I guess. People started to know me as a hero, and they didn't think of me as some mutation gone wrong anymore."

"So, you're saying I should just go public?"

"I'm saying that's what I did. When you look like me, you don’t get the luxury of a secret identity."

When you look like me..

Would it be the same for her? Was Morgan going to have to accept that she would have to give up her privacy? A secret identity?

The thing she had fought so very hard for, these past five years.

They had finished dipping the last of the strawberries, and placed them neatly on the tray to harden. As Morgan began placing the pots and utensils in the sink and Garfield wiped the tabletop, Nightwing appeared from around the corner. The two residents looked at him, and then each other.

"Morgan," he said shortly, his voice revealing no emotion.

Garfield made a grimace and looked between the two of them before turning into a bird and flying away.

Morgan wished she could do the same. Nightwing sounded far too serious for her to want to deal with him right now.

But since her wings couldn't fly right now, she couldn't flee. Instead, she took a deep breath and looked at him.

"Yes, Nightwing?"

"I've got something for you," he said, walking further into the kitchen. He placed something on the island table and slid it towards her. It was a necklace made of a thin, black cord, and an orange, drop-shaped stone

"Uh," Morgan stalled, eyeing the necklace. "Not that it's not pretty and all but it's a bit weird that you're giving me jewelry."

She could tell that he was rolling his eyes behind his mask.

"It's a glamour charm. When you wear it, your wings will be invisible."

Morgan's mouth fell open on its own accord. It almost sounded too good and convenient to be true. Hesitantly, she reached her hand out and Nightwing placed the necklace in her palm.

"How-" She swallowed around an unexpected lump in her throat. If this really worked, she'd be able to walk around other people for the first time in five years without constantly worrying. Could it really be that simple? "How is that possible?"

"I've got a friend who knows a few tricks." He had a very satisfied smirk on his face and Morgan's first instinct was to say something rude to remove it. At the same time, she was too grateful to follow her worst impulses right now.

With trembling hands, she put on the necklace. She felt an unknown sensation ripple over her wings. Then, she looked over her shoulder.

Her stomach dropped and her heart gave a disappointed twinge. Her wings were still there. It hadn't worked. She sighed and deflated visibly, scolding herself for having been stupid enough to dare hope.

"It doesn't work on yourself, obviously." Nightwing elaborated and Morgan felt her hope return. "Everyone on the team will be able to see them, nobody else will. Oh, and just because they aren't visible, doesn't mean they aren't still there. So don't bump into too many people."

"That is amazing!" Morgan exclaimed, and despite her best efforts, a huge smile brightened her face. "Thank you!"

Before she could even contemplate what she was doing, she jumped over and hugged Nightwing tightly. He tensed under her embrace and Morgan immediately realized her actions.

"Uh," she pulled back as if burned and stepped around the kitchen counter to create space between them. "Strawberry?" she offered, taking one off the tray and holding it out for him.

He reached over and plucked it from her hands, his gloved fingers grazing hers. He bit into it, a small, crooked smile on his face.

"You're welcome," he said, responding to her show of gratitude. "Now let's go spar. I bet you'll only get knocked over thirty times this time around."

Morgan huffed and followed him, wondering why her cheeks were blazing.

"Ass," she said, even as a small smile formed, and she reached up to touch the orange stone that was resting against her collarbone.

December 1st

Mount Justice

Nightwing

As reluctant as Nightwing was to admit it, Morgan was making progress. She was a fast learner, picking up on the different techniques he taught her after a few tries, and she didn't seem to find it difficult to use them in combat.

He was still beating her ass, but she was definitely making progress.

Bump!

Thud!

"On your feet!" he barked, not even out of breath, after tackling her to the ground for the tenth time since they'd started training twenty minutes ago.

"What's the point, you're just going to knock me over again," she groaned from her position on the floor, wings, arms and hair spread around her.

"That's part of learning," he bit out through clenched teeth. She was being difficult, and he wanted this training session over so he could go home and celebrate his birthday.

She lifted her head up off the floor and studied him with furrowed eyebrows. "What's with you? You seem even more annoyed than usual."

He rolled his eyes even though she couldn't see it underneath his mask. "I have somewhere to be but I'm not going until you get at least get one good punch in."

"Dude, I wouldn’t be able to get a good punch in even if we trained for the rest of the day!" she protested. "You've been doing this since forever, and I've been doing it for less than a week!"

She sat up on the floor after he nudged her side with his foot. "Plus, you have all the advantages. The height and the muscles and the experience.."

It was true. Even though Morgan had been surprisingly good at keeping up her work outs and had already added some to her muscle mass, she was still short and scrawny.

She stood up and shook her sore body, her wings stretching out behind her.

Her wings, however, were improving. As Batman had told her, she had started eating more, and all of the energy that food produced seemed to go right towards growing her wings out. Nightwing could already tell a big size difference between now and when she first got here. When they moved, it wasn't with that sad, weak fluttering from before, but with strength. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd be able to use them to fly soon.

Even now as she stood there, her wings flapping in agitation, Nightwing could feel them stir the air around them, his long bangs tickling his forehead.

"My height puts me at a disadvantage right now. You're harder to reach, but I'm easier to hit," he quickly relayed the same lesson Batman had told him back when he'd first started training and had made a complaint much like hers. Nightwing sank into a fighting stance. "Just get close and my height will be a liability. Now, come on."

Morgan sighed in frustration and pretended that she wasn't going to do it, but Nightwing could see from the way her muscles tensed that she was going to attempt a surprise attack.

A few seconds passed, and then she suddenly lunged for him, aiming for his stomach.

Nightwing blocked her fist with his left forearm and kicked her legs out from under her with one of his own. Morgan let out an "Oof!" when she landed on her back, all the air knocked out of her lungs.

The computer flashed a red 'FAIL' over her head, and she groaned again.

"On your feet!" Nightwing barked again.

She sat up and started pulling herself into a standing position. "

Dick.." she muttered to herself. She didn't notice the way Nightwing tensed up at her insult.

"What did you say?" he asked sharply, earning a startled look from the girl.

"I just.." Morgan shrugged casually like it wasn't a big deal. "Called you a dick?"

She gave him a weird look, like she didn't understand his reaction. It wasn't like she hadn't insulted him before and he had never reacted like this to any of her other jabs.

Nightwing almost breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that she'd just insulted him, and not called him by his name.

The last thing he needed was for her of all people to know his secret identity. She was a native Gothamite. She probably knew all about Dick Grayson, and if she had ever picked up a tabloid or a gossip magazine, she probably had all the wrong ideas.

Just then, the Zeta tube lit up and the computer announced the arrival of Batgirl and Robin.

"Hey," Batgirl greeted, jogging towards them. "Happy birthday!"

Robin walked up too, giving Nightwing a firm slap on the shoulder. "Your last year as a teenager, huh?"

Nightwing allowed a small smile. "Thanks guys."

"We've actually got somewhere to be, we just came to congratulate you," Batgirl explained before reaching up and planting a kiss on his cheek. He already knew where they had to be; he'd been the one to assign them a mission.

"I'll see you guys tonight?" he asked.

"Count on it." Batgirl winked and Robin smiled one of his easy smiles, and then the two of them headed for the Cave's garage.

Nightwing looked after them for a moment, happy that Barbara and Tim would be there, tonight at the Manor. Even though he didn't live at Wayne Manor anymore, Bruce still insisted on celebrating his birthday there. Dick had asked for just a small gathering of family and the closest friends, and that's what Bruce would get him.

"So that's why you've been so pissy," Morgan realized behind him. She'd been impressively silent while the others were there. Part of him wondered if that was because of some lingering discomfort around her teammates. "It's your birthday and you're stuck with me in this stupid cave."

"I have not been pissy," he defended himself.

Morgan waved him away, scoffing. "Sure, whatever. Not at all pissy."

Nightwing sighed harshly and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed.

"Look, I just want to finish this sparring session so I can go home and enjoy my birthday. So, can we not argue? Please?"

Morgan stood and looked at him for a moment and then she shrugged her shoulders and shifted into a fighting stance.

"Let's agree that when you've knocked me on my ass for the twentieth time, or I manage to actually lay a blow on you, we're done for today. I'll just do some weightlifting instead or something."

Nightwing slipped into a fighting stance too and hesitantly nodded at her suggestion.

"Thanks." He wasn't sure what had suddenly made her compliable. Maybe it was the please. Maybe it was the tired tone of voice he'd been using.

She quirked a small, half-smile with one corner of her mouth. "Consider it my birthday present to you."

December 12^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

On the twelfth of December, Morgan lifted off the ground for the first time.

After a month of constant training, building on her wings size, muscle mass and endurance, Nightwing decided that now was the time she tried to fly for real.

"Absolutely not. I'm not making a fool of myself," Morgan protested, but still followed after him into the gym, mainly because he'd threatened to just drag her in there if she didn't come along.

"You won't make a fool of yourself," he shot back in frustration. "There’s nothing wrong with trying."

"Yeah, but there most certainly is something wrong with failing."

Especially in front of Nightwing. She'd already embarrassed herself and failed and seemed weak in front of him enough times.

He ignored her and pushed her into the center of the room anyway.

"Come on," he said, "It is simple; just flap your wings as hard as you can."

"Please do not tell me how to use my own friggin' wings,” Morgan grouched, crossing her arms over her chest, a pout on her face. Nightwing didn't move a muscle, but simply kept looking at her with what she assumed was an unimpressed looked from behind that stupid black mask with the white eye slits.

When his expression didn't change, she groaned loudly but still did as he asked. She stepped up onto a chair he'd placed in the middle of the room and closed her eyes, deciding it'd be less embarrassing if she didn't have to watch him watch her fail. Her heart started pounding at what she was going to do. After so many years – she had never attempted it. She had denied herself the very idea for years. Even now, something inside of her strained at the thought of trying to fly. It felt forbidden.

Morgan stood on the chair for a long moment, postponing the moment for as long as possible. She didn’t want to. She'd spent five years hating her wings, and now, because of that, she found that attempting to use them was harder than she'd imagined. It went against all the plans she'd had, all the thinking she'd done. It went against a very old promise she'd made to herself.

And yet..

An increasingly bigger part of her wanted to soar. Morgan took a deep breath and beat her wings up and down once, then twice, then three times. Mentally, she kept telling herself that she was a different person now than she was then. Her wings had a purpose now.

As she started beating her wings up and down, harder with each thrust, Morgan could definitely feel that they had the potential for true power. Even now, though they weren't big and impressive like the kind of wings Hawkgirl and Hawkman had, they still stirred the air in the room.

With each beat, she felt lighter, until suddenly she could feel her feet leaving the wooden chair.

A strange emotion rushed through her. She felt as if she had been underwear for a long time, bogged down by a heavy weight, and now she had been allowed to breach the surface and breathe.

She opened a single eye, peaking at the ground beneath her. She was only floating a few inches above the chair, and her wings were growing steadily tired and sore, but it was worth it.

“You’re doing it!” came Nightwing’s excited voice below.

It was a thrill like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Briefly, the feeling of total freedom she'd been craving since her wings first started growing out of her back finally washed over her and she wished she could fly high and far, all day.

Morgan found herself suddenly wondering why she hadn't done this much sooner.

Then she remembered how much she was supposed to hate her wings, how much heartache they'd caused her, and immediately stopped moving them. She landed back on the chair, but lost her balance and, with a small squeak, ended up in a heap on the floor.

The thrill she had felt turned to shame, and the rush of adrenaline soured in her chest.

"The flying was great, but the landing could use some adjustments." Nightwing spoke up, probably thinking he was being supportive or funny.

Morgan scowled at him, suddenly hating him for forcing her to do this. She tried to think of some clever retort but found herself unable to.

Needing to just get away she stood up and brushed herself off, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and marched out of the gym. As soon as she was out of Nightwing's view, she shook her wings, which were hurting from all the strain she'd just put them in, and she felt tears built up in her eyes.

Morgan could sense more than hear Nightwing behind her.

"Please, for once," she growled out, "Leave me alone."

"I don't understand what it is I'm doing wrong here," he sounded confused. There was a hesitation but also desperation in his voice that Morgan hadn't expected to find.

Pausing, she realized that, as new as this whole thing was to her, it was new to him too. He'd been forced to train her, probably against his will, and she'd done nothing but make his job hard since the beginning. Morgan wasn't sure if he'd ever mentored anyone before, but she could understand that it wasn't an easy task. Especially when everything you do seems to be the wrong thing.

So, for once, Morgan decided to not throw everything he did back in his face. It wasn’t his fault that the relationship she had with her wings was so complicated.

She turned towards him, leaning against the cool steel walls of the hall.

"You didn't do anything wrong." She tried to keep her voice soft, refusing to meet his eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I just.. I'm not sure I'm ready."

He stood quietly for a moment, weighing her word.

"Okay." He heaved a sigh and nodded. "We'll wait."

He was about to walk away, Morgan could hear that, but she stopped him and finally looked up

"No!" she blurted out. He paused where he had been about to turn and leave. "If we wait, I'll never be ready. I think its best that I keep trying. Otherwise, I'll never be able to try again. It's now or never."

He nodded and looked thoughtfully at the floor. "You will try again tomorrow, after your normal training."

He turned towards her and took a step closer, giving her a stern look and speaking with a hard voice.

"If you want to have a future on this team, you need to get those wings up and running. And that means you have to accept them.”

She was rooted to the spot, his words nailing her there. His low voice had sounded dangerous, but his words had hurt. Morgan wanted to retort with some scathing remark, but she had to admit to herself that Nightwing was absolutely right, so instead she silently watched him walk away.

How had he managed to make her cower like that? Did he really just have to hover over her and speak in that low voice, to turn her meek?

Embarrassing. Completely humiliating.

To keep herself from perhaps screaming with frustration, Morgan growled out and punched the wall.

Her fist left a nicely sized dent in the otherwise sturdy steel-wall.

"Shit!" Her eyes widened.

Her hands came up and hid the hole behind them in a panick attempt to remove it somehow. I have to hide this, they can't see, they can't know! Morgan looked around frantically for some solution to suddenly appear. 

Calm DOWN Morgan! She screamed at herself, realizing that there really was no way to hide the hole. If she placed something over it, someone would surely notice it, and that would draw even more attention to the dent.

I'll just say I threw something at the wall and created the dent. They don't have to know about..

Needing to get away from the Cave and the trapped feeling that swept over her, she walked into her room and slipped on the charmed necklace. Briefly, she felt a buzzing throughout her whole body that ended in her wings, the tell-tale sign that the pendant was still working.

Her wings would now be invisible to humanity.

She slung a small bag over her shoulder and put the credit card and her new phone in it. She had some shopping to get done anyway, now that Nightwing had assured her that she was supposed to use the credit card.

Her room was still left un-decorated, and her closet wasn't even half full. She'd had a specific shop in mind for a week now, but had been holding it off.

Morgan decided that now was the time to finally settle down properly in the Cave. She'd been avoiding it for some time now. But changes were coming. First, she'd make herself more at home in her room, to fully accept her new life, and then she'd work on accepting her wings.

Going back to go through the start of Feathers is fun because of how much Dick is being referred to as Nightwing, instead of his actual name. Like in the sequel, it's totally the other wya around!

This chapter, at least, is better than the previous, I think. 

Morgan continues to be kinda sketchy and kinda traumatized and not very good at handling it! 

I've managed to make the story a whole chapter shorter so far, by making each chapter a bit longer - this used to be half of chapter 5 and all of chapter 6.

Chapter Text

December 13^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Nightwing really should've known something like this would happen.

He'd told Morgan that it was okay to use the credit card to make herself at home and to buy herself some more clothes.

And he really should've known that she'd end up doing it in the most annoying way she could.

So, when Morgan came to the gym the next day, sporting a black tank top with the Batman symbol on it, and a smug look on her face, Nightwing told himself that he really shouldn't be surprised. At all.

He also knew that anything he said, would only prove that her attempt at annoying him had worked. After all, he had not only told her to buy more clothes – he had also stressed that she needed to get used to the idea of superheroes.

Nightwing allowed himself a weary sigh. "What is this?"

Morgan sported an innocent look that Nightwing immediately saw through. He could also tell that she'd meant for him to see through it.

"What ever do you mean?" her innocent look melted away as she was no longer able to contain a stupid, smug grin.

Nightwing, as he'd already concluded, knew he couldn't win this, so he closed his eyes, praying for patience.

"Let's spar," he sighed, deciding that was the safest route to take.

And, if he accidentally was a little harder on her during training than usual, it really wasn't intentional.

Half an hour later, after Morgan had done a lot better than he'd expected, Nightwing decided that it was time for him to knock her confidence down a few pegs. Just to remind her that she was still a novice. She couldn’t afford to grow overly confident. Confidence got you killed.

"I think it's time we started working on your acrobatic skills,” he declared, taking a few steps back to indicate the fight was over.

Morgan gave him an incredulous look, for once keeping her mouth shut. She didn't need to speak anyway. Her skeptically raised brow and un-amused look spoke for her.

"Well, you need to be able to move around in various terrains, don't you?"

"I have wings," she deadpanned. "I don't need to jump around."

"What if you injure a wing? Or you're grounded for some other reason?" he argued, walking over to a small console that was settled into the wall next to the gym's main doors. "You need to be prepared for any kind of emergency. Besides," he punched in a few commands, "acrobatics gives you a great advantage when you fight. It allows for more flexibility and lets you experiment with your style." The gym rearranged itself, hoops lowering from the ceiling, various instruments moving around on their own, creating what looked like a high-tech obstacle course.

"Allow me to demonstrate.” He was aware that his tone was overly cocky. He couldn’t help it - this was a field where he was the unchallenged master.

For a few minutes, Nightwing allowed himself to practically fly around the huge gym, never once touching the floor.

Because he needed it to look like he was teaching her and not just showing off to remind her that she still had a lot to learn, he kept explaining what he was doing, droning out acrobatic lingo that he knew Morgan would understand very little of.

He approached the very end of the room, where three pillar-shaped landings stood with about three meters between them, each taller than the one in front of it.

"It's all about having a mental map of the landscape and being able to calculate how much strength you have to put into each movement to reach your next destination."

He decided to ignore the way she crossed her arms over her chest and muttered a “Dick." that he could easily hear in the large, empty gym.

"Like this." He took a few steps back and ran forward suddenly, somersaulting towards the first pillar, where he landed on his hands for only a second before shooting off for the next one. He landed in a crouch on it, his back to the last pillar. Without looking, he jumped into another somersault, intending to land on the last pillar. This was child’s play.

However, instead of landing safely in the middle of the pillar, to his horror, he just barely missed the platform. His left foot slid off the edge, his body plunging towards the hard wooden floor. He righted himself quickly, instincts taking over, and he landed in a roll, ending in a crouch. He was sure the expression on his face was shock. For a moment he just sat there, thoroughly confused.

He could hear Morgan bite back laughter.

He was absolutely certain that he hadn't miscalculated that last step.

He should have landed right in the middle of the last platform.

Nightwing sat up slowly, his left shoulder aching from the fall and glared back at the snickering girl. Morgan burst into full out laughter at his sour face.

"Serves you right for wasting my training on showing off,” she mocked.

Nightwing narrowed his eyes even further at the overly satisfied smirk on her lips.

"I calculated that right," he grumbled and stood up. The fall had wounded his pride more than his body, but it stung nonetheless. "I know it."

"Yeah, yeah," Morgan scoffed. "You fell on your ass. Admit it."

Nightwing looked suspiciously at the last landing once and then faced the girl again. He heaved a sigh and rubbed his sore shoulder.

I must be more tired than I thought.

"I think that's enough for today," Nightwing said. "I'll see you tomorrow, same time as usual."

Morgan saluted him and left the room quickly, obviously eager to get out of there.

He stood in the gym a bit longer and had a mental battle with himself. He refused to believe he’d failed such a simple maneuver.

In the end, he shook his head, internally scolding himself, and left the gym. He wasn’t going to let this go.

He walked up to the Zeta tube and through it, ending up in Gotham. There, he used one of Batman's secret Zeta tubes to reach the Batcave.

He had some video footage he needed to look through.

All of Mount Justice was under surveillance, which included the gym. All of that footage could be accessed via the Batcave's computer. Dick would be able to see exactly where he made a mistake during training. A small nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he hadn't made a mistake and that there had to be some other explanation.

He found the right video and skipped to the part he needed.

Slumping in the chair, Dick watched as he executed the first two moves flawlessly, inwardly cringing as he mentally made ready to watch himself fail miserably.

His eyes widened and he sat ramrod straight when he noticed that, right as he kicked off of the middle pillar, the last one moved by itself, resulting in his inevitable fall.

He paused the video and rewound it, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the seemingly alive pillar.

Yes, it was definitely moving several inches to the left all by itself.

Or was it really doing it by itself?

Morgan was standing in the bottom left corner, standing with her back to the camera, visible from her hips and up.

He rewound the video again and focused on her this time, not entirely sure why he thought she was involved. Call it a hunch.

His eyes widened in shock for the second time in just as many minutes when the girl's right hand shot out, her hand flat, palm first, making a quick pushing motion into the air, just as the pillar moved.

Could that be-? He rewound the footage again and watched it in slow-motion. Did she?

The second time around, there was no mistake. Though she was standing several meters away from the pillar and only pushed at air, she'd definitely made that platform move somehow.

It felt like a flash of lightning went through him when he suddenly remembered the first time, he'd seen her. She'd been cornered in that alley, but the would-be assaulters had been buried under a mountain of trashcans that had all fallen over, seemingly on their own.

He remembered the way she'd hesitated when Batman had asked her if she had any other powers.

He remembered the two of them agreeing that she was definitely hiding something.

And apparently, they’d been right.

The question was.. why? Why was she hiding this?

I think I need to pay a certain feathered girl a visit.

December 14^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

There was definitely something off about Nightwing today, Morgan decided ten minutes into their training session.

It was true that the teenager wasn't usually a particularly chatty person, but he'd barely said a single word to her since his arrival, which was new. Usually, he'd at least grunt some orders at her. Today he just scowled and came with one-word sentences and answers.

She wondered what exactly she'd done to piss him off this time.

Maybe he was still mad about falling the day before.

Which was, technically, her doing, but honestly, if he hadn't been so infuriatingly smug and insufferable, she wouldn't have moved the landing, so it was arguably his own fault.

Besides, she'd regretted doing that as soon as she'd done it – not because he fell down, because that part was incredibly satisfying, but because it had honestly been too big of a risk to run for something as petty as making her mentor fall on his ass.

Still, it had been very satisfying to watch.

Not that she currently had time to savor the moment. She was too busy dodging his oncoming attacks to focus on much else.

It was a wasted effort though. No matter how hard she tried, the fact that he had every advantage there was on her, and he'd had ten years to hone his skills, made her own efforts feeble and pointless.

It was like a newborn baby fighting against a black belt.

Morgan would never admit it, but she was secretly incredibly glad that he was on her side – somewhat. Right now, he certainly didn't seem like he was on her side. But she was glad she wasn’t a real enemy because Morgan did not want to try going against the tall teenager in an actual fight.

She'd managed to hold her own against him for a full five seconds – a new record? – when he forced himself through and hit her right in the temple, making stars erupt across her vision.

"Ow!" she exclaimed and took several steps back to create some distance between them. "Watch where you're aiming, dickface! We're just training!"

"That wouldn't have happened if you'd concentrate for more than three seconds at a time,” he lectured her sternly, his voice only slightly louder than usual, but filled with an anger that couldn't be missed.

He didn't give her time to respond before coming at her again, harder, faster, and stronger than before.

Morgan realized just how much he'd been holding back during all their training and found herself truly intimidated by the teenager for the first time in the time she'd known him.

She kept taking steps back to avoid his attacks, and suddenly she found herself cornered, her back pushing against the gym's wall. She saw his fist racing closer, aimed straight for her face, and acted instinctively.

She ducked under his arm and, tapping into the power she'd attempted to keep hidden, she braced her hands in front of her, pushing forward, fingers only barely coming into contact with his chest.

The effect was immediate, as Nightwing was flung away from her, landing several meters away. As he had done yesterday, he broke his fall with a roll, landing in a crouch.

Morgan gasped with the realization of what she'd just done.

"I knew it!" He quickly got on his feet and stepped towards her, pointing a finger accusingly at her. "You have powers!"

Morgan froze for a second before recovering. Then, she snorted and sent him a look of disbelief.

"Powers? Me?" she breathed out in a huff and leaned against the wall. Her mind raced – how was she going to get out of this? "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Nightwing scoffed. "Please. Like you'd ever be able to do that without."

Morgan's face turned into an angry mask.

"Look I don't know why you suddenly think I have powers, but I don't. I'm already a freak; I have wings. I don't need any stupid powers to add to that." She was lying through her teeth, but unfortunately even her lies revealed the truth to him.

"That's it, right?" Nightwing didn't even sound angry anymore. He almost sounded excited. Like a detective that was putting the last pieces together in a murder case that had been particularly difficult. "I wondered why you felt the need to hide your powers, especially considering how useful they'd be to you as a hero, but now I get it. You think you're a freak, and if you can't hide your wings, you're going to hide your other powers."

He eyed her and Morgan knew he was looking at the orange pendant around her neck. She'd been wearing it almost constantly since he'd given it to her, and Morgan knew he disapproved of it.

Whatever. She didn't take orders from him. 

I actually do, Morgan thought wryly, but still.

Morgan sighed harshly.

"You're insane. I'm leaving." She uncrossed her arms and pushed herself off the wall, heading for the door. If she couldn’t get him to drop it, then she could just avoid him altogether.

Nightwing walked briskly towards the exit and arrived just before her, cutting her off with an arm between her and the door.

"You figured if you kept it hidden, you'd still have some kind of hope, small as it is, that you'd someday be able to live a normal life."

"Alright!" Morgan exploded. "I admit it!"

She turned around and flung her arms out aggressively. Several of the instruments scattered closest to them moved on their own. A few where knocked over, or flung several meters away, while some barely moved at all. She was tired of him staring into her soul and relaying all the information back to her. If she had to admit her powers for him to shut up, then she would.

"Now move before I do the same to you," she threatened, voice dark, giving him a stiff glare. Nightwing didn't budge, so Morgan sighed, rolling her eyes, and slipped under his arm without another word.

She heard him follow her and wondered how many times she was going to storm out of the gym with him on her heels for some sort of big confrontation.

Neither said a word as she walked down the hall and into her own room. Although Nightwing was one of the most soundless walkers she'd ever come across, she knew he was there.

"Morgan," he said, unusually calm, "You could've told us. Your powers, whatever they are, are a gift – not a curse. No matter what you seem to think."

She scoffed and flopped down on her bed. She slipped the pendant over her head, untangling it from a few wayward curls.

"I'm serious," Nightwing stressed from his position by her door. "You could achieve much with this, help many people. Save lives."

"Exactly," she murmured, an arm draped over her closed eyes. "Ever heard the saying 'with great power comes great responsibility?"

"That's from the Spiderman movie," Nightwing flatly pointed out.

"Well, just because it's from a movie doesn't mean it's not true. All I want from life is to just graduate college, get a job at some laboratory, and spend the rest of my life in there. That's all I want. It's not like I can get married and have kids with these." She grabbed the end of one of her wings and held it up. Nightwing shifted uncomfortably in his spot.

She sighed and went on, "But I can't even allow myself to follow that plan now because I can do more. I can save people, so I have an obligation to do it."

Nightwing looked at her like what she said was incredibly stupid.

"You shouldn't help people because you think you have to. You should do it because it's a natural urge. An instinct."

Morgan finally removed her arm from her face and sat up on her bed. She leaned her elbows against her knees, studying her shoes thoughtfully.

An instinct.. Did she had that? Sure, if she met an old woman struggling with her groceries, she would offer to carry them for her. Sure, if a kid was stuck in a burning building, she would try to help them out.

But anyone would do that. What Nightwing expected of her – what every hero was prepared to do – was potentially lay her life down to save others. To repeatedly throw herself in harm’s way for the sake of others.

Could she do that?

"You’re cut from a different cloth than the rest of us. You have this drive that lets you do the things you do for the greater good without breaking along the way.” She spoke with admiration and wistfulness in her voice because she had to admit she wished she was like that too. She wanted to be brave and selfless and helpful, she just doubted that she could. She had grown up in a broken home, in a broken city. The bitterness she felt like a vice around her heart almost constantly, told her she lacked that light the rest of them seemed to possess. Did she trust that humanity really deserved that these good, strong people sacrificed themselves for them? Did she think she owed anyone her life?

"A regular person wouldn't be able to willingly put themselves in mortal danger again and again for the benefit of others the same way you do. You make it seem like the most natural thing in the world."

"Why do you have so little trust in regular people?" Nightwing sounded genuinely confused.

"They haven't exactly proved me otherwise," she said bitterly. She met his eyes and hated the look of comprehension on his face. He knew she was talking about her dad and the way he'd abandoned her and her mother all those years ago. Morgan hadn't mentioned much about her father's abandonment, but she'd let a few bitter remarks slip every now and again, remarks that she knew Nightwing had taken note of.

"Morgan." Nightwing said seriously. "If you don't want to become a hero, you don't have to. We'll help you settle down somewhere and you can get a normal life. As normal as you can get, anyway."

He looked at her blankly. For once, there was no scorn or smugness or anger, or any other expression on his face, not even his usual slight disapproval, which seemed to be the most common look on his face. It was open and blank, like whatever she chose wouldn't bother him, which comforted Morgan in a way.

"But to me that sounds like running away," he finished.

Morgan realized that he was right. By now she was in too deep in this hero business anyway. She'd grown oddly fond of the Cave's other inhabitants and found that she didn't want to leave them now. It was true that the thought of fighting villains and being in actual life-threatening danger did scare her, but she knew that was only normal. She'd talked with M'gann about it once and she'd told her that she'd been terrified on her first mission. But she'd also promised her that it got better, and that she learned that there was always a way out.

She was curious to find out if she was cut from the same cloth as the rest of them. And she knew she would never find out, unless she tried. Morgan took comfort in M'gann's words and right then they lent her the courage to look Nightwing firmly in the eye and say; "I'm staying. I want this."

December 15^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

The next day, after some convincing from him, Nightwing and Morgan spent an hour testing her abilities. She had admitted that she really didn't know much about them herself as she'd limited her use as much as possible.

"All I know is that's it's not the same kind of telekinesis as M'gann's. I can't make things float. It's more like a push, like an extension of my arms. And I can't just do it with my mind. I have to use my arms, or legs if I'm really desperate. Some things are easier to move than others; Like, I can't move plants very well, but metal and rock is okay," she had explained as he quizzed her.

They had their first outside lesson. Nightwing showed her a 'secret' way in the Cave that led upwards and ended with a small hatch high up on the side of the mountain. Here, he had her throw stuff around, using both her arms and legs.

They discovered that it was like her limbs sent out a force field of sorts that pushed things away or pulled things towards her. They discovered that she could also use it to strengthen her own punches.

"That explains that fist sized hole in the wall next to your room. I thought it had been made by Connor.”

She shrugged and punched another rock, howling in pain when nothing happened except something popped in her hand.

"I forgot to concentrate!" She bit out in a hiss, clutching her hand. Her knuckles were bleeding.

Nightwing turned his back on her so she couldn't see him trying to hide an amused smile. He wasn’t slick, however, and she aimed a glare at him as she held her throbbing hand close to her chest.

He cleared his throat to suppress a laugh.

"C’mon. Let's patch you up."

They were getting along oddly well, and he didn't want to ruin it by laughing in her face.

He could hear her release a string of curses all the way to the infirmary, leaving him wondering how such a small person could contain that much fire. It was true that Morgan doubted herself and her strength, but Nightwing didn't – even if he wasn’t about to admit that. She'd said that heroes where cut from a different cloth than normal people, and she was right, but Nightwing didn't think she realized that she was cut from that cloth herself. She had spirit and fire, and a stubbornness that he suspected would save her life more than once.

"Sit down."

She sat down on a cot, her wings spreading out, so she didn't sit on them by mistake.

Nightwing had her practicing her flying every day and she was making progress with it. This morning, she'd flown up and touched the ceiling of the gym, and then flown an entire round around the gym before landing again. He could see their muscle mass increasing every day.

In fact, he could see her getting stronger overall every day. She wasn't too thin anymore, but well-fed and healthy, with toned muscles, a product of the hard training she'd been through for roughly a month now. He was surprised at how well she had kept up with the training, but was reminded once more of that stubbornness he knew would save her one day.

Nightwing got a clean cloth and made her clean up her dirty, bleeding knuckles. She flinched whenever the disinfectant touched the tender scrapes, hissing under her breath. He grabbed her hand to look over the damage, and she let out a squeak – he assumed from pain.

She was silent as he felt for any broken bones, and she sat completely still. It took him a moment to realize she must’ve felt awkward from how close he stood as he prodded at her hand.

He didn't mind. Or rather, he didn't care.

"Nothing's broken," he said, taking a step back, "But you probably shouldn't go punching anymore rocks, at least for a couple of days."

He smiled crooked slightly at her, and Morgan rolled her eyes before hopping off the cot.

"I'll keep that in mind."

December 17th

Mount Justice

Morgan

On December 17th, Morgan was met with the sight of a letter resting neatly against her bedroom door.

She hadn't received any letters since her arrival – understandable, since the Cave wasn't really her official address, and she didn't know anyone who'd send her mail anyway.

She'd just finished practice and was headed back to her room for a long warm shower, which was sometimes the only thing that helped her viciously aching muscles.

Thanks, Nightwing.

Morgan had been walking down the hallway, water bottle in one hand with the other rubbing at her sore neck, when she noticed the letter. She stopped short, and then kind of just stared at the thing for a while, thinking that surely someone had made a mistake.

Shrugging, she picked it up, spotting the insignia on the front.

"Gotham University," she mumbled under her breath, flipping the letter around once, then twice. It was indeed addressed to her, but she was having a hard time understanding why Gotham University was trying to contact her.

She had a thought.. but she dismissed it quickly.

Then Morgan opened the letter and confirmed her thought.

"Dear Miss Morgan Louise Jørgensen," it started, before continuing with congratulating her on getting accepted to the university with a full Wayne Foundation Scholarship.

There was three things Morgan knew for sure.

First, she hadn't applied to any university or any scholarships.

Second, she found that she actually really wanted to go. She'd been out of school for a month now and, honestly, she'd been itching to go back before her chance at an education was permanently ruined.

Third, she was still going to murder Nightwing for enrolling her without her permission.

Holding the paper in her clenched fist, she marched towards the main room of the Cave, where she knew Nightwing was in the middle of sending a small squad on a mission.

She arrived just in time to see the telltale white light fade from the Zeta tube, and she knew the squad had already left. Fine. She'd be able to confront him without creating a scene in front of the others.

"Hey, dick!" she shouted before she could stop herself. Nightwing stood with his back to her and finished typing something on the holographic computer. His back was ramrod straight and tense, but he took his sweet time on the computer, shutting it down before turning to her slowly, a look on his face that clearly showed that he did not appreciate the nickname.

Not missing a beat, Morgan slammed the letter against his chest. "What's this?"

Nightwing caught the letter and, still not speaking, looked it over.

"I'm assuming it's exactly what it says. A letter of acceptance."

"Yes, I can see that," she growled out, snatching the papers from him. "What are you playing at?”

"What, you think I enrolled you?" he shot back, his tone incredulous.

"Well, if you didn't, who did?" Morgan pointed out, her arms crossed over her chest and her right hip jutted out. On her back, she could feel her wings bristling with annoyance.

"I did."

The two teenagers both turned around to spot the tall, dark, and imposing figure that had spoken.

Morgan didn't even bother wondering how Batman had entered unnoticed. He was Batman. He could do stuff like that.

"Batman? You enrolled her?" Nightwing asked, an undertone of anger in his voice that Morgan hadn't thought anyone would ever dare use against the dark knight. She found herself wondering once again what their relationship was.

"Morgan needs to resume her education.” he informed in a tone that left no room for arguments. "She’s to being after the winter break.”

She thought about telling him that she didn’t need to do anything. But she held her tongue – after all, she did want to go. Gotham University was extremely prestigious. It was a small university, usually devoted entirely to the children of the elite. And the handful of scholarship students that managed to secure a scholarship from Wayne Foundation.

But that usually took a genius – and her grades were not good enough to get a full ride to GU.

How had the crazy old bat pulled this off?

“How did you get me a scholarship? I’m not exactly ticking all the boxes here.”

Batman looked at her with that blank face – aided by the cowl covering half of his face, of course.

“After some interviews with your old biology and chemistry teachers, the board was convinced that you have a bright future in that field. Gotham University has an excellent biology program.”

“Huh.” She knew that the foundation must have sent their own people to conduct the interview with her old biology teacher, but in her mind’s eye, all she could conjure was Batman and her teacher in a dark room, with the bat punching a table and shouting “Does she qualify!”

He shifted so he was mainly facing Nightwing. "I trust you’ll make sure she’s ready."

“You think I can’t buy my own pencils?” she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at the two, tall men. Were they ever going to not treat her like a child?

Batman barely offered her a glance.

“You don’t know the rules at GU. There’s a dress code.”

“There’s a dress code at a university?” she gaped at him and shook her head. “Never mind about going. Who needs a scholarship anyway?”

She was ignored, once again.

“Will you make sure she’s ready?” Batman asked again. Nightwing narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yes, Batman," he bit out after sighing loudly. Morgan sensed that he wanted to protest quite a bit, but she was unsure why. Other than perhaps making sure she had a pencil and a backpack, this really wasn't going to involve him, and shouldn't pose a problem for him at all. Well, except she apparently couldn’t be trusted to check out a dress code on her own, according to Batman.

"Good," Batman said. "Dismissed."

The two teenagers both scuttled off at his dismissal.

"Not you, Morgan," Batman suddenly spoke up, making the girl stop in her tracks.

Nightwing sent her a look of disbelief and – was that jealousy? – before walking off, leaving her alone with the dark knight.

She took a deep breath and turned around to find Batman studying her intensely behind that cowl of his.

"Yes, sir?" she said politely, not sure if she was supposed to call him 'sir' or not.

"Nightwing told me about your other superpower," he explained shortly. Morgan wasn't angry with Nightwing for snitching – she had accepted it would have to come out eventually.

"Yes, well.." She forgot all of her previous politeness and shrugged. "Surprise?" she offered with a hint of humor.

"If you would allow it, the League is interested in running a few tests on you to discover the nature of your abilities and perhaps shed some light on what exactly you are." Batman said, somehow making it sound more like an order than a 'friendly suggestion'.

Morgan held up both hands defensively. "I swear, I'm just a normal human." She grimaced when the words rang hollow. "Who happens to have wings and telekinetic powers."

Tests?

No thanks – she had spent long years avoiding tests.

And yet, the prospect of getting some answers was interesting.

Batman stood, silently studying her as she deliberated on what to do. She could feel her insides crawl at the idea of going to some lab to get prodded at. It sounded like a nightmare.

And yet.. what if there were answers for her out there? If these tests could reveal something, so she could stop wondering?

Morgan sighed as she realized her curiosity was actively winning out over her fear.

"Look. As far as I know, both of my parents are perfectly normal humans, as am I. But if it would make you feel better, sure, do your tests. As long as it doesn't hurt."

Batman inclined his head once. "Expect to be collected tomorrow at noon. And pack so you have clothes for several days. We can't know for sure how long this is going to take."

Morgan took a small step back, suddenly petrified with the thought of leaving the Cave for more than an afternoon. She would have at stay at some lab? Would they keep her locked up?

No – that was stupid. Why would they lock her up when she’d agreed to go?

"Where am I going?" she asked, her voice betraying the uncertainty she felt.

"Star Labs."

December 18th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Morgan hoisted the bag she had slung over her shoulder higher, stuffing one hand into the superman-themed hoodie she was wearing.

Connor had barked out a loud laugh at the sight of it, and she’d smiled cheekily at his reaction.

The residents of the Cave all hovered around her, with a few people from the Team who happened to be there. She was leaving for Star Labs as soon as Batman arrived to take her.

Nightwing stood at the back, watching the others hug her goodbye and offer her encouragements. He had his computer on, the screen blown up so he could appear busy. He was working on assigning a few missions, but his mind wasn’t really focusing on the task.

He wasn’t going with her – which felt strange, since he’d seen her basically every single day since he’d been assigned as her mentor. And sure, he relished the prospect of a few, quiet days.

But he saw the tense line of her back, and the bags under her eyes – he assumed from a restless night.

She was scared.

Morgan hadn’t talked much about her time before the Team, but she had let slip her biggest fear – to end up in some lab for scientists to prod at, because of what she was.

He had to admit, her courage was admirable. He could tell she was fighting to squash down her terror, now that she was willingly going to go through that very thing.

It almost made him wish he was going with them – then he could at least offer her some encouragement if she needed it. Not that he assumed she would be receptive. But perhaps having someone familiar to be annoyed at would make her stay easier.

“I packed you some cookies La’gaan and I made,” M’gann handed her the brown paper bag. La’gaan gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

Morgan grimaced and took the bag, which looked strangely wet. “Thanks..”

Garfield hugged her tightly, and Dick was surprised to see her return it. He definitely didn’t have her pegged as a hugger.

“Bring me a souvenir!”

Morgan snorted. “What, a blood sample? Some syringes?”

“Sure!” he said enthusiastically, making Jamie and Cassie laugh.

“I’ll make sure no one snoops in your room while you’re gone,” Connor said and Morgan smiled appreciatively.

“Thanks,” she was about to something else – Nightwing assumed a stupid joke – when the Zeta tube activated, and Batman arrived.

“Well, that’s my cue,” she stepped towards the Zeta tube, nodded at batman in greeting.

A chorus of goodbyes and good lucks followed in her wake.

Morgan looked at her teammates, and then her eyes traveled past them and found Nightwing. He had stopped pretending to be focused on his screen, and he met her gaze. Her eyes betrayed the worry and fear she felt, the mask she had worn for the benefit of the others slipping.

He gave her a firm nod. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, turning towards the tube. Then, with a fortifying sigh, she stepped through, disappearing in a flash of white.

The last little moment is the first entirely new scene I've added since I began this editing process. In the original, the stuff with Star Labs is kinda glossed over pretty quickly, which feels weird when you consider that being a lab rat was like her biggest, established, tangible fear? So I figured doing a short little "goodbye" scene would accomplish a few things: Another bonding moment between her and some people from the Team, since I feel like we haven't had a lot of those yet, and seeing her worry, through Dick's eyes. AND seeing him sort of start to care about her, or at least start to know her well enough to know when something bothers her, and not feel great about it. 

Anyway, her powers are now revealed! It's funny how long she keeps them hidden in this story, since they're so second nature to her in the sequel. Reading this first part of the story is interesting - and writing more stuff for it even more so - because they're at SUCH a different place, both personally and as a couple, than the part I'm at in the sequel. Like i'm reading this and they reeeeally have no idea what's coming. 

ALSO as i edited this chapter, I saw I had made a pretty funny typo in the original text, as instead of "Acrobatic lingo" i had written "acrobatic LIBIDO". I went back and checked and this chapter have 12 reviews on FFnet and NOT A SINGLE PERSON MENTIONED THIS TO ME. I almost screamed when I saw it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Never Felt More Alive

December 20^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

"What do you mean the results were 'inconclusive'?" Morgan asked angrily.

Batman answered before Nightwing could.

"It means that despite everything, we’re still not any closer to figuring out exactly what you are. The tests offered no informative results."

Nightwing wordlessly handed her the file he knew to be hers. He'd read through it this morning, and had to admit that they were, indeed, very inconclusive. Apart from where her tests revealed that she had wings, she appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a perfectly normal human being. There was nothing significantly off, other than her blood pressure being slightly lower than what was the norm. Which didn't have much to do with her having powers or wings, Nightwing figured.

"So, I let myself get prodded at for three days for nothing?" she said, the anger seeping out of her voice, to be replaced by frustration and disappointment.

Batman inclined his head, which Nightwing knew was the only sign of sympathy his former mentor was going to show, and then headed for the Zeta tube without another word.

"I'll see you tonight, Batman." Nightwing spoke up, reminding him that they did have an appointment tonight. The brooding hero didn't turn around as he disappeared in the white light of the Zeta tube, but he knew he’d heard him.

"I was so hoping for some answers.." Morgan mumbled, heaving a heavy sigh and looking forlornly at the papers she had been handed.

Nightwing raised his hand hesitantly before placing it on her shoulder to offer her some comfort. Morgan turned away from the Zeta tube and faced him, not bothering to hide the disappointment on her pouting face.

"We'll find some answers." He squeezed her shoulder once before dropping his hand. Morgan narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at him with what appeared to be suspicion, which kind of annoyed him. He was only trying to be nice. Still, she looked at him like she thought he was hiding something from her, and Nightwing had to admit she wasn't wrong. Batman hadn't changed anything in her file, but he and Nightwing had done some research of their own, which hadn't been added to the file. He wanted to tell her, but he had been ordered to not say anything by Bruce.

"C’mon, let's go a few rounds. You've been neglecting your training while at the lab." He was willing to do anything to get that suspicious look off her face so he wouldn't have to feel guilt gnawing at his insides.

Morgan smirked slightly and following him. "There's the Nightwing I know and annoy."

Dick arrived at the Batcave later that evening, parked his motorcycle by the entrance, and marched right in. Bruce was already there, sitting in front of the computer, cowl pushed back.

"Why didn't you tell her?" Dick demanded without as much as a hello. He took his mask off and threw it onto one of the Batcave's worktables.

Bruce didn't move. "Until such a time where we know for sure that our suspicions are correct, you’ll tell her nothing."

Dick found himself uncharacteristically angry on behalf of the winged girl.

"She deserves to know,” he stated firmly, leaning over the table to loom over Bruce. It hardly intimidated him, though.

"Dick.." Bruce finally turned to his ward. "Can you imagine how she'd react if she was told that her scientist father might be the one responsible for her wings because he experimented on her as a child?"

Dick had to admit he could see Bruce's point. He sighed and slumped against the desk.

"She's going to tear me a new one when she finds out I've been keeping this from her." He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, already getting a headache at the thought.

Bruce stood up and put a hand on Dick's shoulder, not unlike the way Dick had done to Morgan earlier that day.

"Get some sleep. You can stay here for tonight. Tim would appreciate it."

Dick offered Bruce a grateful smile. "Just like old times."

Bruce face fell a fraction and Dick immediately regretting saying that. If things were really like old times, Jason would be alive. Dick felt an old wound give a painful throb, and knew he'd unintentionally caused Bruce another night of regret and guilt.

"I'll go help Alfred with dinner," Dick needed to get away from Bruce before he did something stupid again, like apologizing for what he'd said, which could only end badly. Bruce would pretend he didn't know what Dick was on about, and Dick would then insist that they talk about it, which would end in an argument and then one of them would lash out at the other and they would not talk for a few weeks.

After the argument that had made Dick move out and become Nightwing instead of Robin, he'd been cautious around Bruce, not wanting another fight like that ever again. It had taken him months before he forgave his mentor, and it wasn't until Bruce had gotten injured and hospitalized that Dick sought him out again and mended their strained relationship. In their line of business, you could never know if your next conversation with someone was actually going to be your last, and so Dick had learned he couldn't afford to fight with Bruce for a longer period of time.

Still – sometimes Bruce made it damned hard to keep the peace. Sometimes, it felt like Dick was the only one willing to make sacrifices to stay on good terms.

He stepped into a changing room, slipping out of his Nightwing suit and into a pair of jeans and a dark grey t-shirt.

Walking up the stairs and through the old grandfather clock, Dick found himself in the mansion. He steered through all the well-known halls, heading for the kitchen. He found both Alfred and Tim there, one making dinner and the other making.. something.. out of a split-apart toaster and what Dick recognized as the remote to the TV from Tim's room.

The two occupants both look up from their work when he entered.

"Master Richard, what a pleasant surprise," Alfred said, polite as ever, and Dick found an easy smile – the first genuine smile of that day – growing on his face.

"Hey Alfie," Dick stepped further into the kitchen and grabbed a plum from a bowl on the kitchen table, biting into it. "Need help with dinner?"

"No thank you, it will be ready in a moment."

"Hey Dick," Tim said, an eager smile on his face. The younger boy was bent low over his contraption, only sparing Dick a brief look before focusing intently on his work again. Dick ruffled Tim's short hair, earning himself an annoyed grunt from the Tim.

"What're you working on?" Dick asked.

Tim never got to answer because just then, Alfred placed cutlery and plates in front of Dick.

"If you'd be so kind,” he requested, and Dick immediately picked up the plates with one hand, his other grabbing hold of the collar of Tim's white tank top, dragging him with him.

"Hey-!" Tim protested, but still allowed Dick to drag him into the dining room.

Together they set the table quickly.

"So," Tim said, and Dick instantly knew he was going to ask Dick something that would annoy him. "How's training going?

Dick inwardly groaned.

"Morgan is.. making lots of progress,” he begrudgingly admitted. “She'll be ready for her first mission soon, probably."

Tim looked surprised; his blue eyes big. "Really? You do remember that all of our missions tend to end with something exploding, right after everything went the exact opposite of according to plan, right?"

"Well, I didn't mean one of our bigger missions, obviously. I was thinking about taking her out on patrol tomorrow. I think it'd make her realize that I'm not training her to annoy her, but to help her survive," Dick admitted.

"Is she being difficult? I haven't had a chance to really get to know her yet, but M'gann seems to like her."

Dick smiled a small half-smile.

"M'gann likes most people. But yes, Morgan is.. difficult,” he admitted, sitting in a chair, and leaning his head back with a tired sigh. “She's extremely stubborn, with a tendency to get defensive, and she likes fighting and arguing way too much."

“She sounds like a true Gothamite. You just described most people I know.”

Dick snorted.

“It also sounds like good qualities for a hero to have. The stubbornness, at least.”  

Dick shrugged, because it wasn’t like Tim was voicing any thoughts, he hadn’t already had himself.

"Yeah, exactly. She doesn't even realize it though, and she's less than receptive when I try to talk to her about it."

Tim smirked. "By time you met a bit of resistance from the ladies."

Dick rolled his eyes. "That’s different. I'm trying to train her, not date her."

"True. But I still think it's good for you. The only other girl I know to have ever made your life difficult is Barbara." Tim didn't stop smirking.

"Well, I haven't tried to date her either." Dick pointed out. "Maybe it's when I attempt to train girls that things go wrong."

Tim shrugged. "Maybe. You could always try to date her and see if that helps."

Dick felt his lips curl at the very idea.

“I’d rather stay celibate,” he said strongly.

Alfred came into the dining room, placing a stew that smelled absolutely delicious on the table. Perfect timing to interrupt Tim from letting his stupid ideas run off with him.

One of the worst things about moving out was missing out on Alfred's cooking every night. Dick had lost count of how many nights he'd had to resort to take-away because he didn't have the time or energy to cook anything.

Alfred walked up to the bookshelf flanking the entire right length of the room and removed a book, pressing down on a button that was connected to a communication system that led to the Batcave. "Master Bruce?"

"Yes Alfred?" Bruce's calm voice came from the other end.

"Dinner is served."

"I'll be right up."

They mostly ate dinner in silence, and Dick couldn't help but think that it was his fault. Bruce was more sullen than usual, and Dick and Tim were both squirming in their seats as they waited for dinner to be over.

Once it was, Dick excused himself to his old room, which he could see was left completely untouched. The young hero had to admit he was kind of exhausted. All the patrols he did, his work as leader of the team, and Morgan’s training, combined with the all-nighters he had to pull to finish his homework on time, was starting to catch up to him. He thanked his lucky stars that Christmas break had started as he slipped into his old bed – still the comfiest place on earth if he excluded all the nights his younger self had slept in Bruce's bed when he'd had nightmares. Bruce's bed was the comfiest place on earth, but Dick's own bed was a close second, he decided while burying himself in his comforters and pillows.

He’d need a good night’s sleep if he was going to take Morgan with him on patrol tomorrow.

December 21^st

Mount Justice

Morgan

Morgan blinked at Nightwing. Paused, opened her mouth, closed it, and then blinked some more. Nightwing patiently waited for her to say something.

Eventually, the only thing she got out was a "huh?"

He sighed, and Morgan could tell he was rolling his eyes at her behind that irritating mask of his.

"I said-"

"No," Morgan interrupted, waving a hand at him. "I heard what you said. I'm just wondering why the hell you suddenly want me to join you on patrol."

"I thought that would be obvious. It's training."

Morgan closed her eyes briefly and crossed her arms over her chest before opening them again, still not entirely sure how she was supposed to react.

"It's like you want to get me killed."

Nightwing had the nerve to look confused. "If I didn't think you could handle it, I wouldn't have asked. Besides, it's not like I'm going to drop you off on the most dangerous street of Gotham in the middle of the night in nothing but your underwear and then pick you up in a couple of hours. We're going to Happy Harbor. And I'll be there to help you through the whole thing."

Morgan studied him for a moment, thinking about it.

It wasn't like she didn't want to do it. For a week now, she'd been itching to go out and do something with all that training of hers. She'd told Nightwing once that she didn't really want to go out and save people all of the time, that she didn't have it in her, but that hadn't been entirely true. It wasn't true anymore, at least. She actually did want to help. She did want to feel like she was making a difference.

A small thrill went through her when she realized that this would be like 'going public' for her. Her first real appearance on the hero stage.

What the hell, Morgan decided, and nodded at Nightwing. "Alright. Just give me a minute to change."

Nightwing tossed her a black mask, not unlike the one he was wearing himself, which Morgan caught on instinct. "You have five minutes. Wear dark colors."

Half an hour later, Morgan kind of wished she'd worn something warmer. They were, after all, in the middle of December, and while it was still a few degrees above freezing, there was a viciously cold wind blowing through the city. It was the kind of wind that seemed to seep right through her clothes and into her bones. At the very least the mask now covering her eyes – an unfamiliar feeling she could already tell she'd grow fond of – shielded them from the wind, allowing her to see clearly.

"Can we get off this stupid roof top at some point?" she asked through clenched teeth. Nightwing and Morgan had been stationed on top of a tall building for about ten minutes now, and she honestly didn't understand what he was looking for.

She ruffled her feathers and attempted to shield herself somewhat with her wings. "My wings are getting stiff from the cold."

Nightwing didn't look away from the streets before them as he said, "If you’re going to keep complaining about every little thing, this’ll be a very long night for the both of us."

Morgan sighed harshly, but wisely chose to shut up, wrapping her arms around her knees to keep her warmth from disappearing. As much as the wind was bothering her, Morgan knew that the tall building was the most logical choice for them to camp out. They had a clear view of a large part of the city from it.

"There." Nightwing said suddenly a few minutes later, pointing at a jewelry shop a street over. He stood up and pulled out his grapple hook.

"Finally!" Morgan groaned, standing too. She looked at the jewelry shop and saw four guys who had broken through the front door.

Nightwing fired his grapple hook into the building next to him and turned to Morgan. "Think you can fly down?"

Realizing that her choice was between flying down herself or clinging to Nightwing like she was Jane in a Tarzan fantasy Morgan decided she'd rather fly.

She grimaced at him. "I think I'll take my chances."

She could tell he was rolling his eyes at her again, but she hardly cared. He could be offended if he wanted to.

Nightwing jumped off the building and swung down, which Morgan had to admit, looked really cool.

"Okay.." she mumbled. "My turn."

Shaking her wings a few times to get feeling back into them, she walked up to the edge of the rooftop, trying to keep her heart under control.

She'd never done something like this before. Fear seeped into her limbs, and she took several deep breaths of the cold night air to calm her spinning head. She wasn't necessarily afraid of heights. She just wasn't fond of jumping off buildings.

Looking down she saw Nightwing waiting for her at the bottom of the building, and new determination reared its head. It felt strangely like spite. She was not going to embarrass herself in front of him. She'd rather break a leg on her way down than seem a coward.

She beat her wings up and down, harder and harder, until, finally, she lifted off the rooftop. A strong wind blew her away from the edge of the roof, leaving nothing but a terrifying drop beneath her.

Letting out a small, scared squeal at this, she started beating her wings furiously so she wouldn't plunge to the street below. Eventually, Morgan realized that if she kept doing that, she'd soon tire out, as her wings weren't that strong yet. She needed to find a way down, and she needed to find it now.

This flying thing was hard.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan remembered watching animal programs with her parents when she was younger. She remembered the way the birds in the sky used their wings and the wind to glide through the air without having to beat their wings much. She remembered her dad explaining to a seven-year-old her how that worked.

Morgan spread her wings out as big as she could, and turned them downwards, using the wind to glide gradually towards the ground. She straightened her body, keeping her arms to her sides so she became more aerodynamic.

Tilting her body so her right wing was bent further down than the left, she started gliding in a curve, allowing her to land close to Nightwing. She took a deep breath, thankful that she'd gotten down unharmed. Her heart was still hammering away in her chest, her breathing labored.

"Let's not-" she gulped down a breath and leaned forward, her hands on her knees. "Let's not do that again."

"You'll get the hang of it eventually," Nightwing said breezily. "Now, let's go."

He fired his grapple hook again and disappeared onto another roof top.

"Damn him.." Morgan grumbled and took off again, her breath already ragged.

A minute later, Morgan, wings utterly spent, only just managed to grab onto the edge of the roof top. It was a sharp edge made of steel, and she felt her left palm dig into it harshly. The pain, combined with the fact that her body slammed into the brick wall, almost made her let go of the ledge.

"Uh, Nightwing?" she groaned from her unfortunate position. "A little help?"

A second later, she looked up to see a pair of black gloves wrap around her wrists and pull her up. As she got over the ledge, she was met with a younger face than she had expected, and she realized she had been assisted by Robin, and not Nightwing.

She hadn’t had a chance to really talk to Robin yet – though she had seen him around the Cave, and once in Gotham, months ago. It felt strange, knowing that one day, she might be someone people remembered seeing out on patrol.

"Thanks." She sat down on the ledge, grimacing at the pain in her left hand. As she looked at it, she frowned at the blood that was slowly oozing from the thin, straight cut along her palm. "Damn it.."

"You okay?" asked Robin, casually slinging his staff over his shoulder. He dug into one of the pouches he had on his belt, handing her a roll of clean, white cloth.

Morgan shrugged as an answer to his question and accepted the offered gauze. "What are you doing here?" Morgan questioned, hoping it didn't sound rude.

Robin quirked a smirk that made Morgan think he spent too much time with Nightwing. "I was invited."

Nightwing chose to show up at that moment. Morgan assumed he had been scouting ahead.

"You're late."

Robin looked dryly at him. "I had some other business."

Morgan was focused on attempting to wrap the gauze around her hand, so she didn't pay much attention to the exchange between Robin and Nightwing. The cut looked dirty – not a surprise, given how she’d received it – and she'd have to wash it and dress it properly when she got home. But right now, she just didn't want it to bleed all over, or slow her down.  

She fumbled with the gauze. It was difficult enough to dress it using only one hand, but her hands were also shaking from the cold, her joints stiff.

"Let me," Nightwing offered once she'd sighed with frustration at the uncooperative gauze. Morgan shifted slightly as he sat next to her and undid all her hard work. His hands were quick and nibble – no doubt his gloves kept him warm. He rewrapped the bandage and tied a tight knot. The three heroes had been silent as the grave while he dressed the wound, Robin studying the two older heroes in front of him like a hawk. The longer he took, the warmer her hands started to feel, as did her face. Morgan leaned back and away from him further, distinctly aware of, and inexplicably bothered by Robin staring at them.

"Make sure you clean this back home," ordered Nightwing as he gave the hand a careful squeeze and then stood up. "Now let's go get those jewel robbers. I think the owners are in the shop – I have someone call for help."

Morgan’s heartbeat spiked. “Hostages?”

He nodded seriously, looking to Robin who squared his shoulders.

“Then let’s go!” she jumped up, already annoyed that her hand had slowed them down.  

As they reached the scene of the crime, Morgan saw that the windows had been shattered, the glass scattered across the street. The door looked like someone had taken a giant can-opener to it, the fortified steel frame crumbled and bent out of shape. Inside, Morgan could hear shuffling, and then a man emerged, carrying a burlap sack in one hand. Another followed.

The three teenagers were perched on the top of the roof parallel to the jewelry shop. Morgan eyed the big, bulky, and tough looking thieves, nervousness blossoming in her chest. Before she even had the time to squash the nerves down, a hiccup made her small frame jump.

Robin shot her a look, and when she delivered a second hiccup, so did Nightwing.

After giving her said look, Nightwing seemed to decide that ignoring her was his best course of action because instead of acknowledging her, he started analyzing their opponent.

"Alright, so I’ve seen six of them so far. Two hostages inside. No weapons-"

"Hick!"

"Will you stop that?" Nightwing turned to her, visibly annoyed.

"I can't," she snapped, her face red with embarrassment. "That's not how hiccups work, dummy."

Nightwing sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You've got to be kidding."

Robin burst out laughing, turning it into an awkward cough when Nightwing aimed a glare at him.

He glared at Morgan next, who managed to get the hiccups under control as she blinked innocently back at him.

He launched back into his game plan. "Okay, so we’ll cut off their esca-"

"Hick!"

"Oh, for crying out loud."

Nightwing’s arm shot out and wrapped around her from behind, placing a hand over her mouth and putting Morgan in a headlock. She was pulled close to his side, forced to look up at him from behind his glove. She made an indignant noise that only made his hold on her tighten and she decided not to struggle. Robin was looking at her with open amusement.

"We’re caging them in – Robin, you take out the two who just left the building. Morgan, stick by the door so they can’t escape. I’ll go in and free the hostages. Got it?"

Morgan nodded behind his hand when he looked at her. She got the feeling that he was making extra sure to explain everything because this was her first time.

She grabbed hold of his arm and threw it off her, now that he was done talking, and he let it fall without struggle.

She swallowed her next hiccup and held her breath, hoping to make them go away.  

The three teenagers turned their attention back to the shop below. Nightwing snuck down the fire escape, and Robin used his staff to launch himself across the street. He hovered on the roof directly above the truck the two thieves were busy loading their stolen goods into.  

“Go back in and get the safe,” grunted the larger of the two men.

“You go in there,” the other protested. “That shit is heavy.”

“Aw guys, if it’s too heavy for you, I’d love to take it off your hands,” Nightwing joked loudly. He was standing on the fire escape of the house across the street, leaning casually against the railing. The two men turned simultaneously, both jumping in surprise.

"It's one of those hero brats!" yelled the larger one.

"What’s he doin’ in Happy Harbor?" The other protested, as if none of the heroes were allowed to be active in more than one city.

Robin swooped down and landed on the sidewalk, smirk still firmly in place.

"Make that two of those hero brats," he shrugged, "And we don't like to be called that."

The thieves huddled closer together, fists raised defensively in front of them. Nightwing hopped down and landed fluidly on the street below, making sure the men couldn’t run off in that direction.

Then, a girlish squeal and the loud, ear-grating sound of several trashcans falling over could be heard behind them, and the two thieves jumped in surprise as they turned to look at the commotion. From inside the shop, more men emerged, the commotion alerting them to the presence of the heroes.

Morgan, as suggested by Nightwing, had tried to land behind the thieves, so they'd be caged in, but she had miscalculated and had flown head-first into a cluster of trashcans, which she had scattered all over the place.

Hurriedly standing up in the middle of the mess she'd made, she inwardly cursed at herself. She casually flicked a piece of garbage off her shoulder, trying to save face.

"Is this the part where I deliver a clever one-liner too?"

"I think we're past that," Nightwing, who had literally face palmed at her less than impressive entrance, said. “Robin, get them!”

Robin launched himself at the two men, right as Nightwing ran towards the two standing at the entrance of the shop.

She took in the scene, momentarily stunned by the sheer ferocity and effectiveness of her teammates. Robin jammed the end of his pole into the chest of one of the robbers, and then hit the other across the face with the other end. The man howled in pain and blood gushed out of his nose.

She realized she felt bad for hurting them. As she watched the men get the snot beaten out of them, it occurred to her that she didn't really know their background story. What if one had a wife in the hospital and no way to pay the bill? What if they had a debt to pay to some drug lord or something? She felt like beating them up was unfair. True, they shouldn't be stealing, but what gave her the right to beat them up for doing it? She guessed that was why people had called Batman a vigilante before he'd gained his superhero status.

"Morgan!" Nightwing shouted at her, waking her from her whirlwind of thoughts. She looked up at him, from his position by the door. "What are you waiting for?"

She ran over to help him as he leapt inside, but she stayed by the door as he had told her. He was already making quick work of the robbers. As she took stock of the situation, she saw the two hostages, mouths muffled, and hands tied with zip ties, sitting against the counter, with a single robber hovering over them. She remembered what they were here for. Yes, she didn’t know the story of the men currently robbing the store, but she did know they had made the choice to gag and restrain two innocent people. The young store clerk appeared to be barely older than her, and he was terrified, tears streaming down his face.

At the sight of Nightwing, the robber antagonizing the hostages pulled a gun out of his pocket and aimed it at them. The hostages flinched away, and through their muffles, Morgan could hear their scared cries.

Her heart leapt into her throat. She jumped forward and held a hand out, intending to use her telekinesis to pull the gun away from the man. Just as she moved her arm, she felt her telekinetic hold slip, and as a result she did little more than tug at the gun.

The robber, however, had felt the pull, and his cold eyes landed on her as he realized she had done it.

“Nice party trick,” he growled, cocking the gun, and pointing it at her.

Morgan’s heart stuttered in her chest. Her brain was scrambling to understand that a man was pointing a gun at her, with murderous intent in his eyes. She’d never found herself in a situation like that before and it rendered her immobile for a moment.

Then, she made to dash towards him before it was too late. She felt like time slowed down as she saw his finger move towards the trigger, pressing down on it.

A batarang sliced through the air, hitting the man’s hand right as he pulled the trigger. Nightwing. The robber let out a pained shout as the batarang cut deeply into his hand, but it was drowned out by the loud crack of a gunshot. She felt more than saw the bullet pass right over her head, missing by mere inches. Her legs wobbled from the shock, but she kept running towards the man, feeling her fear melt away as adrenaline and anger took over.

That bitch had just tried to shoot her!

She vaguely heard Nigthwign ask if she was okay, but she didn't answer - her focus was entirely on the robber and getting him away from the hostages before he tried to shoot anyone else.

He was looking at her approaching form with a cruelty in his eyes that erased any doubt in her mind whether he really deserved a good beating. He lunged for her, and she jumped out of the way, using an evasive maneuver that had she had been practicing for weeks.

He turned faster than Morgan would have expected someone his size to be able to, his fist aimed for her face. But if there was one thing Nightwing had taught her, it was dodging. Since the very beginning, he'd drilled into her that she was smaller, and thus less strong and more vulnerable, and her number one priority was to never get hit. Unlike guys like Superboy, she couldn't just block a strike, she had to dodge it. She had to be in constant movement.

Jumping back, she took in a deep breath to clear her head, which was whirling with shock and anger. She had to keep a cool head, if she wanted to approach the situation smartly – except, she reasoned, Morgan had never kept a cool head a day in her life.

And, once again, the man had tried to shoot her.

"You shouldn't have done that,” she growled out, swallowing dryly to keep her pounding heart under control. Adrenaline made her thoughts fussy. She flung her arms out, sending out a short burst of kinetic force that knocked the robber off balance. Jumping towards him, she kicked the gun out of his hand and stomped on it, and the robber let out an annoyed growl. She was sure, if she’d worn proper boots and not lightweight sneakers, it would’ve hurt a lot more.

He got on his feet again, raising his fists in challenge.

Time to find something that would hurt.

She focused on a piece of steel from the broken front door and flung her arm out, sending it flying towards the man. With a crash, it hit him on the side of his head, sending him to his knees.

"Bitch!" he groaned, clutching his smarting temple.

She glared stiffly at him. He seemed out of it by then, enough for her to look around and realize that the other robbers had all been incapacitated, and Nightwing was freeing the hostages. Evidently, he had decided to let her handle the thug on her own.

“Do you want me to knock him out?” she tried to sound casual, but her voice stuttered.

“By all means,” her mentor responded as he cut through the last zip tie and helped the young man stand.

Morgan realized she’d have to draw blood with her fists at some point, instead of purely relying on her telekinesis, and so she jumped forward and punched the man in the temple. He crumbled to the floor in a heap, and she used her foot to turn him over, worried for a second that she’d somehow killed him. He groaned in pain and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Silence fell, deafening in the wake of the previous chaos. Glass crunched beneath their feet as Nightwing guided the hostages outside.

The young man looked at her as they walked past, and he gasped out a “thank you.”

Morgan stared at him, some strange emotion unfurling in her chest.

She had done that. She had helped save two people.

“Robin contacted an ambulance and the police. They’re on their way. Just wait outside and you’ll be taken care of, I promise,” Nightwing told the two hostages who nodded and thanked him, looking worn and scared.

Morgan stood still in front of the limp body of the man she had knocked out. Her stomach churned with conflicting thoughts and emotions, too many and too jumbled for her to sift through.

Nightwing came to stand beside her. "Are you alright?"

The anger Morgan would normally have felt in such a stressful situation, anger she'd usually aim at Nightwing, was absent from her system, leaving her numb and confused.

"Yeah, I'm.. yeah."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, which broke her out of her stare and made her look up at him. He was studying her face openly and for once she let him.

Sirens sounded in the distance. The police were here.

"Let's get back to the Cave. I think that’s enough training for tonight,” Nightwing suggested carefully. He sounded like he was afraid she'd blow up at him. Or maybe cry.

Morgan nodded numbly and allowed him to guide her out of the jewelry shop. Her limbs felt numb as she came down from the intense adrenaline rush that had kept her going.

“Robin, you’ve got this?”

Morgan didn’t look at the younger boy, but he must’ve confirmed, because Nightwing pulled out his grapple hook.

He fired it at the opposite building and looked at her, holding an arm out in invitation. She was sure she normally would’ve protested, but now she allowed him to wrap a strong arm around her waist and whisk her away, back towards Mount Justice. She had her arms wrapped loosely around his neck and watched with dull fascination as the wind made her blonde curls and his black hair mingle in front of her face. From here, she get a good view of his profile and she was once again reminded that he really was handsome, when he wasn’t actively annoying her. The scent of his hair product or cologne tickled her nose and made her turn her face away fast.

Back at the Cave, Morgan had gotten over some of her shock, but she still found her anger unusually absent.

"I'm going to bed," she said slowly and left Nightwing in the main room. He didn’t protest, letting her leave the room without a word. She either forgot or just didn't care about her still injured hand, content to ignore it and the rest of the world as she slipped underneath the covers of her bed, still fully clothed.

There, she cried. Cried because someone had pointed a gun at her and tried to kill her, cried because she missed her mom, cried because she was worried about starting school. She cried because she felt like the strain she was put under was going to eventually break her, and because it had been so long since she'd allowed herself to properly cry over these kinds of things.

And she also cried because despite that.

Despite all her worries.

She had never felt more alive than tonight.

She had relished in the thrill, in the spike of adrenaline that had rushed through her, setting every single nerve alight. As she had stared death in the face, she felt like something had been born in her.

Morgan cried because she wanted to do it again.

Once more, the astute reader will recognize that the robbery scene has gotten a pretty extensive rewrite.

Yeah, so the original, WHILE A FUNNY SCENE, I think painted our heroes in a kind of.. violent and blood-lusty light? Dick being like "lets just beat them up and go home," was kinda too blasé and does him a disservice, when we all know Nightwing is a pretty morally and ethically sound person.

And Morgan being perfectly happy, despite a quick moral protest, to just beat a guy up, felt weird. I added more stakes by including the hostages - they're there to function as a reminder that none of the heroes are really doing this because its FUN beating up people - they're doing it to save lives. And by including some hostages and having the robber pull the gun much sooner, I think it makes her decision to fight him make more sense. 

Anyway I hope you all enjoyed her debut on the crime-fighting scene! 

Oh, and I wanted to discuss this in the last authors note, but I forgot - so anyway, it occurred to me that civilians wouldn't really.. know that Nightwing used to be Robin? Since she's a Gothamite, and I'm leaning into that a little more in this edit of the story, she knows the Batfam fairly well, but this is something people wouldn't really known unless told. And since he moved to Blüdhaven, it looks more like a coincidence that Blüdhaven got this new hero right as Robin disappeared in Gotham. If we accept the logic that a little mask can hide someone's identity, then I think we should also accept that people wouldn't recognize Robin after a complete change of look and location.

This knowledge is something I completely took for granted in the original version of the story, but after realizing it doesn't make sense for her to know he was Robin, I've added it in as another thing for Morgan to wonder about her mysterious mentor. She'll find out eventually, of course! 

Chapter Text

December 23rd

Mount Justice

Morgan

"Wait, so you usually open your presents on Christmas Eve?" asked Garfield, offering Morgan a strange look.

The girl shrugged from her position on the floor. She was lying on her back with a pillow under her head and her wings, her legs slung over the arm rest of the couch.

"It's a Danish thing. My dad introduced it, and my mom and I didn't stop doing it even after he left. It became a family tradition."

"So, no Christmas morning?"

"No Christmas morning," Morgan agreed, nodding solemnly.

"Try these." M'gann requested, levitating two cookies from the finished batch into the air and towards the two teens lounging in the living room.

"But why?" Garfield asked Morgan, looking like he was having a very hard time understanding why they'd open their presents the twenty fourth instead of the twenty fifth. When a cookie appeared right in front of his face, he immediately grabbed it and finished it in one bite.

Morgan shrugged again, plucking the other cookie out of the air. "I dunno. That's how they do it in Denmark. And that’s where my dad is from so that's how he did it. I'm not sure why, really.”

"Well, tomorrow night you can only open one present," M'gann decided firmly. She was busy loading cookies into jars. "We'll all open one on the twenty fourth, and then the rest on Christmas morning."

Seeing the looks of protest on both Morgan and Garfield's face, M'gann quickly said, "Cave rules. And I'm oldest, so what I say goes."

"Fine," The two grumbled simultaneously.

"This is delicious, M'gann," praised Morgan after finishing her cookie. "But we already have so many cookies. Why are you making more?"

"Because Wally and Artemis are coming over to exchange gifts," she said simply, like that explained everything.

"Aaaah.." Garfield sounded like that did in fact explain everything.

Morgan was confused. She hadn’t heard those names before.

"I don't get it," she admitted. She felt a small prodding at her heart when she realized that, even though she was supposed to be a part of this team, she still wasn't really part of the group. She didn't understand all the inside jokes, she wasn't in any of their crazy stories, and there were still a lot of her teammates that she didn’t know very well. Including, apparently, Wally and Artemis.

She tried to tell herself that it was fine. She’d only been here for a month and a half, after all. She wouldn’t be the new girl forever.

"That's okay," M'gann giggled. "They were before your time."

Yeah, way to rub it in, Morgan thought, feeling that small squeeze in her heart tighten.

It made her realize that, more than anything, she wanted to become an active and accepted part of the group. That she wanted to start joining them on all those missions Nightwing and Mal sent them on. She wanted to stop feeling like an outsider in what was supposed to be her home.

After that night of patrolling with Nightwing and Robin, something had changed. She was already excited for her next patrol.

"Anyway," M'gann started, shaking Morgan of her thoughts. "Remember Kid Flash?"

"That red-headed kid in the red and yellow suit from a couple of years back? Yeah, I remember him." She adjusted her position so she could see M’gann, albeit upside down.

"That's him alright. Anyway, he eats like no one you've ever seen before. Fast metabolism. He explained it once."

Morgan made an impressed noise and settled down again, staring at the ceiling.

Somewhere in the Cave, a Zeta tube blared to life, announcing the arrival of Artemis and Kid Flash.

"They're here!" M’gann cheered and set down the jar she'd been piling cookies into, flying out of the kitchen in a hurry.

Garfield hopped off the couch and Morgan slipped her feet off the armrest, sitting up.

"Come on, Morgan, we'll introduce you to them," he told her, as if reading her mind. Morgan had been wondering whether she was supposed to go and greet the two visitors too or if she'd only get in the way of 'old friends bonding'.

Standing up, she followed behind the energetic, green boy.

M'gann was hugging a tall, slim, young woman with tan skin, dark eyes and long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. Beside her stood a slightly taller, freckled, red-headed guy with a pair of friendly eyes and an easy smile on his lips.

"Garfield, hey!" he greeted cheerfully, high fiving the short boy.

"Merry Christmas Wally!" Garfield replied enthusiastically. Morgan saw Wally’s attention land on her, studying her wings for a second before meeting her eyes. She briefly wished she'd worn her charmed necklace but ignored the urge to go get it. They’d seen her wings already, there was no point in trying to hide them now.

"This is Morgan," Garfield announced. "She joined the Team a month ago."

"Cool!" The red head shook her hand. "The world can always use more heroes."

Why then, Morgan wondered, had he decided to quit the business?

"Hi," The blonde woman caught Morgan's attention next. "I'm Artemis."

"Morgan," she shortly replied, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"So, are you related to Hawkgirl?" Wally asked.

Morgan shook her head. "No. I'm just me. No connection to any superheroes."

"Oh." The two looked surprised, like this was something unheard of.

“Nightwing found her,” M’gann explained, before Morgan got a chance to herself. “He’s her mentor.”

Realization dawned on Wally’s face.

“That’s right, he mentioned you!”

She wanted to make the “nothing bad I hope” joke, but kept her mouth shut, knowing that, realistically, it was probably something bad. She hadn’t exactly made his life easier.

After their initial greeting, she quickly slipped away. She couldn’t help but feel like she was getting in the way of M’gann and Garfield catching up with their old friends. She’d stood there awkwardly, the conversation impossible for her to engage with as they spoke about things she hadn’t been there for. So, she made some excuse about training and disappeared from the room.

Stepping into the gym, she pulled her hoodie off – which was always a bit difficult because she had to get her wings through the hole she’d cut in the back – revealing a Green Lantern t-shirt, and punched a command into the computer. Nightwing had taught her how to change the layout of the room to meet her specific training needs, so in a matter of seconds, the room was the perfect obstacle course for flying.

A small smile spread on her face when she only needed a single powerful beat to rise from the floor. Another beat found her a foot in the air, and then another left her in the middle of the room. She really was getting better at this.

Ten minutes later she had to call it quits. She'd already trained earlier that day, so her wings were getting tired. She switched to a normal jog instead. Nightwing had taken the next few days off – she was unsure if it was because of Christmas or exams, but he’d left her a pretty strict workout schedule that she had to stick to.

"And don't skip out. I'll know if you skip out," he'd warned ominously. Morgan figured he had the entire Mount Justice under surveillance and sat cooped up in his home, watching everybody like a creepy hawk.

Morgan hadn't even known that you could take a few days off in this business. Still, watching Mal dish out missions was an improvement to watching Nightwing do it. Mal was a lot nicer and liked to stay and chat with her a bit afterwards. Meanwhile, Nightwing was an all work and no play kind of guy.

Morgan slipped into her room, eager to take a shower. It was bothersome to wash and dry her wings afterwards, but she tried to convince herself that she didn’t mind doing it. She decided to see it as bonding time, and a step towards accepting them. Her mom had always told her that dedicating care towards something, made affection for that thing grow.

Reaching the bathrooms, she worked on shedding her clothes. Just like her hoodie, her t-shirt was tricky to get off. She'd cut slits into all her shirts from the neck to the middle of the back and added buttons to the top, so she could close the hole around the base of her wings. It required a lot of work, but in the end it was worth it.

Morgan stopped by the large floor-to-ceiling mirror on her way to the shower. She stood in front of the mirror and studied herself. Her wings had grown unnaturally fast in the last month and a half. Morgan stretched them out as far as they could go, and did the same with her arms, noting that the wings were several inches longer. They weren't quite finished growing, but they'd nearly doubled in mass since she'd arrived. She'd been eating enough for two anyway, so it made sense.

While most of the energy from that food seemed to go straight into her wings, her body had changed a lot too. She could see muscle definition that hadn’t been there before, and overall, more meat on her bones. The sight of it made her less embarrassed of herself. She’d always looked rail-thin, and weak. Now, she was.. healthy. With a very nice ass, if she did say so herself.  

If nothing else, at least all of Nightwing's nagging had graced her with a healthier body.

Morgan pulled her wild curls out of the tight bun they had been in, letting her hair fall and settle around her shoulders. Now that she was no longer using her hair to hide her wings, she’d gotten some of the length snipped off, and it now rested a few inches below her shoulders. With some of the weight gone, her curls were now bigger and bouncier, making her hair look even wilder than before.

Blinking at herself in the mirror, she decided that she was glad of her wide hips and wild hair – they balanced her wings out.

Stepping into the blessedly warm shower, Morgan forgot her bodily scrutiny and started working on washing her wings and tired body instead.

December 27th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Nightwing strode into the Cave's living room, looking for one curly-haired, winged girl.

He found not only Morgan, but also Jaime, Cassie, and Barbara lounging around, playing cards. Seeing the teen heroes sitting down and doing something relaxing was a rare sight, and Nightwing found himself stopping in his tracks and taking in the scene. The four of them were staring at their cards with more intensity than a game of Uno honestly called for.

They were all sitting around the small coffee table in the living room, Cassie and Barbara on pillows on the floor, and Blue Beetle and Morgan on the couch. Blue Beetle was sitting normally, but Morgan had her knees bent and tucked up to her chin, balancing on the soles of her feet. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, holding the cards in front of them. With the wings on her back, the intensely focused look on her face and her curled up position, she looked like an owl and the thought almost made a smile twitch on his lips.

Almost.

"Morgan," he spoke up, and the four teenagers looked up at him.

"What's up?" Morgan was the first to look back down on her cards, and she made her move, causing Jaime to groan loudly. "You're skipping me again? I have more cards than you three combined!"

Nightwing sensed that getting her to come with him while she was having a good time with the three other heroes would probably make her less compliant than she usually was – which wasn't much to begin with. He also didn't want to interrupt them when they were enjoying a fun moment.

"Just.." he cleared his throat. "Come to the main room when you're done."

"Aye aye, cap’n." She saluted him absentmindedly, eyes still on her cards.

Nightwing nodded and stepped around the corner, heading for the kitchen instead.

"You really should try to get along with him," Dick heard Barbara say. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but since they spoke in an open area, with other people around, he assumed the conversation wasn't private.

Besides, they were speaking about him, so that practically gave him the right to eavesdrop. Dick knew he had a habit of walking without a sound, the result of years of training, sohe didn’t blame Barbara for thinking he’d already left.

"Oh?" Morgan answered, allowing for Barbara to elaborate.

"Well.. Nightwing's the leader of the Team and that means a lot of responsibility lies on his shoulders. And a lot of work. Taking care of the rest of us is almost a full-time job, and training you just adds more to his pile of work. Not to mention he has school on the side." He heard Barbara sigh. "What I'm trying to say is.. He's doing his best. And I think if you'd let him, he can teach you a lot of useful things.. not just fighting."

There was a long pause, in which Nightwing decided that he'd better leave them alone. He strode just as silently as before, towards the main area of the Cave.

"I'll give it a try," he heard Morgan answer just as he walked out of earshot.

With her words, he felt resolve settling over him. He recognized that it took two to tango – and if she’d had an attitude, he’d probably responded in kind.

Though, and he'd argue this to until the day he died, she totally started it.

Five minutes later, Morgan came out. She shuffled sort of awkwardly, and he tried to give her a little smile to ease whatever she was struggling with.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," she neutrally greeted.

Huh. She apologized. Maybe she really was trying to get along with him.

"It's fine," he assured her, motioning for her to step closer to the computer he was working at.

"After the first time we patrolled, and the one last night, I thought you might need something other than a black hoodie and sweatpants to fight in.” Nightwing explained. "So, I think it's time we designed your hero uniform."

"Oh." Morgan looked surprised, and then excited, an eager smile on her face. She stepped up next to him and the computer screen he had opened. "Sure would be a lot cooler than what I'm wearing now."

"Go step on that dot of light,” he pointed at a dot on the floor that the computer sent out. He eyed her clothes. Her jeans were tight enough, but she'd have to lose the baggy sweatshirt for this to work. "And take off your sweatshirt. Erh, please."

"Why?" she questioned, even as she did as asked. She was wearing a formfitting tank-top underneath, which was what he'd hoped for. He bristled in quiet annoyance at the Batman-symbol on the tank-top, but kept his annoyance to himself. The computer sent out a blue light, scanning her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

"Turn to the side," he requested. "The computer is measuring your size. The suit needs to fit you perfectly so it’s not hindering you in any way when you’re out in the field."

The computer scanned her from all four sides.

Morgan whistled, impressed. "That's so smart. I'd pay good money to get shirts that can actually fit around my hips without being too loose everywhere else."

Nightwing wisely chose to not comment on that. Though, he had noticed.

"It's ready," he announced. Morgan came up next to him, pulling her sweatshirt over her head again, her wings squirming through the holes she'd cut in the back.

"So, what’s next?” Morgan asked.

"Okay, uhm.." Nightwing paused, considering. He hadn't designed a suit for anyone beside himself, and he took a moment to consider what she would need. "Well, I suppose the type of suit should be the first thing. With your fighting style and abilities, heavy armor won't be necessary, as you focus should be on not getting hit. A lighter suit also makes flying easier. I'd recommend something that gives you a lot of flexibility and allows you to move freely."

"So, like, spandex?" Morgan asked, sounding doubtful, some of her sarcasm fighting its way through.

"No," Nightwing responded, a small amount of sarcasm in his voice too. "Think something along the lines of Batgirl's outfit. More durable than spandex, and less tight."

Morgan shrugged. "Sure."

"You still have that mask I gave you?" Nightwing asked. She nodded.

"Good. Do you want another one or will it do?"

"It's fine. I like it."

Nightwing nodded.

“Skirt or pants?" he asked, his hand hovering over the controls. He had a pretty good idea what she was picking, but he wanted her to decide for herself.

Morgan grimaced. "Pants. Definitely."

"Short or long?"

"Why don't you just teach me how to work the controls myself?" Morgan suggested. "I'm pretty sure we'll both be fed up with this boring game of twenty questions soon."

"Okay, come here." Nightwing motioned for her to come over. Morgan stepped up beside him and he showed her how the program worked. "You can see what you’ve got so far on this screen."

Morgan nodded and set to work.

"Would it be smartest to wear gloves or not?" she asked.

"Will gloves interfere with your telekinesis?”

Morgan shrugged. "I'm not sure. I haven't tried with gloves on."

"Well, add them and if they do affect your abilities, you can just leave them out when the suit arrives."

A few minutes later, the design was finished.

"Now I just have to decide the most difficult thing," Morgan groaned.

"Which is?"

"Color. I refuse to wear anything neon-y."

"Well, what about a dark color? Black? It's good for stealth." Nightwing suggested, drawing from his own experience.

"I'm leaning more towards a very dark blue."

"Alright." Nightwing leaned over and pressed a command, revealing a color wheel. He pressed on the blue color and a new set of controls appeared, allowing for Morgan to darken the blue until it was only a shade or two lighter than black.

She looked at the design for a moment, placing a hand on her chin. She tapped her index-finger against her cheek thoughtfully. "It's missing something."

Nightwing shrugged. "How about a symbol?"

"Hm?"

"You want to be remembered, right? So, a symbol on the chest is a good idea. Most of us have one."

Morgan's eyes fell to the blue bird on his chest.

"I'm pretty sure the wings on my back will stick in people's memories just fine. But you're probably right. The suit would look less boring with something there. Only, what should it be?" She looked at him with a small smirk on her face. "All the good bird symbols are taken."

Nightwing allowed a small smile to tease the right corner of his mouth.

"What about a pair of wings? You said it yourself; they’re the most memorable part."

“That’s a good idea,” She nodded along to his suggestion and began fiddling with the design on the computer.

Soon, a pair of light grey wings – the exact same color as her wings, even with the darker grey tips – stretched from the middle of the chest and to the end of her shoulders.

"Done!" Morgan announced.

"Almost." Nightwing said, ignoring her groan and muttered 'party pooper'. "You haven't decided footwear."

"Ah, yeah, probably a good idea to have that too."

"I'd recommend some boots. They provide better support than normal shoes, and better protection."

"I'll trust your judgment." Morgan decided and found a pair that she liked. "Are those okay?"

Nightwing eyed the flat-soled, mid-calf, black boots. "Yep."

Morgan changed the color of her gloves to be black too, claiming it would look stupid if only the boots were black.

"So, what now?" Morgan took a step away from the controls and looked at Nightwing.

"I'll send this to the Batcave's computer. Batman’ll take care of the rest. He knows a guy."

Morgan nodded. "This was fun, actually. And I bet I'm going to love my uniform. Thank you."

Nightwing inclined his head to show he acknowledged her gratitude. Morgan left the room and, after sending Batman the design, so did Nightwing, thinking that interacting with Morgan when neither of them were annoyed with the other had been surprisingly.. nice.

Bro, this is probably the shortest chapter in the whole fic but I looked at what's coming next, and I can't just yank some of that to beef this up a bit. But the next chapter, at least, is longer and more action packed. This chapter mainly exists to give her her own suit because she's going to need it soon. 

Its also there to mark their first civil conversation ever. Who knew bonding over clothes was what they needed?

Chapter Text

January 1^st

Mount Justice

Morgan

Dinner was over at the Cave ad Morgan sat on the table and watched as Connor and Garfield loaded dishes into the dishwasher. Anything to distract herself from La’gaan and M’gann being gross in the living room.

She didn’t have to wait long for a distraction. Just as Connor put the last glass into the dishwasher and closed it, Nightwing came around the corner. Behind him trailed Jaime and Robin and she gave them a small smile in greeting.

"I've got a mission," he announced as his way of saying hello. Everyone perked up at his words and followed him out into the Cave’s main room. Morgan beat her wings, propelling her off the table and into the hall.

Nightwing pulled up the computer screen to show them the details.

"Clayface was spotted roaming around the sewers in Gotham City. Our job is to find him and bring him in." He pressed a few buttons, pulling up a short video of a gross glob of clay passing by, not realizing that it was being caught on video.

The sight made her involuntarily scrunch her nose up. Clayface was certainly the right name for such a disgusting-looking creature. She could only imagine the smell.

"Superboy, Miss Martian, Blue Beetle, Beast Boy, and Robin. You're going in. I've already filled Bumble Bee in, and she’s meeting you on site."

She thought about asking if she could join – fat chance, she knew – but she kept her mouth shut. First, there was the smell. And the thought of going down into the sewers – the narrow, dark sewers, beneath several tons of earth, the weight of the city on top of her – sent her heart racing.

La’gaan, however, looked ready to protest. Nightwing must have sensed her initial urge, and he certainly noticed the incoming protest from La’gaan, because he sent a swift, stiff look in their direction. Morgan pressed her lips together and held her hand up to show she had no horse in this race.

La'gaan, however, did not give up as easily.

"I want to go too. This is in a sewer. I have a clear advantage."

"No, Lagoon Boy." Nightwing replied shortly, obviously not in the mood for arguing. "You're staying here."

Morgan watched the exchange, wondering why her attitude was considered more of a problem than La'gaan's. At least she didn't attempt to openly defy Nightwing in front of the Team.

Nightwing punched in some coordinates, and the squad was off.

"You should have let me go with them." La'gaan sounded venomous as he spat out the words. Nightwing sighed heavily and turned on his heel, facing the other boy.

Morgan had been about to leave, but this exchange looked like it could become interesting, so instead she leaned against one of the far walls, watching as the two teenagers faced off.

"You'll get to go when you've proven you’re ready. Which you’re doing a poor job of right now," Nightwing lectured him, but La'gaan was having none of it. He really did have more of a temper than what was good for him.

"I'm more than ready. I've been training for years!"

"Alright La'gaan, I'll make you a deal." Nightwing sauntered towards the Atlantean casually, and Morgan fought the urge to flinch. This couldn't be good. "If you can beat me in a sparring match, I'll let you go on the next mission."

This time, Morgan didn't fight the urge to flinch. She'd fought against Nightwing plenty of time to know La’gaan was about to be in a world of pain. But if La'gaan was going to be an ass, he’d better be ready for a spanking.

"Deal."

La'Gaan barely gave Nightwing time to hear his consent before he charged for him, screaming in that way that Morgan was quickly learning some heroes liked to scream whenever they were fighting.

At least Nightwing didn't do that. That was one positive trait she would attribute to him.

She pushed herself off the wall and walked closer to better watch their sparring match. Nightwing stepped out of the way faster than she'd ever seen him move before, and grabbed hold of La'gaan's right arm, flipping him over his head and sending him to the ground. Giving him time to get up again, Nightwing waited steadily, his stance strong. La'gaan stood again and charged Nightwing, much like he'd done before.

Idiot, Morgan thought to herself. One of the things Nightwing had taught her was that you should never go for the same approach twice, especially not if it didn't work the first time.

And, predictably, like the first time, La'gaan ended up in a painful heap on the floor.

Despite all of the negative things she could say about her mentor, Morgan had to admit that he was a formidable fighter. He moved with a fluidity and ease that made her think he had been born to do this. There was something about him when he fought – the quiet confidence and dominance, the way his muscles shifted subtly as he moved..

Wait, what was she talking about?

Morgan shook her head to get rid of her weird thoughts, and watched as La’gaan got up again. Evidently, he’d learned from his two failed attempts, because this time he waited for Nightwing to attack, instead of charging at him.

Despite his slim chances, she was rooting for La’gaan. Maybe because she liked when the underdog triumphed. Perhaps because Nightwing was being annoying at the moment.

And when she said at the moment, she meant for the past month and a half.

Oh, she had actually attempted to listen to Batgirl's advice and get along with him, and it had worked for about a day. Then there was training the next morning, where she had decided he was being condescending to her, and when she’d responded with snark, he’d given back in kind. The two of them had ended training with an angry huff and that had been the end of their unspoken truce.

So, she should at least get points for trying. Because she really had tried. A bit. Kind of.

Whatever.

La’gaan flew across the room and Morgan winced.

"Ouch," she muttered when he hit the floor with a loud thud.

After that, she got tired of watching La'gaan let himself get thrown around like a rag doll, and she went back into the kitchen. She’d been reading a book before dinner, and she figured she might as well get back to that as she waited for the others to get back.

She jumped up onto the tabletop and placed her feet on the seat of the chair in front of her, grabbing her novel. She supposed most people would’ve preferred the couch, but it was more comfortable to sit in a way that didn’t squish her wings.

Time passed, and the dull thuds and groans of La’gaan getting his ass beat melted into the background as she lost herself in the plot of her book. At some point, the Atlantean came into the kitchen and poured himself a big glass of water.

"Tired of getting beaten up?" Morgan quipped dryly, not moving her gaze from her book.

"No, just taking a break. Nightwing agreed that we'd go again in an hour,” he answered, obviously deciding to take her sarcastic quip as an actual question.

"Why would you subject yourself to that?" Morgan groaned, letting the book drop from her lap, holding it by her side. "I have to fight him every day – which is not fun by the way – and I can tell you right now that you're probably not going to beat him. He's too good."

"I'm flattered, Morgan, but if Lagoon Boy wants to fight me, he can." Nightwing seemed to materialize out of the blue, much to her startled annoyance.

"God dammit!" she exclaimed, jumping in her seat. If she’d known he was there, she never would’ve said that compliment out loud. "You silent freak! How is that even possible?"

"Practice."

"That's your answer for everything."

"It's a good answer," Nightwing shrugged. “Speaking of practice, come on, I think it's time you went a few rounds."

Morgan grumbled loudly but jumped down from the table and followed him into the main room. La'gaan went with them, obviously interested in seeing how well Morgan could hold her own, which was part of the reason she complained. It was bad enough that she was humiliatingly bad compared to Nightwing, she totally didn't need an audience to witness this.

Just short of an hour later, she told herself that this hero business was so not worth it. La'gaan was more cheerful than she'd ever seen him before, laughing his ass off every time Nightwing flawlessly dodged her pitiful attacks and then sent her flying.

Nightwing offered her a hand up, which she accepted – but only because she wasn't sure she'd be able to get up on her own – albeit with a scowl on her face.

"You're doing well," Nightwing encouraged – liar.

"Yeah right. I suck," Morgan wheezed.

"For someone who has only been training for six weeks, you're doing well," he insisted.

"Whatever.” She fought down the blush that creeped up from his praise. “Can you go back to beating up La'gaan? I'd rather watch someone else get their ass handed to them than go through it myself."

Nightwing look at La'gaan, who nodded eagerly and stepped forward again, slamming a fist into his palm.

Morgan, happy that she was finally out of the spotlight, stood to the side and watched them spar. They’d barely begun when Nightwing suddenly stopped the fight and pressed a hand to his ear.

He paused for a moment, listening to what was said, and then replied, "Great job, Delta. Debrief back at the cave in half an hour. Nightwing out.”

“Did they find him?” Morgan asked.

Nightwing nodded and looked at her.

“Everyone is unharmed and on their way back.”

Her question had drawn Nightwing’s attention, and La’gaan tried to use it to his advantage. He launched into a sneak attack – or, rather, he attempted to. Unfortunately for him, he did that battle cry again, alerting Nightwing to his presence.

Aaaand La'gaan was back on the floor.

Time went by and Morgan alternated between watching the two heroes and reading her book. At some point, Mal showed up and joined her in watching the sparring teenagers.

She mainly watched them because she hoped to learn more about Nightwing's fighting technique, and perhaps discover some patterns and weaknesses, not that she had much success. He was very good, and she was very inexperienced, so Morgan didn't really know what she was supposed to be looking for. She also marveled – not that she'd ever admit it – at how long he could keep going. Between her and La’gaan, he had been sparring for two hours straight and he had made it seem like a breeze. Nary a hair out of place, he wasn’t sweaty, nor was he out of breath. Morgan figured he probably wasn't putting his all into it. He certainly hadn't given much effort when fighting her.

She cringed when La'gaan flew by Mal and her, landing with a groan.

"Neptune's beard!" he cursed, slamming a hand into the floor with frustration. "How do you keep doing that!"

She figured he was mostly annoyed that he’d lost their sparring match a dozen times over by now, and he would have to resign himself to no missions for now.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true – La’gaan did get to go sometimes. Nightwing just seemed cautious with which missions.

She got it, really. She wished she'd get to go on missions too, but that didn't make her stupid enough to engage in a fight she knew she wouldn't win.  

La'gaan accepted the hand Nightwing offered him.

“I’m going to get you one day, chum. I don't care how many years you've been training." Despite his threat, La'gaan did have a small smile on his face as he admitted defeat.

“I’m sure you will, La’gaan,” Nightwing responded good naturedly. No hard feelings about their fight.

Morgan looked up from her book at the detached female voice announcing the return of the others. Mal and she stood up to meet them.

As they got close, the smell hit them.

"Urgh," Morgan groaned, holding a hand over her nose as Superboy, Beast Boy and Blue Beetle walked towards her. "Okay, I'm glad I didn't join you guys. I'm never going into a sewer it that's the kind of smell that's down there."

"I'm hitting the showers," Superboy announced in a monotone as he walked by them. Morgan heartily agreed and stepped far to the side as they passed her by – she wasn’t risking getting any of the gross sewer water on her.

She had seen that they were all safe and uninjured, which had been her reason for sticking around. Now, she made to leave, but she was unterrupted when the holographic screen sent out a loud alert, flashing red.

"Emergency Alert!" the computer blared out. Then, a Leaguer appeared on screen. She scrambled to remember his name but came up short. Captain something? She should’ve been able to remember him, really, because his silvery body and blazing eyes were certainly identifiable traits. 

"United Nation's headquarters is under attack,” he told them, his brow serious over his otherworldly eyes.

Mal pulled up a small screen of a map. He turned to Nightwing, who had stepped up next to him.

"Beta squad is close by. Should we send them in?"

Morgan had been hovering by the hall leading to her room, but now she stepped further into the main room again, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Captain Adam," – so that's what his name was – "Beta squad is in the vicinity. We’ll alert them and they’ll be there as quick as possible."

Captain Adam inclined his head and the screen disappeared.

"I'll let them know," said Mal, and Nightwing nodded before patting the taller guy on the shoulder, indicating that he was leaving.

The excitement was over, so Morgan slipped down the hall and towards her room. As time passed, she wished more and more that she’d get to go too. She’d been on a handful of patrols with Nightwing by now, but those were different. On a patrol, you stumbled into situations. These missions were urgent.

She'd have to nag Nightwing about going on a mission soon. Of course, she knew her chances of going were slim, but maybe if something less dangerous came up, he’d be amiable. She was itching for the opportunity to prove herself.

She wasn’t meant to just waste her time in Mount Justice. She was meant to get out there and do something.

January 3rd

Mount Justice

Morgan

"He was what?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"A robot containing an alien. I just told you," Cassie sighed.

They were lounging in the living room, Cassie sprawled on the couch, an arm slung over her face, with Morgan balancing on the top of the backrest, her feet planted on the seat. They were both sulking at the Cave because the senior members of the Team were up in the Watchtower, and they were stuck down here. They didn’t have the clearance to go there yet.

Discrimination, was what it was.

Morgan took another bite out of the apple she had just gotten from the kitchen.

"But why?" she asked between chews, as she watched the news on their giant tv.

"We don't know. All I know is that I failed to protect the secretary. That guy ripped him apart!" Cassie grabbed a pillow and tried to smother herself with it.

Morgan sighed. If there was one thing she’d learned about Cassie, it was that she really, really, like really, wanted to help. And it hit her hard when she failed.

"Don't worry about it. After all, nobody was hurt, right?"

"Yeah, but only because that wasn't the real secretary Tseng," Cassie pouted.

"But if it had been the real one, that guy wouldn't have tried to rip him apart, right? He was there for the alien, so he must've known. You shouldn't beat yourself up about it." Morgan bit noisily into her apple again, juice dripping down her chin. She quickly wiped it away. Cassie nodded mutely and reached for the TV remote, turning on the flat screen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, look! The big alien is allowed to rip apart the phony secretary Tseng, and out comes a little alien!"

"Oh, great." Cassie groaned when the TV showed her the exact news she'd been trying to avoid.

She was about to change the channel when Morgan stopped her.

"Wait, I want to see this."

"Why?" Wonder Girl whined, pouting when Morgan shushed her. She turned over on the couch so she couldn’t see the tv.

Morgan usually avoided this channel because G. Godfrey’s scowling face made her want to punch the tv.

"What's the League hiding? We know we provide a safe haven for a Kryptonian, and a Martian. But what if that's not all? What if the Amazons came from outer space?" 

The blonde Amazon sitting next to her scoffed at that ludicrous accusation. 

"Or the Atlanteans? How can we really know Flash isn't an alien? Or Hawkman? Or Icon? What are they keeping from the real earthlings like us?"

Morgan scowled at the TV and the man's distasteful words, chucking her half-finished apple right at his face. It bounced harmless off the TV-screen and rolled away on the floor.

She realized her anger was caused by newfound loyalty towards the League. After all, she was hoping to one day join them. She hadn’t met a single Leaguer that hadn’t been nice to her, and they certainly didn’t deserve Godfrey’s slander.

“That guy is just the worst.” She changed the channel.

Cassie scoffed, grimacing.

"Yeah. He's always all up in the League's business. It's like he forgets all the good they do."

"How could anyone possible be against having a bunch of superpowered people fix all of their problems for them?"

Cassie shrugged, sitting up.

"Paranoid people?" she suggested. "I have to go. It was nice hanging with you, Morgan."

Morgan smiled as she walked by.

"You too, Cassie. I'll see you soon."

Cassie smiled back and disappeared around the corner. Then, she poked her head out from behind the wall.

"Oh, and good luck on Tuesday!"

Morgan frowned, wondering if that was supposed to mean anything to her.

"What's Tuesday?" she asked.

Cassie laughed once.

"Your first day of school!"

Morgan's face fell. She'd completely forgotten about that. Before she got the chance to ask how she’d even known, Cassie had flown out of the room and left Mount Justice.

January 4th

Blüdhaven

Dick

Dick walked into his apartment and immediately started ridding himself of his suit. He was exhausted.

It had to be aliens.

It just had to be small, creepy-looking aliens that stole stuff from other planets.

And of course they were his problem. Well, his team's problem. Of course, they were the ones that had to go and get rid of the alien infestation.

At the very least, they now knew what had happened in those sixteen hours the six Leaguers had gone missing and would be able to do something about it. A five-years-old riddle had been solved.

But that unfortunately meant more work for him.

As usual.

He stashed his Nightwing suit into the hidden compartment in his closet and flopped down on his bed, thinking about how nice it would be to just go to sleep right then and there. He was behind on sleep, anyway, having had to pull an all-nighter a few days ago to finish a school project. He was always behind on sleep these days.

Dick almost felt himself slip away into sleep's sweet oblivion, but he forced himself awake, sitting up.

He couldn't go to sleep just yet. He still had homework, and he hadn't eaten since lunchtime.

He also needed to work out a battle plan for their newest mission – track down all Kroloteans currently on Earth and destroy their secret bases – assign squads and figure out who he'd send to Ran with Adam Strange.

Dick sighed and considered just laying down again and going to sleep anyway. Maybe all his work would miraculously be finished by itself when he woke up next morning.

“Pull yourself together, Dick,” he mumbled, leaving his bedroom.

Standing up, he shuffled into his kitchen and poured himself a glass of cold water, slipping into a seat by his kitchen counter. He turned on his computer and stretched his tired back as he waited for the computer to boot up. He grabbed his phone and ordered take-out from the nearby Chinese restaurant. He couldn't even stomach the thought of another night with either a cold dinner or a cup of instant noodles, and so he was quickly becoming a regular customer there.

Glancing up at the watch on his wall, Dick suppressed a groan. He'd be lucky if he got five hours of sleep tonight, considering the already late hour and the workload that was ahead of him.

Hours later, well past midnight, he had to call it a night, deciding that he couldn't very well do his homework when his eyes wouldn’t even focus on the screen in front of him.

He told himself that he would have time to plan out the Team's mission tomorrow, probably in school.

As he slipped into his bed with a low, tired groan leaving him, he wondered how long he’d be able to keep going like this. When was the last time he’d had fun? When was the last time he’d relaxed?

It didn’t matter – he had more important things to care about. People were counting on him, and he couldn’t fail them. It was his job to keep things running, to fix what needed fixing.

Tomorrow, he decided, his muddled mind already losing its grasp on the waking world.

He would fix things tomorrow.

January 5^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Nightwing suppressed a yawn as he watched the last few team members arrive to the Cave's main room. Excited chatter told him everyone was eagerly waiting for the new mission. He spotted Morgan in the mix and realized that he hadn't had time to train with her for two days now. He also needed to talk to her about her first day of school tomorrow.

Not for the first time, he felt more like a babysitter than a mentor.

"Alright guys, let's get started," he spoke up, silencing the chatter that had been spread out across the room. He went on to explain the Kroloteans and what they were doing on Earth. How the alien race had been brought here by the League attacking Rimbor five years ago and how the aliens liked to steal technology from other planets.

“We’re hitting all fourteen Krolotean locations at once, so we need everyone for this. All hands on deck.”

He paused for a moment and looked over the small crowd, making sure everyone was following.

"Your priority should be finding any abducted people and rescue them. Then, destroy any zeta technology on site to cripple their transportation, and stop them from leaving Earth.”

He walked back and forth, looking them all sternly in the eyes, feeling like a drill sergeant. He supposed the description wasn't that far off. The entire Team stood at attention, and he felt pride swell in his chest, even though he knew he couldn’t take all the credit. Kaldur deserved most of the praise for the size and dynamic of the Team.

"As always, Mal is the ops manager. Coordination comes from him – nobody moves until he clears them. If we want to catch the Kroloteans by surprise, we need to strike as one."

He vaguely registered La’gaan begging to go on Alpha team, and knew he was about to be disappointed.

It wasn’t that La’gaan wasn’t a good fighter – it was his rough edges that needed softening, before he was ready for the more dangerous missions. As it was right now, Dick didn’t trust the Atlantean to keep a clear head and work well with the others in a dangerous situation. And he wasn’t going to endanger anyone on this team for the sake of La’gaan’s ego.

"Wonder Girl, you and I will be Alpha. We're heading out to Philadelphia."

Wonder Girl's excited cheer was drowned out by Lagoon Boy cursing his bad luck.

"Give me beta!" he practically begged.

Again, Nightwing would have to disappoint him. He'd placed Lagoon Boy on Gamma, which he knew probably wouldn't please him. But, hey, at least he'd included him in the operation this time, right?

"Batgirl and Bumblebee," Nightwing sharply went on, speaking over the noisy teenager. "You're beta. Take Wolf with you. Assignment: Vlatavastok."

The two girls left the room, and Nightwing walked up to the three remaining boys. Morgan stood off to the side, watching with a blank face. She seemed to already know she wasn’t going.

"Robin, Lagoon Boy, and Blue Beetle," he said, not missing the sour look on Lagoon Boy's face. "You're Gamma. Use the bioship – you’re going to New Orleans.”

"Great,” Lagoon Boy grumbled. “Everyone knows Gamma gets the soft gigs.”

Lagoon boy, still grumbling, headed for the garage.

“Well, I don’t mind a soft gig!” Blue announced, following after his grumpy teammate.

Dick placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder before he could follow the others.

“I’m putting you in charge of Gamma,” he said. “I’ve sent you the coordinates to the spot.”

"Me?" Tim asked, surprised. He leaned in closer so the winged girl behind them couldn't hear. "Dick, I've never led a squad before."

"That’s why this mission is perfect for you to try it out. Get your feet wet as a squad leader."

Robin narrowed his eyes slightly at him.

"Because Gamma always gets the soft gigs, right?" he accused sharply, hitting closer to home than Nightwing cared to admit. "Or because we're already stretched thin, and you don't have any other choice?"

Tim was nothing if not perceptive.

"Just.. don't die, okay?"

Tim's gaze softened a bit, and the unsaid end of his sentence seemed to hang in the air between them. Like Jason.

"And I trust you to not seek out unnecessary risks to the squad, okay?” he demanded, unsure if he was speaking as Tim’s older brother, or his leader. "That's an order."

"Can I go?" The two teenagers looked up when Morgan suddenly spoke up for the first time since she'd arrived. Her words had been casual, like she'd been asking if she could go make dinner or some other non-dangerous activity.

Nightwing eyed her like she was insane, but she didn't acknowledge his look, standing with her arms crossed over her chest as she studied the picture of the Krolotean on the holographic screen in front of them.

"Are you nuts?" Nightwing blurted out before he could think of a more dignified answer. "No!"

Morgan dropped her arms to her sides and turned to them, her face carefully blank.

"Why not?" she argued. "Robin and Lagoon Boy already said it; this is a soft gig. You clearly don’t expect Gamma to even find any aliens. And I have to start somewhere, right?”

"Well – you.. there's-“ Her reasoning was frustratingly logical. "You’re not ready."

She frowned at him. Tilting her head to the side slightly, she asked, "What better way to get ready than going out there?"

"Nightwing," Robin unexpectedly spoke up, placing a hand on the older hero's arm. "She's got a point."

Dick felt the sudden urge to growl in frustration when Tim suddenly ganged up on him with his infuriating pupil. He squashed the urge down, telling himself that it really wouldn't be very professional.

He weighed the pros and cons in his mind. He was almost a hundred percent sure that this mission was going to be incredibly easy. At best, they’d find an abandoned and small base, and so Morgan wouldn't end up in a situation she couldn't handle. And if he let her go, she'd probably stop nagging him about going on – for a bit.

On the other hand, if there really were Kroloteans there, and she was hurt, that would be his fault. And as much as he found her annoying and difficult to work with, he didn't her to get hurt.

But the chances were very slim.. And she would be with three other heroes.

Nightwing sighed and massaged his temples slowly. "Fine."

"Yes!" Morgan hissed, curling her hands into fists and punching the air. "This is going to be awesome!"

Robin looked amused by her energetic reaction, but Nightwing was less impressed.

"If you're going," he said, walking into the corner of the room where he'd placed a package earlier. "You'll need this."

He picked the box up and handed it to Morgan, who sent him a confused look before prying it open.

"I was going to give it to you after everyone left, but you'll need it now,” he explained.

Morgan kneeled down and placed the box on the floor before slowly pulling out its contents.

"Oh my god, it's finished already?" She grinned, her finger trailing the grey outline of wings against a dark blue background.

Nightwing nodded when she pulled out the gloves and boots too. "I'll be right back, Robin!" She promised before dashing off to change. Her eagerness threatened to make him smile, if he hadn’t felt so anxious about sending her out. Maybe he should switch out with Blue Beetle so he could be there to keep an eye on her?

"That's her suit?" Robin asked.

"Yeah," Nightwing said. "She designed it a few days ago."

Robin nodded. Then he scratched the back of his neck a bit uncomfortably.

"Listen, Dick, we'll take good care of her. She'll be okay. You don't have to worry about her."

"I'm not worried about her,” he denied quickly – too quickly for it to sound convincing. "But if she’s hurt, that'll be on my head."

"She won't," Tim reassured him, sounding confident.

Nightwing smiled slightly.

"I know. I trust you."

The soft sound of boots on the concrete floor drew their attention, and the two boys saw as Morgan came around the corner, clad in her dark blue suit with her black boots and gloves, the mask Nightwing had given her covering her eyes. Her hair was loose, her wild curls spilling around her shoulders and wings, bouncing as she walked.

"So," she said, placing her hands on her hips, which the suit hugged tightly. Dick’s eyes followed the movement and his mouth felt suddenly dry. "How do I look?"

He cleared his throat, casting his eyes to the ground.

"Like a superhero."

He saw Robin out in the corner of his eyes squint at her suit and tilt his head.

"Your suit actually looks a lot like-"

Before Tim could finish that sentence, Dick stomped on his foot. He grimaced in pain.

"Like a superhero suit. That was what I was going to say. Yes, it looks like a superhero suit."

Morgan smiled brightly.

"Well, let's go then!"

As the two shorter heroes walked away, his eyes lingered on her form and he told himself he was going to regret this.

Okay so I made a mistake and apparently I could've joined this chapter with the last and it wouldn't have mattered! 

I'm specifically not looking up any of the scenes from the show that are also in the fic, because I remember one thing I disliked about the original, was my inability to rethink the dialogue so it wasn't just 1:1 the dialogue from the show. So I've changed the dialogue a bit, but I hope I'll get better at it as I go along.. I'd like it if the heart of most scenes remain intact, but that they play out in an original way - but we'll see as I move this along, if I succeed in that endeavour! This was the first chapter with scenes from the show and I hope the shift wasn't super obvious. 

Chapter Text

January 5^th

Mount Justice

Morgan 

"Guys, we've gotten a last minute addition to our team," Robin announced as he and Morgan strode up to the Bio ship where Blue Beetle and Lagoon Boy were waiting.

Lagoon Boy groaned at the sight of her.

"Great, now I know this will be a soft gig."

Morgan paused and frowned at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You're a total rookie," Lagoon Boy pointed out. Robin flinched; probably expecting Morgan to use her telekinetic powers to blast Lagoon Boy through a wall for calling her that.

Instead, she shrugged. It wasn’t like he was lying.

"You got me there."

Blue Beetle chuckled and slapped her shoulder good-naturedly.

"Welcome to team Gamma," he said.

Morgan looked at him with excitement and then she walked up to the bioship, studying it.

“I’ve never actually been in the bioship before,” she admitted. “How does it work?”

"We'll explain the finer workings of the bioship along the way," Robin promised as he approached the ship and the hatch at the back opened, allowing them to enter.

Before long, Morgan was strapped into a chair in the cockpit, and Team Gamma were on their way to New Orleans.

She studied the controls in front of her, wishing she understood how they worked. Everything was bathed in a low, purple light, and Morgan found herself studying the way it changed her usual colors with fascination. The dark blue suit was black in the low light. Her blonde hair was a light purple color, her skin a slightly darker shade.

She was practically bobbing up and down in her seat with excitement, not quite yet daring to believe that Nightwing had really let her go. She half expected him to come bursting through the hatch at the back of the ship and order her to go back home because he’d changed his mind.

The excitement mixed with a healthy dose of adrenalin. Would they encounter any Kroloteans? Would she have to fight? Would they find hostages?

The trip didn’t take long – the bioship was incredibly fast.

"We're there," Lagoon Boy announced, and Morgan looked up and out the window, spotting what appeared to be a junk yard right ahead. The Bio ship flew closer.

Robin pressed some controls from the captain’s seat, and the screen installed directly into the windshield focused in on a toolshed in the junk yard, encircling it in a red target.

“That’s where the zeta beams are coming from,” Robin said.

"A toolshed?" La’gaan huffed, sounding like the shed had done him a great, personal affront. "C’mon there’s no way there’s any aliens there. That shed barely has space for a zeta tube!

Morgan felt her spirits dampen. The mission was apparently a lot less exciting than she had hoped for.

She told herself that it was probably for the best. Besides, what had she expected? Nobody had denied that this was a blatantly easy mission, so she was only getting exactly what she'd been promised. She began to understand why Nightwing had agreed to let her go.

Blue Beetle leaned back in his seat and sighed contently.

“I love getting boring missions; no danger,” he closed his eyes and relaxed.

“I just knew this would be a waste of time!” Lagoon Boy groaned, slumping back into his seat in defeat. Morgan looked at Robin who met her eyes. Their two teammates weren’t being very helpful.

“We should still go check it out though, right?” she questioned, and Robin nodded.

He sighed and pressed a button on the controls in front of them.

"Gamma squad to Cave."

The screen in front of them came to life once more, as Mal appeared.

“Report, Gamma squad.”

“We’re in position. It’s just a toolshed, but we’ll check it out.”

"Acknowledged, Gamma." Mal responded. He looked off to the side as if to monitor the other squads. A moment passed and then the deep baritone of his voice rung out in the ship again.

“Everyone is in positions. All squads have permission to strike. Good luck, guys.”

Robin, Blue Beetle and Lagoon Boy all stood up and assembled with practiced ease. Morgan rose and followed them a second later, not entirely sure what they were supposed to do now.

Lagoon Boy punched in a command, and the hatch opened at the back of the ship. The three boys all jumped out and landed safely on the ground below.

"Well, here goes nothing." Morgan muttered before leaping off the ship, her wings spread out to let her glide unhindered to the ground. The others were crouching behind a pair of beat up, scrapped cars. She made to tiptoe as silently as possible up behind Blue Beetle, but her boot got snagged in a piece of wire, and she tumbled to the ground, bumping into him instead and almost knocking him over. Robin flinched when her tumble turned over a rusted bucket full of scrap metal, and the sound echoed through the silent junk yard.

"Sorry," she whispered sheepishly, ignoring Lagoon Boy's eye roll.

Robin nodded at Blue Beetle, and it was with a small sense of awe that Morgan watched as Blue Beetle's arm morphed into a cannon and obliterated the dingy old toolshed.

The four of them approached the remaining scraps of the small building. Lagoon Boy jumped down and kicked over an old toolbox before fixing Blue Beetle with a sarcastic look.

“My hero, you sure taught that toolshed a lesson.”

Morgan rolled her eyes, totally not in the mood for Lagoon Boy's attitude. She wished Robin would tell him to shut up. Hell, she was on the verge to.

It wasn't that she disliked Lagoon Boy, she usually got along with him well enough, but her nerves where on high alert and her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. This was her first mission, and it did make her feel both nervous and excited. She didn't need his degrading comments to dampen the mood. To him it might’ve been boring, but to her it was incredibly exciting, even if all they were there to do was blow up a defenseless toolshed.

Still, it was obvious that this was a bust. They might as well go home now – clearly, there was no more excitement for tonight. She felt her initial excitement turn to disappointment when she realized they’d probably be going home now.

Robin put a hand to his ear.

"Gamma to Cave. We took out the toolshed. No sign of Kroloteans.” he sounded just as disappointed as Morgan felt. She'd been so ready to kick some alien butt. "No zeta tubes or platforms, and no secret base.”

A second later, Mal replied, "Check the perimeter. Watchtower is still reading signs of zeta activity."

Robin pulled up his computer, and sure enough, the tracking device was still beeping.

“He’s right,” he said.

“So if the zeta beams weren’t coming from the toolshed-“ Morgan began.

“Then it must be underground!” Robin finished, meeting her eyes.

Lagoon Boy approached the edge of the junk yard, pointing at the sea stretched out before them.

“What about underwater?”

Robin went through his data again.

“That might be it!” he exclaimed with excitement. “Lagoon Boy, go check it out! The rest of us will search for any tunnels above water.”

Morgan felt herself grow excited again. She might still get to kick some alien butt!

Lagoon Boy wasted no time jumping into the dark water below. Morgan shivered just by looking at the cold, dark mass. She suddenly hoped that there wasn't anything down there and she wouldn't have to dive in. She'd never been a good swimmer. In fact, after her wings had first started growing, she'd stopped swimming altogether – it was difficult to hide wings in a bathing suit – which meant she hadn't tried swimming for five years. She wasn't even sure if she remembered how anymore, or if her wings would weigh her down too much.

She crossed her fingers that they could find a tunnel that led them underground, so she wouldn’t have to go in the water. Blue Beetle was already searching through the piles of trash, using his gun to blast them apart. She joined him, flying up to see if she could spot anything from the air.

Minutes went by with no news. The three of them searched the entire junk yard and then met back in front of the destroyed toolshed, admitting defeat.

“We’ll have to hope Lagoon Boy finds something,” Blue Beetle shrugged. “’cuz this is a bust.”

"We need to be ready in case he calls for us," Robin said. “Blue, your suit has its own oxygen filter, right?"

"Yeah, it does,” Blue confirmed.

"Good, because I've only got two of these." Robin pulled out two small, black mouth pieces. "Here, Morgan. It’s a rebreather. You just place it in your mouth like this and you can breathe underwater."

"Oh, um, okay." She hesitated, her worry over having to swim winning out over her enthusiasm at how cool this gadget was. "Listen guys, I'm not a very good swimmer.." She felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

Blue fixed her with an 'are you serious' face, and Robin stared blankly at her. She supposed it was one of those things that were expected of superheroes.

"But, you know, I'm not sure. I just haven't tried it in five years because of-" she pointed a thumb back at her grey wings, pressing her lips together. "Yep.."

"Okay, uh," Robin scratched the back of his head. "Just stick close to me, I'll make sure you don't drown."

She smiled, still embarrassed, but thankful to know he had her back.

"Thanks, Robin. I'm sorry I'm such a lame hero right now. I'm still working on that."

"Hey, we're all pretty new at this," Robin pointed out good naturedly. Then, he straightened and pressed a hand to his ear. "La’gaan’s found it. Time to go."

Blue Beetle jumped into the water untroubled, but Morgan found herself hesitating. It really did look dark and cold. The waves lapping against the edge of the junkyeard weren’t exactly angry, but they were large, and hinted at an undercurrent. Robin grabbed her arm to get her attention.

"It's gonna be fine,” he promised, and Morgan nodded doubtfully at him, her masked eyes finding his.

Together, they jumped.

The water was even colder than Morgan had imagined it, and she let out a gasp of surprise as she went under, taking in a mouthful of water. Forcing herself to stay calm, she spat the dark water out and shoved the rebreather into her mouth. She tried a small breath, and when only air came in, she relaxed. She mentally send out a thank you to Nightwing – the mask he had given her stayed put and kept the water out, and as she looked around, she found it adjusting to the darkness, letting her see clearly.

Robin was still holding on to her forearm, and he met her eyes briefly before pointing after the others. Morgan nodded at him, and they started swimming after them. It was easier than she had imagined. Though she hadn’t tried swimming for five years, it wasn’t like she didn’t know how. It was the one activity her dad had always jumped to whenever her mom had a late shift, and he was forced to look after her because her usual babysitter wasn’t available.  

The air she breathed in tasted bitter at the thought, and she pushed the memories away and focused on Robin, who swam directly in front of her. He looked back at her over his shoulder, and she sent him a thumbs up, to signal she was doing okay. Her suit kept her warm.

Directly in front of them was a wall of seaweed, but as they swam towards it, La’gaan pushed it aside, revealing a small tunnel. They went in with La’gaan leading the way. Then came Blue Beetle, Robin, and Morgan at the tail end. She quickly discovered that her wings weighed her down a lot. She tried to use them to swim, but the resistance from the water was too great, and she could feel her feathers struggle under the weight. If she kept going, she’d damage them, so she folded her wings as flat as they could go against her back and did her best without them.

At the end of the dark tunnel was a little circular metal entrance. As they approached it, Morgan saw it opening and closing like a heartbeat. The sound of the metal sliders closing against each other sliced through the water and made her wince.

They halted in front of it. Morgan's wild hair floated around everywhere, covering her vision, and she batted it away, wishing she’d put it up before they left. Next time, she’d make sure to braid it.

Lagoon Boy swam up to the metal door and started glowing as he activated his Atlantean magic.

She'd only seen him do it once before, so Morgan watched with fascination as Lagoon Boy sudden grew to double size, looking more like an overgrown toad on steroids than the slim boy he usually was. Using brute strength, Lagoon Boy grabbed the edges of the entrance and forced it open. It gave a loud ‘clunk’ as the mechanism, that had kept the door moving, broke, and it stilled. The others hurried through, and he followed.

On the other side, it was clear the tunnel had been widened by machinery, because the rough, natural walls of the tunnel had been replaced by smooth steel, and the tunnel was much broader. Blue lights illuminated the tunnel and Morgan worried they’d be visible in the water, should anyone be looking.  

Up ahead, the greater light source greeted them, making the water shimmer. The end of the tunnel drew close, and she rejoiced at the prospect of getting out of the frigid water. Her face was beginning to hurt, even if her suit kept the chill from her body.

A moment later the four of them resurfaced inside a huge room, illuminated with a green light source. Next to her, Robin's eyes grew huge and he spat out his rebreather. Morgan handed hers back and turned her head to see what had him looking so startled.

Morgan's own mouth popped open at the sight of the vast, underground facility. It was swimming with aliens and bustling with activity. Their grating alien language could be heard from all angles. Up ahead, there was a tower-like formation with a platform near the top. Giant screens circled the platform where everyone could see them – a warning system?

"Oh my god," Morgan breathed, feeling her heart lodge itself in her throat. spiky, ice-cold adrenalin stung at her chest before rushing through her body. "Nightwing’s going to kill me."

“Right after he strangles me,” Robin agreed. “C’mon, let’s get out of the water.”

They swam towards the shore, heading for a small, dark nook they could hide in to regroup.

Morgan pressed herself to the concrete wall next to Blue Beetle, inwardly cursing. She was way out of her league right now. Her eyes darted around at whatever she could see from their hiding spot, her nerves heightening the more she looked.

"Gamma to Cave," Robin whispered. "We hit the motherload."

He looked around as he started to describe what they were seeing, and Morgan closed her eyes as his words cemented how screwed they were.

“There are dozens of Kroloteans. It’s a huge, underground facility, filled with alien tech and zeta platforms.”

It took Mal only a second to reply, and he must’ve known they were screwed as much as they did, because his voice was anxious.

“I’ve sent for backup – anyone available is on their way. Meanwhile you’re ordered to hide. Don’t engage unless you have to,” his voice was authoritative, but it was drowned out by the loud, punishing drill of a whirring siren.

The four heroes jumped and looked up at the noise. Morgan’s mouth dropped open when she looked at the platform above and saw them on the large screens. Several Kroloteans were screeching angrily, and while the place had seemed busy before, it was now frantic with activity.

“We have a problema, ese,” said Blue Beetle. “I don’t think hiding is an option anymore!”

“I’ll tell backup to hurry!” Mal’s worried voice came through. “Good luck – and don’t die.”

“Easy for him to say!” Morgan exclaimed. What were they going to do? She watched as at least a dozen Kroloteans charged towards them and she clenched her fists and breathed harshly through her nose when she realized a fight was inevitable.

Blue Beetle turned to Lagoon Boy, fixing him with a dry look.

"You're right, this was totally a soft gig.”

“How is this my fault!” protested Lagoon Boy.

Morgan clenched her teeth and hissed out a curse. "Nightwing's really gonna kill me."

"Not if they get to us first!" Blue Beetle exclaimed helpfully.

“Stay whelmed, guys!” Robin said, and then he jumped up and looked around as if formulating a battle strategy.

"Form up!" He said with surprising authority. "Blue, remember maneuver six!"

Morgan had no idea what that last part meant, but apparently Blue did, because he quickly confirmed.

"Si, hermano!"

“Lagoon Boy – stick with me on the ground and Morgan, get up high and use your telekinesis!”

Morgan jumped up next to them, feeling her fear give way to determination. Lagoon Boy shouted a word of encouragement, and then they charged the aliens. She quickly found that Robin was right – she was better served with staying at a distance, where she could use her telekinesis to throw the aliens around like ragdolls. The Kroloteans were obviously not built for fighting, as their attacks were weak, and Morgan, despite being new at this, didn't have a lot of trouble with dealing with them. They had one thing the small team of heroes didn’t, however. Sheer numbers. She felt like every time she took out one, two replaced it. The squawking of the Kroloteans felt overwhelming, and the longer they fought, the worse it got.

She lost herself in the battle, taking the opportunity to test her limits. Her grasp on her telekinesis was still new, and the aliens were an unknown organism. More often than not, they slipped out of her grasp before she could inflict any damage. She was starting to sweat under the strain, the physical toll of using her telekinesis so much getting to her.

"Of course, I get a selective ability," she groaned to herself, when another alien slipped from her grasp before she could knock it out.

A thought occurred to her - when they had made her suit, Nightwing had asked her if the gloves would hinder her abilities, and at the time she'd said she didn't know.

Maybe that was what was wrong?

Using one hand to knock an alien into the wall behind it, she used her teeth to shrug off the glove on her other hand. She shifted hands and could immediately feel a difference.

"Aw yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" she smirked, dropping her gloves on the ground. Her telekinesis worked much better now. She still had a few slips, but they were rarer, and her attacks were stronger.

Once she'd incapacitated the half a dozen Kroloteans that had charged her, she ran further ahead, watching the others. Robin was a force to be reckoned with as he pulled one gadget after another from his person and used them cleverly against the small aliens. Lagoon Boy relied on his strength as he swelled in size again and pummeled any Krolotean that was dumb enough to approach. Morgan skidded to a halt, realizing that the initial danger was gone when Blue Beetle used the same cannon he'd used earlier and sent the rest of the Kroloteans running.

"Wow, they really do not like you!" Lagoon Boy laughed as he watched the small Krolotean army run for a Zeta platform and disappear. "I wish it was me!"

“Uh guys?” Blue Beetle sounded worried.

A Krolotean jumped her from behind suddenly, and she let out a small squeak in surprise before pulling it off and kicking it in the face. A new wave of the small annoying creatures seemed to have snuck up on them, and she turned to meet them.

“What’s wrong, Blue?” Robin shouted from his position, punching a Krolotean and sending it flying.

“That Krolotean just ordered everyone to leave!” he pointed at one of the Kroloteans standing at the top of the tower, frantically pressing buttons on a controlpanel.

"Wait, you can understand them?" Robin exclaimed, jabbing his metal staff into the face of an oncoming Krolotean. "How?"

"I'm not sure, exactly." Blue pondered, sounding uncertain. "But that hefe over there is ordering all Kroloteans to Zeta off-world."

“So? Isn’t that good news?” Morgan asked. She tried to fight another Krolotean, but realized they had all stopped fighting and were running for the large zeta platforms instead. She straightened and watched as they scuttled off like rats. Had they won? Unscathed?

It was too good to be true, she realized when Blue Beetle let out a gasp of horror and landed next to the others.

“The base is set to self-destruct in four minutes!”

"Åh nej," She whispered, swallowing nervously to herself. "Åh nej, åh nej, åh nej.." There just had to be a bomb, right?

The four of them exchanged looks.

"Time for us to bail,” Robin ordered. "Did he say anything else?”

"He said something about leaving behind the playthings?" Blue Beetle said.

Morgan felt her blood run cold. She understood what that meant, and apparently so did Robin, because his eyes widened behind his mask.

"Playthings.. Oh, man!" Robin looked at the others, slight panic on his face. "The abductees!"

"Three minutes and thirty seconds, ese!" Blue Beetle immediately said, unnecessarily reminding everybody that they were on a very tight timeframe. "Then we’re gone!” He threw his hands in the air, and mimicked the sound of an explosion.

"Yes, thank you for reminding us," Morgan bit tersely. She felt fear flutter in her chest again, and she took in a deep gulp of air to squash it back down.

Fear can be useful, Nightwing had told her once. It can help you stay alive. As long as you don’t let it overpower your judgement.

Well, it was certainly telling her to get the hell out of there right now.

She looked imploringly to Robin. To stay and look for the hostages, or leave and save themselves?

"And Nightwing ordered me to not take unnecessary risks,” Robin groaned, hard determination on his face. Morgan already knew what he was thinking before he said it.

The answer was obvious.

“This is a necessary risk!” all four exclaimed as one, and Robin pulled up his computer, scanning the cave.

“Below!” he shouted, running ahead. The others followed, eyes roving around the cavern to find a way to get lower.

Lagoon Boy spotted it before the others.

"There!" He pointed, and Morgan followed his finger, to the wall across from the large pool of water. There was a row of tubes that curved downwards, and she prayed this was it. They must’ve been exits of some kind, because Kroloteans were spilling out of them like ants, running in a mad dash to get away from the doomed cave.

"Blue Beetle!" Robin pointed at the Kroloteans blocking their way through. "Go!"

Blue Beetle flew off, the armor on his arms morphing into a large, flat battering ram, allowing him to mow down any Krolotean that got in his way. Morgan, Lagoon Boy, and Robin followed in his wake, slipping down the tube right after him.

They found themselves in a new section of the underground lair. The new room was a large, crudely cut cavern, with bad lighting and steel floors. Ahead, there was a cage, shrouded in shadows.

On their way, Blue Beetle grabbed one of the Kroloteans he had knocked down the tube. The ugly creature squirmed in his grasp and screeched in its own language.

As they ran towards the cage, Morgan spotted movement inside.

"I-is there someone out there?” said a scared male voice, and a man stepped forward, allowing light to hit his face. She gave a start as she realized the cage was full of people. People whose fates the barbaric Kroloteans hadn't cared about at all. She felt righteous anger blaze in her belly and her determination to save these people solidified even further.

Robin ran over to it and the people inside started talking with excitement, as they recognized him. Despite their dire situation, Morgan felt a small smile tug at her lips at the complete and utter trust the hostages seemed to have in them, just because they were heroes.

She barely had time for the thought, but she vaguely registered discomfort in her belly as she realized the people there would be able to see her wings.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. I’m wearing a mask.

As she, Blue Beetle and Lagoon Boy approached behind Robin, the hostages gasped and cowered in fear.

"More aliens!" One of them shrieked and they all backed away.

"Hey! We're not aliens!" Blue Beetle protested. The alien in his hands squirmed and hissed at him like a feral cat. "Okay, well, he is.. but we’re not!"

"Get the cage open!" Robin ordered, sparring little time for Blue Beetle’s nonsense.

As Lagoon Boy grew to double size, the people in the cage started screaming all the more. They hadn’t been appeased by Blue Beetle’s correction. Lagoon Boy paid their fear no mind as he proceeded to rip the door of the cage open. The abductees were free.

There was shocked silence for a beat as they seemed to come realize that Lagoon Boy wasn't one of the bad aliens, but one of the good guys.

“Let’s go!” Morgan barked urgently. They didn’t have time for the abductees to be scared of La’gaan.

At her order, the hostages started running out of the cage, eyes wide with a mix of fright and relief.

"Tha- thank you," a man in a grey suit gasped, still eying Lagoon Boy with fear as he went past him. "We didn't mean-"

"It's fine," Lagoon Boy interrupted, uncharacteristically unbothered. Morgan figured he didn't want to frighten them more than they already were. "You’re not the first people to be scared of me, chum."

Morgan was practically vibrating as they waited for the last prisoner to get out. She was too aware of how little time they had left. And she was not planning on ending her days as a splatter of blood against the walls of this underwater cave.

Robin turned to Blue Beetle who was still holding the Krolotean in his grasp.

"Ask him the fastest way out."

"Dude, I can't speak-" Blue Beetle paused for a moment before speaking to himself. "You can? What are you waiting for then, permission?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow slowly as Blue started screeching in the Krolotean language. The Krolotean responded, and the two of them carried a short conversation.  

Lagoon Boy leaned towards her and said, "Blue's an.. odd little fish, isn't he?"

She shrugged with a grimace. Whatever Blue Beetle’s deal was, she’d like to be kept out of it.  

Blue Beetle turned towards them, but all that came out as he spoke was the grating Krolotean language. He shook his head as if to switch gears, and when he spoke again, it was thankfully in English.

“Uh, I mean, this way!” He began running, and everyone followed.

Morgan lagged to the back of the group, wanting to make sure none of the abductees were left behind. They were led to the main room by Blue Beetle, heading for another tunnel. They started running down the tunnel, single file, and Robin, Morgan and Lagoon Boy stood at the entrance to the tunnel, herding everyone in.

"Kom så videre folkens!" she ordered loudly, wondering a second later why on earth she was speaking Danish to a bunch of people that couldn't understand the language. Maybe it was the stress. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest, making her feel ill.

How much time did they have left? She didn’t want to know as she ran down the tunnel behind Robin, La’gaan on her heels. The tunnel led them underwater and she didn’t stop to ask for the rebreather – she took a large breath and dove in.

They were underwater when the explosion went off, and the force of it was enough to push Morgan the rest of the way out of the small, underwater tunnel and into the open ocean. She gasped in surprise, and her mouth filled with salty water. For a moment, she panicked, because she didn't know which way was up anymore, after she’d been thrown around by the shockwave. She looked around and saw orange light from the explosion above, and she swam towards it right as her lungs started screaming for air. Her head broke through the surface, and she gasped, taking in deep gulps of air. Regaining her bearings, she looked around.

The junkyard had been blown up, and the parts that remained were on fire, casting the dark night sky in an orange hue, thick black smoke rising high into the air.

Doing a quick head count, Morgan found that none of the hostages were missing. She breathed out a sigh of relief.

There was someone else missing, however. She swam towards Robin, who was looking around frantically.

“Where’s La’gaan?” he asked. Blue shrugged from his position, and Robin turned a pleading face towards Morgan.

“He was right behind me in the tunnel,” she said, her voice laced with worry. Was he-?

The surface between the two of them bubbled and then the Atlantean burst through it, spraying water everywhere.

“Boo-yah!” he hooted. “Gamma squad rules!”

Blue Beetle, Robin and Morgan exchanged looks, and then they all burst into laughter and cheers.

“Gam-ma squad! Gam-ma squad!” they cheered, and Robin put two fingers in his mouth to whistle loudly.

Morgan’s fear had turned to the most intense rush of adrenaline she’d ever experienced, and she felt tingly and light.

“That. Was. Awesome!” she shouted hysterically over the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, and the roaring fire that lay beyond. “I mean, I totally forgot my gloves in there and they're probably blown to smithereens by now, and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped for a second, but that was still awesome!"

"Uh, guys?" Blue Beetle suddenly cut in, and Morgan noticed with a slight snicker that he was still clutching the Krolotean to him.

The other looked at him and the followed his gaze up into the night sky. Morgan's heart skipped a surprised beat when she saw the squad of Superheroes approaching from above. Mal had mentioned something about sending backup, but she'd forgotten all about that in the heat of the fight.

Nerves pulled at her when she saw the sheer number of superheroes. Practically the entire League, and most of the Team had arrived. She felt her cheeks heat up in a blush as the eyes of several of the League’s biggest hitters found her drenched form. There were many of them that she hadn't met yet, and this was not the first-hand impression she'd hoped to make.

"This is the part where Nightwing kills us, right?" Morgan whispered, leaning into Robin. He nodded wordlessly, swallowing dryly.

As she studied the approaching group, her eyes found her mentor. He saw steering the superbike looking unharmed and as put-together as always, and she surmised his night hadn’t been as exciting as hers.

She tried to read him. Nightwing fixed them with a blank stare before he smiled slightly.

"Dude," he said and leaned casually over the controls of the superbike. "Way to get your feet wet!"

Robin relaxed next to her when it became obvious he wasn’t getting the scolding he’d expected. But when Nightwing's gaze found her, Morgan didn't miss the way his jaw and shoulders tensed, and she knew she was not in the clear. He was not happy with her.

She knew she was in trouble, she'd just hoped to avoid that trouble at least until she was back at the Cave.

As the four of them, and the abductees began their swim to shore, she started planning out her defense. Really, how could he blame her when he was the one that had let her go? Besides, she’d totally carried her own weight.

As soon as her feet hit solid ground and she got out of the water enough for her wings to fly, she flew further up and began helping the abductees onto solid ground. As long as she focused on work, Nightwing’s stiff glare boring holes into her back could go ignored. She doubted he was going to drag her off while she was helping others.

Some heroes remained to help deal with the abductees, but most left now that their help wasn’t needed after all.

It was decided that the bioship would transport the abductees to the nearest hospital, helmed by Nightwing. The rest of them would take the Superbike home.

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked a young woman, as she helped her onto the Bioship. The woman nodded despite crying.

“Thank you, for saving us,” she sniffled, and Morgan offered her a brilliant smile.

“Of course,” she said.

She could feel Nightwing’s eyes on her again and she staunchly ignored him. He wasn’t going to ruin this for her.

She cringed when she thought about the bruises, she would get during training tomorrow. Whenever he felt she got too cocky and needed to be reminded of her lack of experience and skill, he liked to go harder on her during their training. Sometimes, he just upped the intensity of her exercise program. Other times, he gave two percent more during their sparring, and she’d get her ass handed to her on a silver platter, with her ego for dessert.

Yeah, she rued the bruises.

But it was so worth it. Tonight, she had saved lives. Tonight, a young woman had thanked her for being there to save her. That fact made her cheeks hurt as she smiled impossibly wide and made her heart pump furiously with pride in her chest.

There was no doubt – she wasn’t going to stop nagging him about going on missions. She couldn’t think of a better, more noble thing to work towards.

The last civilian was loaded into the bioship, and Nightwing lingered by the entrance. He turned towards her, his shoulders stiff and his face a blank mask.

He looked directly at her and spoke in a chilling voice.

“You and I are going to talk when you get home.”  

She pressed her lips together, trying to look the picture of innocence, but her stomach clenched at the confrontation she knew was headed her way.

He had another thing coming if he thought she was going to cower. Not after tonight – this had been too exciting, too important.

She was hooked.

Translations:

“Åh nej" = “Oh no" (repeated a couple of times)

“Kom så videre folkens!" = "Get a move on folks!"

I'll always have a soft spot for this chapter. It's really her beginnings are a superhero, and its also I think the first chapter that's just one big set piece? No cuts? Finally!

Its very noticeable that she needs a hero name soon, though! She's fighting alongside these aliased people and she's just "Morgan". We'll get there! 

Once again, the return reader will notice I rewrote this pretty heavily - I didn't change the structure so much as the prose, except for expanding the ending, and I'm pretty happy with it.

Let me know what you think! 

Chapter Text

January 6^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Nightwing cursed himself silently as he paced back and forth, vowing to never make such a stupid decision again. The moment Mal had reported on Gamma squad’s unexpected find, he had felt his blood run cold in his veins. Worry such as he hadn’t felt in years had squeezed as his insides all the way to New Orleans.

He'd sent a rookie – a novice that was his responsibility – on a life-threatening mission.

If she had gotten hurt – or died – it would’ve been on his hands.

Granted, he hadn't known it was life threatening at the time, but he should've known something like this would happen. As Robin had pointed out not too many days ago, they missions all had a habit of blowing up in their faces. Quite literally.

Nightwing really, really should have known this. He really should've guessed that this would happen – life like to torment him just so. He'd been on this team for almost six years. He knew their missions always went wrong. He knew Morgan was far from ready to go out in the field.

This was the last time he let her and Tim talk him into something like that. No matter how much she aimed those big, pretty – wait, what? – grey eyes at him, he would not let her manipulate him into letting her go again.

"If you're going to lecture me, can you please just get it over with instead of pacing back and forth like that?" Morgan dryly spoke up. "Thanks to Batman, I have school in the morning, and I'd like to get just a bit of sleep first." She was leaning against the wall with a sullen look on her face.

Nightwing halted his pacing, realizing that he'd been doing it for several minutes in silence.

“First of all – are you okay?” he had tried to sound stern, but his worry bled through.

She sent him a weird look.

“I’m great. Loving this situation right now,” she said sarcastically, and then she crossed her arms over her chest and mumbled to herself, “at least I was until you decided to ruin it.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at her.

"No more missions," he said sternly. He could tell by the frown on her face that she was about to protest but he held up a hand, silencing her.

Clasping the hand behind his back again, appearing the very image of a stern, military leader, he continued.

"Sending you out so early was a mistake, and it won’t happen again. After today, we’ll resume your training as it was before, and you won’t go on any missions until I give the go."

"Oh, come on!" Morgan groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Nothing happened! I'm fine! I did good out there – ask Robin!"

"Until. I. give. The. Go." Nightwing repeated firmly behind clenched teeth.

"What is wrong with you!" Morgan complained aggressively, pushing off the wall and approaching him. "I'm totally fine, and you’re being a paranoid, uptight dick! Why do you even care? What’s all this stupid training even for if I’m not going to use it!"

“Its to prepare you so you’ll be ready some day!” he shot back, feeling his back tense up when she stood on her tippy toes with clenched fists at her sides. Her attempt at leveling their height difference didn’t make much of a difference, and he didn’t find her intimidating at all, save perhaps for the fierce glare on her face.

“You’re the one that approached me and asked if I wanted to be on this team – to be a hero. So let me be a hero!”

"You are my responsibility and therefore I make the calls,” he snapped at her.

“You sound like my dad,” she said with disgust in her voice, and he realized it was probably the worst insult she could think of, given how little she seemed to think of her dad. “I’m tired of being bossed around by a teenager!”

“You’re a teenager too!” he protested, and then flinched as he realized she’d gotten under his skin.

He quickly waved away whatever retort she had lined up, speaking over her.

“You seem to think this is a democracy – well think again. This is a dictatorship, baby, and I’m elected for life.”

“You’re so lame, oh my god,” she groaned loudly. “Fine, Stalin or whoever the fuck.”

“If you want to survive to see your twenties, you better do what I say. I’m not trying to be an ass for no reason – I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

Morgan sighed and ran a hand through her damp hair, her wings bristling and puffing up with annoyance. Nightwing briefly wondered if she knew how expressive they were, before he snapped himself back into focus.

She stood silently glaring at him with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t protesting anymore, however, and he took the win for what it was.

"Until I give the go," he repeated one last time.

She rolled her eyes but nodded, thought it looked like it physically hurt her to do so.

“Fine,” she bit out.

“Good,” he took a step down the hall to indicate that he was leaving. “Sorry I called you baby.”

“Just get out of here you dork,” she snapped, and then she threw her bedroom door open and slammed it shut behind her.

He could hear the muffled sound of her shrieking in pure annoyance from behind her door as he stalked down the hall, his legs stiff with his own annoyance.

He'd angered her, but he didn't care. Her anger was much easier to deal with than her death.

January 6th

Morgan's eyes flew open when her alarm beeped to life, and more on instinct than anything else, she threw her arm out towards it, sending the poor clock flying halfway across the room and shattering against the wall.

She groaned loudly and curled in on herself, retreating deeper under her covers.

Her body was aching all over from the mission she'd been on the night before, her mind was sluggish and her head was pounding from lack of sleep. Maybe that mission hadn't been such a good idea.

A minute later, she forced her eyes open and uncurled her body, sitting up in bed. She grimaced at the sad leftover of her alarm clock, now nothing but a small pile of mechanics.

Yawning loudly, she stretched her arms and wings, hearing a satisfying 'pop' in her back. Smacking her lips twice, she scratched her head and wondered why she'd set her alarm to ring so early.

And then it hit her. She'd set her alarm this early because she had to get up earlier to train because..

She had school today. Her first day at Gotham University.

Her first day of mingling with the rich snobs.

Morgan let out a hugely exaggerated groan and flopped back down on her bed, her hands coming up to cover her face.

Why her?

She shook herself, trying to look on the bright side. This was a chance to get out of the Cave more often. To keep going with her education, that she might have a career one day. Maybe she would get some friends? She like her friends here at the Cave, but she often felt clingy because she only had so much to do, and so many people to do it with. School would keep her busy – and if she managed to get some friends, her life would stop being entirely confined to this hollowed-out mountain.

Befriending some ‘normal’ people would be good for her. If she ever hoped to have a normal life – as normal as her circumstance would allow her – she’d need something more than the Team.

With that thought in mind, she got up and pulled her gym clothes on. Her hair was a huge mess. Her mom always said that Morgan was the most bedhead challenged person she'd ever met.

Her mom..

Nope! Not going there, she told herself, biting her lip. Not thinking about it.

She knew Nightwing wouldn't be there. He never was during her morning training anymore. He showed up in the late afternoon or sometimes early evening, and then they sparred together. He knew that, by now, she could do her exercise routine without his supervision.

Which was why she was pretty surprised when he was, in fact, there waiting for her. She walked around the corner and almost bumped into him from his leaning position against the gym's door.

"Uh," she said, giving him a strange look. "Good morning?"

"You'll need to cut your training short today so we can go over the details of your transfer to Gotham University," he said by way of greeting.

Morgan shrugged, surprisingly disappointed at having to cut her training short. She'd grown fond of the hour of alone-time it gave her. It was a good way to start her day. She'd even set her alarm early, so she'd have time, for crying out loud!

"Okay."

He allowed her to train for half an hour, annoyingly watching the whole time, and then he pulled her away from her machines to explain everything.

"You'll get there by the Zeta tube, obviously. There is a tube a few blocks from the school." He handed her a map that showed the way from the Zeta tube to the university, along with the command she needed to punch into the machine to get to that specific location and Morgan wondered if he'd always been such an overly considerate control freak. She didn't voice this out loud though, as they were both being strangely civil – especially considering what happened the night before – and she didn't feel like ruining it. She was too tired to ruin it.

"Your school uniform arrived this morning," He handed her a paper bag, "and here is a backpack with all the essentials, also donated by the Wayne foundation."

She was still reeling from the fact that a university had a dress code. So much for showing up to class in your pajamas. If the school was so fancy and anal as to institute a dress code, she was loath to find out what other insane quirks the place had.

She accepted the bag and whistled when she saw it was designer. Seriously? A regular one would’ve been fine. She bristled at the thought of someone wasted so much money on her behalf.

"These rich people really like to remind the rest of us how rich they are," Morgan said sarcastically, sighing in a 'what can you do' manner as she slung the bag over her shoulder. Nightwing paused and glared at her for a second before he resumed as if he totally hadn't just given her the stink eye.

What was that? Morgan wondered.

"Since you’re a scholarship student, the school has assigned you an, uh, ‘native’ from your major to show you around. Her name is Esmeralda."

Morgan wondered how he knew so much about this school but figured it was that control freak thing again.

“Hey, why do you know all this stuff. This sounds like a letter I should’ve gotten,” she tilted her head at him. “You know opening others’ mail is a criminal offense, right?”

“Never mind that,” he brushed her off. “Just be there at ten, sharp.”

"Righty-o," she complied, dropping the issue. "Wait, if I'm not meeting this Esmeralda before ten, why did I have to cut training short?" she wondered, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Because I have to get to school now, and I needed to explain this to you first."

"Ah."

"And now I'm going. You can go back to training now. Just don't be late."

Control freak, she thought again as she watched him leave, though not without a small hint of fondness for her anal-retentive mentor.

Morgan arrived exactly one minute late, simply because Nightwing had stressed the importance of being on time.

She fought to keep her mouth closed as she stepped over the doorstep and into the giant front hall of the university. The building itself was huge and impressive on the outside all marbled pillars and ornate, gilded windows, but inside it was even more so. Elegantly tiled floors, huge arched windows, a dome-shaped roof, and marble staircases that were carpeted in red.

Morgan eyed the other students, though there weren't many of them right now, noting that even though they wore the same black and white uniform as her, it was obvious they came from another class entirely. Most of them seemed genetically modified to fit the ‘look’ of the rich, with their perfect skin and hair, flawless makeup and expensive jewelry and shoes.

Amidst these people, she didn’t have to say she was the scholarship student. Her dirty sneakers and untamed hair stuck out like a sore thumb.

She sarcastically breathed deeply in through her nose.

 "Smell that, Morgan?" she said to herself, "It’s the smell of nepotism and blood money.”

A group of tall guys with perfectly styled hair and glowing tans passed by her, several of them shooting her a weird look. She glared back at one whose eyes lingered on her, his nose turned up.

She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, telling herself to stay calm.

They biology program is great. You just need to survive two and a half years here and then you’re set, she reminded herself.  

“Morgan?” came a voice, and she opened her eyes to see a bubbly blonde bouncing towards her. “Hi! I’m Esmeralda!”

The first thing Morgan noticed was that Esmeralda was gorgeous. With her pin-straight, long, golden blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and perfect smile, she looked like she had walked out of a beauty magazine.  

“Uh, hi,” she responded, taken aback by the friendly smile she was met with. She hadn’t expected anything other than indifference, but she supposed she should’ve known the person who’d volunteered to show the scholarship student around, would be less judgmental than the others.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” she said, without a hint of sarcasm. "I'll be showing you around Gotham University."

“Cool,” she shrugged, and then quickly added, “uh, thanks.”

“Come on! We’ve got a lot to see before class starts. You majoring in biology, right?”

“Yeah.”

The two girls walked down the hall, and Morgan struggled to take in the flood of information Esmeralda was letting out; she was so distracted by the splendor of their environment.

“So am I! That’s why I volunteered to show you around, since we’re both taking Professor Winfield’s course this semester.”

“Do new students normally get a guided tour?” she asked tersely, feeling her teeth grind together. Didn’t they trust the scholarship student to free roam?

Esmeralda hesitated in her step, having picked up on the anger in her voice.

Morgan inwardly slapped herself. I told myself this morning that I'd try to make friends, so how about stop I being an asshole and start being civil to this girl who appears to be the most friendly person in the world?

“Uhm, most of us sort of know this place before we attend..” Esmeralda admitted.

On account of all of them coming from the same, snooty private school, Morgan figured.

"It’s cool that you’re showing me around,” she answered, trying for a small smile. “I'd get pretty lost by myself, I think."

“Once we’re done, you should swing by the secretary. They have maps. You have your student login, right?”

Morgan nodded. She was all set, really. She just needed help finding her way around.

Esmeralda led the way up a tall, curved staircase.

“Let’s start with the food court – it’s the most important place!” she joked.

They rounded a corner and almost bumped into two girls chatting by the corner, and Morgan jumped skittishly. Had they felt her wings? No, she bumped into them from the front. She had to admit she was more on edge than usual. Maybe because she felt like a goat that had been thrown into a lion enclosure. She’d been here for all of ten minutes, and she was already getting tired of the judgmental elevator looks that seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

Not that the looks surprised her. Everyone knew the reputation of GU. The local, community college-kids regularly joked about the snobby kids they met from the GU, anytime there was some cross-college events.

The kids she walked amongst right now, were all directly descended from the people who worked hard to keep the rest of Gotham miserable. The rich cheated themselves out of paying any taxes, and they bought out all the land, jacking up rent and sucking out all the wealth the city had to offer. Meanwhile, people like her were left to rot. They were regarded as nothing more than filthy rats, to these people. Something to exploit for money, to keep themselves at the top.

She glared at her feet, battling the discomfort she felt that she was a student here now. Did that make her a class-traitor? But she thought about her mom, who worked herself to the bone to keep the two of them afloat. Morgan refused to go through the same. Maybe, one day when she’d made a name for herself as a hero, or as a scientist, she could face her mom again. If she made a decent living, she could help Abigail out so she could save up for a retirement.

Abigail would’ve been proud if she knew Morgan was attending such a prestigious school. So, she could grind her teeth together and go through this. It was only for a time – her career was the rest of her life.

She hefted her new leather bag further up her shoulder, determined to ignore her discomfort.

“Food court?”

“There’s the restaurant too!” Esmeralda said. “If you want something a little nicer than street food. It’s Michelin!”

“Of course, it is,” she mumbled to herself.

The new floor was more populated, and as she looked to see the large indoor street food market, she understood why. Gotham university was built like a giant square castle, with a big open courtyard in the middle, which could be seen from every floor.

There was a giant skylight that lit the courtyard in natural light but kept the temperamental Gotham weather at bay. Exotic trees and plants made it look like a beautiful garden. There was even a fountain in the middle of the courtyard. The walls were lined with food stalls with options from across the world.

Morgan took in the bustling activity of the food court. Most tables were occupied, and her senses were flooded with chatter and delicious smells from the food.

This was evidently the place the majority of the student body liked to congregate. The first floor of the building was really where the university began – the ground floor housed only the grand entrance and then the – if her sources were correct – extensive library.

A library she was excited to use – she had a list of books she wanted to get her hands on.

Every student looked the same to her, dressed in the same uniform. Except for the color of their ties.

“What’s the different colors for?” she asked. She and Esmeralda both wore red ties – a tie she was intending to ditch the second she was able. She could see several other students had discarded theirs too and figured the tie wasn’t a hard rule.

“Its color coded to match what year you’re on. So red for first years, blue for second, green for third and yellow for fourth.”

“And what if you take longer than that?”

Esmeralda shrugged. “I think the colors keep going. Purple, maybe? The first four are just more regular.”

She looked across the food court and then she smiled and started waving at someone.

“Rachel!” she called.

A dark-skinned girl with waist-length braids and high cheekbones looked up at the sound of her name being called, and then she smiled and waved back at Esmeralda.

“Esmi! I saved you a seat!”

Esmeralda motioned for Morgan to follow and then they weaved their way through the student body towards the table the other girl had claimed for them.

“This is Rachel,” she introduced. “Rachel, this is Morgan.”

The other girl wore a blue tie, letting Morgan know she was a second year. She guessed the stupid color scheme wasn’t so stupid after all. Rachel quirked a little smirk at Morgan. “The scholarship student.”

Morgan was unable to keep the scowl off her face.

“That obvious?”

“Kinda. But that’s not a bad thing,” she shrugged, motioning for Morgan to sit.

“Morgan, do you want some coffee? It’s barista.”

She nodded gratefully at Esmeralda, who got up and headed off, promising to be back in a moment.  

“Cool necklace.”

Morgan's fingers closed around the orange stone of her glamour charm.

"Thanks. It was a gift," she answered truthfully.

“It’s your first day, right?”

“Yup.”

Silence.

Morgan puffed out her cheeks, trying to think of something to say. Rachel looked perfectly at ease.

“Uh, what’s your major?”

“Anthro,” Rachel said. “Yours?”

“Biology.”

“Ah, a real science. I guess that makes us enemies.”  

Morgan nodded solemnly. “I guess we’d better fight to the death.”

Rachel blinked at her, but then she started laughing. Morgan couldn’t keep a smile from growing on her own face. Maybe getting friends at this stupid school wasn’t going to be as hard as she’d expected.

Rachel’s laughter died down as Esmeralda returned with two cups of steaming coffee. She handed one to Morgan, who sipped gratefully, letting out a little groan of pleasure.

“So,” Rachel leaned over the table, a conspiratorial look on her face. “Have the lions descended yet?”

Morgan blinked at her. “Uhm. Who?”

 “I was waiting to explain that part,” Esmeralda grimaced.

“What part?” Morgan asked strongly, jaw once more clenched.

“It’s this gross tradition..” Esmeralda explained haltingly.

“Just – word of advice. Don’t give any of the second years’ any attention. Every time a new scholarship student begins, they have this bet who can get in their pants.”

Morgan gaped at her.

“Okay, so avoid all blue ties. Got it.”

“I mean, sleep with whoever you want to, obviously,” Rachel said dismissively. “Just know they might have ulterior motives.”

“Yeah, I think I’m just going to avoid them. Thanks for the heads up.”

The two girls across from her started chatting about their winter holiday, and Morgan focused on her coffee. She studied the room carefully, their warning setting her even more on edge. She’d expected scorn and indifference from the student body, but random assholes trying to get in her pants was so much worse.

She let out a little huff at the thought – it was ridiculous, really. Who was going to try and seduce her? The student body wasn’t large, since the school was entirely dedicated to the children of the elite, but just looking out across the courtyard, she could spot at least two dozen girls who looked like supermodels.

She took another sip from her coffee, satisfied with that knowledge. Nobody was going to pay her messy-haired, make up-less, short ass any attention.

She set her cup down, encouraged by that thought, and got up.

Esmeralda looked up, almost out of her seat, but Morgan held up a hand.

“I’m just going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

She’d reached the exit to the hall they’d come from when a guy suddenly jumped into her path. He was tall – so tall that his blue tie was directly in her line of sight.  

“Hey there,” he leaned against the wall casually. “You’re the new girl, right?”

Oh great.

She looked up at him, not doing much to hide her annoyance.

“You’re in my way,” she said.

Someone snickered and she became aware of the group of three guys watching the exchange with bated breaths, their eyes shining with amusement. His friends, she figured.

“Where are you headed? I’ll show you around.”

“The toilet,” she said truthfully, tilting her head and blinked innocently at him. “Are you going to hold my hand while I go?”

He shrunk back.

“Uhm, I-I mean.”

Stepping around him, she shot him a sarcastic look.

“That’s what I thought.”

She was allowed to go in peace and as she hurried into the bathroom, she leaned against the door, blowing out a breath.

“So, apparently Rachel wasn’t kidding..” she mumbled to herself. This felt like some sick dream her subconscious had conjured.

After she’d done her business, she splashed some water in her tired face. She was going to be early tonight. Her body still ached from the day before. Maybe a hot shower was what she needed.

She stood by the door of the bathroom, dreading having to go back out.

“You faced down an army of aliens yesterday,” she reminded herself. “You can face some horny idiots.”

With that, she got out, squaring her shoulders, and sporting her best glare. Hopefully it would ward off any more suitors.

She was out of luck. She’d barely gotten down the hall when another guy stopped her.

“You’re the scholarship student, right? I’m Jake Pfeiffer.” He stuck his hand out and smiled smarmily.

She ignored his hand, allowing it to hover awkwardly between them.

“Pfeiffer.. that sounds familiar.”

“My dad is the oil tycoon.”

“That’s right!” Morgan snapped her fingers as she realized where she knew him from.

Jake swelled with pride.

“He’s the guy with that giant oil spill from last year, right? Sure killed a lot of wildlife, huh?”

Jake deflated.

“Yeah, but that’s – that’s not important.”

“No?” she smiled humorlessly. “Don’t you care about the wildlife, Jake?”

He faltered but picked himself up quickly.

“I wanted to ask if you were busy this Friday?”

“I’m incredibly busy. Every Friday, in fact.”  

She made to walk off, but he stepped in front of her. Morgan could feel her temper rising as he cut off her escape, his eyes shining with his intentions.

“Aw, you can’t make time for a date with me?” he asked, oozing confidence.

She narrowed her eyes at him, although she registered that her heart was racing. Not from attraction – she was just completely unused to this kind of attention. She could count on one hand the number of guys who’d shown her any interest, and half of those had been in kindergarten.

Morgan knew she could defend herself – her mentor had made sure of that.

But despite this, she was just a young woman, and she didn’t like it when a guy looked at her like she was a piece of meat. The look on his face reminded her of the sweaty, gross men she’d encountered in that alley the week before she’d met Nightwing.

That sent her into defensive mode.

“Fuck off, dude,” she said, wishing she’d had a cleverer reply. She stepped around him quickly and went down the hall in a rush, suddenly desperate to get back to the food court. It had been fun quipping at the first guy, but the second one had had this look in his eyes that made her deeply uncomfortable.

She pulled her curls over her face and walked with her head down, hoping to keep herself hidden from any more attention. How long would they keep this up, she wondered? Would she have to deal with harassment for weeks, months – her entire time here?

The thought made her panic slightly. She had been prepared for the derision and scorn. She had no idea how to deal with.. this. But this was just another kind of scorn, right? After all, it was just the elite viewing someone from the lower class as a plaything – something to exploit. As usual.

In her rush, she didn’t pay a lot of attention to where she was going, only that she was at the entrance to the food court now, and she ran straight into another guy.

He was tall and clearly strong because he barely budged from the collision. She stumbled back, however, and he quickly grabbed onto her shoulders to steady her.

“Woah, there,” he said, and even with her frantic thoughts, the voice registered as familiar. “You okay?”

Through her curls, she could see another blue tie, and she saw red.

“I’m not going to sleep with you!” she snapped loudly, pushing his hands off her shoulders and taking a step back.

She pushed her curls out of her face and looked up at the guy, and her insides froze.

“I- what?” he said.

She knew that voice.

She knew that face.

Well.. some of that face.

In front of her stood Nightwing. She wasn’t sure if she would’ve recognized him, had he not spoken, but the sound of his voice was too familiar. There was no doubt in her mind that this was him. Even the way he’d grabbed onto her shoulders had felt familiar.

She was about to start shouting at him but was taken aback for a moment when she really saw Nightwing's face unmasked for the first time.

His eyes.

She had expected something square – like him. Hard eyes that betrayed his no-nonsense approach to life.

What she got was a big pair of deep blue eyes with long, dark eyelashes that gave them a distinctly feminine look. Even his eyebrows were perfectly arched, framing his face perfectly. The cursed tie resting loosely around his neck was ironically the same color as his eyes, and it made them pop even more.

Oh crap, he's gorgeous.

“You!” she hissed out, not feeling like shouting anymore. Still, she pointed an angry finger in his face.

“Me?” he asked, the picture of innocence. Why did he have to blink at her with his pretty eyes like that? He was breaking her concentration! She was angry!

He was pretending he didn’t know her.

Good luck with that.

She bristled with annoyance. How much oversight did they think she needed?  

"You can tell your.. boss that I don't need to be babysat. Or spied on," she hissed at him.

He frowned at her in a very convincing show of confusion.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, miss, but I think you've got the wrong guy."

"Oh, really?" Morgan asked skeptically, taking a step back and, in a flash, she spread her wings wide. Involuntarily, his eyes followed the movement, and his lie was revealed. Nobody but her team members could see her wings when she was wearing her necklace and he had just identified himself.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pointing that finger again. He grimaced when he realized his mistake, and he batted her finger out of his face. Then, he straightened, and she could see the pretense slip away as he fixed her with a look that was distinctly Nightwing.

He looked across the room and seemed to realize they had gained an audience, so he grasped her arm and pulled her to a quiet corner. Morgan stumbled unwillingly after him, but she allowed it.

“I’m not here to spy on you,” he assured her, frowning deeply. “I.. go here.”

He looked at her once more, and Morgan mentally slapped herself to keep her focus on the anger she felt. She understood now why he always wore that mask. Nobody would take him seriously if they saw those ridiculously pretty eyes. Even now, they were very expressive, and it went strictly against the 'silent, brooding and unemotional' thing he had going on as Nightwing.

She studied his face, wondering why he looked so familiar – it wasn’t just because he was Nightwing. His eyes were familiar too. She’d seen him before. But where?

“You.. go here?” she asked.

Her mind reeled with the implications, but the only thing she could wonder – was Nightwing from the Gotham elite? She felt betrayed by the thought. That explained why he’d been so angry when she’d made a joke about the rich that very morning.

He nodded.

“I’ll explain everything tonight at the Cave, if you just, please, stop making a scene.”

“I’m not making a scene!” she protested.

“You just shouted across the entire food court that you weren’t going to have sex with me.”

Her face was instantly beet red, and she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her feet.

“I didn’t know it was you.”

“Why did you, by the way?” he asked.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about the ‘tradition’.”

He didn’t. That much was clear from the look on his face.

She squirmed uncomfortably and dragged her hands over her face, sighing to the heavens. She looked everywhere but him, trying to keep her voice breezy.

“There’s this tradition that people from second year try to sleep with scholarship students.”

His mouth popped open in horror.

“Because we’re poor so we’re just a thing to exploit, right?” she glared at him, feeling off kilter. She had no idea what to make of her mentor anymore. Was he the son of some oil tycoon, like Jake? Were his parents in the mob? In politics?

Why did he look so familiar!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was a thing,” he admitted. “I’ll tell the guys I know to leave you alone.”

“Don’t bother, it’s not your responsibility,” she dismissed him, unwilling to show how uncomfortable she was. She could handle this on her own.

“Morgan,” he said, and she looked up quickly, as if watching her name leave his mouth was different now that she could see his eyes as he did so. “If I had known –“

“You would’ve what? Not let me go?” she bit out. “You think I care about a bunch of slimy, nepotism babies? I’m here to get an education so I can support myself.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded to show he understood.

“Seriously, don’t worry about me,” she said dismissively, giving him a confident smile that was meant to portray the exact opposite of how she really felt. “I can handle myself. Those idiots won’t know what hit ’em.”

“Good. It’s probably best that we don’t acknowledge each other at school – we don’t want to raise any suspicion,” he said.

“Obviously. I get enough of your face from training,” she huffed. Truthfully, she just wanted to forget what he looked like. It was easier when she hadn’t known he was beautiful.

He grinned humorlessly and then he walked off, his hand stuffed deep inside his pockets. She caught herself staring at his retreating back, her belly a mess of confused emotions. Her face was still bright red.

Looking across the room, she was aware that some people were still staring at her.

She scowled at her feet and marched back to her table, where Esmeralda and Rachel still sat, staring intently at her.

"What. Was. That?" Rachel asked, the first to recover.

Morgan shrugged.

“You’re right, the guys here are vultures,” she said.

“That was Dick Grayson,” Esmeralda sighed wistfully, eyes still wide with shock.

Dick Grayson..

Morgan’s eyes widened.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “He’s Dick Grayson!”

How in the hell had Bruce Wayne’s adopted son ended up as the leader of a superhero team?

“Did he come on to you? Because if you were going to shoot your shot with anyone..” Rachel leaned over the table with enthusiasm.

“Woah, gross!” Morgan protested, the very thought of ‘shooting her shot’ with Nightwing repulsive.

Even if he has pretty eyes.

“How is that gross? Dude’s hot,” Rachel said matter-of-factly. She sipped from the smoothie in front of her. “He used to be an acrobat you know?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Flexibility.” Rachel flashed her a wicked grin.

“Stamina, too,” Esmeralda giggled.

Huh.. Morgan suddenly understood how he was so nimble when he fought.

“He’s not a piece of meat, you know,” Morgan frowned, feeling newfound loyalty to her mentor bubble forth. Sure, she wasn’t fond of the guy most of the time, but that mean she was comfortable with the way the others spoke about him.

“No, of course not,” Esmeralda said seriously.

“He is one of the best looking, single guys at school, however,” Rachel said, unbothered by Morgan’s reprimand. “And since Bruce Wayne is his adoptive father, he’s filthy rich.”

Morgan jolted upright as she realized what this meant.

“Wayne foundation is paying for my scholarship.”

Esmeralda misunderstood the distress on her face.

“Don’t worry, they won’t revoke the scholarship just because you shouted at Dick. He’s super nice.”

“But if you want to thank Wayne for the money..” Rachel smirked and bobbed her eyebrows up and down.

“I’m not having sex with anyone because of a scholarship!” she hissed out. No scholarship was worth this.

“I’m just messing with you,” Rachel laughed, drinking from her smoothie again and smacking her lips. “Esmi, don’t you guys have a class to get to?”

Esmeralda checked her watch. Then, she jumped up and gathered her stuff in a rush.  

“We do! Let’s go, Morgan!”  

Morgan went after the other girl with the sinking feeling in her gut that her time at GU was going to be more interesting than she’d wanted.

This chapter has been almost entirely rewritten. 

Yeah... so we all remember in the original that I really fumbled the bag with making GU feel like a university. It was basically a high school. Its one of those things that's always bothered me and made me wish I could do this edit. So I'm excited its' finally been edited! I hope this version feels more like a university than before. I kept some elements, such as the uniforms - I wanted to highlight how different this world is for her, and stupid stuff like forcing actual, young adults into uniforms to keep up some decorum seems like the oldfashioned and stuff sort of thing an extremely elite school would do. 

But as someone who's currently writing her Master Thesis, yeah, that first version was NOT accurate to my experience. 

I've maybe dialed back a bit on the humor - their encounter in the original was probably funnier. But I've added some more emotional depth to the whole thing. And I've also added a new subplot - the stuff with scholarship students being conquests. Wonder how that'll pan out! Its just a hammy little thing I thought could be fun for some easy drama. Fanfiction is nothing if not indulgent, right?

Also, since I'm older and a lot more aware of the world, I'm also more aware of stuff like class disparity, and it's something I imagine Morgan would be bitter about due to her upbringing, but let me know if its too much, and I can dial it back. It's fanfiction, after all, not my political manifesto.

I don't know if anyone's ever wondered why Morgan discovers Dick secret identity so early on in the story, and truth is - its because it's necessary. She was never going to see him as a peer as long as he hid behind a mask. Removing his mask is what's needed to bring them closer so they can become friends. It's not just about her finding out he's pretty - its about realizing he's just a regular person like her. 

As I mention before, I'm also diving a little bit more into her life of growing up in Gotham. Meaning she would absolutely know how Dick Grayson is - everyone in Gotham knows about Bruce Wayne and his kids. So that's a big change in the story too - even if it means we had to say goodbye to the "Your friends call you a dick too?" joke. RIP joke, you will be missed.

Let me know what you think!

Chapter Text

January 6^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

"'She won't recognize you' he said," Nightwing grumbled to himself, pacing back and forth in front of Morgan's room as he waited for her to come back from school. "'Everything will be fine' he said. Well guess what, Batman? She noticed!"

"Who are you talking to?"

Nightwing jumped as the sudden voice startled him out of his thoughts. He turned to find Barbara looking at him oddly, dressed in her Batgirl uniform. He sighed and scowled at her for sneaking up on him.

"Nobody," he grunted.

Barbara looked at him and then Morgan's door, correctly guessing that this had something to do with her.

"Are you guys fighting again?" She asked with disapproval in her voice.

"No!" He quickly denied. "I'm not mad at Morgan. She might be mad at me though. But that's not the point."

Barbara cocked an eyebrow that invited him to explain.

"Batman thought it would be a good idea to enroll her in Gotham University and today was her first day," Nightwing elaborated. "And she.. well, she recognized me there." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, settling a hand on his hip and tilting his head back to alleviate some of the tension in his neck. Barbara widened her eyes at him, knowing what this meant.

"Batman ensured me she wouldn't recognize me, but of course she did. She likes to make my life difficult like that.” He smiled bitterly, knowing it looked more like a grimace.  

Nobody had ever guessed his secret identity before. The only people who knew, where the people he’d chosen to tell on his own terms. Like all the members of the original Team.

"Does he know?" Barbara asked. Nightwing, Batgirl and Robin all knew the number one rule: Don't let anyone know your secret identity.

Nightwing shook his head. "I haven't told him yet."

"So, what are you going to do?"

Nightwing shrugged. "What can I do, honestly? I'm going to talk to her, obviously. You know I broke with Batman a while ago - I'm going to make my own call. This is all his fault anyway."

"Well," Barbara began, her eyes fixed on something behind him. "Good luck. And since Morgan is here, I'm going to leave you two to talk things out."

Nightwing tensed and turned around, spotting Morgan standing at the end of the hall, still in her school uniform. She shuffled around a bit, rubbing her sneaker against her calf, her hand clasped around the leather strap of her school bag. Nightwing told himself to snap out of it. That was twice someone had managed to sneak up on him in the past five minutes. Was he losing his touch?

He felt Barbara place a comforting hand on his shoulder briefly before she walked away.

Morgan hiked her bag further up her shoulder and went into her room. She left the door open; an invitation.

Nightwing, intensely uncomfortable with this whole scenario, followed her inside, shutting her door quietly after them.

He stood by the door, watching quietly as she shuffled around her room, putting her school bag down next to her desk.

He hadn't been in her room since that one time they'd fought and he'd followed her in here.

She'd decorated the room since then. There was a desk in one corner, a bookshelf above it. It was mostly empty, but as he watched, she started pulling schoolbooks out of her bag and placing them on it.

Her bed had been moved into the other corner, the comforter no longer the standard white, but a flower pattern, with a small mountain of big, fluffy pillows scattered about. There was a nightstand next to it, a vase with fake roses on it.

The rooms in the Cave didn't have any windows, but Morgan had compensated for this with big posters of various landscapes.

The overall look of the room was much more feminine than he'd expected from her, and it left him wondering about the layers of this girl that he’d yet to peel back. She kept surprising him in new ways.

Morgan shrugged out of her black uniform jacket and hung it in her closet, and still Nightwing hadn't said a word.

She loosened her tie, sighing with relief, and pulled it over her head, and he watched with fascination as her curls bounced around before settling around her shoulders. She threw the tie onto her bed and faced him.

It was obvious that now he was supposed to talk.

So now he'd open his mouth and just.. talk.

After all, it wasn't that hard, was it?

He cleared his throat and Morgan rolled her eyes, deciding to put him out of his misery, apparently.

"You don’t need to explain anything; I know who you are, Dick Grayson.”

His stomach dropped, and undiscernable emotion rearing its head at hearing her call him by his real name.

Perhaps he had foolishly thought that she wouldn’t know who Dick Grayson was. But she was a Gotham native, and there wasn’t a single person in Gotham who didn’t know the name Bruce Wayne, and whatever Bruce did was frequently in the news or on the cover of tabloids. He’d lost count of how often Bruce’s name was trending online because of some new philanthropic endeavor. Inevitably, the spotlight constantly shining on Bruce would bounce off him and hit Dick as well.

As he’d gotten older, Dick had often found himself on the covers of teen magazines and tabloids. The first he remembered had been after a growth spurt when he was fourteen, and a magazine had named him “Gotham’s sexiest teen”.

The less said about that, the better. It still made him sick to his stomach.

“How does the adopted son of a billionaire end up a hero?” she wondered, grey eyes studying him sharply.

He sucked in his bottom lip, trying to figure out how much he really wanted to admit. She knew his name now, but that didn’t mean she had to know anything else. After all, he was back in his Nightwing suit now. He had the mask back on, and it offered him a measure of control.

But it was pointless, wasn’t it? If she wanted to know more about him, she could google him, and she’d know everything. With his luck, the first thing she’d stumble across would be pictures from the night his parents died. His greatest trauma serving as fodder for the enrapturement of the world.

Would he rather she heard about him from the source, or from some hack reporter online?

Neither – he wished it could’ve been neither.

“Should we.. go for a walk?” he asked haltingly. He didn’t want to do this at the cave. There were too many people with superhearing.

She blinked at him, her brows knitting in confusion.

“Sure,” she relented.

Morgan wondered what his game was. Had he asked her to go on a walk so he could snap her neck and throw her in some dumpster because she knew?

Finding out his secret identity had thrown her for a loop. For so long, he’d just been this annoying figure. He had no name, no life, no family – he was just Nightwing.

Now, she knew way more about him than even she felt that she needed to. She vividly remembered seeing him in magazines and on the news from time to time. She remembered girls from her high school giggling at his photos whenever he went to red carpet events or Wayne Galas.

And yeah, sure, he was hot. Or something.

Footsteps made her look up and she saw him enter the main room, now dressed in a regular pair of jeans and a dark grey shirt underneath his winter jacket. He had on a pair of dark sunglasses that hid his face as effectively as his mask.

Before her wasn’t a hero but.. simply a human.

It was disconcerting.

He inclined his head when he reached her, and she walked through the zeta tube, Nightwing – Dick – right behind her.

They headed down the streets, and once they’d entered the city proper, Mount Justice far behind them, he took off his sunglasses.

Morgan looked away quickly, resisting the urge to study his face. She could tell he was uncomfortable. Hell, so was she.

Throughout her day, she’d remembered more details about him. As Rachel had said, he used to be at a circus. She’d googled it, even if she felt dirty for doing so. His family had been world famous. Some of the best acrobats in the world. He was apparently the youngest person in the world to execute a quadruple summersault.

Then, his parents had died, and Bruce Wayne had taken him in – seemingly for no other reason than because he had been there to see it happen. Then, a year ago, he’d formerly adopted him.

He’d seen his parents die in front of him.. Morgan felt a deep throb in her chest at the thought.

“So..” she scrambled for words to come to her, to no avail. She realized he’d been studying her face.

“My parents are dead,” he said flatly. She jumped, feeling like he could read her mind. They both stopped walking.

“Uh-“

“I figured we might as well get that out of the way, so you can move past it.”

He sounded bitter, his jaw clenched, and she felt sympathy above all. She felt bad for discovering his secret identity – he clearly didn’t want to talk to her about this.

“I’m.. sorry about your parents,” she said in a soft voice, and she could tell that reaction surprised him.

He licked his bottom lip as he studied her thoughtfully. She resisted the urge to cringe beneath his sharp regard. Was he really so surprised that she was capable of uttering condolences?

She looked at her feet with a glare. She wasn’t heartless! Yes, he frequently annoyed her, but that didn’t mean she would be an asshole about his dead parents.

Morgan walked on. This walk had been a stupid idea. She didn’t want to know anything else. She was still trying to figure out how she even felt about him being the son – adopted or not – of a billionaire.

Still – Bruce Wayne was the better choice, out of all of them. At least he worked to make the city better. He was the only reason Gotham still had a functioning subway.

Nightwing reached her side and they walked in silence for a couple of blocks.

“I was.. angry after it happened. Vengeful,” he ventured. “Batman helped me channel it so I wouldn’t lose myself-“

“Stop,” she halted again, stuffing her hands deeply into her pockets.

He looked confused, but she shook her head quickly. She didn’t want to hear any of this. Not when it hadn’t been his choice that she knew.

“You don’t have to tell me any of this,” she told him sternly.

“You asked.“

“I was just wondering out loud!” she protested. “You’re a public figure – your life is already blasted across social media and the news. You don’t.. you don’t have to tell me anything you want to keep to yourself.”

A look of vulnerability she’d never thought the stern man capable of crossed his face. She thought desperately of something to break through whatever moment they were having. 

“Besides,” she shrugged. “You can’t let your fan club at school know any of this stuff. They’d just fall even more in love with you.”

“My fan club?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” she walked past him again and was pleased to know she’d intrigued him, because he quickly fell into step with her. “You’re apparently like ‘the best looking, single guy at school and because your adoptive dad is Bruce Wayne, you’re filthy rich’.”

She’d spoken in a high-pitched, valley-girl accent, hoping to distance the words leaving her mouth from herself, but she still felt her face grow hot at even indirectly paying him a compliment.

“Huh,” he said.

“Personally, I think you’re super overrated.” She gave him a dark, lopsided smirk, relieved when she saw a little smile tease at his mouth.

He huffed out a laugh.

“But at least you’re the one guy from your year that isn’t trying to seduce me, so, you know,” she wondered why she was even bringing it up, especially when she saw him look deeply uncomfortable, “bonus points for that.”

“I’m sorry that’s a thing,” he said sincerely. “I would’ve prepared you if I’d known. I don’t really.. do locker-room talk so I’m out of the loop on that stuff.”

She shrugged as she had done at school, taking care to appear unaffected.

“It’s a good thing I have combat training.”

“You should report it if anything actually happens. Sexual harassment isn’t okay.” He had a look on his face like he knew from personal experience, and Morgan decided not to ask.

“You’re not going to get in trouble with Batman, are you?” she wondered. “I’m not going to tell anyone, you know.”

"I'm undoubtedly going to get in trouble with Batman. But he enrolled you, so he's the one who's in trouble,” he answered. “And I know.”

He looked at her, and his blue eyes danced. She knew he trusted her, by the simple fact that he had unmasked himself willingly this time.

She nodded, satisfied.

January 7^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

So, when Nightwing had said that she wasn’t going on missions any time soon, he'd been pretty serious.

Morgan downed half a water bottle, her breath still uneven from the forty-five-minute run she'd been on. She sighed, satisfied with a job well done, and stretched her muscles. Once she was done, her breathing was back to normal, and her skin felt less sweaty and gross.

She stepped out of the gym and saw most of the other members of the Team, along with a few Leaguers, heading down the hall and towards the garage.

"Where are you guys going?" she asked, blushing when everyone turned their heads to look at her. She imagined she looked very small standing there alone in her work out clothes, compared to their entire group of tall, costume clad heroes.

Nightwing broke from the group and the others continued down the hall, disappearing around a corner.

"We're going on a mission. We found the remaining Kroloteans' hide out."

"Can I go?" she asked innocently, and cringed when he closed his eyes in annoyance, his shoulders tensing up.

"No."

"Aw, come on!" she groaned. "Everyone else is going!"

"Which is why we don't need more people. This could get dangerous-"

"Oh, because the underground lair with the army of Kroloteans and a bomb wasn't?"

"That was a mistake," Nightwing retaliated, infuriatingly calmly. "We already went over this. You shouldn’t have been allowed to go on that mission."

"Yeah, but I went, and guess what?" Morgan replied fiercely, "I got out alright! I managed to use my powers to successfully beat up a bunch of aliens and then help the others get the hostages out, and I didn't get hurt! I did well! You just won't admit that because you're so paranoid!"

“You’re not going on this mission or any other mission until I say so!" Nightwing exploded, his loud voice ringing across the empty hall.

Morgan jumped a step back, taken aback by the loudness of his voice. He never yelled at her. He always spoke in that controlled Spock-like way of his, using logic rather than anger. "I’m your mentor, and I make the calls! And you’re not ready. The fact that you keep fighting me so much over this just proves that you’re too immature and unprepared to go out in the field!"

Morgan didn't respond. She didn’t want to admit that his words had struck a nerve – but she had to admit he was right. She was being immature.  

He stalked down the hall but then halted, taking in a deep breath.

Her mentor stood with his side to her, and she could see as he sighed and reeled in his anger. His stance with stiff his hands clenched by his sides, his jaw tense.

"If you really feel so strongly about this, go visit the lowest level of the Cave. The grotto"

And then he left.

Morgan looked after him, watching as his long legs led him down the hall and around the corner in only a few strides, his back ramrod straight and his shoulder tense with anger.

She had no idea what was in the lowest level of the Cave, but the way he'd said it made her feel a chill run up and down her back and she got the feeling she didn't really want to know what was down there.

Normally, she'd go and watch the other heroes take off, but she didn't this time. There were too many Leaguers there to make her feel comfortable, and she got the feeling a lot of the superheroes had heard her and Nightwing's argument, which made her feel embarrassed.

Instead, she shook her head and walked to her room. Morgan didn't bother to change out of her training clothes. She'd be going to bed soon anyway. Thanks to someone she had school tomorrow.

After tying her hair into a ponytail – it was more of a giant fluff-ball at the back of her head, really – she sat down on her bed and crossed her arms over her chest with a small scowl on her face, determined to not go down to the lowest level of the Cave. The desire to spite Nightwing was an almost constant with her and it was all the more potent now that she was angry with him.

And yet..

Curiosity nibbled at her resolve.

She shook her head stubbornly and wrapped her arms tighter around each other.

A few minutes later, she sighed loudly and deflated, reaching a hand up to rub at her tired face with her palm.

"Damn you."

Morgan sat up further on her bed, planting her feet on the floor, and sighing again. Placing her hands on the bed, she hesitated for a moment before pushing herself up.

The winged girl made her way to the lowest part of the Cave, as slowly as possible in hopes of somehow conquering her curiosity before she got there. The Cave was eerily quiet and empty. With most team members on this new very, very dangerous mission and the others at their own homes, Morgan was alone. The halls seemed longer and darker somehow, less friendly.

It was all in her head, obviously, but she still couldn't shake that uneasiness.

With a start, as she rounded a corner and found the door to the staircase that led down to the grotto, Morgan realized that the uneasiness stemmed from a strange sense of foreboding. She didn't know what she'd find down there, but whatever it was, it made her nervous.

She stood in front of the door, looking at it for an extended moment. She knew that she had to go down there, so, shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she grasped the handle and pulled the door open.

The tight feeling in her chest grew, but she told herself that she was being stupid. Nightwing had advised her to go, so there couldn't be anything dangerous down here. She had no reason to worry.

As she slowly stepped down the stairs, she got a gradually better view of the place. It was, indeed, an actual grotto with an underground lake. The lake made the air cold and clammy, and she could hear water drip from the ceiling and into the pool. The walls were rough and looked like they had been formed naturally, unlike the rest of the Cave.

The grotto was dark, only illuminated by what Morgan realized were three holographic statues of superheroes. Two, she didn’t recognize.

One, she did.

Frowning, she stepped closer, her brain whirring as she wondered why Nightwing would send her down here.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she realized that whatever horror her subconscious had cooked up, whatever thing she’d speculated she would find – this was much, much worse.

They were memorials.

One was of a grown man, clad in a blue suit that looked like an outdated version of Blue Beetle's. She assumed he must’ve been the original Beetle, though she hadn’t known until then that Jaime wasn’t the first. There was a red-headed girl in a blue skirt and yellow tank-top, and Morgan recognized as Atlantean, though she had no idea who the girl was.

Morgan stood with her back to the last one, the one she'd been ignoring since the moment she’d set her eyes on it.

Eventually, she forced herself to turn around and face it.

It was Robin. The red, yellow and black suit with the small 'R' on the chest unmistakable. His mask looked like Nightwing’s only less pointy, his hair the same midnight black. Morgan silently wondered with he had the same eyes as Nightwing too.

She still didn’t know what Nightwing’s connection was to Batman, but she assumed he must’ve known this Robin. She could see it wasn’t the first Robin, but the second one. The one that had only been active shortly.

She supposed she knew why, now.

She felt another pang of sympathy towards her usually unsympathetic mentor. It was the same rush of sympathy as when she'd found out that he was an orphan. As she looked at the blue-tinted holographic statue, she got the feeling that Nightwing hadn't just lost a team-member with this Robin, but also a friend, maybe even a brother.

She understood now why he'd had sent her down here.

Some part of her, the part that remembered being a little excited girl hearing about the fabled Batman on the news, had childishly thought that none of the heroes ever died. It was a stupid notion, of course, and she knew this, but she'd always imagined that no matter the situation, they always managed to find a way out. She had thought they were invincible, and surely, she'd be invincible too now that she was part of the Team?

It was that part of her that urged her to keep bugging Nightwing about missions, because why should she be worried when none of them ever died? Why was he so worried when, obviously, she'd be fine at the end of the day?

Morgan now knew just how wrong she was.

They weren't invincible and powerful gods, they were teenagers. They were living, breathing beings, and as such, they could bleed. They could be killed.

Morgan understood that he wasn't forcing her to stay because he wanted to annoy her or hold her back. He was doing it to make sure she didn't die like these three had.

The reality of the statues, and her situation suddenly dawned on her. A shudder ran through her, and Morgan suddenly felt like the underground grotto was crushing her, the air suffocating.

Finding a sudden burst of energy, she bolted up the stairs and slammed the door behind her. Her breathing was ragged, and she leaned against the door in relief, her head hitting the steel roughly, making her wince. As she opened her eyes and looked down the hall, it felt even creepier than when she'd been walking down it to get to the grotto.

Morgan didn't believe in ghosts, but she believed in them just a little bit more than usual at that moment.

Breathing in deeply, she pushed herself off the door and marched down the hall, thinking that if she pretended to be brave, she'd feel it.

She hid herself away in her room, skipping dinner even though she still was under orders from Batman and Nightwing to not to.

The Cave was full of ghosts.

The Bioship was thick with silence as Nightwing, Batman, Batgirl and Robin sat quietly at their respective stations. In the back, Lagoon Boy and Aquaman stood, carrying a whispered conversation between them in a language Nightwing didn't understand. Batman was obviously waiting with the briefing until they got closer to their destination.

Nightwing figured this would be just as good a time as any to spring the news on him. At least here, with the two Atlanteans in the back, Nightwing could be sure that the talk wouldn't escalate into a fight.

"So, today was Morgan's first day of school." He began conversationally, not missing how the three bats – well, technically two bats and one bird – automatically tensed up as he broke the silence.

There was an uncertain silence as everyone waited for Batman to say something. He was obviously weighing his response, but eventually he said, in his usual monotone, "I trust it wasn't too unpleasant for her."

Nightwing shrugged and, glancing behind him briefly, he found Lagoon Boy and Aquaman still engrossed in their own conversation. Satisfied that they weren't paying attention, Nightwing leaned a fraction towards the others, speaking in a hushed voice.

"Oh yes, she already made a friend and everything. Apparently, she already knew Dick Grayson from somewhere else."

Batman’s shoulders evened out into a straight, tense line, and Nightwing could tell he was fighting the urge to turn around and meet his steely gaze. Next to Batman, Robin's mouth opened in shock, and his eyes widened as he turned and looked at Nightwing. Batgirl was fighting a small smile.

"She was very surprised to see him.” Nightwing went on, his conversational tone growing terser as he went on. There was a certain steel in his tone that he'd picked up from growing up with Bruce as a guardian.

"Well, let’s hope this revelation might change their relationship for the better.”

Nightwing shot back in his seat in surprise at Batman's response, his brow tightening in confusion.

His cryptic words were easy enough to understand. Batman had suggested that Morgan's newfound knowledge of Nightwing's secret identity would help them get rid of the hostility between them and strengthen their strained relationship.

For a second, Nightwing contemplated whether Batman had offered her that scholarship with this exact purpose in mind. He quickly dismissed the crazy thought, as he knew Batman would never compromise their secret identities for something so trivial.

No, Nightwing rather chalked it up to Batman trying to turn the unfortunate incident into something useful now that it couldn't be changed. Perhaps, he was also trying to save face a little - like this totally wasn't his fault.

"And maybe Dick will just have to invite her home to meet the entire family," Nightwing responded sharply – it was an empty threat of course, he'd never reveal the others' identities just to spite Batman – "Since anonymity apparently isn’t important anymore."

Batman fixed him with a sideways glance, but other than that, he didn't show any outwards reaction to Nightwing's empty threat.

By now, Nightwing knew Batman well enough to know that the conversation was over, so, sitting up straight in his seat, he focused on flying instead. He was loath to admit that he hadn’t won that one, despite his best efforts.

Behind him, Aquaman and Lagoon Boy were still talking.

It was well past midnight when she heard footsteps in the hall outside her room. Morgan been halfway asleep, so her heart jumped into her throat with surprise and slight fear, until she recognized M'gann's voice, muffled behind the closed door. She realized that the Team must've been back. Pushing her biology textbook off her lap, she slipped out of bed and headed for the closed bedroom door.

She'd attempted to stay awake by doing homework but had somehow managed to doze off. Morgan didn't normally stay up late to wait for the others to get back, but her newfound extreme awareness of her – and their – mortality had made her uneasy and terrified that one of them wouldn't come back. The mission had to be dangerous when so many of them had went, with the added aid from the League.

So, knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she heard from someone that everyone was okay, Morgan grasped the door handle and opened the door, stepping into the corridor. There wasn’t anyone there, but there was light around the corner, and lowered voices.

Morgan walked into the kitchen and found M'gann, Connor, Robin, Batgirl and Nightwing. They were talking seriously, their brows furrowed and bodies tense.

"Guys?" Morgan asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes against the too bright, fluorescent kitchen-light after the darkness of the hall and her room. "Is everything alright?" She silently prayed that nobody was hurt, and that the serious atmosphere was just because everyone was a bit high-strung after the mission.

The conversation stopped and the five superheroes turned their heads towards her.

Under their gazes, Morgan was suddenly aware that she was dressed in blue pajama pants that were too large for her and covered her feet, and a spaghetti-strapped white top that stopped about an inch above where her pants started. Her hair was a mess after the way she'd roamed around in her bed all night, her wings were ruffled too, and her eyes were puffy from being so tired she’d dozed off.

"Morgan," M'gann spoke first, her voice layered with a cheeriness that didn't match the serious tone she'd used a moment before. "Why are you still up?"

Morgan wiggled her bare toes against the cold kitchen floor and clasped her hands loosely in front of her. She shrugged and looked at her feet.  

"I couldn't sleep. I was worried,” she said, looking back up.

Nightwing's eyes widened a fraction. It was almost unnoticeable, but Morgan caught it and she knew he understood that she'd been to the grotto.

She cleared her throat and stood up straighter.

"I mean, it was a pretty big team, with the help of several Leaguers, so I assumed it was a dangerous mission. I wanted to stay up to find out sooner how everything went." Morgan explained, hating the weakness she’d perceived in her own voice when she’d admitted her worry. "So, how did it go?"

"Everyone’s okay," Nightwing spoke up. The others had waited for him to speak because, since he was her mentor, they apparently figured he was the one responsible for giving Morgan information. Morgan rolled her eyes. This meant that they wouldn't tell her more than Nightwing did, and he always told her as little as possible. "That's all you need to know right now. You should go to bed. You have school tomorrow."

Morgan frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her hip out to the side.

"So do you." She pointed out smugly. She enjoyed that she had something on him now.

Nightwing's frown deepened a tad, but other than that he didn't have much of a reaction. "I'll explain everything tomorrow," he promised. "But only if you go to bed now."

She sighed and dropped her arms to her sides, running a hand through her curls. Untangling the hand and wondering why she even bothered trying to run a hand through her blonde mane when she knew it would just get stuck, Morgan shifted on her feet but turned slightly towards the doorway from which she'd come.

"Okay, fine, dad,” she bit out sarcastically. “But you have to explain everything."

She turned and marched back down the hall, feeling her stomach churn at being dismissed. But she shouldn’t have been surprised – after all, she wasn’t really part of the Team, was she?

The remaining young heroes waited until they heard Morgan's bedroom door close before they spoke again.

"You guys seem to be getting along better." M'gann said. Connor looked from M'gann and fixed Nightwing with his usual serious look.

Nightwing shrugged.

"We found some common ground,” he explained vaguely, wanting to move on from the topic as soon as possible so they could finish their discussion about the mission and the intel M'gann had gained.

Robin and Batgirl shared a small knowing smirk before Robin turned back to Nightwing.

"And what was that common ground?" he asked, an unrealistic amount of irritating smugness in just that small sentence.

"None of your business," Nightwing snapped quickly – too quickly.

M'gann stepped up and placed a calming hand on his shoulders.

"Nightwing and Morgan's relationship is none of our business," she interjected calmly. Nightwing rued her choice of words when Robin and Batgirl snickered and shared another look.

"Can we get this over with?" Connor spoke up, his voice tired, and Nightwing could have kissed him for the change of subject. "I want to get home and check up on Superman."

Everyone sobered at the reminder of the hurt Leaguer, and the subject of Nightwing and Morgan’s relationship was dropped. They finished their discussion a moment later.

He waited until he was sure everyone was gone before silently walking down the dark corridor until he reached Morgan's door. As he approached, he eyed the hole in the wall opposite the door, a hole he now knew had been made by Morgan.

Nightwing knocked on her door quietly, knowing that she was still awake.

A moment later, the door opened, and Morgan peeked out. Seeing it was him, she opened the door further to let him in.

From the silence and the tense line of her shoulders, Nightwing could tell she was annoyed with him. He’d been her mentor for long enough that he'd learned to pick up on those signs, mainly because she always seemed to be annoyed with him. She allowed him to enter and shut the door behind him as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"What the hell?" She asked.

Nightwing simply stared, waiting patiently for her to elaborate.

She paced a small circle in her room and her wings fluttered in annoyance. She stopped and looked at him again.

"You can't just spring that kind of shit on people without any warning first!" she exclaimed, and Nightwing figured she was talking about the memorials in the grotto. Just thinking about them made his heart clench a certain way.

"I figured they'd make an impression," he admitted. "An impression you sorely needed."

Morgan spluttered in indignation and then paused, tiredly covering her eyes with a hand.

"An impression I-?" She sighed and stood up straight, taking in a deep breath through her nose as she seemed to reel in her anger. "I'm going to bed. And you're going to leave. I'll see you tomorrow."

Nightwing inclined his head. So much for common ground.

"I'll see you after dinner," he agreed coolly, letting her know he wouldn't be there for their usual afternoon training. Usually, he wouldn't slack like that, but Nightwing was too tired, weary to the bone, and he knew he needed the extra few hours of sleep. Besides, he didn't have any responsibilities tomorrow, and he wanted to exploit the opportunity to sleep in late.

Morgan nodded and Nightwing left her room.

Her reaction irked him, but if Nightwing was good at one thing, it was keeping on a cool mask. He understood that the memorials must've been an unpleasant surprise, but he had hoped that her reaction would've been less hostile towards him and instead more understanding of his actions when it came to her protection.

As he approached the main room, Nightwing reminded himself that Morgan was an enigma that he had yet to understand.

He punched in the code for the Zeta tube closest to his own apartment and stepped through, disappearing with a flash of yellow light.

Once he arrived on the other side, he stood in a small underground room, the echo of the robotic female voice announcing his arrival still in the room. This was one of the least visited secret 'lairs' of the League, usually only used by him. He slipped out of the suit and into a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and a cap, stuffing his suit into a sports bag.

Stepping out of the secret room, he closed the door – which was disguised as a telephone booth – he hefted the bag further up his shoulder with a small shrug and breathed in the night air before beginning the trek home. He was only a few minutes away, so he walked slowly to enjoy the quiet night.

These quiet moments were too few and far in between, he noted with regret when he arrived at his door, digging out his key.

Once more one of those chapters with a bunch of shorter scenes but they're all connected so I guess I can live with it. 

Anyway.. bonding? I feel like with these two, its always two steps forward and one step back. 

Sometimes when I rewrite these scenes, I struggle to keep the hostility between them going - I'm used to writing them at a whole other place because I'm still working on the sequel. So the scene where they're out walking was actually much longer, but I realized he was opening up too much, too early in the story. So I've moved it to a later part of the story where it makes more sense to have it.

Chapter Text

January 8^th

Gotham University

Morgan

Morgan groaned loudly, smacking her head theatrically against the mahogany table beneath her with a loud thud. Next to her, Esmeralda sported a look of confusion and Rachel snickered.

The table was surprisingly sturdy, and Morgan sat up, rubbing at her forehead.

"Ow."

Rachel laughed louder, leaning back and sipping from her coffee.

"What do you mean the school's 'winter ball' is in two weeks' time?" Morgan said, leveling a stiff look at Esmeralda. “Isn’t that stuff usually at Christmas.”

The two girls have dragged her to the Michelin restaurant, though Morgan would’ve preferred the food court. Then again, when would she have the chance to try Michelin food, without having to pay for it? The restaurant was less bright and open than the foodcourt, dominated by heavily draped curtains and a bloodred rug. The tables were all made from expensive dark mahogany, the chairs plush and big. Small islands of huge, fluffy couches and coffee tables were spread around the edges of the enormous, cozily lit room.

Esmeralda, eager to explain anything to the confused new girl, launched into an explanation.

"That was the Christmas gala! We have both,” she said, smiling brightly, her lips shiny with her perfect lip gloss. “You’ll have to get used to it – there’s a lot of social events. The winter ball is really just a birthday party for our principal.”

Rachel nodded and took over, setting down her coffee.

"The students usually come together to raise money for a gift during December, which we then present to her at the ball." Her mouth drew into an unimpressed line, and she tugged on one of her braids. "This year people were kinda cheap. She's only getting a Ferrari."

Morgan blinked at her in disbelief.

"Only a Ferrari?" she bit out.

"Yeah," Esmeralda sighed sympathetically. "Compared to the beach house she got last year, that'll be a real letdown."

Morgan turned her head mechanically, so her eyes were hidden behind her hair before rolling them. She swallowed dryly, feeling her insides freeze with fury.

Morgan had had to watch her mother accept every single extra shift she could at work, had to watch her slowly lose most of her friends because she didn't have time for them, had to see the way her mother's shoulders sagged in exhaustion whenever she thought Morgan wasn't watching, all because she needed to provide her small family with enough money to get by.

Morgan had had to spend Christmases alone because her mother was working, had to smile gratefully at the minimum of presents she would get, had to pretend that she'd forgotten her own birthday so her mother wouldn't feel bad for having forgotten too because she was too busy making sure they were fed.

And these people got their principal a Ferrari for her birthday.

Morgan looked down at the carpet beneath her feet, wondering how much it cost. How many months of rent could be bought with it.

"Excuse me," Morgan stood up, pulling her shoulder bag with her, feeling like she'd hit someone if she didn't leave now. "Gotta use the bathroom."

There was rage boiling like lava in her stomach as she ran from the lavish room. She bumped into several people, but she didn't register who, nor did she apologize. The ringing in her ears prevented her from hearing any of the angry words they directed at her as she swept by. Once Morgan left the cafeteria, she started running. She ran to get that itch out of her limbs, ran to get the burning sensation out of her throat and stomach. Ran to escape the school.

She wanted her mom. She wanted to go home.

It was snowing outside when she pushed the huge oaken doors apart, stumbling outside. Her breathing was broken and irregular as she hurried down the stairs, slipping on the slick snow. She ran down the sidewalk and into a small alley right next to the University.

As soon as she turned the corner and found herself in the small alley, she skid to a halt, nearly toppling over from how fast she’d braked. She immediately wanted to get out again.

An old man sat, shivering in the cold, against the wall as he tried to shield himself from the snow. Next to him lay an old Labrador, which he slowly petted. He had looked up when Morgan skidded around the corner, but now his eyes were downcast again.

He was homeless. It was as plain as day.

Her heart clenched painfully.

She paused before she approached him.

"This seat taken?" she asked, pointing at the wall next to him.

He looked at her with a pair of sharp, intelligent, brown eyes before he shook his head.

Morgan leaned against the wall and slid down it until her butt touched the cold ground. She shivered in her school uniform. The black skirt, flimsy white shirt and knee-length socks didn't do much to keep the cold out.

Morgan looked at the Labrador who met her gaze with sad, puppy eyes. "Can I pet him?"

"Go ahead," the old man replied with a gravely and used voice.

Morgan reached forward and stroked the dog's head and down its back.

There was a pause between the two of them as Morgan kept petting the dog. Her thoughts started to calm, though the knot of anger in her stomach didn’t go away.

"What's a girl like you doing outside in weather like this, if ya don't mind my asking?" the old man asked, eyeing her school uniform. He could see she was from Gotham University because of the crest embroidered onto the breast pocket of her shirt.

Morgan shrugged and leaned her head against the wall, shivering when snowflakes hit her face.

"I couldn't spend another second surrounded by people so removed from reality.”

The old man dug into the front pocket on his dirty shirt and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and stuck it between his teeth before offering Morgan. She declined, though she was touched by the fact that he was offering her something. She could see the confusion on his face at her earlier statement, hidden behind his grey beard and deep wrinkles.

"I got in on a scholarship. Don't really own a penny other than those I get in charity." she elaborated, thinking of the credit card Nightwing had given her. Did that card have Wayne money on it? She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “I hate it.”

"Then why don't you leave?" 

Moran shrugged again, smiling ruefully.

"When you're lucky enough to get enrolled in a place like that, you don't question it. You know how it is.”

The old man nodded and took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke out through his nose.

"Sorry to hear that. Don't sound easy."

Morgan snorted out a chuckle. She scratched the old dog behind its ear and its tail wagged happily with the attention she was giving it.

“Sorry for coming out here and complaining to you.”  

The old man looked at her, and she felt like he stared through her soul.

“Didn’t have anything else planned,” he said, shrugging heavily.

"Do you have the time?”

The old man rolled his sleeve up to reveal a scratched-up watch.

"Quarter past twelve."

"I have to get to class,” Morgan groaned.

A gust of icy wind blew through the alley, and she shivered violently, wrapping her arms around herself.

She stood up after giving the dog one last pet.

"Thanks.. for listening."

The old man shrugged and pulled the butt of the cigarette out of his mouth, snuffing it out in the snow.

"Anytime, doll."

Opening her backpack, Morgan pulled out the black sweatshirt that had come with the school uniform. She emptied all her pockets for spare change and fished out an apple and a sandwich and gave the old man all the items.

She wouldn't miss the sweatshirt. She could always order a new one.

“Are you going to be here tomorrow?”

The old man put out his cigarette against the pavement.

“Depends,” he said. “If the school doesn’t chase me away.”

“Well, if you are, I’ll bring you some lunch.”

She quickly left the alley once more, marching towards the school. Halting in front of the ornate stairs, she looked up at the tall, immaculately designed building. Her heart felt like lead in her chest, but she took a deep breath past it and went back inside.

Morgan was drenched in sweat and her muscles and joints were aching, but she kept attacking the punching bag with all she had. She was so angry. She'd had to clench her jaw and put a mental bind on herself all day and now that she was back at the Cave and alone in the gym, she wasn't going to hold back anymore.

Grunting, she punched the bag, Esmeralda and Rachel's words ringing in her ears. She's only getting a Ferrari.

Scowling, she took a step back and aimed a kick to the side of the bag before jumping forward to punch it once more.

"Only. A. Ferrari." She punctuated each word with a hit.

She closed her eyes briefly and saw the old man in front of her. It made her even angrier, and, seeing red, Morgan let out a feral growl as she kicked the punching bag as hard as she could. She must've accidentally put some of her powers behind the kick because the punching bag flew roughly to the side and the rope holding it in place snapped. The punching bag fell to the floor with a loud thud that rung through the empty gym, and she stood above it, breathing heavily.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Morgan flinched and closed her eyes when she heard Nightwing’s voice, stuck somewhere between surprise and disapproval. Looking up, she spotted him by the door. She's been expecting him for at least ten minutes now, knowing that they had some things to talk about after what had happened yesterday.

She's tried to avoid thinking too much about it all day, but it had still taken up a lot of space.

"I'm training," she replied shortly. She looked at the bag on the ground, nudging it slightly with her foot. "Sorry about the punching bag."

"It can be replaced," he graciously decided. His masked eyes turned to her next, and he cocked his head slightly to the side. "Are you okay?"

Morgan wanted to respond with something to the tune of telling him to butt out of her business, but instead she sighed and sat down on the punching bag. Honestly, she was too tired and wound up to have too much of an attitude right now. Placing her head in her hands, she sighed.

"I hate rich people,” she mumbled from behind her hands.

"Thanks."

"You know what I mean. The spoiled kids at GU."

"Still thanks," Nightwing replied dryly.

She rolled her eyes and looked up at him with a glare. He seemed to get the hint; she wasn’t in the mood for his jokes.

Nightwing hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to her on the punching bag.

"What happened?"

And before Morgan could stop herself, remind her that this was Nightwing and she barely got along with him on a good day, and he was probably the last person she'd consider when talking about these kinds of things, she found herself spilling her heart out to him.

In what felt like a single breath, she told him about the winter ball and the stupid Ferrari, and how she’d run out of there. She told him about the old man and how sweet he’d been despite having nothing.

“I just.. I wish there was something I could do,” she almost gasped the words out, feeling tears well in her eyes. She stubbornly blinked them away before he could notice. “But I don’t have money. So, what am I supposed to do? How can I help when I have nothing? How do I go on when I feel like nothing I’ll ever do could be enough?”

There was a long pause after her frantic speech and Morgan felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. She'd just had the worst case of word vomit ever and admitted things she hadn't even properly admitted to herself yet.

In front of Nightwing!

.. Nightwing!

Eventually, he cleared his throat and got up, holding his hand out to her.

“Congrats,” he said, and she craned her neck to look up at him, finding that he was wearing a crooked smile. “You just had the experience that every hero has had at some point.”

She accepted his hand and let him pull her up. She looked at him with question, waiting for him to elaborate.

Nightwing took out his grapplehook and shot it at the beam that had supported the punching bag.

“All of us, at some point, experienced something that made us want to make the world a better place.”

With ease, he pulled up the three-hundred pound punching bag, tying the end of his grapple hook to the clasp on the punching bag.

 “And I know this probably isn’t helpful – but I know how you feel. I grew up in a circus. Then, I was taken in by Bruce and I was thrown into this new world of the upper-class, and I was just as outraged by the greed.”

“How did you make peace with it?” Morgan watched him intensely, intrigued by this new side of her mentor. Nightwing rarely opened up to her, so when he did, she made sure to listen extra carefully.

He hoisted the bag up off the floor once more, and stepped back, looking it over. Then, he sunk into a fighting stance and aimed a swift, strong kick at it, to check the line’s strength. The bag shook, but it didn’t fly off.

“I became a hero. And I had something I could place that need to change the world into.” He stood up straight once more and turned to look at her. “I use Nightwing to make the world a safer, better place. To save lives and bring people to justice."

She bit into her bottom lip and nodded slowly. She was starting to get it – starting to truly realize what this was all for. It wasn’t about the adrenalin or about trying to prove herself. It was about people like the abductees she’d saved from the Kroloteans.

“Now, show me your form. I could tell you were twisting weirdly on your feet when you kicked, and that might cause problems for your ancles in the long run.”

She approached the punching bag and sunk into the stance he’d taught her. Nightwing came up to her and held on to her shoulders so he could adjusted her feet with his own.

“Keep an eye on the orientation of your feet. You don’t want to twist inwards – its bad for your joints and your balance.”

He was so focused on his advice and fixing her posture, Morgan was unsure if he even realized how closely he stood. She could feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne, and her breath got stuck in her throat for a second.   

“Okay, try again,” he said, stepping back. She released the breath she’d been holding and focused on her target. Her muscles tensed, and then she kicked at the bag with all her strength. The hit landed with a dull thud, and she lowered her leg, sinking back into her starting position.

“Better,” he encouraged, though he got into a crouch in front of her and adjusted her feet once more. “You still have a bit of an angle. Hold on.” His hands traveled along the back of her shin, and she assumed he was feeling around for any tension, but she still felt a blush rush to her face at the touch. He grabbed her knee and pushed it an inch to the side, widening her stance.

She subtly shook her head, trying to clear her mind. This wasn’t weird – she’d just never had a guy touch her in any significant way. It was only natural that she –

He got up, towering over her, and grabbed onto her hips, twisting her slightly to the side. Her skin tingled everywhere he’d touched.

Good lord.

Morgan cleared her throat awkwardly and kept her eyes on the punching bag.

“Try again,” he said, and she was unsure if her imagination had run off with her, or if his voice was slightly lower than usual.

She focused on the bag once more, terrified that he would realize how affected she’d momentarily been from his touch.

This was Nightwing. She had to pull herself together. It wasn’t some random guy; it was her pain-in-the-ass mentor.

She kicked the bag and turned to him with a carefully blank face.

He nodded, satisfied. “Make sure to keep that twist in your hip – it’ll take the pressure off your knees and ancles. Now, let’s spar. Focus on your kicks.”

She gave him a lopsided smile, feeling the flush finally start to settle down. Then, he came at her and they were locked in their usual dance.

Half an hour and a lot of sweat, pain and falling later, Morgan spoke up.

"I get it, by the way," she ducked to avoid an attack from Nightwing and rolled away, ending up in a crouched position a few paces away. "Why you sent me down to the grotto. And I'm sorry for being such a bitch about it."

Morgan flapped her wings, using the boost to jump high in the air and land behind her mentor. Nightwing turned around and came at her again. His attacks were slow, letting her focus on her stance between each hit.  

"I probably should've told you what was down there before telling you to go. But I was angry and on a tight schedule.." he admitted, having the good grace to look sheepish about it.

Morgan jumped backwards several paces and blocked a jab aimed at her side. She grunted when he got in a hit on her other side because she'd left it open. He was always quick to punish any opening, and it was quickly teaching her to never leave any. She assumed that was the point.

"It was probably for the best. I guess I needed to accept that heroes aren't invincible – well.. Not all of us."

"Glad to be of service."

"And I'm sorry."

"You said that already."

Morgan leapt forward in an attempt to catch him by surprise but instead she found herself locked in his annoyingly strong grip and she struggled to get loose. She tried to throw him over her shoulder, but he dragged her down with him and pinned her to the floor beneath him.

"That's not what I meant," she placed both hands on his chest and pushed, and Nightwing let go, not because she forced him to, Morgan figured, but because he knew the fight was stuck until he did. She sucked in a small breath of relief when his weight left her, and she was unsure if her face was red from exertion or because she’d been lying beneath him.

She got up and looked at him, letting him come to her instead of her attacking him. he jumped towards her, and she leapt to the side, aiming a punch at him, which he blocked easily.

"I meant I'm sorry about Robin.. I had no idea he’d died. I know that wouldn’t have been easy."

Nightwing halted in his steps and before Morgan could stop, she'd kicked him in the stomach. He let out a grunt of surprise.

"Sorry!" she squeaked and took a step back, unsure why she was apologizing for finally getting a single kick past his defenses.

"It's fine," he reassured her, his jaw clenched tight. "But let's call it a day."

Morgan nodded and wiped at her sweaty forehead.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said shortly, heading for the exit.

Morgan flinched and, because apparently the newest trend was telling Nightwing anything and everything she felt, she called after him.

"I'm sorry for bringing him up! I didn't mean to overstep."

Morgan had lost count of how many times she'd said 'sorry' since their conversation started. What was up with her today?

He paused with his back to her.

"You didn't." he eventually assured her, looking at her over his shoulder. "I just don't like to talk about it."

Morgan didn't stop him again when he started walking, leaving the gym. She'd never seen him flee a situation like that – he was the enduring type. It made her realize it must’ve been a very sore subject.

Nightwing left the gym, leaving behind a very tense girl that regretted bringing up the subject of her mentor's dead friend.

Morgan groaned and rolled her eyes. Her and her big mouth. They'd almost made a bit of progress, but now she'd ruined it. He’d opened up to her a little bit, and every time he did, she found herself endlessly intrigued by her mentor. It made her want to learn more.

January 13^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

"We need to do something fun for once," M'gann announced, marching into the room with great conviction.

Morgan, Connor, Garfield and Cassie were sitting in the living room, each of them in various stages of boredom. Connor stood behind the couch with the usual glare on his face as he watched the news on their large TV, occasionally peeling his eyes away to watch in amazed disgust as Garfield loudly and messily consumed two bags of chips, a liter of coke, and a bar of chocolate.

The green-skinned boy's excuse was that he was having a growth spurt and needed the calories.

Cassie took up the entire couch as she lay on her back, reading a magazine, and her sprawled out position was the reason Connor chose to stand. There simply wasn't enough space on the couch for both of them.

Morgan was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, her back leaning against it, picking at a loose thread on the rug while halfheartedly paying attention to the TV.

That's how M'gann found the four of them. It was late Sunday afternoon and not a single member of the team had gone on a mission. The entire world had decided to be boring that day. Most of the others had gone home already, but Cassie had chosen to stay because she was waiting for Wonder Woman. Something about extra training – Morgan honestly wasn't sure what she'd said because she hadn't really been listening.

M'gann, upon entering the room and receiving not a single greeting from any of the four, had sighed, placed her hands on her hips in a motherly fashion, and declared that they needed to do something.

Garfield paused mid-chew and faced her.

Swallowing loudly, he asked, "Like what?"

"I don't know.. Something fun."

Morgan snorted. "You guys could always help me do my homework?"

"No thank you." Cassie's voice was slow with boredom, and she didn't blink or divert her gaze as she kept reading her magazine.

Connor uncrossed his arms but other than that, he didn't offer any input to their conversation.

"But you're right." Morgan agreed. "If I get any more bored, I'm afraid my face is gonna go so slack, it'll fall clean of my head."

"That'd be fun," Garfield helpfully remarked. "I mean, I'd be entertained for the rest of the evening."

"We could go spar?" M'gann suggested, walking further into the room, and sitting down on the edge of the couch, causing Cassie to bend her legs to allow the alien room. "Everyone against everyone?"

"As the only regular human, I find that idea stupid and dangerous," Morgan replied, leaning her head backwards against the couch so she could see M'gann upside-down.

"You have wings and telekinesis," M'gann pointed out. "That’s not regular."

"As the only one with little-to-no fighting experience, I find that idea stupid and dangerous," Morgan amended.

Connor rolled his eyes and finally moved, though it was only to grab the remote and turn up the sound on the TV.

"I'm trying to watch here," he complained.

"Okay, so no fighting." M'gann decided, wracking her brain for something else to do. "What about going outside? We could make a campfire and roast marshmallows?"

Garfield looked eager at the thought of smores, and Morgan almost felt bad for pointing out the flaw in M'gann's suggestion.

"Aren't you, like, allergic to fire or something?"

"Not if I stay at a safe distance," M'gann said.

"Even so, the snowstorm going on outside does kind of ruin the otherwise undoubtedly cozy idea," Morgan added.

"It's not a snowstorm..”

Everyone fell silent as the news anchor conveniently advised the residents in Happy Harbor to stay inside as the weather had developed into a storm.

Cassie snickered behind her magazine and one corner of Connor's mouth tilted upwards.

"So how about a game?" Cassie suddenly suggested, putting aside her magazine, and sitting up. "There's monopoly lying around somewhere in the Cave."

"That's not a bad idea," Morgan agreed. "If we can find it."

"I thought Nightwing confiscated it after the last time we played?" Garfield wondered as he munched on another mouthful of chips.

This sounded like an interesting story, Morgan decided.

"What happened?"

Garfield grimaced, M'gann laughed nervously and scratched the back of her neck. Even Connor cringed slightly.

"You don't want to know," the three said in perfect synchronization.

Morgan shifted so she was facing the others.

"Well, now I really want to know."

Garfield hopped nimbly off his perch on the couch's armrest. "Think of how a normal game of monopoly usually ends and then imagine it when it's a bunch of superpowered kids playing instead."

Morgan grimaced as she saw the image in her mind.

"Okay," she let it go. "So no monopoly. How about a card game?"

"Can't," Cassie stood up. "Wonder Woman's here."

Morgan was about so ask how she knew but then remembered that the girl had all sorts of powers, super hearing probably included.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow!" she greeted cheerily and then left.

Morgan sighed.

"I guess I'd better do my homework anyway.." she grumbled, standing. "I used to have all the time in the world to do my homework and now I feel like I never have the time to get any of it done."

It sounded like complaining, but it really wasn't. The reason Morgan didn't seem to have time for any homework was because she was doing something much more important. Spending time with friends and training to help protect the world someday. Surely that was more important than math equations and biology reports.

Morgan barricaded herself in her room for the rest of the night to focus on her schoolwork. The hours stretched on and in her solitude, she almost felt like she was back with her mom again, like the last few months hadn't happened at all.

Thinking too much about her mom caused an ache like no other in her chest, and once she felt her eyes being to water, she firmly pushed the thought of her mom as far from her mind as possible to focus on her work and then go to bed.

It was no use – the door had opened, and she couldn’t shove her feelings back down. She got up from the desk and walked a quick circle around her room. Then, when the tears began to spill, she sat down on the floor with her back against her bed. She kept her sniffles quiet, aware that the cave housed at least one being with superhearing.

She missed her mom so, so much. She hated the way things had ended between them. Morgan had tried to accept that perhaps Abigail wasn't even interested in seeing her again, but a small part of her still had hope that they'd be reconciled in some way. She supposed she could seek her out, but she was too scared to. The thought of her mom looking at her and telling her to get out, telling her that she wanted nothing to do with such a freak, was too terrifying. It made her not even dare to try.

Morgan was satisfied, for the most part, with the turn her life had taken. She had friends. She had school. She had reentered society. She had purpose.

But..

There was that one piece missing. The love of her mom. She wished so desperately that she could tell her mom about the exciting things that were happening to her. She missed drinking afternoon tea with her, missed watching movies with her. She missed her cooking.

She just wanted her mom.

January 18th

Gotham University

Morgan

It had taken Esmeralda fifteen minutes of begging, whining and eye-lash batting to convince Morgan to let her do her nails.

Once she’d given in, she’d realized Esmeralda must’ve been planning this from the beginning, because the other girl pulled out a giant toiletry bag, which had been stuffed to the brim with nail polish, French tips, rhinestones, and anything else her heart didn’t desire.

“Rachel and I have been thinking..” Esmeralda began, but got distracted by the colors of nail polish she pulled out. “Oh! This one is so pretty!”

Rachel raised an eyebrow at Esmeralda, and met Morgan’s eyes.

“We were thinking, since this is your first ball and we assume you don’t have your own stylist..”

“How could you tell?” she asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Rachel raised her eyebrows at the show of attitude.

“We’re going to help you out,” Esmeralda said. “We’ll help you find a dress and some pretty jewelry. And then we could all meet up before the ball and get ready together!”

Morgan considered the two girls, unsure how to feel. The gesture was nice, but she was still undecided if she even wanted to go to the ball.

“That’s really nice if you guys, but I don’t think I’m going.”

“You have to go! The social events are, like, super important to build connections.”

“I don’t need to build connections; I’m not inheriting any businesses.”

“Ah, but you want to make a name for yourself in STEM, right?” Esmeralda pointed out. “Some of the kids that go here have parents in those fields.”

Morgan grumbled and accepted her fate.

“Don’t worry, Cinderella, we’ll be your fairy godmothers. And you can absolutely stay out past midnight,” Rachel winked.

"It'll be fun!" Esmeralda reassured her. "We'll go shopping for dresses a few days before so you have time to find the right one!”

In the end, Morgan weighed the pros and cons. It wasn't that she disliked Rachel and Esmeralda per se, but she could only deal with a certain doze of them at a time.

On the other hand, she had no idea what she was supposed to wear and how she was supposed to look and behave during that ball and their input and advice would be greatly appreciated. Part of her told herself that she didn't care about what she should wear or how she should behave, that she didn't care what the people at school thought of her. A larger part acknowledged that she was probably going to go to this school for four years and she didn't want to spend them in constant alienation from her fellow students. And there was the matter of those connections..

So, choosing her course of action had been easy in the end.

“Fine,” she said. And then, to show that she wasn’t entirely ungrateful, and followed up with a, “thanks.”

“Yay!” Esmeralda cheered. “You’re a size six and a half, right?”

“How the hell did you know that?”

“I checked your shoe when you took them off yesterday at lunch!” Esmeralda said cheerily, and then she dug through her bag and produced a pair of black pumps. She dangled them on her finger, a satisfied look on her face when Morgan looked at her in awe. “These should fit you.”

Morgan accepted the shoes with newfound respect for the sneaky girl.

Esmeralda sighed seriously and pulled out a large binder from her bag.

"I usually plan this kind of thing weeks ahead but since you only just agreed.." She held up a few papers, comparing them to Morgan’s complexion. "We'll have to make do."

Morgan batted the paper away moodily.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to figure out which colors suit you. For your dress, nails, jewelry and makeup."

Rachel nodded solemnly. "These kinds of things aren't just thrown together, you know. Fashion is a science."

"Me, for example," Esmeralda began, "I'm golden-blond and tan so golden makeup and bright lipstick suits me best."

"And because of my darker colors," Rachel took over as she held up another color scheme, "Warm colors such as red, orange and brown suits me best – oooh that one looks promising."

"Yeah, the color fits her eyes perfectly and would really compliment her hair." Esmeralda agreed.

"What?" Morgan asked, finding herself into this already. "Which?"

Esmeralda laid down a piece of paper and explained the basics. "This color scheme represents the dress, this one the makeup, and this one the jewelry and nails." She pointed to each respective square clutter of colors.

Morgan looked at them. According to the paper, the girls planned for her to wear a royal blue dress with silver jewelry and smoky eyes.

"But if you didn't know what would suit me before, why did you bring me these?" Morgan held up the simple black pumps.

Esmeralda smiled slyly. "I figured you'd appreciate something simple. Also, I got the feeling you'd need a few days of getting used to walking in them."

Morgan, whose first instinct was to argue as usual, opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again when she realized that Esmeralda was spot on.

"I look that hopeless, do I?" she asked, grinning sheepishly.

"Yeah, you kinda do," Rachel agreed. "But a few hours of practice and you'll walk like a pro. Don't worry."

“It’s not like I’ve never worn heels,” she protested weakly. She eyed the sharp, pointy heel of the pumps. “Just not ones this.. tall. I’ll give them a spin when I get home.”

"Please do." Esmeralda agreed as she collected all the color scheme papers and stuffed them into her bag, leaving the chosen one behind. "Obviously we can't know what size and type of dress will fit you yet, but already knowing the color really narrows down the field."

They really did make it sound like a science. Still, this was.. fun. None of the girls on the team were the super girl type, and while Morgan wasn’t either, it was fun to dip her toe into their world. Maybe when this was over, she’d have to go out and buy herself some heels. Maybe some jewelry?

"And now: your nails!" Esmeralda cheered and pulled forth a manicure set from behind her back. Rachel immediately scooted closer.

"I was thinking of the traditional white on the tips and then a blue color that matches the dress," Esmeralda told Rachel.

Rachel frowned slightly, nodding contemplatively.

"Yeah, but perhaps a silver instead of blue to match the jewelry?"

"Isn't silver nails a little tacky?" Morgan piped up. She was sitting on the other side of the small circular table, patiently awaiting her doom.

The two girls looked up at her simultaneously, not saying a word, and Morgan got the feeling she'd said something stupid.

"Gold nails would be," Esmeralda explained. "Silver's not that bad. But if it would make you uncomfortable, we can use blue instead, but with silver tips?"

"Look, girls," Morgan held up her hands in silent surrender. "I know nothing about this stuff."

The two girls put their heads together again in deep discussion.

"Alright, so we've decided." Esmeralda announced a moment later. "White tips, blue nails aaand," she pulled out a small plastic box with beads in them. "A flat silver bead on each nail. It'll look adorable! Gimme your hands."

"Wait, you want to do them now?" Morgan realized, sitting on her hands in protest.

"Sure, why not? The ball’s this Friday," Esmeralda said. "So just don’t do anything that would ruin the nail polish. So, no fighting!” she giggled like it was an outlandish idea.  

Morgan almost felt like telling Esmeralda that she’d undoubtedly end up in a fight before Friday. If sparring didn’t count, there was also the fact that Nightwing had promised to take her on patrol.  

The manicure would absolutely get ruined. She kept sitting on her hands.

"Morgan, hand over your hands," Rachel commanded.

Morgan did hand over her hands, and only with a minimum of grumbling and complaining too.

"Det bliver jeres egen skyld når I skal starte forfra på torsdag.” she mumbled to herself.

By now the two other girls had learned to ignore her muttered Danish.

They sat in silence for a while as the two girls started working on her hands. Rachel was filling her nails even on one hand as Esmeralda prepared the manicure set. As soon as Rachel finished, the two girls swapped places and Esmeralda started painting the nails on Morgan's left hand as Rachel began filing the nails on her right hand.

After Esmeralda had finished three of her nails, Rachel broke the silence.

"Now," she adopted a devilish look that made Morgan nervous. "We just need to find you a date."

After staring at her in absolute horror for several seconds, Morgan laughed mockingly.

"Absolutely not."

"Aw come on!" Esmeralda begged and slung herself over the table, fixing Morgan with a wide-eyed look. “Cinderella needs her Prince Charming!”

“This isn’t a Disney movie,” Morgan ground out. “You already said half of the guys here have a bet going on who can seduce me first. Going as anyone’s date would just encourage that.”

“That’s only the creeps,” Rachel pointed out with a devilish look. “If, however, your date was, say, my cousin Darren, it wouldn’t be a problem because I could threaten him to be nice.”

Rachel looked at some point behind Morgan, her devilish look curling into an absolutely evil smirk. Raising two fingers to her mouth, she left out a loud whistle. Morgan jumped in surprise at the sudden noise.

"Yo! Darren!"

Morgan looked behind her and spotted a small group of guys standing a few tables over. One in particular was looking at Rachel, and Morgan figured he must be Darren.

Rachel waved at him to signal him closer and by now she had gained the attention of every guy in the group. Morgan spotted the blue ties around their necks and realized they were second years.

To her horror, as the five guys approached, she spotted Nightwing in the group.

Fuck my life.

"Whatareyoudoing?" Morgan rapidly hissed under her breath as she turned back to Rachel, whose smirk only widened into a friendly smile, her eyes fixed on the group approaching.

"You'll see," she muttered back.

He broke from the group as the other guys hung back a few steps from their table. They looked like a gaggle of confused birds to Morgan.

"What’s up?" Darren asked when he finally arrived, his hands dug into his pockets to appear casual. He was tall – not as tall as Nightwing, Morgan noted – and blonde, with a pair of soft brown eyes and a well-enough attractive face.

"You got a date for the Winter Ball?" Rachel asked sweetly. Morgan got a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched the scene unfold. She locked eyes with Nightwing – Dick, she supposed he should be called right now – before she redirected her eyes. She resisted the urge to smack her head against the table. Her hair would surely block out the scene taken place in front of her. But at the cost of her dignity – not that she had much left, currently.

Darren shrugged. "Not yet."

"Would you invite Morgan as your date?" Rachel asked, her sweet smile widening even further.

Morgan's jaw unhinged, her eyes widening in absolute horror. She saw Dick turn his head to hide the amused smile playing at his lips and her face burned with embarrassment as she kept her own eyes trained on the table.

The entire thing was mortifying from start to finish. Darren fell silent as he studied her unabashedly, his eyes roaming from her wildly curled head to her hands – which, to Morgan's embarrassment were still being manicured by Esmeralda – to the way she'd turned her chair around so she could sit with her legs straddling the backrest.

He seemed to not entirely hate what he saw because he shrugged again.

"Sure, why not."

Dick's smile dropped, his mouth pursing in a displeased line as he looked between his friend and Morgan. She shot him a pleading look, not sure if his presence made the whole thing better or worse. He kept silent.

"Great!" Rachel cheered. "Wear this color for your tie, please." Rachel took the paper with the decided color scheme on it and ripped half of the dress color off, handing the small slip of paper to Darren. "We'll see you this Friday."

The transaction thusly dealt with, Darren flashed Morgan a brief smile. She didn’t see it, too busy staring at the table in horror, her face the color of a tomato.

The small group of boys shuffled away again, some of them laughing and teasing their blonde friend, who looked mighty pleased with himself. Morgan wondered if perhaps Rachel had made a wrong judgement on her cousin. The reaction of his friends, sans Nightwing, spelled trouble to her.

He was at the back of the group and Morgan caught his eyes for a second. His face was unreadable as he turned around and disappeared with his friends.

"What. The hell. Was that?" Morgan finally forced out, training her stormy eyes onto a smug-looking Rachel.

"Aaand, that's how you get a date," she said. "You're welcome."

"What if I didn't want a date?" Morgan shot back. "And even if I did, which I'm not saying I do, what if I didn't want that guy to be my date?"

Esmeralda giggled. "Darren's a perfectly nice guy. Don't worry about it. But I can understand if you're annoyed because you had.. someone else you wanted to go with?" Her sweet smile turned teasing; her eyebrow raised suggestively.

Morgan scoffed. "Like who?"

"Oooh," Rachel caught on, a sly smile taking over her own face. Morgan was utterly clueless and kind of scared.

"After all, he was in the same group of guys just now. You could've just as easily asked him, right Rachel?"

"Yes. Perhaps I should've asked Dick Grayson if he was interested? Would you have liked that better?"

Morgan's mouth dropped open for a second time in just as many minutes and she began spluttering as she scrambled to debunk their groundless suspicions.

"Are you insane? I'd rather go to the dance with a rotting fish than that rich boy!" Morgan said fiercely.

Perhaps too fiercely as the two girls started cackling gleefully.

"You totally did! You wanted to go to the Winter Ball with Dick Grayson!" Rachel accused.

Morgan flushed, out of anger she told herself, and pulled her hands back as Esmeralda finished her last nail.

"You guys are ridiculous. I don't want to date Dick Grayson. Now shut up so I can finish my math homework. That's why I'm here to begin with. Learning and stuff."

Morgan attempted to block out their giggling and teasing as she grabbed her pencil and calculator and set to work. She was soon completely immerged in her own little world of math and science, not even registering the small talk that passed between her two only friends at Gotham Academy.

Still, occasionally, a small nagging voice would make itself known and she'd find herself contemplating something she didn't want to spare a single thought on.

Did she want to go to the ball with Nightwing? And if so, was that because he was the only boy she knew at the school or because of something else?

Translation: "You've only got yourselves to blame when you're gonna have to start over on thursday."

Rewrote the talk between her and Nightwing a lot, but kept the stuff with the ball mostly intact.

I love this arc with the GU ball, except maybe that its the part of the story where Morgan comes closest to being one of those "Oh I don't like girly stuff" pick-me girls. I've altered the dialogue and her thoughts a little bit to maybe make her less.. that.

It's also something I've tried to have her evolve past in the sequel, where she does own high heels and enjoys wearing a sexy dress from time to time, because she's a couple of years older and much more secure in her own body. At this point in the story, I chalk it up to her having been isolated so long she hasn't had the opportunity to really discover her own sexuality and desires. She hasn't been open to dating and feelings, which also explains why Dick touching her would ignite some confusing feelings in her, since she's never really tried that before.

I think, really, her body is drawn to him way before her mind is, if that makes sense. She's a young, isolated and touch-starved woman, and he's a good looking guy her own age. And the only person she really has any physical contact with is him, even if that's literally sparring and him doing stuff like helping her adjust her stance. Which is why she'd left kind of confused because she doesn't really know what the signals her body is sending her even mean. She'll catch on eventually!

Let me know what you think!

Chapter Text

January 18^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

As he entered the kitchen, looking for Morgan so they could spar, Nightwing was greeted with a strange scene.

Barbara, Karen and Garfield were sitting on the kitchen island, laughing their asses off as they watched Morgan attempt to walk around in a pair of very tall high heels, leaning on M'gann for support.

For a moment he simply stood by the door, analyzing what was even going on.

"No, Morgan, back straight and butt in, I already told you!" M'gann sighed with exasperation as the girl in question stumbled for, Nightwing suspected, not the first time.

"What does that even mean? 'Butt in?" Morgan groaned, sounding truly frustrated. "How do you in your butt?"

"Girl, how do you not know how to walk in high heels?" Bumble Bee asked between laughs.

“I know how to walk in high heels!” she shot back, trying to aim a glare over her shoulder, except it made her wobble dangerously on the razor thin stiletto-heel. “Just not ones this tall! Besides, I’ve been hiding away in my room since I was thirteen, when did I have a reason to wear heels?”

M’gann let go of her and Morgan took a few unsure steps forward. The others cheered and encouraged her through their laughter. Her eyes widened as she lost her balance again and she stumbled, almost falling over.

"Åh gud!" she shouted, the foreign words a clear sign of her distress.

Nightwing cleared his throat and five pairs of eyes found him, Morgan groaning as another person came to bear witness to her embarrassment.

".. what are you doing?" he asked, for lack of a better way to approach the situation in front of him.

"Morgan is going to this ball thing at her school," Barbara elaborated – Dick already knew, obviously, he'd been present when her friend had forced Morgan into going with one of his friends just a few hours prior.

"And her friends told her to practice her walk. She's even worse than anticipated," Karen finished with a small chuckle.

Morgan let out a small 'eep' and disappeared behind the kitchen counter as she crashed to the floor, and everyone froze for a few, silent seconds.

Then, a mess of blonde curls and a pair of furious, gray eyes reappeared from behind the island, and the others broke into uproarious laughter.

"Forget it," she growled and kicked the shoes off. "The only way I'll be able to move around in these things is if I fly."

"Wait..” Morgan froze, contemplating the idea, and looked at Nightwing. “Do you think I could do that?"

A powerful beat of her wings sent the girl propelling into the air and she landed on the kitchen table, pushing Beast Boy to the ground with an undignified grunt.

"No," Nightwing debunked firmly. "Now come on."

Morgan pouted and jumped to the floor.

"Party pooper." She gathered her things, sticking her tongue out at the other teens as they kept laughing, and followed after Nightwing.

By now, the two of them had entered a sort of routine. Nightwing would find Morgan somewhere in the Cave, they'd first walk to her room where she'd change into training clothes, Nightwing waiting outside obviously, and then they'd go to the gym to train.

As they approached her door, Nightwing noticed that she hadn't even changed out of her school uniform yet, and the clothes unpleasantly reminded him of the encounter he'd been witness to early that day.

He hadn't planned on going to the stupid winter ball himself at all, but now he'd have to, to keep an eye on Morgan and Darren.

Purely because he knew Darren was a ladies' man and relentless flirt at his best, and a downright asshole that pressured his dates into having sex with him at his worst. Why Dick’s friends still associated with him, was beyond him. He made it a point to never engage with Darren, except to tell him off for being a creep.

He'd have to warn Morgan about that at some point, preferably today so she'd have the chance to change her mind about going with him before it was too late. Dick wished he’d been quick enough to swoop in and ask her to be his date instead, so she wouldn’t have to deal with his gross acquaintance.

Darren would sink his claws into her over Dick's dead body.

Nightwing stopped his own train of thought and wondered where that last bitter one had come from.

In the end, what did he care if Darren and Morgan did get together? If Morgan wanted to have sex with Darren, she was welcome to. That was none of his business. And why was he even contemplating asking her to be his date instead, when he knew she was capable of taking care of herself?

Nightwing stopped his own train of thought again. He'd tell her about Darren's true colors and then he'd stay out of it. That was his final decision.

Morgan stepped out of her room in a pair of black yoga pants and a green t-shirt with the Green Lantern logo on it, and, at Nightwing's disapproving gaze, a shit-eating smirk.

They'd reached the gym when Morgan paused in front of the doors. "Can't we do something different today?" she asked. Nightwing turned to her with a blank face.

"It's just.." she tugged at a curl before pulling it behind her ear. "Esmeralda did my nails and I promised to not ruin them." She grimaced like she only just now realized how silly that sounded, coming from her.

"We're going on patrol tonight. They'll be ruined either way," he pointed out neutrally.

"Right." She shook her head and stepped into the gym. "Forget I said anything."

January 18^th

Blüdhaven

Morgan

The two teenagers sat perched on top of a large storage building, watching the docks of Blüdhaven. The frigid January wind was violently lashing at any exposed skin and making their hair fly in all directions, and Morgan shivered as a chill went down her the back of her neck. Apparently, if Nightwing's sources were to be believed, a ship was supposed to arrive around midnight that they needed to stop. It's cargo? Drugs. Lots of them, most likely from Gotham.

"Could get dangerous," Nightwing had warned her. "Not as bad as in Gotham, but people tend to be protective of this kind of cargo because it's so valuable. You can expect gunfire."

Morgan had nodded and steeled her nerves, determined to prove her worth. This was the first real and proper dangerous patrol he'd let her go along with and she intended to show that she was up for it.

Morgan got a bunch of curls in her face for the fifth time that night and sighed in frustration as she went in search of something to tie it back with. Checking both of her wrists, she regrettably noted that she was not in position of any hairbands at the given time.

"You got a scrunchie?" she asked Nightwing.

He paused his constant vigilant watch of the docks below and faced her.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"A hairband?" she repeated. "I can't see a damn thing with all of this hair in front of my eyes."

"Well, you really should've thought of that before we left."

"But I didn't need a scrunchie back then, mom!" Morgan's voice adopted the whiny tone of a child.

He sighed before digging into one of the pouches he had fastened around his waist and, to Morgan's amazement, actually managed to produce a small, grey hair elastic.

"I knew there was a reason I keep you around," she cheered and accepted the hairband before quickly forcing her wild hair into a messy braid and securing the end. "I need to get me one of those pouch-belt things. I'd store all sorts of helpful shit in it."

"Morgan, I'm trying to concentrate," Nightwing sighed, his voice laced with annoyance.

"On what?" she scoffed and looked around them. "There's no one in sight. Any ship arriving or leaving we'll notice immediately. There's no need to keep your eyes peeled on the docks like that."

A cold wind ruffled her feathers, and Morgan shivered before sitting down and leaning her back against the small outcropping they were hiding behind on the stupid roof.

"Getting back on subject, where can I get some of those handy pouch-belts?"

"I'll have Batman lend you one of my old ones in the morning. If you decide it's something you'd like to add permanently to your costume, we'll have a custom-made belt shipped in a month. Deal?"

"Deal," Morgan agreed. Nightwing was being almost nice so she decided to not be difficult for once.

Besides, she was in a cheery mood right now.

"What do you keep in yours?" she questioned a moment later, eyeing the belt wrapped around his waist.

Without missing a beat, his voice serious and dead-pan, his body taught and not moving a muscle, Nightwing answered, "Condoms."

Morgan sat in a stunned silence for a moment, her mouth opened in a small 'o'. He was obviously lying, but she didn't think she'd ever heard him crack a joke before so for a hilarious and horrifying moment, she thought he'd been telling the truth.

"Wait, was that a joke?" she questioned teasingly and got up on her knees, resting her arms against the small banister that separated her from a ten meter drop to the sidewalk below them. She leaned out so she could more easily watch his face. "Did Nightwing, master of having a stick up his ass, actually make a joke?"

She spoke with humor, a small laugh teasing her lips to let him know she was only messing around. They were practically being friendly, and she didn't want to ruin it.

A small twitch of the corner of his lips that almost looked like a smile was enough confirmation that he had indeed been joking.

"I used to be the team's most laid back and joking member, you know. Except for Kid Flash maybe," he defended himself, his eyes still trained on the grounds below him. He sighed wistfully, looking suddenly tired. “Anyway, as the leader of the team, I can't really afford to joke around as much as I used to."

"Well," Morgan spoke softly to match his faraway tone. "Just because you can't joke as much as you used to do, doesn't mean you should just stop altogether." She quirked her lip into a small smile and nudged him playfully. "On the other hand, you're almost tolerable when you don't act so uptight so maybe you shouldn't start joking. You'd lose that intimidation factor."

"I intimidate you?"

Morgan laughed.

“Not a chance, Dickie-wing. But you still want to keep up pretenses if you want to keep the team in line. We can't all harbor complete disregard for your authority; the Team would fall apart!"

He sighed with exasperation, rolling his eyes underneath his black mask.

Morgan realized that this was probably as much lightheartedness and teasing as her uptight mentor could handle for one night, so she shut up and watched the docks with him in silence. She fidgeted a bit in her skintight, dark blue suit and played with the curled end of her braid, trying to hold off the boredom as well as she could. Her mask was irritating her because she had nothing else to focus on. Taking it off briefly, she quickly shoved it back onto her face when Nightwing leveled her with a disapproving look.

She really did want to prove that she was improving as a hero and that she was capable of acting like a professional.

"Is Robin gonna join us?" she asked, minutes later. She'd joined Nightwing for patrol a handful of times now, and Robin had gone with them a few of those times. Whether because Robin also needed training, or because Nightwing knew he'd need the extra help to deal with Morgan for an entire night, she didn't know.

"No," he replied shortly, and Morgan knew that was the only answer she'd get out of him.

Surprisingly, he was the one to break the silence after several minutes of boring, fruitless watching.

"He's a creep, you know," he spoke up vaguely. Morgan had no idea who he was talking about.

".. Who?"

"Darren," Nightwing elaborated. "The guy who's your 'date' for the winter ball."

"Oh." Morgan was, to say the least, confused – and slightly surprised that her mentor was even bringing the ball up. What was he going on about? "How so?"

"He pressures his dates into having sex with him and gets mad if they say no," Nightwing explained, looking briefly at her before looking away, like the subject was too awkward for him to approach while maintaining eye contact. "He'll probably try the same on you by the end of the night."

“Rachel really doesn’t know her cousin very well,” Morgan said, sitting down heavily against the railing. She was unsure what to think of what he’d said.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Morgan shrugged. It wasn’t that she didn’t take his warning seriously – more that she found the scenario unlikely.

“C’mon, we both know once we get to that party, there are going to be so many beautiful girls for him to focus on. He’ll forget I even exist. He just accepted because his cousin asked him out for me.”

Nightwing's brows furrowed. "And what about the bet?”

She waved him off.

“Eh, I’m not so worried about that. The rumor that I’m an unapproachable bitch spread very quickly. No one’s tried to talk to me for days.”

He didn’t look satisfied.

“Seriously, Nightwing. I’m fine. Darren is getting nothing from me. I can totally handle him. It's not happening."

His shoulders sagged in – was that relief?

"Good. I don't need anyone on my team getting pregnant or something stupid like that right now."

"Hey, if I want to get pregnant, I'll go and do it right now, your precious team be damned."

Nightwing looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Morgan wondered how talking about her sex-life – or lack thereof – was able to break his otherwise unbreakable, stout exterior.

The guy was probably a total virgin.

Despite his annoyingly good looks.

If she was being honest with herself, she knew Nightwing had the power to be a real ladies man, if he wanted to be. He had the looks. And although she’d yet to witness it herself, she’d heard rumors that he could be pretty charming and even funny. All he would need to do what flash his pretty eyes and sharp jawline, and anyone with common sense would fall for him.

She found herself studying him, without realizing it.

If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t entirely sure that she would be immune to his supposed charms, either – if she hadn’t known him already, of course. But she saw him in his tight suit every day; she knew he had a damn fine body underneath that thing.

Her mind wandered as she conjured up a scenario where she’d meet him as Dick Grayson before Nightwing, and he wouldn’t be her mentor. Would she have found him attractive? Absolutely.

Morgan cursed herself for thinking this as soon as she realized her own thoughts. She was not thinking about being sexed up by her mentor.

Highly unprofessional.

Shaking her head, she shuffled away from him a bit, needing to create distance.

"If they're not here in half an hour, I'm so leaving," she groaned out. The clock had already passed twelve thirty, and she had school in the morning.

"That won't be necessary," Nightwing answered. "They're here."

"What?" she sat up quickly and followed his pointed finger, spotting a group of about eight men, approaching an old and rusty-looking thing of a boat. Three of them entered the boat and, a minute later, emerged, two of them lugging a heavy-looking wooden crate between them.

"But I thought we were waiting for the boat to arrive," she pointed out.

"It must've docked earlier today and then they've waited for the cover of night to unload their shipment."

"But how can you be sure that's them?" Morgan asked skeptically. She'd rather not beat up a bunch of guys and then afterwards find out they were just innocent dockworkers unloading a shipment of rubber ducks or something.

He settled a heavy hand on top of her head and redirected it, pointing with his other.

Morgan spotted a middle aged, rich-looking guy in a tailored suit stepping out of an expensive vehicle, two bodyguards with semi-automatics flanking him.

"Oh."

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” Nightwing reminded her. "I know what a drug trade looks like."

"So, boss," Morgan followed Nightwing's lead and crouched down lower, so she was mostly hidden behind the railing. "What's the plan?"

Their faces were close as their hid behind the banister, their conversation whispered.

"With the three newly arrived men, there's eleven of them. At least two of them have weapons. They need to be dealt with first. I'll take them out and then you can come down."

"And then?"

"And then we simply 'apprehend' the rest of them and wait for the police to collect."

"Oh," Morgan drew in a breath to fake confidence. "Sounds simple."

"Ready?" Nightwing asked, and she could feel his breath fan over her face from how close he was.

"What?" Morgan's eyes widened in surprise. "No!"

"Go!" Nightwing said before launching himself over the railing. Morgan scrambled to her knees and looked over the roof just in time to see him land on the shoulders of the first bodyguard, using his weight and momentum to drive him into the ground. He wrenched the gun from his hand and the guy gave a shout of pain when something in his finger snapped as it got stuck in the trigger hole briefly. Gaining the attention of every goon down there, Nightwing threw the gun straight into the face of the other armed bodyguard, breaking his nose. As Morgan watched him kick both rifles away, one of them falling into the water beneath them, she knew she was supposed to join the fight now.

"Okay, Morgan you can do this,” she gave herself a brief pep-talk before she bound four steps back and ran for the edge, pushing herself off of the roof as hard as she could to leap as far as possible. Her body cast a shadow in the light of the lit lamppost and several of the goons beneath her looked up to locate the source, fearing that the Batman had branched out to Blüdhaven. When she was in mid-air, she spread her wings and glided down, boots first, kicking one of the men – a tall, buzz cut blonde with crooked teeth – square in his face, sending him to the asphalt beneath them immediately.

His head hit the ground as he went limp like a ragdoll, and Morgan knew she wouldn't have to worry about him for some time.

Not wasting a moment, she looked up with what she hoped was an intimidating glare on her face and located her next target. She knew she had to use the confusion to her advantage before the rest of them regained their bearings. With a beat of her wings, she launched herself at the nearest man, gaining enough height to kick him in the side of his dark, bald head. He fell, rolling away.

Most of them had correctly clocked Nightwing as the bigger threat, and only two stayed behind to engage Morgan in fight.

She knew that Nightwing would surely be okay, but he was facing down a much larger number than her, and it made her want to know how he was doing. However, one thing he'd drilled into her from the beginning was to keep her attention focused on the task at hand when she was in danger. If she wasted seconds on locating him, she'd put herself in danger of being brought down by their opponents.

So, telling herself that Nightwing was obviously doing fine because he was, well, Nightwing, she stood to her full height, spreading her wings out to appear bigger, making up for her short stature.

"Who's this?" the shorter one asked the guy in front of him. "Some female Nightwing?"

Female Nightwing? Morgan briefly wondered. She didn't offer the statement much thought, as the thug closest to her squared his broad shoulders and growled menacingly at her, the scar on his cheek creating an ugly line on his face as he did.

"Whoever she is," he declared, cracking his knuckles. "She's going down."

The men charged at her, and she ducked to the side.

She danced around them to the best of her abilities, always on her toes to evade any hit. She remembered her lessons – use your speed and agility against bigger and slower opponents.

One of them ran for her again, and she crouched, using his own moment to vault him over her shoulder. Her heart hammered in her chest, a mix of excitement and fear that kept her laser focused on the threat at hand.

She looked over her shoulder to see the guy she’d throw land on his back with a pained grunt.

She’d made one mistake, however – she’d allowed the two men to cage her in from either side.

Before she could realize her mistake, she found her arms locked behind her in a strong grip.

Oh shit.

She tried to tap into her telekinesis as she struggled against the man’s tight grip. The guy she’d thrown to the ground approached her with an ugly grin on his face, and before she had the chance to escape, he clocked her in the face. Pain exploded in her jaw, and she saw stars as she felt her lip split and dribble blood down her chin. Her body sagged slightly in the other man's tight grip. Her mind fogged over with the pain for a few seconds.

Behind her, she vaguely registered the sound of fists connecting with flesh and the alert part of her muddled brain knew that it was Nightwing fighting his own opponents.

"Hah!" The guy who had hit her scoffed scornfully. "Doesn't have much fight in her after all, does she?"

His mocking words triggered something in her and the fog cleared, her steely resolve returning full force.

"I'm gonna break your ugly mug for that," she growled, spitting out blood to clear her mouth. Waiting for him to come back for a second go, she kicked off the ground, using the tight grip on her arms to hoist herself up, and landed her booted feet on his chest, pushing him back with enough force to make him fall on his ass. She squirmed in the other guy's grip, managing to get one hand free, which she promptly used to elbow him in the gut.

Morgan looked around for something she could use her powers on to send into the face of her captor and spotted a few loose bricks that had fallen from the wall of a building further down the dock. Focusing on the closest brick, she spread her fingers out as wide as they'd go, watching the red square twitch in her mental hold before she threw her arm backwards, watching with satisfaction as the brick took off the ground and shot through the air, into the face of the man holding her.

He let out a howl of pain as the brick undoubtedly crushed his nose, and immediately dropped his grip on her other arm.

Taking a few long strides back she beat her wings forcefully and left the ground, hovering in the air above anyone's reach to properly assess the situation.

Casting a quickly look at Nightwing, she saw him leaving behind six thugs in various stages of unconsciousness, to hunt down the suited man who was obviously the leader of the whole operation. He'd fled the moment the two teenagers had showed up, but he was anything but agile and Nightwing was sure to catch up to him soon. She watched for a moment longer to see her mentor duck behind a crate as the man fired a gun at him, and then she turned her attention back towards the goons below her, knowing that the sooner she finished them off, the sooner she could join him to help.

Her jaw was still pounding, and she rued the thought of the bruises she would wake up with. At least, they hadn’t broken her nose.

In pain and still feeling a little disoriented from the punch to her jaw, she decided to deal with the two men from a distance. She’d had enough close encounters for one night.

It took her a few tries, but eventually, her telekinesis latched onto their forms, and she unceremoniously pushed them into the harbor. The frigid January water was sure to keep them occupied.

She nimbly landed on the ground after that, noting that the guy she’d first landed on was still out of it.

She could hear the two men in the harbor gasp from the cold water, and she jogged over to make sure they wouldn’t drown.

They were struggling to get up the slick, iced ladder, their fingers shaking from the cold.

They wouldn’t drown, but they would stay where she’d left them long enough for the police to arrive. By now, she knew Nightwing well enough to know that he’d already called the police for pickup.

With that, she ran after her mentor.

Her jaw was still smarting, but she willed herself to ignore the pain. She could feel blood dripple down her chin, and she wiped at it – succeeded in smearing it all over the place, she assumed. Turning a corner, she almost ran into Nightwing, who was heading in her direction. He was dragging the unconscious boss behind him. The fight was over.

He paused in his steps and studied her face briefly, dropping the unconscious man unceremoniously.

"You alright?" he asked, taking a step closer, his gloved hand reaching for her split lip. Seeming to realize his own actions, he quickly stopped and brought the hand back down.

"Fine," she winched when talking made her split lip and bruised jaw complain. "One of them got a hit in, that's all." She wiped at her chin again with her cold, gloveless hands, surprised with how much blood she found on her hand afterwards. "It'll stop bleeding in a moment."

She must've looked a sight with the blood trickling down her chin and most probably staining her teeth red if the metallic taste in her mouth was anything to go by.

"I could use some water to get rid of the taste though," she admitted.

"I'll buy you a coke when this is done."

They rounded the corner and approached the defeated men. Nightwing seemed to internally do a headcount and frowned.

"There's two missing," he observed.

"I threw them in the harbor," Morgan said casually. "I'll pull them out."

She marched towards the edge of the dock and found the two men, drenched and shivering. Focusing on the first one, she made the same motion with her hand as she had with the brick and then threw her arm backwards, sending him soaring out of the water and in an arch above her head, landing with a thud behind her on the hard sidewalk.

She repeated the movement on the other guy – twice because her mental hold slipped on the first try –and he landed on top of the first one, eliciting a groan from both of them.

Sirens interrupted the relative silence on the docks and a moment later, police cars turned the corner, almost blinding Morgan with their flashing blue and red lights.

She kept to the background as Nightwing briefly spoke with the officer at the scene, watching as the cops quickly handcuffed the eleven men and crammed them into their police cars.

Once all the men were secured, she stepped closer to Nightwing and the officer, gaining the older man's attention. He cast a quick look in her direction and returned to his conversation with Nightwing, before visibly doing a double take and snapping his eyes back up at her, his eyes tracing her wings.

Morgan's first instinct was to feel uncomfortable at someone ogling her wings so obviously, but instead she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, reminding herself that when she was out in her hero suit, the wings were meant to be seen. They were not something to hide away.

"She a female Nightwing?" he asked Nightwing, jerking a nod in Morgan's direction. "Nightwing-tress?" he grinned at his own joke though neither Morgan nor Nightwing found it particularly funny.

Morgan was about to ask why everybody kept calling her that when Nightwing interrupted.

"No. She's a hero in training,” he said shortly, his demeanor no-nonsense.

"Well, we've got to mention her in our report,” the officer reminded him. "What's your alias?" he finally spoke to Morgan instead of directing all of his questions at Nightwing like she wasn't even there.

"Uh." Morgan realized for the first time that she didn't actually have a hero name.

"That's classified at the current time," Nightwing quickly covered for her. "We'll let you know when you need to know."

The officer sighed and shrugged. "Alright."

He turned his attention towards his busy officers.

"Daniels!" he barked, and a young, ginger policeman looked up at his chief. "How far are we?"

"All criminals and drugs have been apprehended, sir," he responded, voice breaking once and betraying his youth.

"Thank you for your help, Nightwing. We'll take care of the rest."

The officer nodded at Morgan, and she returned the nod with a small smile. He then climbed into his police car and Morgan and Nightwing was left behind, the docks growing darker as soon as the blinking police sirens disappeared.

Morgan wiped at her mouth again, pleased to see that the bleeding had already stopped.

"It's one AM." Nightwing spoke up suddenly. "Let's get back. You've got school tomorrow."

She wanted to remind him that so did he, but instead she shrugged and followed her mentor.

"We totally need to come up with a name for me, by the way," Morgan pondered once they were back onto the roof. Nightwing fired his grapple gun at the next building and propelled himself away, Morgan flying right on his heels. By now it was no problem for her to fly through the city in pursuit of her mentor without exhausting her wings in a few minutes. They'd grown much stronger, and Morgan found that the freedom of flight became more and more alluring every day.

"We do. You'll need a public name if you want to keep your identity a secret. I can't keep calling you Morgan."

"All the good wing names are taken, though," she quipped once they'd landed on the next building. Morgan spotted a McDonalds on the street below them.

"You promised me a coke," she reminded him and pointed at the restaurant. It was still open despite the late hour.

"What, do you want me to march right into McDonalds and buy you a drink, in full Nightwing gear?"

"Uh, duh?"

Nightwing sighed exasperatedly and lowered himself onto the street with his grapple hook.

Ten minutes later the teenager landed back on top of the roof of the apartment building he'd left Morgan on, carrying not only her coke but also one for him and two cheeseburgers with fries. He'd somehow climbed the building using only one hand, without spilling a single drop from either of their drinks.

They settled down against the old out-of-use chimney, unwrapping their respective burgers. Morgan stuffed four fries in her mouth and groaned with pleasure.

"I haven't had fries in forever," she mumbled and ate another two. The salt stung the split in her lip, and she winced, though it didn’t stop her from eating more.

“Let me see your face,” Nightwing said once he’d finished his burger.

“It’s right here,” she said, using a hand to gesture to her face with a flourish. “Look all you want.”

“Ha ha. I meant your injuries.”

He scooted closer, and Morgan swallow her mouthful of fries quickly, liking at her lips to remove any salt she might’ve had on them.

He had surprisingly gentle hands, for someone so strong. He prodded carefully at the red, swelling mark on her jaw, and she hardly felt any pain from his touch. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised – he had incredible control over his body, after all.

He placed a hand on the other side of her face and used it to guide her face upwards, allowing him to see the cut on her lip in the light of the streetlamps.

Her breath hitched in her throat when his thumb touched her mouth, pulling her lips apart. Did he realize how close he was? He seemed completely focused on his task.

So why, then, did her mind wander off into dangerous territory?

“It’s not that serious,” he concluded casually, letting her go and sitting back against the chimney, sipping at his coke.

“G-good,” she stumbled over the word, taking a big bite out of her burger to give her heart a chance to settle down.

“Expect some bruising.”

She nodded.

They ate in silence for a moment as she scrambled to think of something to say.

She seriously had to pull herself together.

“You know, there’s one thing I’ve been wondering,” she began, unsure if she was heading into dangerous territory.

“Yeah?”

“You’re close with Batman, right?”

He frowned and shifted, looking unsure about the new direction their conversation had headed in.

“.. I am. Why?”

“It’s just.. I’ve been trying to figure out the Robins. There’s the current one, and as far as I know, he’s the third. The second – well, we both know what happened to him,” she grimaced at the expression on his face, and quickly plowed on. “But the first? What happened to him, do you know?”

“Uhm.”

Morgan kept going, lost in memories, not noticing the put-upon look on Nightwing’s face.

“I remember when he first appeared in Gotham. I was eight or nine, I think? I thought he was so cool because he was a kid like me, but he got to stay out late and fight bad guys,” she sighed and leaned back, looking at the dark sky. Since they were in the middle of Blüdhaven, there were no stars, only the light pollution from the city tinting the sky orange. “I had such a crush on him back then.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Nightwing begged, sounding uncharacteristically awkward.

She looked at him in surprise. “What?”

“I’m the first Robin,” he said, and she blinked at him in horror when she realized what she’d just admitted.

“No!” she gasped. “Ew!”

“I thought you knew!”

She hid her red face behind her hands.

“How would I know!”

 He started laughing. Morgan looked up, studying him in wide-eyed surprise. Had she ever heard him laugh before?

She swiped at his knee.

“This isn’t funny!” she protested. “I can’t believe I just told you that. How are you Robin? How come you never told me!”

“I’m sorry!” he let out his last few chuckles and cleared his throat, struggling to keep the smile off his face. “Everyone in the community knows, I guess I forgot it’s not public knowledge.”

She groaned and hid her face again.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I hate you,” she mumbled, though without any fire in her words.

She needed to change the subject again.

“C’mon stop hiding. I’m flattered, really.”

“I’m going to throw you off this roof if you don’t shut up.”

He barked out a single laugh at that, and she found the courage to look up.

Knowing that he was Robin – it made her suddenly see her mentor in a new light, just as it had when she’d found out he was Dick Grayson.

She felt like so much about him began to make sense. She thought once more about the day she’d realized who he was, and how surprised she’d been. For a few days, she’d seen Nightwing and Dick Grayson as two separate entities, unable to connect the two despite knowing the truth. Then, it was like the two versions melted together, creating this wholly new person that looked like Nightwing, looked like Dick Grayson, but also something.. more.

And now, he was also Robin. The more she studied his face, the more she began to see it. The Robin she’d had in her mind’s eye slowly morphed into the guy that sat in front of her, and she struggled to keep track all the different facets of him. She supposed there was no reason to keep them separate – they were all him, after all.

“You know, before I knew who you were, I thought your eyes would be brown. Because of your hair. I thought maybe you were Latino,” she admitted, and the immediately wondered why she’d said that.

She inwardly cringed. Why was she admitting to thinking about his eyes? And his race?

She could see him tense up, his back ramrod straight. He looked at his feet after running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know if you remember.. a year ago..”

Her stomach sank again. She did remember.

Some reports for a tabloid had run an exposé on him after he turned eighteen and.. legal..

They’d been thorough – they had been to Haly’s circus and interviewed several people who’d known the Graysons.

It had come out that Dick Grayson’s dad had been Romani. What had followed on social media and in the papers had been a barrage of speculation and, frankly, xenophobic comments. Business papers were suddenly raising concerns about a someone raised in a circus standing to inherit the most powerful corporation in Gotham. None of them had mentioned the Romani thing, but it had been obvious that that was the reason for the issues some people suddenly took with him.

Some people had claimed it made him sexier – others had called him a circus mutt. Only months later, Bruce Wayne had made a very public deal out of adopting Dick formally.

She vividly remembered her mom reading a thinkpiece about the xenophobia he’d endured the weeks following the reveal. How Abigail had tutted and said something to the tune of wishing people would leave that poor boy alone.

“I remember it blew up on twitter..” she said vaguely. It didn’t matter – they both knew exactly what she was talking about.

“People were acting like I had kept some dirty secret about myself. I didn’t even know my dad was Romani. That was how I found out.”

She cringed, unable to imagine the toll it must take on someone, to have their life so readily available to the public. She began to understand why he coveted his secret identity to much.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “All the stuff that went down after the exposé – hell the exposé in and of itself – none of it was okay.”

He shrugged, his gaze far away.

“And for the record, there’s nothing dirty about it,” she assured him.

He looked at her stiffly.

“I know.”

“I guess we have something in common – it was bound to happen at some point,” she did her best to sound joking, hoping to lighten his mood.

“What do we have in common?”

“The ‘foreign dad’-thing,” she shrugged. “I know it’s not really the same.”

“It’s close enough,” he reassured her, finally quirking a little smile. She returned it eagerly.

They sat in silence for a moment, and she was unsure if she felt lighter or heavier. She was touched that he’d opened up to her, if even a tiny bit. But the way he sat, she could tell he was bothered by the whole thing.

She needed to change the subject again.

What was that thing she’d been talking about earlier?

Ah! An alias.

"So, names," Morgan plowed on, after sipping coke noisily through her straw.

“Names,” he agreed readily, just as eager as her to move on.

“What about Captain Morgan?" she joked.

"Absolutely not," Nightwing quickly debunked her suggestion.

"Hey, if my stupid dad can name me after a cheap brand of rum, why can’t I?”

"Isn’t it trademarked? Besides, you’re not even a captain.”

"Fine," Morgan pouted. "But all the good bird names are taken! Hawkgirl, Black Canary, Nightwing.." she listed off on her fingers.

"Who says it has to be a bird name?" Nightwing pointed out before taking a bite out of his burger.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "I'm kind of working a bird theme here, aren't I?"

"True." Nightwing relented. Morgan pushed herself off the chimney and turned so she was facing the teenager leaning against it, her legs crossed in front of her.

"What about 'The Pigeon'?" she suggested dramatically, motioning her hand in front of her face like she was tracing invisible letters that read the ridiculous name.

Nightwing coughed once. "No. Be serious."

"The Robin," she smirked, which prompted a small, crooked smile from her mentor.

"Already taken," he reminded her.

"Then I'm out of ideas," she gave up and took a large bite out of her burger instead.

"What about.." Nightwing hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "Sparrow?"

"Sparrows are brown, though," Morgan pointed out before sipping on her coke, ignoring the way her cut stung when the liquid touched it. "My wings are grey."

"Well, I'm pretty sure no one's going to demand you change your name to something more ornithologically correct."

Morgan considered it for a moment.

"Sparrow.." she mused. "It's not that bad. I could live with it. It's decided, then. Henceforth, I shall be known as Sparrow, Terror of the Night."

She was pretty sure Nightwing was rolling his eyes at her from behind that mask of his.

They’d finished eating a long time ago, and Nightwing stood up.

"We need to get back," he informed her before jumping off the building and using his grapple hook to hoist himself onto the next one.

He looked like Tarzan when he did that, Morgan decided.

"You did pretty good, by the way." Nightwing admitted when Morgan had caught up to him. "Taking down those four guys by yourself? Pretty well done."

"Well, I have the advantage of a superpower. And a knowledgeable teacher."

Translation: "Oh god!"

One major change to the rewrite of the story is that the Waynes are essentially celebrities in this universe, sort of like how in our world we know about people like Jeffrey Bezos and Elon Musk (only.. you know, less the worst people ever).

In the original Feathers, Morgan has lots of conflicts and flaws to overcome, while I always felt like Dick needed a little more, to make him less of the flawless leader. And to be clear, I'm not saying that being romani is a flaw he has to overcome - There never has, and never will be, anything wrong with being born any ethnicity.

I'm more interested in this juxtaposition of being a guy in a powerful position - the son of a very rich and powerful person - while still being regarded as an outsider because he wasn't born into it, and if he doesn't behave, people will try to undermine his position because of xenophobia and classism. It's not going to be some really big thing in the story proper - its more something that may crop up during the parts where the two of them are forced to undertake the Gotham socialite scene together, and something that adds some more to his background. It's a nice contrast to someone like Morgan who knows she doesn't fit in there, and doesn't care to. 

Dick has never really been allowed a private life - he's been in the spotlight his whole life, whether as a Flying Grayson, as an orphan adopted by the most famous man in Gotham, as Robin, as Nightwing.. He is born for the stage. But he also longs to keep aspects of himself hidden, to have some stuff he gets to keep to himself. And I think that's such a compelling internal conflict, and I'm excited to see where the story takes it, as I weave it into the narrative. 

Still, I'm not american and I don't claim to have a good grasp on the nature of classism and xenophobia in American society, so if anything I've written is inaccurate or offensive, please let me know. I'm not trying to step on any toes here, and I know this newer edit of the story is a bit more politically and ethically loaded than the original version, simply by virtue of me growing up and becoming way more aware of these things. It's a tightrope I'm hoping to walk, but again, if I stumble, please let me know!

Oh and also, Morgan finally figured out that he used to be Robin! 

We've reached the part of the story where they're tentative friends, who still have a lot of head-butting to do before they're really finding their stride. But I love this part! I've always loved their conversations, when they get along.

Anyway, as always I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't forget to leave a comment!

Chapter Text

January 19^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

Once they'd gotten home and Morgan had stepped into the bathroom to take a brief shower, she stopped in front of the mirror to access the damage done to her face. Her cut has stopped bleeding, but it was still swollen and red, a nasty thing cutting down the middle of her lower lip. Her left cheek and jaw had already blossomed into a colorful purple, which she knew would fade into a rainbow of blue, green and yellow tones with a few days' time.

"Esmeralda's gonna kill me," she muttered when she studied her wrecked face and her extremely chipped and ruined nail polish. The other girl had gushed about how she was going to make her a real catch this Friday, and now Morgan looked like she'd fallen down a flight of stairs.

Maybe this'll scare Darren off. She smirked at the thought.

Despite her face, she was in high spirits. The night had gone great, and she'd found herself truly enjoying Nightwing's company. They'd actually gotten along and almost, dare she say it, bonded?

He'd even complimented her for how she dealt with those goons.

The more they talked, the more she learned about him, the more intrigued she was. She thought she’d had him pegged – the serious, flawless, no-nonsense leader.

She was starting to realize he carried multitudes. There was something about him when he spoke about his past.. a vulnerability that she was drawn to.

Morgan shook her head. She had to stop thinking so much about her mentor, no matter how interesting she found him. They weren’t friends – this was a business relationship. The only reason he was seeking her out and hanging out with her was because he’d been forced to train her. Without Batman’s orders, he wouldn’t have taken her on patrol, and they wouldn’t have had that quiet moment to talk.

In the mirror, she eyed the end of her braid, and the hair tie he’d given her.

Morgan took a step back to study her full stature. Untying her hair and starting to untangle it from its braid, she remembered how she'd been called 'female Nightwing' twice that night and her brow furrowed in silent confusion.

She looked at her reflection and immediately realized why.

Her uniform..

The darkly colored suit with the lighter wing-formation on the chest carried a distinctly Nightwing-esque quality to its design.

Her mouth dropped open in horrified realization and her hands stilled their work on her hair.

Thinking back, Morgan clearly remembered Nightwing suggesting the wings on her chest. He'd also been the one to suggest using dark colors for camouflage.

Her cheeks blazed high when she realized that she’d been had.

He'd done it on purpose, the little shit. He'd purposefully manipulated her into designing a suit that made her look like the girl version of a Nightwing knock-off.

She immediately felt her former dislike or her mentor flare up again, ignoring how satisfied with the patrol she'd been a moment before. How could she not have noticed before? This was so embarrassing! Had the others noticed?

Thinking even further back, she remembered Robin's reaction to seeing her in costume for the first time. He'd started to say something about her looking like – and then Nightwing had stopped him.

Oh god, she could never go out in the suit again.

And yet, as she stood and looked herself over, she didn’t want to discard the design. Looking at herself in the mirror, in her boots and her suit, she slipped the mask on again to really see herself as she appeared on patrol.

She looked like a hero – there was no denying it. Whatever hand Nightwing might have held in designing her suit, she couldn’t deny that it felt right. She felt right.

She let out a sigh and figured she’d ask him about it later. And if she found that she couldn’t live with it, she’d ask for a change. But for now.. She’d enjoy feeling like a hero, in her very own suit.

January 19th

Mount Justice

Morgan 

Morgan dropped her heavy schoolbag with a thud and collapsed face-first – making sure to not land on her bruised jaw – onto her bed, groaning to herself.

Her day had not gone smoothly, and she was completely exhausted. And it was far from over yet, she realized with a mournful noise.

Due to their late-night patrol the day before, it had been well past two before she’d gotten to bed. She'd managed to cram in four hours of sleep before she had to get up at six thirty so she could train before going to school. Tuesday was the worst day of her week, with her two hardest subjects crammed back-to-back, starting at eight in the morning.

And her lunch break had been spent dodging questions from her two friends. By now, the three girls had settled in a routine of eating lunch together every day, since their schedules often clashed, and lunch was the only time they all had available.

When Esmeralda had seen her bruised face, she'd practically shrieked in horror and demanded to know what had happened. Then she'd seen Morgan's nails, polish chipped beyond saving, and launched into a stern lecture on taking care of yourself and your body.

Rachel had sat silently on her phone through the whole thing, neither saving Morgan nor helping Esmeralda.

Morgan couldn’t stay too mad at Esmeralda, however. At the end of her lecture, she had taken pity on her and had expertly covered the bruise on her jaw with foundation. It was too late, however. At that point, everyone at GU had seen her busted up face, and rumors were spreading like wildfire.

Did the scholarship student come from an abusive home? Did she get mugged because she surely lived in the poor part of town?

She allowed them to speculate – after all, she couldn’t care less what they thought.

The only downside to Esmeralda’s help covering her bruise was that the thick layer of foundation felt foreign on her face, and she’d felt itchy for the rest of the day.

And then, of course, Darren of all people had showed up and offered to walk her home, resulting in a mortifyingly awkward moment in which she attempted to decline his very persistent request. Obviously, she couldn't let him walk her to the Zeta tube she used to beam home to the Cave. That would just raise questions she'd like to avoid answering. But she couldn’t just tell the guy to fuck off – for whatever reason, she’d promised decided to go through with this date to the stupid winter ball.

Morbid curiosity? Probably. She’d never been on a date, and she supposed she was curious about what it was going to feel like, being on the arm of some handsome guy, in a pair of heels and a nice dress.

She felt like she had so many teenage experiences she needed to catch up on – and this was one of them. She’d missed prom at her high school. This was her chance at trying something similar.

She'd been lucky. One of his friends had called out to him and as soon as he turned his back on her, Morgan had booted it out of there and run most of the way to the nearest Zeta tube.

Morgan knew that being a superhero meant having to constantly lie to a large portion of the people in her life. And yet, while she knew it should've bothered her, it didn't really when it was just people like her school friends.

She'd arrived at the Cave sweaty, out of breath, and utterly exhausted.

And now she'd collapsed on her bed, determined to get in a few hours of sleep before Nightwing came and sparred with her. A small voice in the back of her head reminded her that skipping dinner was a bad idea as she'd promised to eat properly but she reasoned that skipping once wouldn't be the end of the world.

Not moving from the admittedly uncomfortable position she lay in, Morgan felt her eyes slip shut as she left the waking world.

January 19th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

"Anyone seen Morgan?" Nightwing walked into the kitchen and was met with the sight of the Cave's other five residents eating dinner. Without Morgan. Each of them denied having seen her.

“I saw her get home a few hours ago,” Connor said. “But nothing since.”

Nightwing nodded. He stood in the doorway, contemplating his next course of action.

Then, he turned down the hall, heading for her room.

“Morgan?” he asked, knocking at her door. There was no answer. Was she okay? Had she left the Cave?

Normally, he wouldn’t snoop in anyone’s room without their permission, but he worried that she’d gone somewhere – or what if she was sick?

He opened the door a crack and peek in.

She was asleep. He could see her lie with the side of her face smushed into her pillow, the bright purple bruise on her jaw clearly visible.

Should he let her sleep? She'd been out late last night and was bound to be tired. Or should he wake her up and proceed with their usual sparring?

He saw the dark circles around her eyes and realized the answer was obvious. She needed rest more than she needed training.

He slipped the door shut and went back towards the kitchen.

“Did you find her?” M’gann asked.

“She’s asleep. If she wakes up.." He paused, reaching a decision. "Tell her to go through her usual solo-training. I won't be there to spar with her tonight."

"Roger that." Garfield stuffed a potato in his mouth, muffling his words.

"And make sure she eats," Nightwing sternly added, already on his way back towards the main room.

He knew she'd have to get used to irregular sleep, if she wanted to be a hero, but he'd let her slack on training just this once. He'd seen her fight yesterday and had to admit she'd gotten better much quicker than he'd expected. She had good instincts – even though he knew it would be years before she could hold her own against him in single combat, she’d dealt with her opponents pretty effectively the night before.

Missing training just this once wouldn't kill anyone.

With that thought in mind, he left the Cave, arriving in Gotham a moment later via Zeta tube.

Since Morgan had first joined the Team, Dick had given his former mentor weekly updates on her. He knew Batman hadn't trusted her much in the beginning – neither had he for that matter – but after he had discovered her hidden power and she'd stopped acting like she was hiding something, his trust in her had greatly improved, which had influenced Bruce’s opinion too.

He was on his way for one such update, though he secretly thought it was unnecessary by now. Morgan was showing promise and would one day be a fine addition to the Team and the others trusted her fully, which was good enough for him for now.

Batman, however, was nothing if not distrustful and Nightwing knew the updates were mainly for his adoptive father's peace of mind than anything else. So, dutifully, he went.

And if he get a homecooked meal out of it; well, that was just a fortunate bonus.

Dick had to admit, he was the kind of person that would meddle. He was a superhero and a detective; it was part of the job. But he also liked to think that he knew when to stay out of people's business. He liked to think that he could draw the line between when his meddling was necessary or not.

For example: Someone on his team having a dispute? Meddle. Someone on his team having a dispute – Who also happen to be in a relationship? Don't meddle.

He'd learned that the rough way back when Connor and M'gann had started having couple-trouble.

Yes, he knew when to stay out of stuff that didn't need his interference.

Which was why he really hated when he found himself in a situation where he wasn't sure if he should be meddling or not. He hated when he couldn't tell if his meddling would do more damage than good.

So, when he spotted that 'missing' poster of Morgan on a lamppost in the poorer parts of Gotham, he'd stopped, looked at it, and proceeded to curse inwardly for at least ten seconds straight.

Of all the lampposts in all of Gotham, I happen to walk by this one.

The poster claimed that Morgan had gone missing on the eighteenth of November and that her mother was looking for her. It stated a few things about Morgan, like her height, age and looks. The mom’s phone number was hanging in small strips at the bottom of the paper and, after a moments deliberation, Dick plucked one of the offered strips off, pocketing it in his jeans.

He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes as he let out a weary sigh, wondering why life always loved throwing curveballs at him.

Morgan's mom was looking for her.

And now, Dick knew, he was suddenly faced with a new and unexpected responsibility regarding his trainee. And he didn't need any more of those. He already regretted not telling her about her dad. He didn't want to keep this from her too.

With knowledge came responsibility and all that.

His first instinct was of course to tell her as soon as possible, but as leader of his team, and her mentor, he needed to take a step back and properly think the situation through.

He needed to think about what was best for the Team.

But first and foremost, he needed to think about what was best for Morgan.

He knew she missed her mother. He knew she was torn up about the way they'd parted. But would telling her really be for the best? What if it ended badly? What if Morgan had already made peace with never seeing her mother again and this would only rip open an old wound? What if Morgan and her mom met again, only for her mom to say that she didn't want to have anything to do with her? What if she disapproved of Morgan's new life and it would make her doubt the path she was on?

That could literally endanger her. If she became so insecure about the hero gig being the right thing for her that she messed up on a mission and got herself, or someone else, killed.

Dick contemplated telling Batman and asking for his advice, but he decided against it. This was something he would deal with on his own.

He'd only left the batcave half an hour ago and had decided to go for a walk in Gotham before heading for a Zeta tube to take him home to Blüdhaven, when he'd stumbled upon the poster.

Dick squared his shoulders and marched on, his mind no longer on homework and dinner, but rather what he should do about Morgan's predicament.

Once he'd taken the tube and arrived in Blüdhaven, he had reached a decision. He'd tell her about her mother searching for her, but not yet. First, he'd test the waters. He would attempt to approach the subject of her mother and see how Morgan reacted. Gauge if telling her about her mom’s search would benefit her in any way.

Satisfied with this decision, Dick nodded absentmindedly to himself as he unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside.

Of course, now he just needed to figure out how he'd manage to touch upon the subject of Morgan's mom without making her clam up like an oyster, like she tended to do every time he tried to strike a conversation about anything even remotely personal.

She only really opened up on her own volition, or if she was being pressured to, like one of their many, many fights. But he didn’t want to provoke her just to get the truth out of her. It wasn’t right that they could only communicate when he’d gotten her so angry that she wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

He'd just have to create a quiet moment like they'd had on that rooftop last night. She’d been pretty open, there. Then again, so had he. He’d shared more than her.

Now that Nightwing thought about it, he had a lot of unanswered questions about the girl that he was currently mentoring. Some that she couldn't answer herself and some she could. At the start of their mentorship, he had known a great deal more about her, than she had known about him. Now, Dick felt like the roles were reversed, and she knew more about him than he did her.

Dick realized it was high time he spent some time getting to know the girl he was training. All they did was spar, argue, and go on patrols.

Vowing to work on something after the winter ball – which he had to go to a tuxedo fitting for tomorrow, uuugh.. – Dick put Morgan from his mind and focused on his homework instead. He had a long evening ahead of him before he could call it a night.

January 22nd

Esmeralda's Bedroom

Morgan

Morgan found herself being pushed into a swivel chair in front of a large, white, and pink vanity. The vanity was ornately carved, and looked expensive, the table filled to the brim with beauty products.

Rachel threw a blanket over the three-sectioned mirror as Esmeralda turned Morgan around in her chair so the other girl could properly access her face.

"You'll be so beautiful when we're done!" she gushed.

Morgan felt like a prisoner heading off to their execution.

Behind her, she felt Rachel tug at her hair, and she jumped in her seat, turning to look at her.

"What are you doing?"

"Morgan," Rachel said with an attitude, because the jump had made her drop the comb, she had been using to section Morgan’s hair. "You agreed to let us fix you up exactly as we wanted with no complaints. I'm going to do your hair."

Morgan scoffed.

"Good luck with that."

"You don’t think I know how to handle curls? I have an afro when my hair isn’t braided, babygirl,” Rachel pointed out confidently. "You’re, what, a type three-b? I’m a four-a, usually. This is no challenge at all."

“I have no idea what that means,” Morgan admitted.

Rachel tutted.

“I can tell. You really should take better care of your curls, they could be so pretty if you had a haircare routine.”

Morgan looked at her hands in her lap, feel unexpected shame at the lecture. Someday, she was sure she’d learn how to style her hair – but, honestly, did she have the time, currently? Did she care?

“I know a salon you should go to. I’ll text you their address if you ever want tips from some experts.”

“That would be nice," she admitted. 

Esmeralda had been setting up her make up while the two girls had discussed curls, but now she descended upon Morgan.

"Why'd you cover the mirror?" Morgan asked, allowing the other girl to prime her face.

By now, she’d accepted her fate, letting the two girls work with minimal fuss. She understood that they had some notion of playing her fairy godmothers, and she was their Cinderella, ready to blossom from a street rat, into a delicate flower.

She wondered if they had forgotten they couldn’t have her personality removed, to fit the new look.

The girls had already redone her nails, and they looked just a shiny and perfect and unlike her, as they’d had the first time.

The three of them had essentially been camped out in Esmeralda's huge room since the afternoon the day before. After school on Thursday, they'd gone dress shopping. Morgan had found that she'd had a surprisingly good time with the two girls. Esmeralda and Rachel had bought their own dresses weeks ago, so all of their energy was focused on getting something fitting for Morgan. She allowed herself to get swept up in the splendor of it all, and she briefly understood the allure. It was no wonder a lot of the kids at GU lacked a certain touch with reality. If their lives had truly been an endless montage of parties and shopping, and living in lavish homes, she understood how they’d ended up the way they did.

Rachel and Esmeralda had dragged her from one highly expensive shop to the next, Morgan acting as their personal dress up doll. She had rued the moment they found a dress they decided was 'the one' because she couldn't afford buying it. Obviously, she still had the credit card she'd gotten from Nightwing, but she didn't know how much money was on it and, besides, she wasn't sure shopping for expensive dresses with it was what Batman had had in mind. She barely used the card at all – she wasn't about to spend two thousand dollars on a dress with it.

So, when they'd entered their fifth shop and the clerk had produced a long, dark blue dress with off-shoulder sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that made her small boobs look much more impressive, Morgan just about panicked. There was glitter in the fabric that shimmered whenever she moved, and it made her think of the stars on a clear, frosty night.

The dress looked beautiful on her, hugging her small upper body tightly and flaring out slightly over her hips, falling to her ankles in a shower of deliciously soft, midnight blue.

She hadn't expected to ever be into this sort of thing, but Morgan found herself falling in love with the dress the moment she saw herself wearing it in the mirror. It had been intimidating at first, allowing herself to try pretty dresses without five layers of protective irony about the whole thing. She’d expected every dress to look awkward and awful on her. But this..

The back was even low-dipped, making it easy for her to put it on without damaging her wings or the dress in the process. The off-shoulder sleeves charmingly settled around her upper arms, her shoulders, and arms otherwise bare. It showed off her collarbone and gave her a tiny bit of cleavage – something she hadn’t know she had. She felt like the dress had been made for her – it fit like a glove.

Maybe this was her Cinderella moment.

Her two friends had been impatiently waiting for her to put it on, and they started cheering happily when she stepped out of the dressing room, Esmeralda even squealing in delight.

"It's perfect!"

Morgan smiled sadly because she agreed wholeheartedly. Now that she'd tried it on, she couldn't even imagine wearing another dress for the winter ball.

She'd have to, though. The dress was too expensive.

"Go take it off quickly, so we can buy it!" Rachel ordered, already starting to push Morgan back into the changing room.

Morgan stood firm, needing to explain her predicament before it was too late.

"Guys, it's a really pretty dress, but I can't afford," she admitted. "Scholarship student, remember?"

Esmeralda smiled even wider.

"Don't worry about it. Rachel and I already agreed that if we found the perfect dress, we'd buy it for you. We know you haven't got a lot of money and we want to give it to you as a gift."

Morgan found herself unexpectedly touched. A small part of her screamed that it was charity and she wasn't their charity subject, but an even bigger part knew that it was because they were her friends and they wanted to do something nice. Even if that nice thing was throwing money at her.

She smiled shyly at the two girls.

"Thank you."

And now, because they'd bought her that perfect dress, Morgan found herself unable to say no when they said they wanted to do her hair and makeup. She could tell Esmeralda was excited to do it and she didn't want to disappoint her.

And although she could pretend that she didn’t care about any of this, she did wonder what she would look like once they were done.

A stinging pain suddenly erupted near her left eyebrow, and Morgan jumped in her seat. She'd been told to close her eyes for now, so she had no idea what was going on.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just removing stray hairs around your eyebrows. Haven't you done that before?" Esmeralda sounded genuinely surprised.

Well, no, you guys are the first girly friends I've had since I was thirteen and I have no idea how to do any of these things – "Of course I have, I was just caught off guard."

Morgan bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from making any more noise as Esmeralda kept going at it.

Behind her, she could feel Rachel drag something through her hair. "Is that a brush?" she asked. "Are you actually attempting to brush my hair? You know it'll frizz horribly, right? Won't look pretty at all."

"Shush," Rachel cut her off. "I know what I'm doing."

"Morgan, relax," Esmeralda said, trying to make the tense girl relax. "We both know what we're doing. Trust me, by the end of tonight, Darren won't be able to keep his eyes off you."

Morgan rolled her eyes behind her closed lids. The last thing she wanted was for Darren to have his eyes on her all night – if she was to believe Nightwing's words of warning, which she did because she had no reason to doubt him.

"Or," Morgan could literally hear the smirk in Rachel voice. "Dick Grayson won't be able to either, if you'd prefer that."

"I swear to god, Rachel," Morgan quickly growled out. "I don’t have a crush on Dick Grayson."

She never should’ve talked to him her first day of school. Rachel had taken the moment and run with it.

"It's okay, Morgan!" Esmeralda giggled. "Practically everyone in our year has been there. He’s very hot."

"Hell, I'm there still," Rachel admitted. "And I believe Esmeralda is too."

"Mhmm." Esmeralda agreed. She'd started applying eye shadow to Morgan's lids by now.

“But he doesn’t date, apparently,” Rachel sighed. “At least, not anyone from our school.”

No wonder.. Morgan couldn’t imagine her mentor willingly dating someone from their school. Trying to keep the other half of his life secret from them would be too much work.

She didn’t answer, hoping the conversation would die. The two of them had agreed to not talk at school, to not give the impression that they knew each other from somewhere else. However, despite those efforts, her friends had still managed to fixate on him.

She wondered if he was going to be there, tonight. She couldn’t tell if that would be better, or worse. Did she want him to see her all decked out like a princess, or was that just mortifying?

She was unsure how much time had passed when Esmeralda pulled back and declared that she was done.

"You look so pretty!" she squealed. Morgan was damn curious to see what she looked like, but she wasn't allowed to look in the mirror until Rachel had finished her hair.

Her eyelids felt thicker with the eye shadow resting on them, and her lips were unused to the sensation of lip gloss. The thin coat of blush on her cheekbones felt foreign too and Morgan had to constantly remind herself to not touch her face and accidentally smear it. It wasn’t that she minded, really. It was just foreign.

Since Rachel had started working on her hair, Morgan had been sitting with her heart lodged in her throat in paranoia. What if Rachel accidentally brushed against her wings and felt them?

She'd sat with her wings folded as tightly to her back as possible, praying that Rachel wouldn't discover them. Morgan was wearing the charmed pendant that hid her wings, but Nightwing had warned her that just because they were invisible didn't mean they weren't there. Rachel discovering them was still a risk. She’d wrapped a blanket around her shoulder – claiming she was chilly – to mask the sensation of feathers, should Rachel brush against them. So far, it had worked. At least, Rachel hadn’t screamed and started asking awkward questions.

Once, Morgan could feel Rachel’s hand briefly brush against her wing, but the other girl didn't react at all, so she assumed she hadn't registered it.

"Aaaand done!" Rachel announced proudly and took a step back to study her handiwork.

"Ready?" Esmeralda cheered excitedly, grabbing hold of the blanket covering the mirror with one hand.

Morgan nodded. She felt anxious for a moment – worried that she would look stupid. Would she look like a ten year old who’d plundered her mom’s make-up?

The cloth was removed in one quick, swooshing motion and Morgan was finally allowed to see herself.

The bruise on her cheek had been covered with foundation and her cheeks were rosy, cheekbones more pronounced than usual. The mascara and smokey eye had accentuated her grey eyes, making them appear almost silvery.

It wasn’t that she didn’t look like herself – she just looked older. She had been worried about looking like a little girl playing dress-up, but she didn’t. She looked like a woman.

Morgan's attention wasn't on her makeup for long, though, as her hair quickly drew her eyes.

Instead of her usual big, unruly mane, Rachel had straightened it completely. Morgan almost dropped her mouth in shock, and she stood up so she could eye her hair as it spilled over her shoulders and down her back in a smooth line. It was longer than Morgan had expected it to be, having never seen it straightened before. It reached almost to her waist. She watched it fall smoothly around her wings and wondered how it fell in the eyes of the two girls that couldn't see her wings.

The hair made her more uncomfortable than the make-up – with it straightened, she didn’t look like herself anymore.

She looked like someone that fit in at GU.

"Aw, look Esmi," Rachel remarked. "She's speechless."

"Go put on your dress!" Esmeralda commanded. "Go, go, go!"

The two other girls grabbed their own dresses, intending to put them on once Morgan finished up.

Morgan grabbed the bag with her dress and shoes and stepped into Esmeralda's bathroom.

"We'll pick out jewelry for you afterwards!" Esmeralda shouted after her as the door slid shut behind Morgan.

Oh no. Morgan stopped in her tracks after locking the door.

There was no way Esmeralda would let Morgan wear her orange pendant with the dress.

But if she didn't wear it, her wings would be visible for the entire world to see.

Morgan's mind started racing as she mechanically pulled the dress out and started shedding her clothes. She contemplated locking herself in the bathroom and simply refusing to go to the ball altogether.

Then she realized that that would be an incredibly stupid solution to her problems.

She took the pendant off and immediately felt the familiar hum in her wings as the charm disappeared. Slipping on her dress, Morgan tried to see if she could somehow hide the pendant in her cleavage or something. No such luck.

She was prepared for a full-blown round of panic when she thought of another solution. She had to wear the pendant for the charm to work, but did it have to be worn around her neck specifically?

She undid the clasp and pushed the material of her dress up, wrapping the black cord around her ankle twice before redoing the clasp.

The moment the small lock clicked into place, Morgan felt the hum in her wings again and she knew her desperate plan had worked. Sending a silent thanks to her mentor for the brilliant design, she made a mental note to thank him properly if she saw him tonight.

She couldn’t wear it around her ancle, however – it would be visible.

She tried to wrap it twice around her knee, but the cord was too short.

Her thigh, then. She moved it up and felt as the cord tightened around her flesh. It wasn’t going to budge this time – but she did worry that it would get uncomfortable with time.

As if her poor feet wouldn't be uncomfortable enough as it was, in those high heels.

Morgan had spent hours walking around in them, first at the Cave and then later in Esmeralda's room. The two girls had helped her grasp the proper technique and at the end of the night, Esmeralda had declared that she looked like she'd never walked in anything else.

She was faking the confidence epically, but it was only for one night, so she'd have to make do.

She walked out of the bathroom in her dress, accepted the compliments Esmeralda threw at her while Rachel changed, and half an hour later, the three girls were ready to go.

They had gotten their fairy godmother moment, and the two girls seemed satisfied with their results.

Now, Morgan wondered.

Was she getting her Cinderella moment?

Morgan discovering her own femininity is something that can be so personal, actually. 

No but, idk if anyone else can relate, but I too tried to dress like a bit of a tomboy for a while in school because I was afraid that actually trying to be feminine would just reveal that I wasn't - and then I would be ridiculed for trying. And sure, I was like 14-15 at the time, but I think there are areas where Morgan has been a bit stuck because of her years of isolation. 

I don't think she'll ever be like a hyper-feminine person, but she clearly likes aspects of it, so it would be good for her to allow herself to experiment with that side of herself, so she can find a balance that she feels good with. And I guess this ball is the thing that kickstarts that for her! I've been thinking about sprinkling in little moments of Morgan experimenting a bit with make-up or more girly clothes. Maybe getting her ears pierced? Sort of to show her embracing more parts of herself and gaining the confidence to care about her looks. 

Next chapter is the party! I'm hoping to get it up later today. It's a chapter I remember loving, so I don't think it'll need much restructuring or editing. 

Chapter Text

January 22^nd

Wayne Manor

Dick

Dick fidgeted in his tuxedo as Alfred finished tying his bowtie. Some day, he would learn to do it himself – but for now, he relied on Alfred. Whenever Dick tried to tie a bowtie himself, it got crooked.

"All done, Master Richard," Alfred concluded and took a step back, quickly brushing and straightening the shoulders of Dick’s suit.

“Thanks, Alfie.” Dick gave him a tense smile and a jerky nod before leaving his room and heading for the kitchen. He needed to find Tim.

He found him in the living room, pouring over an advanced biology textbook, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

"Test tomorrow?" Dick asked casually as he strode into the room. Tim looked up and spotted his older brother, smirking at the suit.

"Going on a date?"

"If only," Dick rolled his eyes. "School function."

"Ah." Tim sat back in his chair and set his pencil on the table. "Yeah, I've got a test tomorrow. My biology teacher decided to spring the news on us at the last possible moment. I've been studying all day."

"So, you're ready for a break?"

Tim narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you want?"

Dick sighed and sat on the corner of the table, taking care to not rumple his suit jacket.

"I obviously won't be on call tonight. I need someone for the League to contact in case the Team gets a mission. I was hoping you’d give it a shot? If anything comes up, you can just give me a call and I'll help out from a distance. Mal's on a date with Karen and I know they’ve been planning it for weeks, so I don’t want him to cancel."

Tim considered his request. Then he nodded slowly.

"Sure. I think I could do that."

"Thanks, man." Dick stood up, ruffling his younger brother's hair. "If you feel like you're in over your head, just ask Barbara for help."

"Enjoy the party," Tim quipped at Dick's retreating back, a small smirk teasing his lips.

Dick groaned slightly.

"I'll do my absolute best," he answered dryly.

"Morgan gonna be there?" Tim asked casually and Dick stopped in his tracks.

"Yeah," he replied shortly, wondering why that was relevant, before rounding a corner and heading for the manor's main entrance.

He arrived at the party fifty minutes late, hoping that he'd be too late for the principal's opening speech that way. If he was smart, he'd leave early too so he would miss the present and then her long, heartfelt speech of gratitude.

The large, on-campus ballroom was beautiful, as usual. Giant chandeliers had been installed, shimmering like frost. White cloth had been draped across the ceiling, adding to the wintery look.

Dick settled against a wall with a glass of punch, looking across the room to locate his classmates. There was really only one of two people from his friend group he found tolerable, and so he looked around for Michele, the Italian exchange student that had moved to their school last semester. True to form, all his friends had dates, unlike Dick – not that he couldn’t get a date, he simply chose not to, thank you very much.

He located Michele and weaved through the crowd. Friend thusly located, his eyes started scanning the party, trying to spot Morgan.

Logically, it shouldn't have been difficult to locate a girl with wings, but because she was shorter than most people in the room, her wings could easily be hidden from his sight.

“Hey,” he greeted shortly, absentmindedly looking across the room. He tried to spot anyone with a big, curly mane, but had no such luck either. Had she decided not to show up, after all?

“Yo,” said Michele, always trying to lean heavily into American vernacular. “Who are you looking for?”

"Nobody, Michele," Dick muttered, sipping from his punch. "Just Darren."

If that slimeball had found his date already, he'd undoubtedly keep her close to his side for the rest of the evening. Meaning if Dick found Darren, he found Morgan.

"Isn't that him over there?" Michele helpfully offered, pointing behind Dick.

Dick turned around fully and spotted the immaculately clad back of his friend in the middle of sucking up to their chemistry teacher.

Next to him, Dick realized with a start, stood Morgan.

Despite the fact that it was very obviously her – he could see her wings, after all – it took him a moment to fully register it.

Her hair was all wrong, long, and smooth, cascading down her back in a decidedly un-Morgan-ish way.

Darren laughed loudly at something their teacher said before excusing himself and offering Morgan his arm.

She accepted it – hesitantly, if the tense line of her shoulders was anything to go by – and he turned them around, finally giving Dick a proper view of his mentee.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head when he got a good look at her face.

She looked undeniably stunning. Had her eyes always been so large and intense? He felt like he would’ve remembered it if they had.

The blond pair approached the table Dick was lurking by, and as they hadn't spotted him yet, he took the opportunity to study her briefly. She walked almost gracefully on the same heels he'd seen her stumble around in only two days ago. With each step, her hips swayed, and the expensive fabric of the beautiful dress danced, shimmering like the night-sky. He swallowed dryly when he saw how the neckline of the dress dipped slightly, showing off her collarbones and a bit of cleavage. He’d never seen her wear anything like this before – she preferred loose t-shirts, workout clothes and her Sparrow uniform.

It was like she was an entirely new person – someone glamorous and elegant, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to think of it.

He almost didn’t believe it was really her – but then he got a good look of her face and he had to bite back a smile at the vaguely pissed off expression she wore. It comforted him to see. They could dress her up in fancy clothes and jewelry, make her look like a part of the elite, but she would still be Morgan.

Morgan spotted him and immediately made a grimace, jerking her head in the direction of her date, rolling her eyes. She was unimpressed with her company, it seemed.

Good, Dick thought.

"Dick!" Darren greeted, a smug tint to his tone and facial expression. "We thought you'd never show up!"

"We?"

"Well, Morgan and I, of course." Darren explained. "She cleans up nicely, doesn’t she?”

He stepped to the side and pushed her lightly forward, making Morgan stumble. He could see her fists clench subtly as she found herself under the scrutiny of both guys.

"She's certainly something," Dick responded neutrally, grinning crookedly, and hiding it behind his glass as he took another sip. Morgan glared at him before rolling her eyes again.

Whatever powerplay Darren was attempting, it was clear Dick hadn’t engaged how he’d wanted him to, because he waved him away and struck up a conversation with Michele instead, leaving behind his classmate and his date.  

Dick and Morgan both stepped to the side and placed themselves against the wall.

"He's been doing that all night," Morgan spoke up first. "Dragging me around, introducing me to people with some cheesy line and then forgotten about me as he talked to them. It’s incredibly boring."

She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned her back against the wall, shooting a glare in the direction of her date. Dick felt his eyes jump down the front of her dress when her crossed arms pushed her breasts up, and he scrambled to get his mind out of whatever gutter it had swan dived into.

"Well, that's what these parties are really about. They don't just throw them for fun,” he shrugged and drank more from his punch. “It's practice for when the students grow up and start attending actual upper-class get-togethers. It's all about making connections and honing your social skills.”

"It's still annoying," she complained. "I was about ready to spill my drink on his expensive little suit."

"He'd start crying if you did," Dick dryly responded. He looked at her again, eyes betraying him as they travelled lower. She should really uncross her arms, but she seemed completely unaware of the effect she was creating. He felt bad for looking – this was Morgan. His mentee! He wasn’t supposed to look!

Dick nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed the lack of charmed pendant around her neck.

"Where's your necklace?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice low so nobody else could hear. She had to be wearing it, otherwise everybody in here would've noticed her wings by now.

Morgan grimaced.

"You don't want to know," she said flatly, looking out across the room. He had no idea a neck could look elegant, but hers did as she looked around. He didn’t focus on that for long, however, as her statement had sent Dick's imagination into overdrive as he tried to figure out where exactly she was keeping the necklace.

"Now I really want to know," he pointed out, trying to keep the intense curiosity out of his voice.

Morgan scoffed, obviously knowing his line of thought, and she sent him a crooked smile.

"Pervert. It's strapped to my thigh."

Well, of course. The only logical place.

"Oh great, here he comes," Morgan breathed, finally uncrossing her arms, and Dick looked up to spot Darren approaching them with a drink in his hand.

"Morgan, babe," – Dick saw her visibly flinch at the nickname – "I was afraid you'd run off."

"Jeg ville ønske jeg havde gjort det." She smiled sweetly at him, but it didn’t reach her dead eyes. Dick wished more than anything that he'd pull himself together and learn some basic Danish already so he could understand what she'd said.

His guess was it wasn't anything pleasant.

"Anyway," Darren got back on track, momentarily confused by the strange words she'd spoken. "I got you a drink."

He proudly shoved the drink into her hands and Morgan accepted it with a raised eyebrow.

.. And promptly dropped the glass onto the table, the contents spilling everywhere and the fragile flute cracking.

"Whoops," she said, voice flat. Darren looked crestfallen. Dick held in a snicker.

"You'd better get me a new one," she suggested with a sugary smile. "I'd like one from that table over there." She pointed at the table that was at the complete opposite end of the room. It would take him some time to maneuver around the big crowd of people and fetch her drink.

Darren paused for a moment, looking like he was about to protest before he sighed and plastered a smile onto his face again.

"Of course. Be right back."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Morgan turned to Dick.

"He's going to spike my drink just enough to lower my inhibitions and then hope I won’t reject his advances, right?"

Dick finished his drink as he considered her question. He set the glass down on the table and turned to her.

"Undoubtedly," he agreed.

Morgan sighed. "This party blows."

"Yup."

"Wanna go fight crime?"

".. Hell yes."

He watched with rapt attention as she bent down to shrug off her heels, before gathering them in one hand. Then, she grabbed his hand with her free one, and dragged him after her. The two of them walked at a brisk pace, both eager to ditch the party as quickly as possible.

They ran down the dark halls, and Dick wondered why he was still holding her hand, even as he felt no desire to let it go yet. Her hair cascaded like a blonde waterfall down her back as she ran, mingling with the midnight blue of her dress. He felt his heart speed up a little bit in anticipation, excited that his night had just taken a turn for the better.

Morgan headed for the wardrobe. Here, she dropped his hand and crouched down in front of a duffle bag. As she did, he realized the back of her dress dipped low, and he traced the smooth skin that was visible to him.

The sooner she got out of that dress, the better.

Morgan threw her shoes inside before closing the bag and pulling the strap over her shoulder, standing again.

“Let’s find somewhere to change.”

"You brought your suit?" Dick asked incredulously as they started walking down the hall again, heading for the roof of the building. There was a terrace up there with a small garden – the perfect place for them to escape unnoticed.

"Oh, like you didn't," she said, not a trace of doubt in her voice.

Dick sighed in resignation and pulled off his bowtie, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt to reveal his Nightwing suit underneath.

"I'm beginning to suspect you sleep in that suit," Morgan said.

"I can assure you, I don't," he answered, as they kept up their fast paced jog through the school halls, both eager to get out of this school and into the city.

"Speaking of suits.." Morgan began, a displeased furrow on her brow. "I've noticed that mine looks almost exactly like yours. Did you do that on purpose?"

"I hadn't noticed," he lied. The truth was that he had, indeed, pushed her towards making a suit resembling his. It wasn’t something he’d done consciously, and he still had no idea why he’d done it, really. Maybe it was just because he was drawing inspiration from back when he'd designed his own suit, not realizing he was basically repeating the process. "I didn’t mean to."

Morgan seemed to chew on his words.

"I'll pretend I believe you, if only to keep the peace."

They reached the fourth floor and Morgan halted.

"We can change in here," she suggested, opening the door to one of the many classrooms on the floor.

Dick soundlessly agreed and stepped in first, closing the door after them.

Turning their backs to each other, the only through the room was the ruffle of clothing being pulled off and zippers being closed.

Dick had already taken his tuxedo off completely, now lying in a small pile by his boot-clad feet and slipped his gloves and mask on when Morgan's hesitant voice broke the silence.

"Uh, Dick? Or Nightwing? Can I get a little help?"

He turned around, the uncertainty in her voice piquing his curiosity.

Illuminated only by the moonlight, she was standing by a chair with had her right foot propped up on the seat. Her dress had been bunched up, giving Nightwing a full view of her toned leg. He could see the orange pendant strapped to her thigh, looking uncomfortably tight.

"The lock is stuck," Morgan admitted, speaking through her teeth in frustration. "And the necklace won't budge. I think it's gotten tangled in a thread from the dress. I can't see what I'm doing."

She sounded extremely mortified and Nightwing knew she wouldn't have asked him if there had been any way she could get it off herself.

He approached her wordlessly and Morgan looked over her shoulder briefly to confirm that he'd even heard her words. He swore her eyes were shining in the dark, as she blinked innocently up at him with a pleading look.

Once she spotted him approaching, she brought her leg down and held up her dress, so it ended right below the swell of her behind.

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and licked his lower lip as he contemplated the best course of action here.

Crouching down behind her, he immediately knew this had not been the best course of action as he found himself way too close to her.. features. He cleared his throat to rid himself of awkwardness and studied the pendant briefly. The lock had indeed snagged on a loose thread from the dress and the thread had tangled itself into the mechanism, preventing it from opening.

"There is a thread stuck," he confirmed her suspicion, feeling like the silence was only making things much more awkward. "I'll try to get it loose."

Morgan waited silently and patiently as he studied the offending lock. Her leg clenched when he touched it with his gloved fingers, untangling the thread to the best of his abilities. Her wing's fluttered nervously and he got the tip of one in the face. He batted it away and refocused his attention on the locket in front of him.

He managed to get it untangled and simply dropped the thread on the ground before he undid the small clasp on the lock, the necklace coming off her thigh easily. The black cord left behind a red line on her light skin and Morgan immediately dropped the fabric of her dress, turning to face her mentor, looking very red in the face.

He stood up from his previous crouch and handed her the pendant, which she immediately stuffed into the open duffel bag by her side.

"I'll be ready in a moment."

"I'll wait outside," he said, picking up his abandoned tuxedo and stepping outside quickly.

He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Morgan to change clothes, vowing to never bring himself into a situation like that again.

Morgan stepped into the hall a moment later, dressed in her Sparrow gear.

She held out a hand for his small bundle of clothing and he handed it to her, watching as she stuffed it carelessly into her duffel bag. He couldn't even bring himself to care that she was treating his expensive, tailored suit like a used towel.

Next, Nightwing took the bag from her, slinging it over his shoulder and, together, they walked down the hall.

Morgan placed her mask on her face and wiped at her mouth, removing the rest of the lip gloss there.

She now looked like herself, except for her hair. Though, with all their running up and down halls, it had started to curl again by her temples.

As they stepped onto the roof, a powerful gust of wind blew her hair all over, and she pulled it over her shoulder, hastily braiding it.

"You got a scrunchie?" she asked.

"Morgan.." he groaned.

"Kidding," Morgan grinned. "There's one in the side pocket of the bag."

Nightwing unzipped the small pocket and pulled out a black hair band, handing it to her.

"So, where are we going first?" she asked cheerily. It was obvious that she was happy about ditching that party.

"We're in Gotham," Nightwing pointed out, looking out over the city with a narrowed gaze though his stance and tone were relaxed. "You don't have to search long for some sort of crime."

He walked to the edge of the roof and pulled out his grapple gun.

"I've got a police radio in my car. Let's go."

He fired the gun between his feet and lowered himself down the building, landing on the snow-covered ground a minute later. Morgan landed soundlessly next to him and folded her wings behind her back.

"Which car is yours?" she asked, looking out over the parking lot and all the luxury cars there.

Nightwing hoisted the bag further up his shoulder.

"The expensive looking one,” he said.

"Is that supposed to impress me?” she said mockingly. “They all look expensive to me."

Still, she followed him as he headed for his car – a gift from Bruce that he almost never used.

She whistled when she spotted the sleek, black sports car.

“Nice ride," she drawled as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for her, handing her the duffle bag once she had settled in.

He walked around the car and got into the driver's seat, turning on the engine and radio at the same time. Waiting for the engine to heat up, he switched through the channels until he reached the special frequency Bruce had installed that allowed for Nightwing to listen in on the police radio.

Nightwing revved the engine and sped out of the parking lot, Morgan quickly clicking her seatbelt into place and clinging to the strap of her duffel bag.

Knowing that it was the place most likely for a crime to take place, Nightwing headed in the direction of the Narrows. The police radio currently had nothing interesting to report so he decided to go looking for it instead.

“What if someone sees us in your car? Can’t they trace the plates back to Dick Grayson?”

He pressed a button, and although she couldn’t see it from inside the car, he knew the plates disappeared, replaced by black ones.

“I have special plates for when I’m out as Nightwing. I don’t use the car usually, though. I prefer my bike.

Outside, it began to snow, and he turned on the windshield wipers.

"This really is a pretty cool car," Morgan admitted after a moment. She sat up straighter in her seat and studied the interior. "How fast can it go?"

"I haven't checked," Nightwing admitted right as they arrived at their destination. He found an old, poorly lit parking lot and turned to it, shutting off the engine once he'd parked the car.

"What about the police radio?" Morgan pointed out.

"Already got it covered," he said as he dug a small earpiece out of a pouch from his belt and placed it in his ear before turning it on. The familiar sound of the police radio crooning lowly in his ear let him know it was active. "I can hear the radio now in this ear. It'll keep us updated."

He stepped out of the vehicle and waited for Morgan to get out too before he locked it.

"You have got to lend me some of those handy toys when I get myself my own pouch-belt," she begged.

Nightwing's eyes dropped to the belt she had currently fastened around her waist, the old thing nostalgically familiar as he remembered wearing it himself when he first joined the Team. He'd only been thirteen back then and much smaller in size, so the belt fit Morgan pretty well. She smiled excitedly as she flipped her thick braid over her shoulder, snowflakes settling charmingly in her hair, her cheeks red from the cold.

She had looked pretty at the party, but in Dick's very, very secret, and personal opinion, she looked better like this, when her smile was genuine and she was relaxed, doing something she enjoyed.

"We'll see," was all he said as he walked ahead, Morgan following close behind him. He walked quickly, as if hoping he could outpace the weirds thoughts he was having.

He hadn’t planned for this patrol, but he figured he might as well use the night to test Morgan in her skills, now that they were out. He stopped once they'd reach a small alley and disappeared into the dark shadows it provided.

"Alright, what’s the first thing we should do when starting a patrol?"

Morgan seemed to catch up to his line of thought immediately and answered, a small confident grin on her face.

"We find some high ground, where we have a better view over the streets so it's easier to spot any crime."

"Exactly. So, find some high ground."

Morgan looked up and pointed at the taller of the two buildings they stood between.

"We'll go up there to see if we can spot the tallest building nearby."

Nightwing confirmed with a nod and followed her lead.

They reached the top and Morgan did a three-sixty, spotting the tallest building in the neighborhood, and pointed to it.

"That's our building," she said.

Two minutes later, Nightwing sat perched on the railing of the building, Morgan landing next to him.

"Alright, Sparrow,” he said, unable to keep back his grin when he saw how her smile grew at the title. "What now?”

January 26th

Mount Justice

Morgan

"So, the entire school thinks we slept together," Morgan said conversationally four days later.

Nightwing looked up from the knot he was tightening on the rope around her wrists. He was currently teaching her how to escape various forms of confinement. They'd been picking locks all afternoon and now, an hour after dinner, which Nightwing had eaten with the others at the Cave, Morgan had demanded a change of pace.

So, he had busted out some rope and tied her up, lecturing her on how to escape her bindings.

She'd managed to wriggle herself out of the ropes and Nightwing had now tied her hands behind her back. He'd placed a knife at the end of an obstacle course, and she had to get it with her hands and wings strapped to her back and use it to cut the rope loose.

"Why?" he asked after a moment's pause.

"Because a bunch of people saw us leaving the ball early together,” Morgan shrugged. “Apparently it seemed more likely that we did it to hook up than to go dress up in combat gear and terrorize the criminals of Gotham."

"Shows how much they know," Nightwing took a step back to study his handiwork. "Done. Go get the knife."

He took her time with a stopwatch and Morgan leapt onto the first crate, doing her best to not fall off, and hopped onto the next. She found that leaping from crate to crate without pausing too much between them made the task much easier. And she soon found herself standing in front of the next obstacle. This went on until she reached the end and now only had one task left. She'd only fallen on her ass three times which she personally thought was impressive with her arms tied behind her back.

Now all she needed to do was get a hold of the knife and cut through the rope around her wrists.

She crouched down behind it and felt around for the knife with her stiff fingers, wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so she could get some blood flowing back into her digits. Finally grasping the handle, she let out a small whoop of joy and started slicing through the bonds. It was slow work because her hands weren't allowed much movement, but eventually she managed to cut through the rope once, immediately decreasing her hands restriction. It was much easier to slice through it a second time, and she didn't even need to do it a third time as the rope had already loosened enough for her to wriggle her hands out of it.

"Done!" she shouted and Nightwing stopped the timer.

"How did I do?"

"Twenty seconds faster than the last time," he informed her, sounding vaguely impressed.

It was the only praise she'd get, Morgan knew that, so she took it.

“You know, there’s one upside to the rumor,” she landed next to him again, folding her wings and giving him an impish smile. “Everyone thinks you won the bet so now no one is trying to seduce me anymore.”

 “That’s good news,” he said neutrally, keeping his eyes on the timer. “Except I don’t really want people to think I do casual hookups.”

“So, you’re going to tell them nothing happened? What other excuse can you come up with to explain why we ran off?”

He groaned as he realized no excuse would make sense.

Morgan felt a little stab in her chest. Was it really so horrible if people thought they’d slept together?

She shook her head and looked away – why was she bothered by his reaction? It wasn’t like they had done anything! And it wasn’t like she wanted to have done anything, so why was she offended?

“Would it be okay with you if we let them think we were dating?” he asked slowly, looking incredibly awkward.

Morgan blinked at him.

“Uuuuuh-“

“It’s just, then it wouldn’t be casual sex. I don’t like people making that assumption about me.”

“But you’re cool with everyone thinking we’re dating?” She was flabbergasted. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“You’re not the one under constant scrutiny for being adopted into wealth,” he shot back.

She snapped her mouth shut.

“Right,” she looked at her feet, weighing her options. On the one hand, she might as well die from mortification. On the other hand, it would get other guys off her back, allowing her to focus on her studies.

“It would help us both out; I can keep my reputation intact, and you’ll be taken so the guys stop bothering you.”

“I suppose that does make some sick kind of sense,” she sighed. Then, she met his eyes and stuck her hand out. “Fake dating it is.”

He grabbed her hand and shook on it.

“I’m not going to kiss you at school,” she said, and then wondered why the hell she’d said that.

He let her hand go as if burned.

“I wasn’t planning on asking you to.”

“Good.”

The gym's door opened and M'gann stepped inside. Morgan was kind of relieved she'd come now and not back when Morgan had been lying on the floor, completely tied up, with Nightwing hovering over her.

That would've been weird to explain.

"Nightwing?" M'gann spoke softly, sounding deflated. "Everyone is here. They leave in half an hour."

"I'm coming," he responded, looking at M’gann.  

"Who's leaving?" Morgan asked.

"Some of the Leaguers," Nightwing clarified as he and M'gann headed for the exit. Morgan hesitated for a moment before following after him. "I told you about the missing sixteen hours, right?"

She nodded.

"Well, they're leaving to face some court in the sector they attacked."

"Wait," Morgan furrowed her brow. "How long will they be gone?"

Nightwing and M'gann shared a look. M'gann's face was drawn into a worried mask.

"We don't know," she answered.

"Oh." She realized why they seemed to somber.

Morgan went with them through the garage and through the small strip of trees directly outside. She figured if she hadn't been allowed to come, Nightwing would've stopped her from following them.

Still, when their feet hit the sandy beach and she spotted the small crowd of superheroes standing there, Morgan faltered, opting to stay by the trees.

Nightwing cast a look at her over his shoulder, before continuing on when he saw the way she shook her head slightly to signal she wasn't going to go any further.

Morgan couldn't hear any of the words exchanged between the leaguers and their teams, as she watched the seven small groups saying their goodbyes to each other. Several hugs and shoulder-pats were exchanged.

Morgan watched as Nightwing, Batgirl and Robin received neither from their darkly clad mentor. Instead, they exchanged a few serious words, and then Batman nodded at them.

As she took note of the heroes preparing to leave earth, a sense of dread started clutching her heart. Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman.. Martian Manthunter, both of the Hawks.. Green Lantern, Icon..

All some of the really powerful members of the League. Earth's defense would be severely weakened with them gone, however temporarily it might be.

She crossed her arms over her chest and from her leaning position against the tree behind her, she smiled softly to herself when she realized her thoughts. She'd already started thinking like a hero, like one of Earth’s defenders. She'd only been in the business for two months and she already felt so deeply involved. The thought should've scared her, but it didn't really. She liked the place she was in right now. She liked the turn her life had taken.

Slight wonder filled her eyes when she saw Green Lantern produce a green spaceship through thin air, the eight Leaguers engulfed in the luminous material.

Her head tilted upwards as she followed the soaring spaceship with her eyes until it was gone from sight.

The small group that had been left behind disbanded soon afterwards and Morgan watched Nightwing approach.

"Get some sleep," he ordered, sounding tired but resolved. "You'll need it."

Morgan thought the last part had been unnecessarily ominous of him to add, but she nodded anyway and uncrossed her arms, pushing off the tree behind her.

She walked slowly enough for the others to pass in front of her and, when everyone had gone inside, Morgan spread out her wings and flew into the sky. She felt restless and stiff in her limbs, needing a small, quick flight more than she needed sleep at the moment.

Only when her wings were aching and shaking from the strain and her body was stiff and freezing from the cold January air did Morgan get back inside.

She knew that the Team was about to enter a difficult time. With most of the League gone, Earth's defense now fell to their small group of youngsters.

With the Earth’s heroes stretched thin as they now were, she might not have to wait long for her next mission.

I guess I've now added a fake-dating plot to the story? We'll see how much that actually ends up mattering, I don't have huge plans for it right now, so don't be disappointed if its not a big thing. It's something that bleeds nicely into the more expanded GU plot, but if I remember the story correctly, the focus is going to be mostly on the alien invasion now, since that plot is really about to kick off soon. So it might be a while before this plot bears fruit. I already have a few ideas for the fake dating thing tho, so don't worry, it will come up again, it just wont be the main focus!

As the repeat reader can tell, I changed very little about the stuff from the ball. I've just always liked that chapter. Didn't feel like it needed change - except I made Dick a tad more horny? I think this chapter is the moment he realizes he thinks she's pretty - not just because he thinks she looked good at the party, but because she looked so different at the party, and it made him realize he prefers her usual look. Also I think its a confidence thing? Morgan found out she doesn't look stupid when she tries to look feminine, so she's less afraid to?

Anyway, did she get her Cinderella moment? I suppose she did flee a party, leaving behind a guy lol. She should've dropped her shoe for dramatic effect. 

Chapter Text

February 6th

Mount Justice

Morgan

The first time Morgan asked Nightwing if she could go on a patrol in Happy Harbor by herself, he'd leveled her with one of those looks.

"No," he’d said simply, apparently not thinking she needed more to go on than that.

"Aw, come on!" she’d whined, crossing her arms stubbornly in front of her. "I promise not to take on the entire mob singlehandedly. I'll just deal with small-time criminals."

Nightwing had paused the work he was doing on the holographic computers in the Cave's main room and turned to her.

"Morgan, I said no," he had repeated and turned his attention back to whatever he'd been doing before.

Morgan had seen him send Bumble Bee and Blue Beetle on a small mission ten minutes earlier and she'd instantly wished it was her. She'd promised Nightwing exactly a month ago that she'd stop bothering him about going on missions but come on, she'd expected him to let her go already!

She had stuck to her promise too, not once asking to go on a mission for the past month, but now she felt that familiar ache settle in her limbs again. Morgan wanted to get out there and do something! She wanted to start doing work she felt like mattered, not beat up harmless, newbie criminals that tried to rob the local grocery store.

So, she'd asked him if she could join someone on a mission soon. She'd even attempted to approach the subject tactfully and everything.

He’d shut her down immediately, leaving Morgan to sulk in her room for an hour before she resurfaced, asking if she, instead, could go out on patrol.

"I'm busy Morgan, we can't go," he'd denied.

"Well.." She’d fiddled with her fingers in front of her and tugged on a curl, trying to lay out her proposition gently. "I could just go by myself?"

And then, of course, he'd told her no and Morgan had whined some more and then promised to not go after the whole mob.

"If you had any idea how many upstart heroes has said something like that and then accidentally taken on the entire mob singlehandedly, you'd understand why I'm not letting you go."

Morgan groaned. "You're impossible! You're letting people much younger than me go all the time!"

"They all have more experience than you."

"That's not the point!" she argued. "The point is that I'm legally an adult and you keep treating me like a reckless child! I can understand that you're not sending me on any missions, I can even almost accept it, but please, for the love of god, stop talking down to me!"

Getting much more worked up over this than she'd expected herself to, Morgan let out a small cry of frustration and marched out of the room. He was just so damn dismissive, and it irked her to her core.

She headed for a small exit that led her to the side of the mountain. She'd gone there a few times in the past months since Nightwing had shown it to her. It was a small outcropping on one of the steeper sides of the mountain, well hidden by the plant growth there.

She lay on the cold ground and stared up at the brilliant night sky, eyes tracing the constellations she recognized.

Morgan knew that Nightwing was stressed out a lot at the moment. Everyone was. With a huge portion of the League's members gone, a lot of responsibility had suddenly landed on the Team's shoulders. She'd seen everyone going on missions near-constantly and she could tell that while some of them thrived in the new business, others were straining under the new weight of responsibility.

As the leader of the team, Nightwing was the one with the most weight on his shoulders, and it was a heavy weight on him. Morgan could tell.

He'd had to skip out on their usual sparring sessions three times the past week alone, something he rarely ever did. The only times he wasn't at the Cave working was when he was in school, or he was sleeping. Morgan suspected that one of these days he'd simply start crashing in one of the Cave's spare bedrooms to save time.

So, of course he'd be short with his words when they spoke. He was too busy for longer conversations with anyone and Morgan suspected that if he did find the time to sit down and converse, she wouldn't be his first choice to do so with.

Not that she wanted to sit down and talk with him. She just wished he'd stop disregarding everything she said because he 'didn't have the time' or because he was focused on something else or because she wasn't 'experienced enough to have a valid opinion'.

She wished he'd treat her like a grown up instead of a bratty kid.

But then again, hadn't she been acting like a bratty kid just now?

The longer she thought about it, the worse she felt. Nightwing was only a kid himself still. Just a teenager who suddenly had a shit-load of responsibility dropped onto him. It was just easy to forget that he was only nineteen when he always acted so grown up.

She reminded herself that her mentor was an emotionless marble man, like, ninety nine percent of the time. He was 'Mister Perfect'. Nightwing could easily handle all the new responsibility. All he had to do was send other people into the field, after all.

Her sympathy for him dropped when she thought about this. He'd been trained to deal with these kinds of things since he was still a small kid, he could easily deal with everything the League threw at him. She didn't have to feel bad. He could easily speak to her like an adult, but he chose not to.

Morgan shifted in her spot when she heard the small latch behind her open, trying to spot whoever was coming out.

"What can I do for you, M'gann?" She sat up when she spotted the Martian approaching her.

"I think the question is what I can do for you." M'gann responded. "What's bugging you, Morgan? You and Nightwing haven't had an argument in weeks."

"You saw that, did you?" Morgan looked sullenly at her hands and started pulling at tufts of grass. M'gann sat down next to her, crossing her legs underneath her. The wind whipped at her blue cape as it did Morgan's hair.

M'gann was silent as she waited for Morgan to elaborate.

"Look, I know people are stressed because everyone's had a lot more on their plate than usual these past days," Morgan started out, wanting to make sure M'gann knew that she understood what was going on. "But he treats me so unfairly. Like I'm a little kid that'll go and get myself killed the second I step outside."

"Maybe he just wants to make sure you don't get hurt." M'gann suggested, trying to smooth out any wrinkles. "Nightwing's never tried to be anyone's mentor, he probably just wants to be cautious. If you got hurt or died, he'd hold himself responsible."

"He's being paranoid, that's what he is,” Morgan scoffed. “I've already been out several times with him, why should going alone be any different? I am capable of taking care of myself."

"Maybe he's just stressed out over all the work he's suddenly gotten." M'gann spoke in a soft voice that annoyed Morgan. It sounded too much like M'gann was trying to placate Morgan, so she didn't get angry again.

Which was exactly what Morgan was talking about. That careful tone was exactly as condescending as Nightwing had been.

"I can understand that the Team is stretched pretty thin, which is exactly why it makes absolutely no sense for him to make me stay behind. Why not take advantage of the fact that I'm here and highly willing to help out?"

Am I not good enough?

M'gann paused for a long time as she seemed to consider Morgan's words.

“I probably shouldn’t be talking about this, since its not my story to tell but..” M’gann bit her lip and Morgan studied her with rapt attention.

“The second Robin was only on this team for about four months. He had been training with Batman for longer than that, of course, but he was still inexperienced. Nightwing and Batman weren’t on.. very good terms at that time..”

Morgan felt her eyebrows travel further up her forehead the longer M’gann spoke. She knew how the story ended, of course, and her insides were already clenched in anticipation for the haard blow that was to come. But the stuff leading up to Robin’s death was still a mystery to her.

M’gann tugged red bangs behind her ear, looking at her feet.

“Nigthwing did his best to include Robin in the Team. I could tell he felt responsible for this new Robin, because he knew there never would’ve been another Robin, if he hadn’t broken from Batman and become Nightwing..”

There was a long pause. Morgan knew what was coming, and it seemed M’gann was struggling to get the words out.

“What happened then?” she asked, her voice low and hoarse as she swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“Then, he died. He disappeared one day, and the Team had no idea what had happened until weeks later. Nightwing never talked about it.”

M’gann looked at her with a sad smile.

“I’ve known Nightwing for a long time – he thinks things through. He just wants you to be safe.”

Morgan looked up at the grey sky. She was frustrated because she could see both sides of the case. She understood that Robin’s death had hurt him and made him scared to let inexperienced people out in the field.

But how was she ever going to get that experience, if she stayed cooped up in the Cave?

She could understand M'gann's reasoning, but it didn't make her feel any better about being left behind in the again and again as she watched her teammates go out and protect the world.

"Well," M'gann patted Morgan's knee once before standing up. "We should get inside. It's cold out here."

At the mention of the cold, Morgan realized that she was chilled to the bone, and she wondered how long she'd been out here, too lost in her thoughts. Standing up on stiff legs, she followed M'gann inside, joining her in the living room. The TV was playing the news. Godfrey’s grating voice made her flinch.

M'gann shut it down when she realized that it was another scathing indictment of the League.

Morgan rolled her eyes. "I can handle watching it, M'gann. I won’t throw anything at the TV."

The other girl smiled briefly at her and turned the TV back on.

"It's happened before," she said, reminding Morgan of that one time she'd thrown an apple at the TV in pure annoyance at Godfrey.

M'gann sat down on the couch and Morgan jumped onto it from behind, planting her feet on the seat and sitting down on the backrest. If M'gann disapproved of her poor furniture manners, she didn't comment on it.

February 8^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

Two days after Morgan had talked to M'gann, she snuck out of the Cave and into the city for the first time.

She wasn't stupid; Morgan knew the Cave had security cameras everywhere, cameras that Nightwing had access to, so she'd strolled casually into the kitchen, wearing a large hoodie and jeans to hide her suit underneath, and announced that she was going for a walk.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be gone.. I found this really cozy café I wanted to go to. Get some homework done.." she rattled off, figuring her excuse was bulletproof. The other people in the kitchen had nodded and told her to have a good time, and Morgan had left Mount Justice with a small, triumphal smirk on her lips.

She strolled down the main street a moment later, looking for a private place where she could slip on her mask and boots, take off her outer layer and stash her school bag – which she'd brought with for the lie to seem more convincing.

She spotted a small side road and turned onto it, locating an abandoned and rundown office building at the far end. A victorious smile grew on her face as she jogged towards the building. All the windows and doors of the building had been closed off with large wooden planks, and Morgan walked around the building to find a weak spot she could use to break into the place.

At the west side of the building, she spotted a window that had been broken a long time ago. The lowest of the three boards closing it off looked loose and Morgan found that, with a bit of pulling and prodding, the nails on one side fell out completely, the board swinging uselessly by the remaining nail.

She threw her bag in before her and jumped up, scrambling inside rather ungracefully.

Silently thanking Nightwing for forcing her to do all that weightlifting – hoisting herself up and through the window would've been a lot harder otherwise – she tumbled through the window and landed in a heap of clothing, wings and hair. Old and dusty glass shards were scattered right underneath the broken window, and Morgan landed on top of them with the sound of several cracking and shattering further under the unexpected weight.

Just because they were old and dusty didn't mean they were any less sharp though, and Morgan drew in a hissing breath when one shard cut a long, thin line in her left palm.

After wiping her hand on her hoodie, she shrugged it off and stuffed it into her school bag, jeans soon following suit. She undid the shoelaces of her white sneakers and replaced them with sturdy, black leather boots. Taking her pendant off and putting it into one of the side pockets in her bag, she pulled her mask out from the same pocket and placed it over her eyes.

The room instantly became lighter, and details became clearer. Morgan had questioned Nightwing about the masks and he'd told her that they came with self-regulating night vision.

She kicked her bag up against the wall in the darkest corner of the room – the corner the streetlights outside didn't reach – making it disappear entirely to the naked eye, and, after checking that the coast was clear, jumped out of the window.

Part of her still screamed at her about how much of a bad idea this was. She was not only going out alone without any sort of back-up since nobody knew what she was doing, she was also blatantly defying the orders of her mentor, and the leader of the Team. She almost turned back around to don her clothing and head back home.

But she had decided to do this. Why? She wasn’t sure. Maybe to prove to herself that she could. Maybe to prove to Nightwing, if she came clean, that she was capable of more than he was letting her do. Maybe because she was tired of sitting with this need to make a difference and being denied the opportunity again and again.

She ignored the part of her that told her this was a bad idea. A much bigger part felt alive with the exhilaration of being out, of getting the chance to save people.

Getting the chance to matter.

That part won out in the end.

She did it again two nights later. This time, her excuse was going to a restaurant with her friend Esmeralda.

If anyone in the Cave noticed that she didn't come back before one AM, they didn't comment on it.

And if anyone in the Cave noticed the news speaking of a new, winged superhero roaming around Happy Harbor at night by the name Sparrow, none of them mentioned it.

February 11th

Blüdhaven

Dick

Wally had approached Dick two days earlier. The two best friends hadn't spoke for several weeks now, Dick too busy with running the Team and Wally focusing on his schoolwork.

Dick had been at home in his apartment, reading through the pages his chemistry teacher had assigned as he did a round of pushups. He'd had one of those metal rods installed in his bathroom door months ago and was currently alternating between pulling himself up with his right and left arm, switching the book between them. It was the only way he could stay on top of his training and his schoolwork at the same time.

His phone had vibrated, and Dick had let go of the rod, landing nimbly on the ground as he dropped his textbook face-down on his bed, secretly praying that it wasn't Tim or Batgirl calling him about some Team related business. The phone had confirmed the caller as Wally and Dick had quickly answered

"Hey man,” he'd greeted.

"We need to do something about Roy," Wally had answered immediately, getting right to the point, not bothering to wait for any 'how are you doing's or 'what can I do for you's.

"Uh, sure," Dick responded, sitting down on his bed, and wiping at the sweaty back of his neck with a towel. "Why?"

"I saw him in town yesterday. He's.. not looking good. Green Arrow is tryin to track him down as we speak."

"Alright.. What do you plan on doing when we find him?"

"Talk to him, dude! Get some sense knocked into that stubborn head of his!"

Dick wholeheartedly agreed that something needed to be done about Roy Harper. Since finding out five years ago that he was a clone and that the real – the original – Roy Harper was missing, Roy had gone on a mad hunt around America – and eventually the world – in an attempt to find him.

After five years of fruitless searching, Dick had partly expected him to give up already. The rest of them, as much as it pained them, had admitted defeat. The real Roy had most likely died a long time ago.

But Roy hadn't given up. In fact, as time grew, he only seemed to grow more obsessed, driven by a fanatic need to find the original Roy, to save the boy who had granted Roy life through cloning. It had gotten to the point where his wife – an otherwise strong and adaptable woman, Dick grudgingly admitted about his former enemy – had left Roy.

"If you guys find him, contact me. If we all confront him together, it might just work." Dick agreed. "Either way, we gotta try, right?"

Dick ended the call after Wally's confirmation and tiredly ran a hand through his hair before supporting his chin on his hand, propped up on his knees.

Getting through to Roy was a personal matter that he would place very high on his priority list, but in its essence, it was just another problem to land in his steadily growing pile of responsibilities.

He let himself lie down on the mattress, blinking tiredly at his ceiling. He’d felt stretched for a while, but instead of getting a break, he felt like things were only ever ramping up in intensity. He hadn’t heard from Kaldur in a while, as communication became more fraught, the longer the real leader of the Team stayed undercover. The weight of the secret was still heavy on his shoulders, but he and Kaldur were determined to see this through.

Dick just hadn’t counted on half of the League leaving for space.

And then there was school. People already expected little from him – after all, he was just a circus mutt, adopted by Bruce. There was no way he could finish a formal education at such a prestigious school.

He closed his eyes, rubbing at his face with his palms.

He would prove them wrong – not that he had anything to prove. Dick knew this. He didn’t owe them anything. And he didn’t really care about his business degree. Not when the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

He just didn’t like to fail.

Speaking of failing..

He groaned and sat up on his bed, guilt gnawing at his insides. He got up and headed for his kitchen, pulling out some leftovers to heat up for his dinner.

He was currently failing his role as a mentor. He was so busy, he rarely had time to train Morgan. She hadn’t been shy about voicing her frustration with this. He thought back to the night at the winter ball, and he felt like it was the last, good night they’d had in weeks.

After that night, he’d felt like something had shifted between them. They had been getting along.

Now, she seemed more frustrated with him than ever – and he returned the sentiment.

He heated up water so he could make himself some coffee, knowing he had a long night ahead of him.

He was looking at her differently too, which probably irked him more than anything. For some reason, it had taken a pretty dress and some make up for him to notice that she was pretty, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information.

He was her mentor – he shouldn’t have noticed something like that at all.

As he sat by his little kitchen island, he assured himself it was okay. He was her mentor, and the leader of the Team, yes, but he was also just a teenage boy, and when a girl with a pretty face wore a pretty dress, he was bound to notice. It was only natural.

Besides, just because he found her pretty, didn’t mean he found her attractive. Those were very different things.

Dick shook his head to clear his thoughts, pulling out his food from the microwave.

Why was he even wasting his time worrying about this – he had other stuff to take care of. Roy, for one.

He decided to simply have peace with the fact that he thought she was pretty – and then move on to more important things.

February 13th

Mount Justice

Morgan

Morgan stood in the Cave; arms crossed critically over her chest as she watched the large holographic screen in front of her with the others. Mal and Connor stood to her left, with Jaime hovering at the back of the room. Garfield was in the middle of a lecture with his private tutor. Because of his unusual looks – Morgan suspected it was the green fur and tail that people tended to focus on – he didn't attend any schools, but was home-schooled – or Cave-schooled – by a small team of highly trusted tutors.

In front of them were M'gann and La'gaan, cuddling obnoxiously.

Morgan wasn't an expert on relationships, but theirs just didn't seem natural.

Morgan turned her attention from their sickeningly sweet pecks and giggles to the screen again, watching as some blonde professor, whom she was pretty sure she was supposed to know the name of by now, announce that the satellites were ready for launch. The satellites containing the new shield that was to surround Earth.

After the fiasco with the minor Krolotean invasion, the professor dude had come up with a solution to their pest problem. Sixteen specially made satellites were launched into space, surrounding Earth evenly, and between them a force field that would prevent anyone from Zeta'ing to earth from outer space was created. The shield also prevented anyone from leaving via Zeta technology too, meaning that if there were any Kroloteans still hanging around on Earth, they weren't leaving any time soon.

The group of six waited with various degrees of excitement as the satellites were activated, the small-scaled model on the floating screen showing them what was currently happening out in space.

Even Garfield, who had been intensely focused on his schoolwork before, tore his eyes away from it to watch the launch.

The blonde doctor, visible on a small screen next to the large main screen confirmed their success. The satellites were now operational and there would be no off-world Zeta beaming.

"Absolutely historical." La'gaan declared, in a rare cheery mood as he hugged his girlfriend closer to his side. His proclamation had gained Morgan's attention and she watched as he turned his attention to the other green boy in the room and jokingly shouted, "Professor Carr! You should have your cave-school pupil write a term paper about this!"

Garfield sent him a look that told him to knock it off before you give my teacher any bright ideas, but La'gaan had already moved his attention elsewhere, more specifically, back to his girlfriend.

“That takes care of our alien problem,” he declared with a smile. “Even Doctor Strange’ll have to request permission when he wanted to travel beteen Rann and Earth.”

Morgan wondered why he was so pumped about this thing. Sure, it was cool, but she hadn't seen La'gaan this excited since.. ever.

Behind Morgan, Connor spoke up, ever the voice of disapproval.

"Shield's great – in theory. But it only works on zeta tech. What about space ships? Or boom tubes? It’s only a temporary solution. We need better defenses than this.”

"What's a boom tube?" Jaime asked, beating Morgan to the punch.

“A boom tube is-“ Mal began, but he was interrupted by Jaime, who seemed to speak to no one, except perhaps to himself.

“Not compatible?” groaned the teenager, “What does that even mean! You never make any sense!”

Connor, Mal, and Morgan looked weirdly at Jaime, and then exchanged confused looks.

"Uh," Mal, ever the polite one spoke up. "Who is he talking to?"

“His inner demons, I’m sure,” Morgan shrugged.

Before awkward silence had the chance to settle, Connor spoke up again.

"Where's Nightwing?"

"Out." Morgan rolled her eyes. "Too busy to spar with me, apparently. Again."

She felt like she wasn't developing her skills as fast as she used to because he kept having to cancel, and it bugged her. She still had so much to learn before he would allow her to be properly introduced into the hero business, and the more he kept cancelling their sparring, the longer it would take.

"He's taking the night off," Mal clarified when Morgan's sulky explanation didn't offer much. "Personal business."

Connor frowned and mumbled a curse. She followed the trajectory of his eyes, seeing that he was looking at the loving couple behind her, who were giggling and smooching obnoxiously. Morgan didn’t know the whole story, but she knew that Connor and M’gann had history – and for that reason, she caught his eyes and grimacing before mimicking a gag.

For a second, his eyes twinkled with dark humor and a small smile almost pulled at his lips.

Then, it was gone as the couple left the room, and he grabbed hold of the back of Jaime's hoodie, dragging Jaime behind him.

"Let's go."

"Woah, Connor," Mal interrupted him. "Where are you, uh, taking Jaime?"

"Taking the night off," Connor answered severely, throwing Mal's earlier words back in his face. "Personal business."

Jaime and Morgan gained eye contact and the boy shrugged helplessly as he remained in Superboy's grip, his sneakers skidding across the floor as he was dragged along.

Morgan jogged after the two boys, smelling a mission. Maybe Connor would let her go now that Nightwing wasn't here to protest. Since he was angry, that might make him reckless enough to say yes.

"Personal business, as in a mission?" she asked once she had caught up with him.

"Maybe." Superboy's answer was a very obvious confirmation that Morgan had been right in her suspicions.

"Can I come?"

"No."

The difference between Superboy and Nightwing was that Morgan knew not to push her luck with the former. When he was angry – which he so very obviously was now – Superboy was downright scary, and Morgan wasn't tempted to pester him and accidentally push a few buttons too many.

Instead, she halted in her steps and glared at his back as he marched further down the hall, disappearing in a moment with a poor, defenseless Blue Beetle being dragged with him.

If she couldn't be allowed to go on a mission, she'd use the opportunity of a nearly empty Cave, and no Nightwing, to sneak out and go on a quick patrol around the city.

Morgan walked back into the main room where now only Mal, Garfield and Garfield's professor remained.

"I'm going out." Morgan announced, never taking a break in her walk across the room, heading for her bedroom.

"Where?" Mal asked suspiciously. He knew that, with Nightwing away for the evening, the task of keeping an eye on Morgan had fallen to him. She was annoyed that he even thought she needed someone to keep an eye on her.

"Personal business," she said shortly as she disappeared around a corner before Mal had the chance to protest.

Morgan, having done it twice already, and she knew the routine well by now. She'd don her suit and slip clothes on top of it and then she'd head into the city and hide her stuff in the same old office building as she'd done the first two nights.

It was easy enough. As long as she wasn't caught.

Morgan really is too stubborn for her own good. But she's also driven by an unhealthy need to prove herself because she really worries that other people won't think she's good enough. 

Next chapter is going to be pretty explosive. I almost threw the first half of that chapter into this one because this is a little short, but I'm literally supposed to be preparing for my exam right now so it's insane that I've even taken the time to edit this instead. It's my last exam before I begin working on my master thesis for real, so theres no good reason for me to be procrastinating this hard. This might also be why this chapter isn't like suuuper heavily edited. I added a few things here and there, but mostly I just edited the prose to make it flow a little nicer

Chapter Text

February 13th 

Happy Harbor

Sparrow 

Morgan hissed silently to herself as she clutched her bleeding arm.

This was not how her evening was supposed to go.

She'd only been out for maybe an hour and a half when it happened.

Her wings were not yet quite strong enough for her to stay in the air for too long, so, despite not being on patrol with someone who was grounded like usual, she still went with the same method she'd learned from Nightwing. Travel from tall building to tall building, keeping her eyes peeled for any unsavory business going down in the streets below her.

As the name suggested, Happy Harbor was a lot less troubled than Gotham, and that gave her the confidence to go out on her own – she wasn’t going to encounter any Jokers or Scarecrows here.

But around the city she went, nonetheless.

It was sheer luck she was even close when she'd heard the woman scream.

Immediately taking to the air, Morgan flew up high to spot where the shout had come from. Flying two buildings over, her masked eyes scanned the ground below and she spotted a scene that she found startlingly familiar. A woman, probably in her early thirties, was being cornered by six men in a small alleyway.

Morgan found her mind's eye recalling four months ago when she'd found herself being similarly surrounded in a dark alley in Gotham. She swooped down and landed stealthily on the fire escape of the building that flanked the alleyway. The woman looked terrified and Morgan was filled with urgency, wanting to help her out as soon as possible.

Normally she'd take a small moment to study her opponents, gauge how much of a problem they'd be, but this time she threw caution to the wind and leapt off the metal railing she'd been perched on and landed between the woman and the six men, a stern glare on her face.

"Nobody's getting assaulted tonight," her voice carried strongly across the small alley. "I'm giving you one fair warning: Leave her alone, go home, rethink your life choices, and I won't have to hurt you."

Now that she was facing down the men, Morgan felt her palms grow sweaty with nerves. Six.. she’d never faced that many before. She hadn't studied them before, but now she had plenty of time to and she didn't like what she saw.

They had obviously prepared for a night of trouble because several of them were armed with blunt objects. The rest compensated by being large and muscly, with evil grins on their face.

The most she’d fought at once had been three or four men – but that had always been with backup from Nightwing.

This time she was all alone.

The group of a half a dozen men stared at the short girl in front of them.

Morgan's heart started fluttering with fear in her chest when they laughed uproariously. This would've been much easier if their confidence had been weakened by fear. Now it was her confidence that was suffering.

"You're out of your league, kid," the one in front – the leader, she assumed – grunted, his voice rough and deep.

Morgan, figuring feigning confidence and fearlessness would only help her case, sniffed in disdain, and placed her hands on her hips.

"You're the ones out of your league,” she replied, sticking her nose haughtily in the air. She wished her voice hadn’t stuttered. "Don't you know who I am? I'm –"

"That new hero, Sparrow. We know," the leader spoke up again, crossing his huge, bulky, tattooed arms in front of his chest. "And so far, we're not impressed."

The guys behind him laughed darkly and swung their weapons around, preparing for a fight.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a single mention in the news for you to scare anyone, girl."

Morgan couldn't help but think how unfair it was that someone like Batman or Superman only had to show up and mention who they were, and the baddies started running. Would she ever get to command that kind of respect? Or would she be forever underestimated because all they saw was a short girl?

She would teach them a thing or two about judging a book by its cover.

She sunk into a taut stance, holding her hands out, ready to grab mental control of anyone of them and send them flying.

"Then why don't you come over here so I can give you a proper reason to be scared," she hissed fiercely.

The leader, obviously not amused at this little girl challenging him, motioned for the guy to his immediate right.

"Deal with her," he ordered.

The guy smirked, revealing a mouth that only had six teeth left, and he charged Morgan, metal bat in his hand raised high above him, ready to bash her head in.

She dodged him, and another came charging immediately at her.

Morgan felt herself slip into a focused state. She could all but hear Nightwing’s voice in her mind, barking out advice and orders, keeping her sharp. She entered something of a dance with her attackers, always dodging and using her powers – when her hold didn’t slip – to send them crashing headfirst into the rough brick walls around them.

The leader never engaged. He stood to the side, letting his men do all the fighting. the alley was small and hindered her movement a lot, but it also kept more than one of two of them from engaging at the same time.

She quickly learned that grabbing a mental hold of the aluminum bat one of the men had brought with him, was a lot easier than pushing the men around. She used it to hit them over the head, and three men crashed to the ground as a result.  

She made sure to always stand between them frightened woman and her attacks. She was crouched into a corner of the alley, looking like she was trying to melt into the cold brick wall, and the look on her face gave Morgan the strength to keep going.

They numbers were dwindling, and Morgan knew she was doing good – clearly, Nightwing had underestimated her. One of the six men lost his nerve and ran out of the alley, leaving only the leader and one other left.

As the last man fell, the leader seemed to think it was time for him to join the fray and he pulled out a shining and wickedly sharp-looking knife from his inner pocket.

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she turned towards him, giving him her undivided attention.

That proved to be a mistake, as she only noticed the hand grabbing hold of her ankle when it was too late. One of the men she'd knocked to the round had regained his wits quicker than she'd expected and after reaching out for her ankle, he gave it a rough heave. Morgan, releasing a startled sound, found her balance gone and she fell to the dirty cement beneath her.

She looked up just in time to roll out of the way of the knife the leader was bringing down on her, and instead of the knife meeting its mark, it bounced off the ground.

Fuck, that was close!

Morgan jumped to her feet and kicked the knife out of the leader’s hand. He roared in pain and anger, lunging for her, but she bounced out of the way.

The man that har grabbed her ancle was on his feet once more, and he was on her in an instant. He grabbed her in an arm lock similar to the one she’d been put in by the drug dealers at Blüdhaven’s harbor.

This time she knew how to get out of it, though. Stomping her boot with all her might into his foot, the attack startled him just enough for Morgan to wriggle her hands free and she turned around, aiming a punch at his stubble-covered jawline. She willed her powers into the punch and was satisfied when the crack! that echoed across the alley told her that she'd most likely broken his jaw.

He let out a garbled scream and fell to his knees, all his attention now focused on his smarting face.

She didn’t have time to celebrate – a sudden pain, worse than any she'd ever experienced before, screamed across her left arm and she jumped back to see blood drip from the blade of the leader’s knife. He smiled wickedly at the sight.

Morgan kept her lips shut, stubbornly refusing to let out the scream that her body wanted to release.

Her thoughts slowed at the pain, but she willed herself to focus on the task at hand. She clutched her now useless arm to her chest, not caring that she was bleeding all over the light-grey winged symbol on it. A voice in her head was screaming at her to finish the job quickly before it was too late.

She held her right arm out and spread her fingers wide, and with a fierce glare, she threw the man up so his head connected with the bottom of the steel fire escape right above them. Her shoulders sagged with satisfaction when his unconscious body fell, hitting the ground with a thud.

Morgan turned to the woman she'd just saved, who was staring at her with a look akin to wonder.

"Are you okay?"

The woman nodded hesitantly, and Morgan plowed right on.

"Do me a favor and call the police. They'll want to deal with this scum.” She was wheezing, her breathing uneven from the pain she was in.

"You're hurt," the woman spoke up. "You should go to the hospital."

Morgan managed to muster up a confident smirk.

"Don't worry about me. I've had worse" – a lie, but she needed to end the conversation as soon as possible so she could go back to the Cave and have someone stitch her up. "Just call the police and tell them what happened. Stay safe."

Not waiting for the woman to respond, Morgan took to the air, heading for Mount Justice.

Morgan knew that going back for her bag and clothes was an unnecessary risk that she'd be stupid to take. She'd have to enter the Cave in her costume and explain why she was bleeding. By now, it was too late to prevent any of the others from finding out she'd been sneaking out at night to go on patrol.

By morning Nightwing would certainly know, if not tonight already. Morgan rued his reaction.

Oh well.. it was fun while it lasted. She sighed and clutched her arm tighter to her chest as she accepted her fate. Right now, she feared bleeding out or losing consciousness before she reached the Cave more than she feared her mentor's wrath.

She landed on the ground in front of the entrance to the Cave's garage and entered through the large, hangar doors.

Relief flooded her system when she spotted Mal. Out of all the people in the Cave, the gentle giant was the one she'd hoped to stumble across first.

"Mal!" she croaked out, already starting to feel dizzy.

The young man turned his head in her direction, eyes widening when he saw the state Morgan was in. The blood had stained most of her grey emblem crimson as well as her hands. Unregistered tears were slowly leaking from her eyes, and she wobbled slightly on her feet.

He approached her quickly, demanding to know what happened.

"Knife," Morgan said shortly, gently moving her arm away from her chest so Mal could see the long, oozing cut that started just underneath the crook of her elbow and ended two inches above her wrist.

Her suit was built for speed and agility, not necessarily security. The part of the suit that covered her upper body was bullet proof to protect her internal organs, but her sleeves were not. A knife could easily cut through the sturdy fabric if enough strength was put behind the slash.

Mal swallowed thickly as the cut was revealed to him, and he drew in a sharp breath.

Seeing the way her legs were shaking, he picked her up and hurriedly walked deeper into the Cave, heading for the infirmary.

Morgan had been there a few times before. First when Hawkgirl had inspected her wings, second when Nightwing had taken a look at her bruised knuckles after she'd foolishly punched a rock, and once afterwards because she'd twisted her ankle during training.

But neither of those injuries had been as dire as this one and as Morgan saw them approaching the double swing doors, her heart clenched in fear.

"You know how to treat it?" Morgan asked as Mal set her down on the nearest sick bed. The white sheets were stained red as Morgan clenched her hand around them to deal with the pounding in her other arm.

"Sure," he responded as he sped around the room, gathering bandages, disinfectant and other things he'd need to treat her wound. "They don't just keep me around for my good looks."

Morgan chuckled through her tears at his attempt at humor, grateful that he was trying to lift the mood. It comforted her that her situation apparently wasn't bad enough to make joking distasteful.

Mal asked her to free her arm of her suit while he gathered whatever he needed. Morgan unbuttoned the dark blue cuff and pulled open the small zipper that had been added to make the tight suit easier to slip in and out of. Then she rolled the sleeve up as best as she could with one hand, trying her damnedest to not touch or jostle the cut.

Mal arrived and immediately pressed a thick cloth to the wound, applying pressure. Morgan let out a startled cry as the pain intensified. She quickly bit into her bottom lip to keep the sound to herself.

"It's to stop the bleeding," Mal said, not unsympathetically.

Five minutes later he asked her to hold the cloth down on the wound for him and she did, watching as he soaked another cloth in a foul-smelling, clear liquid.

"Disinfectant," he explained before she got the chance to ask.

He removed the fabric that had covered her wound once the bleeding had stopped and pressed the hydrogen peroxide-soaked cloth to her arm.

This time, she was unable to contain the pained shout and she took in shaky breaths through the agony.

Mal spared her a look that was part sympathetic, part 'well maybe if you hadn't gone out and done something stupid this wouldn't have happened.'

"So," he said a moment later when he'd started dressing the wound. "Care to tell me what happened?"

Morgan hesitated before deciding that she should tell him. Mal had tended to her injury, he deserved to know what had caused it.

"I – uh," she wet her lower lip and started over. "I went on patrol in the city. Alone."

Mal looked up at her sharply, stilling his work.

"I thought Nightwing told you not to."

"I did." came an icy voice from the doorway, making the two people in the room jump in surprise and turn around quickly.

Morgan swallowed nervously when she spotted Nightwing standing by the door, looking beyond livid.

His entire body was tensed up in his fury and as he approached them, he walked in jerky movements because of it. She had never seen him this angry before.

Morgan vaguely thought somewhere in the back of her mind that right now, he was as scary as Batman.

"How could you possibly be this stupid?" he seethed, stopping in front of Morgan's bed, his hands clenched into hard fists. He grabbed onto the end of the bed and leaned over it, inches from her face. "Sneaking out, disobeying orders, engaging in fights with no back up? Getting yourself injured? How could you possibly be this stupid!" 

Morgan leaned away from him, afraid he'd start frothing at the mouth any minute. Nightwing, usually so put together, looked absolutely feral, a flurry of emotions that made her dizzy, her mind already foggy from pain.

Or maybe that was the blood loss.

Mal started wrapping her arm up at a faster pace, obviously wishing to get out of the crossfire. He'd probably borne witness to Nightwing lecturing a team member before and didn't wish to witness it again. Or maybe he'd never seen Nightwing this angry before and it scared him enough to flee as soon as possible.

Either way, seeing the big guy so nervous didn't comfort Morgan in the slightest.

She felt her rebellious side flare up, the side that seemed that much more active when she was dealing with Nightwing, and the side that seemed to get her constantly in trouble.

She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to defend her actions, but he cut her off.

"How many times?" he asked, his voice suddenly like ice, and Morgan crossed her arms at the vague question.

"How many times what?" she replied with an attitude. She could see Mal grimace, obviously thinking her crazy for daring to use that tone of voice when talking to an angry Nightwing.

"How many times have you snuck out on patrol by yourself?" he elaborated, crossing his arms stiffly over his chest, his jaw clenched and his teeth barred. She'd no doubt his eyes would be shooting lightning at her if they hadn't been hidden behind his mask.

"Uh," Morgan hesitated, knowing that it wouldn't be pretty if she told the truth, but also knowing that he'd recognize her lie if she told one. "Three. Three times."

Mal finished the bandage on her arm and was out the room before either hero could tell him to stay.

Morgan was glad. If there was one thing, she hated more than getting yelled at by Nightwing, it was getting yelled at by Nightwing with an audience.

His face contorted into an even angrier mask, something she had thought to be impossible. He was truly a formidable sight to behold. She was sure a smarter person would back down.

"What?" He hissed, and the low sound was even more menacing than his shouting.

That rebellious side flared up again, this time with extra anger added to the dangerous mix.

"Well, what did you expect?" she protested loudly. "For me to rot away in the Cave as I waited for you to decide in a few years that I'd gotten good enough to help you escort old ladies across the street?"

"I expected you to trust my judgment and respect my orders!" he snapped. He leaned over the cot once more and she resisted the urge to push him away. "I expected you to have the patience to wait until you're actually skilled enough before going out by yourself!"

"Well, how am I supposed to become good enough when you're too focused on leading the Team to actually train me!" Morgan shouted. "I went out on my own, yes, but if that's what it takes to actually evolve, then I'll gladly do it again! And you know what? I've been doing fine out there!"

"You have not been doing fine!" Nightwing cut her off, pointing a long, gloved finger in her face. "If you'd done fine, you wouldn't have gotten injured! What were you thinking, Morgan? You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"But I didn’t!” Morgan exploded, pushing off the bed to get away from his stupid, angry face and his stupid, pointed finger. "Did I? I’m fine!"

She heaved a large breath and launched into her defense again.

"You might think I've been stupid and reckless, but I saved a woman's life tonight and that, I think, makes it worth it! Don't you want me to save lives?"

"That's not the point," Nightwing growled, his voice low and dark. He moved towards her like a panther stalking its prey and she took a startled step back before she could stop herself. "The point is that you disobeyed a direct order and brought yourself in danger because of it. If I can't trust you to follow an order as simple as this one, how can I trust you'll do as asked, when you're on a mission? If you insist on endangering your own life, I won't stop you, but how can I be sure your own life is the only one you endanger the next time you decide to ignore orders to feed your own ego?"

Morgan opened her mouth to protest but paused, knowing that her mentor had a very good point. She wobbled slightly on her legs, dizzier than before.

"I've tried my best to get through to you Morgan, but this is your last warning." Nightwing looked at her with disdain, and she hated it. "If you ever disobey an order like that again, you're off the Team."

She felt as if her stomach was suddenly filled with ice, and it was all she could do not to gasp out loud. Her mind was foggy and dizzy, but she felt the fear his words ignited.

The thought of having to leave the Team and venture back into the world and live as she'd done before terrified her more than facing down a hundred men at once. Her anger was quickly drowned in her fear, and she lost all fight in her body. Her legs wobbly and her hands shook.

"I-" she let out a little, gasping breath, feeling like her mouth was filled with cotton. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Right as she said it, Morgan's legs finally gave out, weak and shaky from the loss of blood, and the pain her wound had caused.

Nightwing leapt forwards and caught her, hands wrapping around her upper arms to keep her standing. If he hadn’t been there, she surely would’ve crashed to the floor in a useless heap. He supported her to the sickbed, and she sat down, leaning against the headboard with closed eyes. Her heart was racing in her chest, and she felt sweaty, yet cold.

She heard Nightwing curse under his breath, and then he told her to stay put.

Morgan nodded wordlessly, though she was usure if he saw it, as she heard the doors to the infirmary snap open a second later.

She was sure he hadn’t been gone for long, but she didn’t register when he came back, because she’d fallen asleep within five minutes of waiting, tired and sore from her eventful night.

February 14^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Nightwing arrived early at the Cave the next morning to be sure he'd catch Morgan before anyone else. After she’d fainted the night before, he had realized they were long overdue for a talk. He had realized she felt strongly enough about this that she was willing to get hurt for it.

That was dangerous.

He needed her to understand that.

But he also realized her want to help was genuine. She wasn’t doing any of this to prove some point – she just wanted to help.

Walking into the infirmary, he found her still asleep. Placing a chair next to her bed, he decided to exploit the wait and get some homework done.

His night had been, altogether, less of a success. They'd failed in their attempt to talk some sense into Roy, which had put Nightwing into a bad mood to begin with. Then, returning to the Cave, he'd used the security camera system to track down Mal, wanting an update on the Team's dealings while he was away. Imagine his surprise when he'd located Mal in the infirmary, binding the wound of a specific girl, in her suit.

Having already guessed – or disbelievingly figured that she wouldn't have done something that stupid – what had happened, Nightwing had marched himself straight down to the infirmary. On his way, he’d been telling himself that he had to remain calm.  That it probably wasn't what it looked like - and it looked like she was having an injury treated because she'd been out, fighting.

Then he'd entered the infirmary – unnoticed by the others – and Morgan had confirmed that it was exactly what it looked like. Nightwing had felt all his reassurances and carefully built up walls of composure and calmness fly out the window faster than a speeding superman.

For the first time in a very long time, he saw red.

He wasn't sure how she did it, but Morgan certainly knew how to push the right buttons. It had felt close to cathartic to shout at her, to allow himself to get nasty and let out every frustration.

And she was so good at returning the fire. It was almost addictive, the way she so effortlessly danced with him when they were locked in their verbal battles.

He knew it was wrong, however. It wasn’t conductive to a healthy mentorship. He should’ve known better.

But she brought out the worst in him.

Then, of course she'd gone and gotten ill so he couldn't keep shouting at her.

He tried to comfort himself somewhat. Before she’d almost fainted, she’d apologized and promised to clean her act up. He could only hope that it hadn't been due to a moment's weakness because she had been unstable at the moment.

He knew that threatening to throw her off the Team had been harsh, but Nightwing had reached the point where he didn't know what else to do. In the end, it had coerced the response from her that he wanted; an apology and the promise to do better.

On the bed beside him, the girl on his mind stirred. From the change in her breathing, Nightwing could tell she was awake.

He gave her a few seconds to clear her undoubtedly foggy mind before he spoke up.

"When I was ten," he began, his tone serious, "I had recently started going with Batman on patrols in Gotham. I was a pretty eager sidekick, wanted to go out and fight criminals all the time. I started begging Batman to try and let me go on my own because I was desperate to prove to him that I could do it."

He could feel Morgan fidget next to him as she paid close attention to his story, obviously intrigued but also suspecting where the story was going.

"Batman kept telling me 'no', said I wasn't ready to go out on my own," he went on. "I disagreed, of course. I always did well when I was with him, why should it be any different if I went alone? Anyway, one night when Batman was away, I snuck out and went on patrol in the city by myself."

Nightwing smiled ruefully because the next part embarrassed him a bit.

"There was this old, abandoned building that I knew harbored a particularly ruthless gang and I decided that, if I managed to deal with them, Batman would see that I was ready. Foolishly, I tried to take on ten armed men at the same time. I ended up getting thrown through a window and fell two stories down onto the street."

Nightwing finally turned and looked at the girl next to him who was watching him, her grey eyes wide. Impulsively, he took off his glove and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a jagged scar that he’d received from his crash through the window.

"I broke my arm and had to call Batman for help. When I'd gotten my arm treated, he took me to the Batcave and gave me a stern lecture. I can still remember exactly what he said." Nightwing brought the memory to the front of his mind and started quoting his mentor's words. "'Robin, teamwork is about mutual trust. If I can't trust you to follow my orders, how can I trust you to have my back when I need it? How can I trust you to do your job properly when I can't even trust you to respect my judgment?'"

He cleared his throat. "And I'd like to remind you of the same. A team only works if there’s mutual trust there. Not necessarily friendship, but at least trust. If I don't feel like I can trust you, I won't be confident sending you on a mission because I'll feel like I'm endangering not only you, but also the people you're working with. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and the same goes for this team.”

Morgan, for what he felt was the first time ever, really weighed his words instead of just disregarding them.

"I am sorry," was the first thing she said, her voice hoarse. "I know I was being stupid – I can see that now. I was being stubborn and childish. And I promise to never disobey an order again. Just please," she directed a huge, wet pair of eyes at him, and her voice was small. "Don't kick me off the team."

Nightwing knew then that what he'd told her had gotten through to her. Not just the things he'd shouted at her the night before in his anger, but the story he'd told her that morning.

"I won't," he promised, standing up. As he walked towards the door, he added, "Go get something to eat. We train in an hour.”

“But my arm!” she protested.

“You said you wanted to train more often, so that's what we'll do."

Behind him, he could hear her splutter in disbelief.

"Guess your right one will have to be twice as fast," Nightwing said, tossing a smirk at her over his shoulder.

She was still staring at him in disbelief.

"Happy valentine's day," he grinned as he left the infirmary and a very exasperated Morgan behind.

Exactly an hour later – he was impressed with her timing – Nightwing and Morgan were in the gym.

He hadn't bothered with any small talk, engaging her in a fight immediately upon entry.

Morgan had been fast enough to dodge the kick that would've knocked the air out of her if it had hit, and he noted that she'd gotten fast.

He didn't give her much time to regain her composure as he charged at her again, this time with a series of fast-paced jabs. She valiantly attempted to block as many of them as she could with only her right arm. She didn’t stand a chance – especially not with only one arm against his two arms and ten years of experience.

He was intentionally working her a bit harder than usual, both because he wanted her to know that her opponent wouldn't slow down just because she was injured, and because he needed to remind her that she still had a lot to learn. It was actually a pretty good lesson. She needed to know how to fight while injured.

As he usually did while they fought, Nightwing started throwing in some facts and advice.

"You've gotten lucky so far because you've been fighting amateurs. When you start going on missions, the people you're up against will all be trained, maybe even professionals."

He kicked his leg out to knock her legs out of balance and send her to the floor, but Morgan somehow managed to jump over it and she immediately took to the air, hovering just above his reach.

Nightwing sent her a disapproving look. Morgan knew very well that their sparring matches were supposed to teach her hand-to-hand combat and using either her wings or telekinesis was not allowed during those sessions.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out, taking in deep gulps of air. "I just need a quick breather."

He crossed his arms critically but allowed her a small moment to pull herself together, mindful that she'd lost a lot of blood the previous night and had almost fainted on him because of it.

She touched ground a minute later, and he was upon her in an instant.

They went on for some time, Morgan never straying from defense. He didn't give her the opportunity to.

He aimed a high hit to her left, and Morgan, having had the proper defensive movement drilled into her since their first training session, instinctively lifted her left arm to block the blow.

The moment Nightwing's arms connected with hers, he recognized his – and her – mistake. Morgan eyes widened in pure shock, and she let out a surprised and pained cry. She clutched the arm to her chest and took several steps back, gasping in pain. Because of the rapid backward steps she took, she lost her balance and fell on her butt, wings fluttering in distress.

"I'm sorry!" he quickly exclaimed and ran to her side, dropping onto his knees next to her.

She kept sucking in harsh breaths, her eyes closed tightly and teeth clenched together as she willed the pain to pass. Nightwing, honestly unsure what he was supposed to do and how to comfort her until the pain passed, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and waited for her to pull herself together again.

Eventually, she opened her eyes and bit out a small curse in Danish.

"Sorry," she wore a dark, self-deprecating smile and blinked rapidly to remove any tears that had built up. "Stupid blonde moment.."

"That was my fault," Nightwing said, guilt gnawing at him. "I shouldn't have aimed that particular hit."

She nodded slightly with her jaw clenched tightly.

"Can I take a look?" he asked, pointing at her bandaged arm. She nodded and held it out. Her hand shook. He unwrapped the gauze slowly, cursing inwardly when fresh blood had stained the bandage a few layers in. The wound had reopened at the blow it had received.

He removed the last layer and felt his stomach drop, drawing a surprised breath in between his clenched teeth.

He hadn't seen the wound last night. Mal had already wrapped it up most of the way when he’d arrived, and now he got to see the full extent of the damage. It was much larger than he had expected. It was narrow and didn't need stitches – otherwise Mal would've given it stitches – but it was much longer than he'd assumed, spanning from the crook of her elbow and across her arm, ending right above her wrist. A few inches more and Morgan would've bled out in that alley before anyone had had the chance to save her.

Nightwing didn't think Morgan herself even realized how close to death she'd come. He opted to not tell her.

"Why didn't you tell me how big it was?" he asked, fixing her with a stern look.

"Hey, I told you my arm was useless," she retaliated.

Nightwing expertly rewrapped the bandage, tightening it to stop the bleeding. Then he stood up, offering Morgan a hand in assistance.

Normally, she would've ignored his hand and gotten up on her own, but she accepted it this time, which could either mean that she was actually making an effort to get along with him, or she was more weakened by the cut and the pain than she was letting on.

He kind of hoped it was the first one.

"No more training today. Or the next few days," he ordered. "I want you to avoid using that arm as much as possible. And get the bandage changed before you go to bed tonight."

"Aye, captain."

Chapter Text

February 26th

Gotham

Nigthwing

It was a month and a week ago that Nightwing had first spotted the poster Morgan’s mom had put up, asking for information about her missing child, and guilt was eating him up.

He was still conflicted. Uncertainty had stopped him from doing anything, but he knew that something had to be done soon. Morgan needed to know that her mom was looking for her.

He was just unsure of how he should go about telling her. She tended to blow him off whenever he tried to talk about anything about her personal life.

The last month had been ridiculously busy for him, to the point where he'd pushed the dilemma to the very back of his mind. But now – he wasn't sure if the criminals of the world had decided to finally just chill for a few days or if he'd gotten better at handling his workload, but he found himself with more free time on his hands.

And with free time came time to contemplate things that weren't directly Team related, or, as he personally called it, 'Guilt Time'.

He had spent at least an hour wondering how to properly spring the news on her. Because, seriously, if he told her that he'd known for a month and not found the time to inform her, she'd probably use her telekinesis to bash his head into the nearest wall.

In the end, he decided to show her instead of telling her. Her arm was mostly healed by now and he deemed it safe to take her on patrol with him in Gotham – a patrol that would coincidently end up with her stumbling across the posters if Nightwing played his cards right.

So, when he showed up at the Cave relatively late at night and told her to gear up, he was relieved at how eager she was and how few questions she asked. She'd been watching a movie with Beast Boy in the living room, wearing a pair of shorts and an oversized hoodie – and no the sight of her bare legs totally didn't remind him of when he'd had to unhook that necklace from around her thigh weeks ago – but at the mention of going on a patrol, she'd forgotten all about the low budget action movie and instead leapt off the couch faster than he'd through her capable off and flown to her room to suit up.

They'd arrived in Gotham twenty minutes later via Zeta tube.

"So, where to first?" she eagerly asked.

Nightwing paused, wondering how to best go about this.

Okay, he'd been lying when he told her they were going on patrol, so what? It was the only way he could get her to Gotham organically.

He assumed that once she found the posters, she'd probably want to see her mom as soon as possible – if she wasn’t afraid to. He didn’t want her to look like she’d been in a fight when she reunited with her mom.

He really hoped she wanted to see her.

Morgan could refuse to see her mother and then Nightwing would have a crappy Morgan on his hands for weeks. Alternatively, if Morgan did go to see her mom, there was a chance her mom wouldn’t react well to seeing her.

Both possible problems. But they were problems Nightwing really couldn't do much about.

But there were other aspects of the night he did have some control over. Like, for example, if everything went well, and both Morgan and her mother were interested in talking to the other, he didn't want Morgan to arrive at her mother's doorstep with a few missing teeth and bruises covering her face, because she’d been in a fight.

He’d secretly grabbed some of her civilian clothes and shoved them into a bag so she could see her mom without revealing that she was training to become a hero.

He thought he knew enough about parents – that is, normal parents, unlike his own.. So, parents that were neither dead nor dressed up as a Bat to strike fear into the hearts of Gotham's criminals at night – to know that her mom would worry about her daughter engaging people in fights on a regular basis.

If Morgan showed up looking she'd received a beating, it would not help matters.

So, he wanted her to see those posters before they had the chance to engage in any fights.

And for that very specific purpose, he'd decided to introduce her to one of his dearest possessions.

His trusty bike.

It wasn't really a Nightwing bike, per say, it was really just a huge, black, motorcycle with a lot of adjustments made to it so it could better assist him in his crime-fighting business.

"I figured we could try traveling the city a bit differently tonight," he said as he approached the dark corner he'd parked the bike in, right next to the Zeta tube they'd just walked out of.

"How?" Morgan sounded curious, in an altogether agreeable mood.

"On this," as he said it, he pressed a button on the keys to the bike and it roared to life in front of them, Morgan nearly jumping out of her skin.

She let out a gleeful gasp as she approached the beast of a motorcycle.

"Dude!" she exclaimed, obviously already in love with it. "You have got to let me drive this thing sometime!"

Nightwing pretended to contemplate it. In his mind's eye, he could already see his bike, crashed beyond repair, and Morgan earning herself a ticket to the local hospital.

"Absolutely not," he answered. Nobody got to ride this bike but him. "But I'll let you ride shotgun."

He jumped onto the seat and offered her a hand so she could slip in behind him. The seat was easily big enough to carry two people, and Morgan kept a respectful distance behind him.

The respectful distance lasted for about two seconds. Then, Nightwing floored it, and Morgan let out a squeak before wrapping her arms firmly around him from behind, her much shorter body pushed flush against his broad back.

He really hadn't considered that aspect of the ride, Nightwing realized as he forced himself to pay attention to the road and not how he could feel her entire front pressed to his back.

His plan was to speed through the streets so fast that she wouldn't get the chance to spot any criminal activity going on around them. It worked pretty well for about ten minutes, when the sounds of gunshots and tires squealing along the pavement reached their ears, and Sparrow’s head shot up in the direction she'd heard it from.

"It's over there!" she shouted to drown out the constant roar of the bike's engine underneath them. "Go!"

Nightwing inwardly cursed but changed directions so he was heading down the street they could hear the commotion coming from. Somebody just had to choose tonight to engage in an armed car chase.

“A car chase,” he mumbled flatly. “Yippee.”

This was not how he'd planned for the night to go.

An actual car chase.

Morgan was about to engage in an actual car chase.

She realized that a normal person probably wouldn't, shouldn't, be feeling giddy about that, but she hadn't been normal since she was thirteen years old.

As it where, she scooted closer to Nightwing so she could use his shoulders to pull herself up and peak over him at what was going on.

There were three vehicles speeding down the street as the robbers attempted to flee the crime-scene they'd left behind. The front van was trying to escape the two that followed. It looked like a regular late-night robbery at a regular bank, which didn't quite explain why the vans were exchanging heavy fire.

"That bank is mob owned. Somebody must've been stupid enough to rob it, despite knowing how protective the mob gets about their money," Nightwing explained, and Morgan immediately understood why the black van was being chased by what looked like stolen military vehicles.

He sped up and she wrapped her arms around his middle again to avoid falling off the bike. They caught up to the three cars in no time, the motorbike's smaller size making it much easier to maneuver down the streets.

"We need to somehow slow them down!" Nightwing shouted over his shoulder. "Any ideas?"

"Hold on," Morgan answered and hoisted herself up so she could see again. It was terrifying work due to the speed they traveled at, but she comforted herself with realizing that if she fell off the bike, she could simply spread her wings and she'd fly instead of crash to the pavement.

Still, as she got onto her feet, clinging to his shoulders for balance, she kept her wings firmly folded against her back to avoid the added wind resistance. If she opened them now, she'd get thrown off the bike immediately because of the resistance.

She studied the jeep and tried to pinpoint a weak spot.

Basically, she tried to figure out which part of the jeep she should take mental control of and rip out.

"Maybe I can take out one of the tires," Morgan bent low so she spoke right next to his ear, his wind-blown hair tickling her cheek.

"At the speed they're going, you'll risk making the truck topple and endanger the people around us," Nightwing said. "Do you think you could brake the entire car instead?"

Morgan frowned as she looked at it. "I can only throw stuff around; I can't make it stop in its tracks," she reminded him.

To be honest, Morgan sometimes had trouble understanding how her powers worked. Why she had to use her arms but knew the power came from mind control. Why some things were easier to manipulate than others. Why it was only good for throwing things around and couldn't do the same things that M'gann could like making things hover in the air or levitate things around gently.

Morgan's power only had one setting: violent.

"But if we got the car to slow down, could you take out one of the tires?" Nightwing asked.

Morgan contemplated it for a moment. She'd never attempted to use her powers on tires before. She knew that controlling steel and rock were the easiest. Organic things and water were the most difficult. It was like the harder and more compact the thing was, the easier it was to control it.

"I, uh," she wet her bottom lip, though the wind dried it up immediately. "I think so? I've never tried them before."

"But you think you could do it?" he repeated.

"Uh. Yes. Yes, I think I could do it."

"Alright," he decided, a finality in his voice that made Morgan slightly nervous. Her word, however doubting it had been, was apparently enough for him. "Then let's do this."

Morgan let out a surprised squeak and tightened her grip on him, aware that her entire front and her thighs were pressed to his back, when he suddenly sped up and crossed in front of the closest jeep. Her braided hair whipped at her back as the wind pulled at it.

He slowed down, forcing the truck to slow too. It tried to swerve around him, but every time, Nightwing moved the bike in front of them again. Morgan could hear annoyed and angered shouting from inside the truck, especially when the people inside noticed that they weren’t just some idiots with a bike and a death wish, they were some heroes with a bike and a death wish.

One of them stuck his entire upper body out of the jeep and started firing at them with a semi-automatic. Morgan’s heart climbed up her throat as bullets whizzed past her.

Nightwing crouched low over the handle to make himself less of a target, yelling for Sparrow to do the same. She clung even tighter to him and closed her eyes in fear when he started swerving from side to side to dodge the gunshots.

"We need to put that jeep out of commission before they put us out of commission!" he shouted over the sound of the motor's rumbling and the gunshots being fired at them.

Morgan forced her eyed open and looked up, scanning their surroundings. "This street is completely empty!" she yelled. "Can I try to stop the jeep now?"

Nightwing hesitated for a moment.

"Do it," he said, speaking in a low voice. Morgan leaned closer, unable to hear him over the rumble of the bike.

"Do it!" he repeated.

She let go of him with her right arm and repositioned her left one, so it firmly held onto him from directly below his armpit and across his chest. She twisted her body in her seat, trying to get as good a look at the truck behind them as she could without falling off the bike.

Once this was over, Morgan decided, she would swear off riding Motorcycles. It didn't matter how cool they looked.

She concentrated on the left front tire her arm stretched out as she attempted to fix her mental eye on it like she usually did.

Before, when she'd gained control of something, she'd always been able to tell that she had. It was like a puzzle piece slipped into place in her head and she was never in doubt when her telekinesis worked.

She wasn't getting that feeling right now.

The tire was proving difficult to zero in on with her telekinesis, not only because it was a foreign material, but also because it was moving at such a high speed. Immobile objects were always easier.

"We're headed straight for a bridge, Sparrow," Nightwing spoke in a terse voice. "If you're doing this, you have to do it now!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" she barked, gritting her teeth together in frustration as she kept repositioning her hand and moving her fingers around to try and grasp the tire, and never getting that proper feeling of control. She felt a bead of sweat travel down her temple, both with nerves and because of the mental exertion she was putting on herself.

"Morgan!" he shouted when time was running up.

Letting out a shriek of frustration, she closed her eyes and spread her hand, pulling sideways with all she had.

The split second before she moved her arm, she felt the puzzle piece slip into place. Immense relief coursed through her entire body when the tire she'd focused on lurched sideways before detaching itself, bringing the jeep with it. It wobbled on two wheels for a moment before it toppled to the side, the two men inside trapped for the moment.

Three police cars – she wasn't sure when they'd arrived, but this was Gotham, she knew there was always police out on damage control – surrounded the truck as half a dozen others kept driving, keeping up with the car chase at a safe distance. They must've spotted the two heroes and known to keep their distance, letting Sparrow and Nightwing do their business in peace.

Maybe peace was the wrong word, Morgan mused when the truck directly in front of the motorcycle started firing at them and they had to hide behind the windscreen that was, conveniently, bulletproof.

"How do we deal with that one?" Morgan asked Nightwing, leaning as close to his ear as she could to make communicating easier.

"Can't you just take out a wheel like before?"

The tire had been an entirely new thing, and given how big the truck was, it had taken quite a lot of force to get it to move at all.

Morgan swallowed before shaking her head. Remembering that Nightwing couldn't see the movement, she spoke out loud.

"I think I've exhausted my telekinetic capacity for tonight."

"You can actually run out of mental capacity?" Nightwing asked.

"I'd explain the details to you, but I think we should save it for a time when we aren't being shot at!" Morgan retaliated. "Now, how do we take out the next truck?"

"I have some spikes designed to tear through all kinds of tires. They'll get the job done."

"Where are they?" Morgan demanded, wondering why he hadn’t led with those instead of relying on her telekinesis. Perhaps to test her mettle?

"Left front pouch on my belt!" he loudly replied.

Arms wrapped around his waist, she reached for the pouch and opened it, and after digging through some other small gadgets that Morgan didn't know what did – but they looked high tech and cool – she found three of the small, spiked balls at the very bottom of the pouch.

Nightwing swerved around a car and Morgan tightened her grip on him, now pulled flush against his back.

She had thought about that sort of thing lots of times, but she'd never imagined that the first time she managed to get to second base with a guy, it would be on a speeding motorcycle with Nightwing, while they were getting shot at.

Nightwing sped further ahead, reaching the driver's side of the jeep. The shooting dwindled as they entered a blind spot for the armed man in the passenger seat.

The three balls in her hand looked altogether unassuming, the spikes certainly not big enough to puncture the big, sturdy tires of a military jeep. Morgan figured there must've been more to them than met the eye.

"How do they work?" she asked Nightwing, unwilling to throw them at the jeep until she was sure they didn't need to be activated somehow.

“Just throw them at the ground and they’ll active on their own. I'll drive in front of the truck so you can drop them. Be quick about it, this guy has better aim than the one from before!" Nightwing warned before flooring it.

Morgan nodded resolutely, resisting the urge to tell him that she'd actually had terrible aim all her life.

"Please hit, please hit, please hit.." she mumbled under her breath as she released the three spheres. As soon as they touched the asphalt, wickedly sharp spikes were released from the balls, a split second before the van reached them.

She let out a whoop of joy and fist-bumped the air when the right front-tire exploded, the car swerving off the road. The truck barreled over the sidewalk and through the front window of some poor sod's shop. It came to a screeching halt.

Morgan grimaced slightly, knowing some businessowner was about to have their week ruined.

"Two down, one to go," Nightwing mumbled in front of her.

"Okay, so we're out of spiky-balls and we're out of telekinetic shit, what do we do now?" Morgan loudly asked.

"We go with plan A," Nightwing firmly told her. "Try to slow them down."

He sped up for a third time and intercepted the black van in a matter of seconds. Morgan let out a startled gasp when they – after creating a decent amount of distance – slowed down too abrupt for her liking, the van behind them braking so hard the tires squealed against the rough asphalt. Nightwing turned the bike so its side was facing the approaching vehicle, Sparrow instinctively grabbed hold of his shoulder as she watched the van get closer.

The van, despite attempting to slow down as hard as it could, was still headed straight for the two heroes, and Morgan prepared to fly off if they came too close for comfort.

She could only hope Nightwing had planned some sort of escape route for himself. She couldn't carry both of them.

Luckily, the people in the van seemed to want to avoid flattening the two teenage heroes, and the van swerved to the side abruptly. It lost its balance with the sudden movement and tipped over to the side, much like the first jeep had done.

"Well," she swallowed loudly to get rid of the lump in her throat. "That one almost defeated itself for us."

She breathed out a deep sigh of relief. Beneath her, she could feel the engine rumbling to a halt as Nightwing shut the bike down and jumped off it.

Morgan got off on shaking legs.

"How did you know they'd swerve?" she asked.

"Lucky gamble," he admitted, and Sparrow’s eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth dropping open in shock.

The police arrived just as Nightwing pulled the two unconscious men in the front seats out of the toppled van. Sparrow opened the back of the van, finding another unconscious man in there. This one looked a little worse for wear, having probably been thrown around like a ragdoll when the van fell over. He was lying on a bed of dollar bills. She was sure they'd been stacked neatly before, but now they were everywhere in a right mess. She went up to him and pressed her fingers to his pulse. He was alive, at least.

"Come on," Nightwing approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder and then dropping it once he’d gained her attention. "The police’ll deal with the rest of this. We need to get going."

Morgan frowned, wondering why he seemed so urgent, but followed.

They jumped back onto the bike, and Nightwing sped through Gotham once again. He was driving so fast Morgan barely got to scout their surroundings, making it almost impossible for her to locate any potential crime they should be fighting. She was about to tell him to slow down when she recognized where they were.

They were entering the poorer part of Gotham, relatively close to her old home, actually.

Nightwing drove on for another five minutes before he suddenly slowed down and headed for a dark street, where he parked his bike.

"Let's go," he ordered and walked swiftly down the street. Sparrow ran after him, doing her best to keep up with his long strides.

"Nightwing, where are we go-"

Morgan stopped her own words short when she spotted a lamppost with a poster on it.

More specifically, a 'missing' poster.

Even more specifically, a 'missing' poster with her name and face on it.

Her stomach sank into her feet, her heart joining it soon after, and all air was knocked from her lungs.

For a moment she simply stood, gaping at the poster with her jaw practically hanging around her knees. She'd have been worried about insects flying in if it hadn't been winter.

Her mom was looking for her.

Morgan wasn't sure what this meant.

Did Abigail want to reconcile?

She dearly hoped so.

Morgan looked at Nightwing briefly and found him patiently watching her next to the poster.

"You," Morgan swallowed dryly and blinked rapidly to erase the tears attempting to build up in her eyes. She was not going to cry. "You brought me here on purpose."

“I did,” he admitted, his voice betraying nothing of how he felt.

She licked her lower lip in thought as she nodded her head absentmindedly, his urgent and strange behavior all night suddenly making sense.

"Tonight wasn't about fighting crime at all, was it?" she clarified. "You just needed to show me this poster."

Nightwing nodded wordlessly and redirected his eyes to the pavement underneath them.

"I've known for some time. I thought you deserved to know too."

He looked up at her again, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. Morgan unconsciously mimicked the movement, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"I wasn't sure how you'd react to finding out, and I'm not going to tell you what I think you should do, but I thought you should at least know that she's looking for you."

"I-" Morgan paused, more confused and uncertain than she'd ever been before. Her mind was filled with doubts and fears, but in the end, her decision was easily made. "I want to see her. Now."

Nightwing nodded, looking like he'd expected her to say that. Somehow, she couldn't even be mad at him for keeping it from her.

"And then, if it ends badly, at least she'll know I'm alive and being taken care of. Well," She smirked slightly, halfheartedly, "As much as going on wild car chases and beating up criminals is being taken care of."

Nightwing quirked one corner of his mouth up in wry humor.

"Let's go, then," he encouraged. “I’ve got some clothes for you, so you don’t have to tell her about Sparrow unless you want to.”

She nodded, gnawing on her bottom lip. She was grateful for his foresight. Whether or not she let her mom know about Sparrow was entirely dependent on how Abigail reacted to seeing her.

They headed for an alley where she could change, and then they got back on the bike. Nightwing sped down the streets, clearing the short distance in only minutes. All the way, Morgan’s heart was doing somersaults in her chest. How would her mom react? Was she about to have her heart completely broken by rejection from the only parent she had left?

Was she going to be left behind again?

"You're supposed to knock," Nightwing pointed out after Morgan had stared at her mom’s front door for almost a full minute.

"I know that," she snapped, aiming a halfhearted glare at him.

“I’ll wait outside,” Nightwing sighed after she’d gone back to staring at the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She nodded and watched him leave out of the corner of her eye.

Before she lost her nerve again, Morgan brought a hand up and knocked three times on the door. The sound seemed impossibly loud, vibrating through her bones. Or maybe that was just her shaking with nerves.

A million thoughts ran through her head as she waited for a response. How could she even know her mom would be home? Typically, her mother would be on a nightshift at the hospital. How would her mom react when she saw her? How was Morgan supposed to react?

She self-consciously folded her wings against her back, wishing that she had her pendant, so the wings could stay hidden until she knew how her mom felt about them.

She heard footsteps behind the closed door and her eyes widened in petrified anticipation. She looked around the hallway, almost resolved to run off before her mom could see her.

The doorknob turned and Morgan found herself face to face with a woman she hadn't seen in months, but hadn't gone a day without thinking about.

Abigail looked confused as she opened the door, probably wondering why anyone was knocking on it this late at night. Then she spotted her daughter, and she froze.

"Hi mom," Morgan said with an uncharacteristically timid voice. She studied her mother's face for a second, taking in the sight of her, relishing it. Abigail looked older, lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn't been there before. A few gray hairs stuck out in her otherwise straight, auburn hair, the exact opposite of her daughter’s.

Abigail let out a surprised and joyful sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob and then she leapt forward to embrace her daughter.

The knots in Morgan's stomach disappeared as she fiercely returned the hug, tears springing forth before she could even think to blink them away. As she hugged her mom, she was unsure why she’d ever worried about Abigail rejecting her. It had always been the two of them against the world – why had Morgan doubted that?

She was glad Nightwing had bailed – she’d never cried this openly in front of him before. There had been a few close calls, but not like this. This was ugly sobbing and rivers of salty tears running down her face as her and her mother laughed and cried and embraced each other in the dark hallway.

"My baby," Abigail sobbed into her braided hair. "My little baby."

Eventually – Morgan couldn't tell how long they'd stood there, hugging – they pulled back and her mother looked over Morgan’s face lovingly.

"Come in!” she encouraged and grabbed Morgan’s hand, pulling her inside.

The familiar scent of the apartment hit her. The combination of her mom’s tea and the old wooden floors tickled her nose and something inside of her soothed and finally felt at home.

Morgan could see her mother eyeing her wings with an unreadable expression on her face as the two of them stepped into the kitchen. Morgan hopped onto their small dinner table, her legs dangling off the side. Abigail shuffled around the room as she set to work filling a pitcher with Morgan's favorite lemonade and set out two glasses as well as a plate of cookies. Perhaps the action was to instill some normalcy in this highly abnormal situation.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions..” Morgan started out awkwardly, nibbling at a cookie. For once, her mother hadn't commented on Morgan sitting on the table, instead leaning against the counter so better look at her daughter.

Abigail nodded quietly as she grabbed the mug of tea she must’ve prepared for herself before Morgan had arrived. She sipped carefully at it, her eyes studying Morgan over the edge of the mug.

"I've been searching for you for months now,” Abigail revealed. “I didn't alert the police because I was afraid, they'd find out about your wings and take you away, but I've been putting up posters everywhere and talking to the local network.”

Morgan grimaced. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I have so many questions,” Abigail said, her eyes once again eyeing Morgan’s wings. “But let's start with the biggest one. Where have you been all this time?"

Morgan cleared her throat and took a long drag of lemonade, trying to stall. How much was she allowed to reveal?

Nightwing had said that she didn’t have to tell Abigail about Sparrow unless she wanted to. She could only assume that meant she was allowed to tell her.

But did she want her mom to know?

She wasn’t sure. On the one hand, she wasn’t sure what other explanation she could come up with for where she’d been this whole time. On the other hand, she knew her mom would be worried sick if she knew Morgan was actively seeking out danger.

But what if she was hurt? It would come as a complete surprise to her mom, who would be unprepared to deal with the shock because she hadn’t known.

No.. maybe it was best to let her know.

"Well..I kind of joined a team. Of heroes." Morgan fiddled with her hands, avoiding her mom’s shocked gaze. She cleared her throat and launched into the story. "After you saw – ya know – I kind of ran away and the same night I was approached by Batman and Nightwing-“ Abigail’s eyebrows rose at that detail, and Morgan could understand why. Anyone living in Gotham had an opinion on Batman. “-and they already knew about my – you know.."

"Your wings?" her mom helpfully supplied. "You can call them what they are. I've come to terms with the fact that my daughter has.. wings."

"Alright, so anyway, they knew about my wings, and they decided I had potential as a hero and I've been with them since, training and fighting," Morgan quickly summed up. “I, uh, I have a mentor who trains me and makes sure I’m safe. He’s actually downstairs right now – he was the one that found the posters and brought me here.”

“Can I meet him?” Abigail asked unexpectedly.

Morgan blinked at her. The blank look on Abigail’s face told her that her mom wanted to size up this person that was apparently responsible for Morgan’s safety.

“Uh.. I guess? I could ask?”

“Good. Does he like tea?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Morgan admitted as she hopped off the table and went to the living room. She went out onto the little balcony and looked down, spotting Nightwing waiting by his bike, working on something on his computer.

She stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly, gaining his attention.

“You can come up, if you want,” she called. He considered it for a moment and then nodded. He jumped up to reach the fire escape and quickly scaled the side of the building, landing in a crouch on the rusty railing of the balcony.

“I told her,” she said. He nodded.

“I figured,” he responded, letting her lead the way back inside.

Abigail appeared surprised by his sudden appearance, but she didn’t voice it as the two of them filed back inside the kitchen.

Morgan pointed her thumb at Nightwing, who was following behind her, "Mister 'Tall, dark and handsome' here is – "

"I'm Nightwing,” he interrupted her. He stepped around her in a fluid motion and politely offered her mother his hand. "I'm the one that found out about Morgan’s wings."

Abigail accepted the handshake, sending Morgan a look, like, girl, and Morgan rolled her eyes.

"Nightwing's the one responsible for my training and stuff. He teaches me how to fight." Unable to resist the chance to heckle Nightwing, she clapped a mocking hand on his shoulder and leaned against his side, crossing her legs casually. "This guy has beaten me up more than a school yard bully would ever have the heart to."

Morgan smirked at the slight narrowing of Abigail’s eyes.

“All to prepare her for future dangers,” Nightwing said through grit teeth, shooting her a glare. “She’s in good hands.”

Abigail set down her mug and nodded with pursed lips. She studied the young man shrewdly, seizing him up and deciding if she believed he could keep her daughter safe.

"I have to know.. is what you do dangerous?” she asked, looking at the two of them.

The brief memory of a bomb exploding in an underground layer flashed through her mind, quickly followed by another memory of a very recent armed car chase.

"No! Not at all," she lied, unconsciously tracing the tight stitches her left sleeve had been adorned with after she'd gotten stabbed through the fabric. "It's very low key. I mostly just beat up a few small-time criminals. It's easy stuff."

She could see Nightwing shift in the corner of her eye, but he thankfully stayed silent.

What they were doing was very dangerous – life threatening, even. But Morgan's mom couldn't know that. She'd die an early death, put to the grave with worry over her daughter. Morgan didn't want that. She wanted her mom to go through her life as usual without having to worry about being approached by a superhero someday to tell her that her daughter had 'fallen in the line of duty'.

Her lie was convincing because Abigail nodded and then fixed her eyes onto her wings once more.

"So are you.." Her mom paused and then rephrased her words. "Do you know why you have wings?"

Morgan sighed and shrugged.

"No.. They're just kinda there."

“We’ve been working on figuring them out,” Nightwing spoke up. “We did some tests, but no results yet.”

Her mom pushed her lips tightly together, a thoughtful frown on her face.

"Oh," Morgan suddenly remembered her other power that her mom also knew nothing about. "And there is another thing. I can move things. Without touching them. I move things around with my mind."

Her mom's eyes widened to double size as she opened and closed her mouth like a fish, not sure how to respond.

"Where is all of this coming from?" she eventually asked. "I swear Morgan, I'm just a regular human!"

Morgan nodded. "I know, mom. All the tests we did proved the same. I'm totally human. I just happen to have abilities. We're still working on figuring out why."

Abigail nodded and took a long sip from her tea, to clear her mind. By now, the two of them had settled into chairs by the dining table, and Nightwing hovered by the counter.

"So, what now?" Abigail asked after a moment of silence. "What will you do? Are you moving back in?"

Morgan seriously contemplated it for a moment.

"I can't," she admitted. "I mean, I could, but my life would get infinitely more complicated if I had to travel to the Cave every time I had to train or hang out with the others. I.. really like where I am right now. We live several people together so I'm not lonely.”

Abigail looked sad, but she nodded, nonetheless.

“Besides," Morgan smiled ruefully. "The less I go here, the less like it is that someone is going to link Sparrow to you."

“Sparrow?”

“My hero alias,” Morgan shrugged.

Abigail frowned, as if she hadn't considered before that her daughter was going to make enemies in her new line of work. She wanted to lecture Morgan on safety, but she stopped herself and studied her instead. As her eyes took in her daughter properly, Abigail realized something.

Morgan was no longer pale and frail looking. She looked happier, healthier and more unburdened than she’d looked for the past five years. There was a shine to her eyes and an easy smile on her lips that Abigail hadn't seen there since Henrik had left ten years ago.

Ultimately, she also knew that her daughter was legally an adult, and she couldn't tell her to stop. She would only distance them from each other by disapproving, something she didn't want. They'd just bridged a gap in their relationship, she didn't want to ruin that.

"Well, at least promise me you'll come visit every once in a while." Abigail said, smiling tiredly at her daughter.

Morgan nodded.

“Of course, I will.”

Soft feet padded across the floor, followed by a short mewl, that made everyone look at the door where Morgan's cat stood, staring at the group of three.

"Percy!" Morgan exclaimed and dropped to her knees on the floor. The cat walked across the floor and leapt onto her shoulder, accepting the scratch she offered.

"If it's alright with you," Morgan turned to her mom again. "I'd like to take some stuff from my room before we leave."

Abigail stood too.

"Of course. Go right ahead."

Morgan smiled gratefully at her mom and turned to Nightwing.

"C'mon, I'll show you around."

She left the kitchen and went down the narrow hallway that led to the living room, the two bedrooms, and the bathroom. Morgan could tell that Nightwing was eyeing her cat as it kept its casual perch on her shoulder.

“This is my bedroom,” she said as they reached the door.

Opening her bedroom door, Morgan felt a rush of familiarity as she took in her old room. Staring around the chaotically organized room, exactly as she'd left it; it somehow also looked foreign, like a memory from a past life.

She turned to study her mentor standing by her desk, taking everything in. He looked strange, standing in her old room, like two different eras of her life were colliding.  

"I'll be really quick about it; I just have a few things I need to collect," she told him and bent down to allow Percy to roam freely. The cat hopped off her shoulder and approached her tall mentor, brushing affectionately against his legs and purring up a storm.

Morgan watched the exchange, smiling involuntarily when he bent down to pick up the amorous cat, petting it gently.

"He's very affectionate. Loves everyone," she explained as she looked under her bed, dragging out a large, grey duffle bag. "So don't think you're special."

They were silent for a moment as Morgan emptied the bag of what looked like used gym clothes. The smell certainly spoke to the theory.

"Why did you lie?" Nightwing asked quietly. The door had slipped shut behind them, keeping the conversation from reaching Abigail.

"You know why," she replied, opening her underwear drawer and stuffing a few panties and bras in the bag. "If my mom knew what we were really doing on a regular basis, she'd lose ten years off her lifespan from worry. I don't want her to constantly fear for me."

"What if you're killed, then?" Nightwing immediately shot back. "What if you're killed in action and your mother wasn't prepared for it to happen at all? Don't you think that will shorten her lifespan with at least ten years?"

Morgan shrugged with a blank look on her face and kept her eyes firmly fixed on her work. She unplugged her laptop and put it in its casing before placing it in the bag too.

"People die in accidents every day. Their families aren't prepared for that either."

She chanced a quick peek at him. He looked like he really wanted to protest but also knew that it wasn't his place to. She decided to leave the matter there, unwilling to start arguing with him when her mom was in the next room. She'd start worrying even more if she thought Morgan wasn't getting along with the person that was supposed to make sure she was skilled enough to not get killed in a fight.

She shuffled around the room, pulling some of her favorite clothes into the bag. A few books, including a diary, were thrown into it as well.

"You knit?" Nightwing suddenly asked and Morgan turned in her spot, seeing her mentor next to her old nightstand, knitting gear in hand. A colorful, half-finished scarf dangled from his grip.

Color rushed to her cheeks even as she firmly reminded herself that it was nothing to be embarrassed about. She shrugged and stepped closer, snatching the yarn and needles from his grasp.

"Yeah. Relaxes me,” she said, as she stuffed the project into her bag too. "It's not like I'm good at it or anything. I just do scarves, really."

She opened her closet and pulled out a pair of black converse, a pair of sandals and some winter boots.

"Aaand done," she announced, standing up straight and pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

Percy jumped out of Nightwing’s arms and across the room to rub against her calves, purring loudly as he did. She bent down and pet him lovingly; sad she'd have to leave him again. But the life of a hero was no place for a cat. It was best for him to stay here.

She left the room and then found her mother still seated in the kitchen, absentmindedly stroking her index finger on the rim of her steaming mug of tea.

Abigail looked up at the sound of them arriving in the doorway and Morgan thought she already looked a few years older than when she'd first seen her an hour ago.

It left a stinging sensation of guilt in her chest, but she pushed through it. Her mom would get used to the thought of Morgan being a hero, eventually. Abigail would always worry – she didn't doubt this, but at some point, the anxiety would fade into a dull thought at the back of her mind. Morgan just had to avoid dying and they'd be all set.

"We're ready," she said softly. In a way, she was sad that she'd have to leave her mom so soon after being reunited with her, but she feared that the separation would only get harder the longer she stayed. As she picked absentmindedly at a loose string on her bag, Morgan vowed to herself that she'd visit her mom as soon as possible.

Besides, it was late at night by now, and Abigail probably had to get up early for work.

Realizing that Abigail had spent Christmas alone –the worst Christmas ever as she'd undoubtedly spent it worrying over her missing daughter, Morgan made a mental note to go buy her mom a Christmas present. They'd celebrate small Christmas here at the end of February, maybe early March, watch a few Christmas movies, bake cookies and exchange gifts.

Head full of ideas on how to make up for lost time, she hugged her mom tightly and placed a kiss on her cheek, trying to ignore the tears in her Abigail’s eyes. Tears she knew would fall once Morgan and Nightwing left.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Morgan promised, writing her new number down on a piece of paper. "And I promise to visit soon."

Her mom smiled brightly at the prospect, though the look was ruined by her wet eyes.

They went back out into the hallway, and Morgan almost stopped him as Nightwing slipped the door shut behind them.

She was silent as he drove them back to the Zeta tube.

Arriving at the site, she paused after the two of them had slipped off the bike.

"You're going home now, aren't you?"

"I’m heading for Blüdhaven,” Nightwing confirmed.

"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." Morgan stared straight ahead, unable to meet his eyes for a moment. As much as leaving behind her mother had hurt, Morgan still felt lighter than she'd done in a long time. Reconciling with her mom had been like taking in a breath of fresh, clean air after being stuck in a dusty old room for months. And she owed it all to Nightwing. She felt a newfound rush of affection aimed towards her mentor and resolved to be a better student from now on. He didn’t have to tell her about the posters, but he’d done it anyway – because he.. cared for her?

She supposed she cared for him too, in her own way. Even if she wasn’t about to admit it out loud.

Fixing her eyes on her mentor who was lingering by his bike, waiting for her to use the Zeta tube first, she voiced her gratitude.

"Thank you.. for showing me. It means a lot."

Before she could chicken out – before she could even consider what she was doing – she reached up and, because she was too short to reach his cheek, placed a quick peck on his jaw line.

Turning before she could see whatever expression would be on his face, Morgan ducked her head, hiding behind her curly bangs, hoisted the duffle bag further up on her shoulder, and stepped into the zeta tube. She hoped he couldn’t see that her cheeks were blazing.

Her mind went blank as the zeta tube activated.

"B23 Sparrow," the detached female voice from the tube announced as she found herself in a familiar environment.

Lugging the heavy bag behind her, Morgan went to her room and crashed tiredly onto her bed. Her night hadn’t gone in the direction she’d expected, but she wasn’t about to complain.

Still, she was exhausted – mentally, physically, emotionally.

“Time for bed,” she mumbled, forcing herself to get up to go brush her teeth.

She wondered what was in store for her next.

Chapter Text

February 28th

Mount Justice

Morgan 

When Morgan had run away and joined a team of teenage superheroes, she hadn't really expected homework to be part of the deal.

And yet here she was, studying up on some of the Team's former missions.

In her years of solitude, she had always had a lot of time on her hands. Not having any friends tended to do that. Too much time on her hands had made her hate being idle, so she’d dug into homework with vigor, while making sure to keep the work average to not garner any attention. She had engaged in several hobbies from her room, such the knitting Nightwing had seen.

In her attempt at seeming as average as possible, she always made sure that her work was somewhere between a B and a C – with the exception of biology where she kept her line of straight A's intact.

In a way, her workload had become easier after joining the team – she didn’t have to make a conscious effort to dumb her answers down, to keep her average score. She could write the best she knew, and then leave it at that. It was a blessing, since she generally had less time now to do her work, what with all the training and socializing.

So, she’d taken to studying the Team’s older missions log. She figured getting to know the people the Team had faced before and read up on their strategies and where they had failed, was a good idea.

That was how she found herself spending her Sunday morning. Her homework was done and she had finished her morning training-routine. The Cave was strangely empty, save for Garfield and Robin, and then Nightwing, who was decoding some Krolotean data on the computer and hadn’t been a very willing conversationalist. So, she’d asked her mentor if they had any of the Team's history written down and he'd downloaded a long list of summaries of their former missions onto her computer.

All of the documents contained the date and then a brief summary of the missions in itself and then a slightly longer explanation of how the mission had actually went – Morgan soon learned that all of their missions were supposed to be covert but always ended with the Team blowing shit up. The only reason the Team was still allowed to keep operating was probably because they always managed to show positive results despite their chaotic approach. After the mission layout there was a complete list of all the people that had been involved in the mission. She learned about people like Psimon and Devastation, and a lot of other villains.

One very interesting person that kept popping up was Aqualad. The former leader of the Team. As far as she could read, he had been a good leader.

Until he had discovered that his father was Black Manta, the leader of a villainous organization trying to take down the Atlantean government. For what purpose? She wasn’t sure, as the files didn’t go into any detail. Upon his familial realization, Kaldur’ahm had defaulted from the Team and joined his father.

The details were.. sparse. Yet, the few lines Nightwing had written in the mission report from when the betrayal had happened, were marred with pain. Morgan supposed it was a private and painful memory for members of the Team. She realized Nightwing must’ve known him for years, working closely side by side, as his second in command. The betrayal of Aqualad was what had made Nightwing leader of the Team, and she wondered how he felt about that.

Her curiosity was piqued and she filed her questions away for later – maybe, if she could catch him in a quiet moment, Nightwing would reveal a little more to her.

Sighing and stretching her back to free it from the crick it had developed from slouching in her chair for several hours, she exited the document she was currently reading – A mission where the original members of the Team had saved the entire Justice League from – As far as Morgan deduced – a very secret, very exclusive, and very evil boy band that called themselves the 'Light'. They had managed to gain control of the Leaguers. With, if she understood correctly, pieces from an ancient squid?

After having poured over the stories for several hours, Morgan found that she needed a change of pace. And perhaps breakfast too.

Leaving her room, she headed for the kitchen. Upon reaching her destination she grabbed an apple from the fridge and stuffed a protein bar in her pocket. It would have to do for breakfast today, she decided, feeling too lazy to prepare a proper meal.

Afterwards, she went searching for some of her team mates. Most of them were enjoying the slow weekend and had stayed home or gone to the city, but perhaps some of them had returned in the hours she’d spent reading.

Knowing that she'd find Nightwing in the main room, she headed in that direction, hoping the other boys would be there as well. She was in luck, as the two younger teenagers were approaching Nightwing from the other side of the room just as Morgan did.

"Decryption completed,” said the computer's emotionless, female voice. "Translation completed."

Robin and Beast Boy reached Nightwing first as he stood tall behind the transparent screens.

“Did you finally decode the intel?” Robin excitedly asked him.

"We have intel? About what?” Garfield asked, just as Morgan reached the three guys. She placed herself next to Nightwing, and across from Robin and Beast Boy, watching the work he was doing on the screen even though she wasn't sure what she was looking at. She needed to get him to teach her how to navigate their systems at some point.

“When we did that raid on Malina Island, Miss Martian and Martian Manhunter came across some intel, before the island was destroyed. We think it has something to do with what the Kroloteans were doing on Earth.”  

"Noted," Garfield nodded.

"Well," Morgan said between a mouthful of apple. She quickly swallowed to avoid spitting pieces of apple everywhere as she talked. What would probably be considered unattractive. "What does it say then?"

“I’ve only just got this decoded but..” his masked eyes skimmed the words on the screen. Morgan read the information along with him, swallowing nervously at what she was reading. She waited for Nightwing to confirm that she had understood it correctly.

“They’ve been capturing humans to.. experiment on. They’re looking for.. something inside of us.” The way he said it send it sent a chill down her spine, her sense of foreboding strong.

“Meta gene?” she read from the screen and then met his eyes. “What’s that?”

“There’s no translation in any human language. Meta-gene was the closest translation. I.. I have no idea what it is.”

Nightwing sounded confused, which Morgan decided couldn't be a good thing. She knew her mentor was smart. Like, insanely intelligent. If there was something that confused him, it would undoubtedly cause them trouble.

Morgan leaned in closer to read the words on the screen. There was no description of what this meta-gene thing was, what it supposedly did or why the Kroloteans would go looking for it in humans. As usual, they didn't have the answers. Or, well, they had the answers. They just didn't understand them.

“Back to square one, I guess,” Robin sighed. “What do you want us to do?”

Nightwing considered the intel on the screen again.

“Robin,” he said, all eyes snapping back into him at his authoritative voice. “When you can, access whatever files we have on the batcomputer. There has to be some research out there that might help us understand what the meta-gene is. I’ll talk to star labs.”

Robin nodded.

Morgan and Garfield exchanged looks.

“I guess our job’s to stand here and look pretty,” Morgan suggested, whispering to the Garfield playfully.

“We’re so good at that too,” he agreed solemnly, and Morgan bit back a grin.

An alarm rung throughout the room as the security system came to life.

“Warning! Warning! Warning!" The computer announced loudly, and Morgan nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping the finished apple to the floor.

"Jesus!" she exclaimed as her heart rate spiked. She was sure she’d never get used to their loud security system.

"Unknown energy impulse detected!" 

Outside the Cave, she could hear a booming clash of thunder. Morgan jumped in fright when a giant circle of blue light manifested behind them. It was spewing lightning across the room, crackling like a malfunctioning powerline. As they turned, Nightwing pushed her behind him, holding a protective arm out in front of three younger heroes.

She was sure, if she hadn’t been frightened by the ball of lightning currently hovering in the middle of the room, she would have complained about his over-protective behavior. As it was, she had no issue with her mentor standing between her and the danger.

Nightwing took a few steps back himself as the lightning grew in intensity, and the three of them stumbled backwards before he could collide with them. The four heroes backed up, almost at the edge of the room.

“Don’t touch the walls,” Nightwing barked. “You could get electrocuted!”  

The grating sound of electrical crackling made her ears ring and her teeth grind. The hair on the back of her neck stood up from the electrical charge in the air. She could almost taste it.

As the ball of light flickered, she realized there was some kind of structure in the middle of it. It was emitting a loud whirring, drowning out of sound of the electricity. As soon as it had appeared, the lightning died down and the ball of light collapsed in on itself. The object that had appeared hovered in the air for a moment before dropping to the floor with a loud clang.

It was made of gray steel and was shaped sort of like a bell. As she got a better look at it, Morgan could see that it was old and beat-up, dented and scratched, and looking like it had been put together with scrap metal. Smoke rose from it as the whirring sound stilled.

The four teenagers held their breaths as they waited for something to happen.

“What is it?” Garfield asked from behind Nightwing’s elbow, and their leader responded by pulling out his escrima sticks, his narrowed eyes never leaving the object.

The machine let out a hiss and a hydraulic mechanism activated, allowed a hatch to slip open. Was there someone inside, operating the object?

As the hatch slowly slipped open, Nightwing sunk into a battle-ready stance.

"Stand ready," he said.

The three teenagers behind him all took defensive stances, Robin pulling out his electrified staff.

The hatch at the front of the unknown finished opening, emitting a huge cloud of smoke. Morgan thought she could see a figure moving in the middle of the cloud. She felt a stab of worry. She had no idea what was awaiting them.

In front of her, Nightwing grit his teeth and tightened the hold on his escrima sticks, preparing himself for an attack.

A brown haired, lean, and short boy, clad in a skintight, white and red suit emerged from the grey smoke, spreading his arms out wide as if expecting a round of applause at his dramatic entrance.

"Ta-da!" he shouted, his voice ringing out in a theatrical vibrato.

The four heroes slouched in disbelief.

"Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!" The computer kept blaring, only adding to the chaotic scene.

"Computer," Nightwing, the first one to recover from the shock, sternly spoke out loud. "Lock down the Cave."

“I guess now we know what the unknown energy impulse was,” said Garfield. He sounded relieved that their intruder was a short teenager, instead of some big, dangerous alien. Morgan wholeheartedly agreed, though she kept her eyes on the boy with suspicion.

“Impulse! That’s so crash, my guy - I like it!” said the unknown teenager with an extraordinarily cheerful and energetic voice. Morgan could tell she’d get tired of him very fast if he kept up the cheerful attitude.

She blinked in surprise and jumped back when he appeared beside her and Beast Boy in a second. He had powers!

“It’s dramatic,” he started listing off on his fingers as he zipped between them, speaking so fast it was difficult to understand him. “Catchy, snappy, one word. It’s perfect!”

“Like Nightwing,” He appeared beside him, leaning the side of his head against Nightwing’s slack arm.

Then, he was beside Robin, placing a find arm around his shoulders, “And Robin!”

She jumped again when he was suddenly directly in front of her, “Aaaand Sparrow!” Morgan resisted the urge to bat him away, but before she could move her hand, he was already gone, standing in the middle of the room.

“I’m sorry Gar, Beast Boy is two words so I’m not counting yours!” he said with a sing-song voice. “Oh my god, Blue Beetle is two words too! Is he here? I have to meet him!”

He spoke incredibly fast still, so fast that Morgan’s brain was perpetually a sentence behind. She assumed the other’s felt the same, since no one had made an attempt to interrupt their intruder yet.

Had he called him Gar?

“No, no, don’t answer that. The incredible Impulse can find out for himself!”

In a second, he was gone. She had only barely been able to see him rush down the hallway that led to their bedrooms and the showers.

His laughter echoed mockingly inside the Cave as the four of them stood in shock from the whirlwind that had been their intruder.

What was going on?

“What the hell,” Morgan mumbled. “Can’t have one normal day.”

"You two," Nightwing motioned for Robin and Beast Boy. "Take him down. Now!"

Robin and Beast Boy narrowed their eyes in their resolve and charged after the much faster boy.

"That’s so Crash?” Nightwing repeated the intruder's words, wondering what he had meant. He shared a look with Morgan, and she shrugged.

"You know they're never gonna catch him, right?" she pointed out. "He's too fast."

"I know." He grabbed her arm, and they hid behind a wall as he pulled a handful of small metallic balls from one of his pouches. "They're just a distraction while we set up a trap."

He offered her some of the balls and Morgan accepted them before he quickly ran across to the other side of the entrance.

"He's bound to come back this way at some point. We'll be ready for him," he explained.

Nightwing threw his own handful of balls into the hallway and Morgan followed suit, watching in satisfaction as the floor was evenly covered by them. The fast kid would have a hard time maneuvering those, especially at his speed.

A moment later she saw the red and white blur that was the intruder as he sped down the hall. Expecting him to fall over, she was both disappointed and awed when he spotted the trap and simply ran up the walls and over the ceiling, his perfect arch landing at the end of the hallway.

"Hah!" he exclaimed, obviously finding their little trap ridiculous. "You can't catch me that eas-urgh!"

Nightwing, possessing speed Morgan had witnessed several times but was still impressed by, was upon the boy in an instant, the powerful punch to his chest sending him to the floor as all air was knocked out of his lungs.

Pulling two pairs of handcuffs out of his belt, Nightwing secured the boy instantly before standing up, staring down at his captive.

"Now that was crash," he said with satisfaction.

Now that was hot. Morgan thought. Wait, what?

"For you maybe," the boy on the floor whined, only sounding slightly less hyper. "Me? I'm totally feeling the mode."

“The what?” she asked, as Nightwing dragged him into the middle of the room. Robin and Beast Boy arrived, looking flushed and out of breath.

“Get a chair,” Nightwing ordered, and Robin disappeared again to go look for one.

They had the boy tied up on a chair only a minute later. Robin and Beast boy crowded around him, with Nightwing and Morgan hovering behind them.  

“Explain,” Nightwing said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Guys, its chill!” the boy insisted. “I’m not really supposed to tell you this, but I trust you, so here’s the truth,” he took a deep breath to lend weight to his words and looked at them with innocent eyes. “I’m a tourist from the future.”

“You’re a what?” she asked, her voice flat at his stupid claim.

“A tourist from the future!” he repeated cheerfully. Out of the corner of her eye, Morgan saw Nightwing walk off – what was he doing?

"You're a tourist? From the future?" Robin repeated doubtfully, as if needing the clarification for a third time. Morgan crossed her arms critically over her chest and raised a skeptical eyebrow at their prisoner. On Robin's other side, Garfield's face was locked in a similarly doubtful expression.

"It’s not that surprising!” the intruder insisted with a laugh. "How do you think Comicon gets so many attendees every year? Half of the meat there’s from my era. We, like, totally love your time! It’s so old school!”

He was met with three blank faces, and it made him switch tactics.

“Look-look – guys, we should be friends!” he insisted. “I’m like you! You’ve seen my powers, I’m clearly part of the hero-legacy too! My name is Bart Allen. That name ring a bell?”

“Are you saying you’re related to the flash?” Robin asked.

“Aw, good old peepaw. That’s my grandad!”  

“No freaking way,” Morgan shook her head.

“It’s true! Barry Allen is my granddad!”

“Noted,” Garfield crossed his arms over his chest as he looked skeptically at the intruder. “Not exactly believed. But noted.”

Truthfully, Morgan wasn't actually sure if she believed the kid or not. He seemed pretty candid, and she wasn't getting a menacing vibe from him, so she didn't think he was planning to hurt them. But at the same time, his ludicrous story about being a tourist from the future that also happened to be the grandson of The Flash just wasn't possible.

"What's not to believe?" he persisted. “I’m his spitting image! I’ve good the looks, the speed? I can’t wait to go see him! Uh, you know, when he was in his prime. I have met him before, of course. Ha ha."

Raised eyebrows.

Maybe she’d been too quick to judge his intentions – he was definitely hiding something.

Behind them, Nightwing came back, carrying a glass of water.

"Well, Bart,” he spoke with a casual voice that Morgan knew meant trouble. “I’m sure time-travel is tiring. Have some water."

Morgan watched as her mentor offered the handcuffed boy a glass of water, helping him drink.

Bart had taking two sips from the glass before his eyes widened with realization.

“Ha! You’re trying to get a DNA sample from my spit!” He promptly spit into the glass. “Classic Dick Grayson move. Always the man with the plan!”

Morgan found herself gaping at the boy.

He'd called Nightwing by his real name.

A name only a few of the heroes knew – a name she only knew by accident.

Nightwing took a startled step back and Robin's eyes widened.

“How did-?” Robin sounded in disbelief.

"See?" Bart triumphantly chuckled. "How could I possibly know if I wasn’t from the future?”

He used his bound hands to point at Nightwing.

“Dick Grayson,” he said, and then he moved onto Robin. “Tim Drake.”

Morgan's eyes widened and she stored away the name in her brain for later research. Now, she just needed Batman’s name and she’d have this whole thing blown wide open.

However, all thoughts of figuring out the bat-clans secret identities flew out the window when the stupid future-kid pointed at her and opened his blabber-mouth.

“Morgan Gray-“ he grimaced, and Morgan’s gaze flew towards Nightwing, whose eyes narrowed into tiny slits, as if daring Bart to finish that sentence with what it sounded like he was going to finish it with. Her insides froze as her heart did a strange jump. 

"Sorry, Morgan 'Jørgensen'. Your name is just so hard to pronounce," he laughed unconvincingly. "I swear I called you West or something last week."

As his awkward laughter died down, a moment of stunned silence reigned.

What the hell.

He quickly shook it off and changed the subject.

"Anywayyy, and that's Garfield Logan,” he pointed at Beast Boy.

Beast Boy hadn't known the names of the two bat-boys before the future kid had told him because he looked between the two of them.

"Your name is Tim?" he asked and Robin – Tim – looked decidedly sheepish and uncomfortable. Beast Boy turned to Nightwing next, a grimace on his face. "And yours is.. Dick?"

Morgan’s laughter bubbled out before she could stop it, and she quickly shoved a hand over her mouth when Nightwing trained a glare at her.

“What? It is kinda funny!” she insisted.

Beast Boy turned to her. "Wait, you knew?"

"Accidentally," Morgan admitted, and Nightwing looked away. Was he still sore about it? He’d voluntarily told her a bunch of things once she’d found out, so she could only assume he was okay with her finding out.

"Oops!" Their prisoner exclaimed. The attention had strayed from him too long to his taste. "Spoilers! Man, this secret identity thing is sooo retro. I mean, you can call me Impulse, or Bart, or Bart Allen. Ooh, or Bart ‘Impulse’ Allen." He shrugged as if the reveal of his secret identity didn't bother him at all. "It's all totally crash."

There was another pregnant pause as Robin turned to Nightwing.

“Do you think his story is plausible?” he asked, speaking in a low voice so only the four heroes would be included.

Nightwing studied the kid, but he seemed uncertain. Bart was whistling, looking around the Cave with interest.

“The DNA test should reveal the truth,” Nightwing sighed. “Meanwhile.. I’m not taking him at his word.”

“Right!” exclaimed Garfield. Morgan watched as he squared his shoulders and approached their prisoner again. "Tell us something we don't know yet. When do I become leader of the team? When do I join the Justice League? When do I get my own reality series?"

Nothing could bring Bart 'Impulse' Allen's spirit down apparently because he simply shrugged, smiling widely.

“Sorry, Gar. I didn’t pay that close attention in school. But I do know I’m not supposed to tell you about your future – can’t risk altering the timestream. Otherwise, we’d all be feeling the mode.”

Morgan was sure he was avoiding Garfield’s questions because none of his ideas would come to pass.

Not that she believed Bart was from the future. Obviously.

“And the mode is-?”

“Bad! It’s super bad. The worst it could get,” Bart said, the cheeriness giving way in his voice to worry – the first time he’d been anything but excited. “It’s always better to crash the mode!”

"Uh," Beast Boy said. "Noted."

The security system came to life again as it announced the arrival of a team-member.

"Recognized. Malcolm Duncan. A-1-0."

“Finally! Sounds like a door opening somewhere!” Bart declared. "That's ma cue."

He began vibrating at an incredible frequency, somehow vibrating right out of his handcuffs. Before any of them could lunge for him, he was at the end of the room, waving goodbye sarcastically.

"Later, losers!"

He’d played them. He had never really been tied up – he’d just waited for an opening and kept them occupied until then.

By traumatizing her by almost calling her by Dick’s surname. Honestly, what the hell? She had to believe he’d only done that to freak her out – he seemed like the kind of troll to do that.

He’d been in the chair only seconds ago, and now he was gone. The four of them stood in shocked silence for a moment before coming to life once more.

"Don't worry, the peregrine falcon is the world's fastest bird," Garfield explained, holding a pacifying hand up. "He won't get away from me!"

The green skinned boy transformed into a falcon and soared out of the room.

“There’s no way he can catch up to him, right?” Robin asked.

"Probably not," Morgan agreed.

"Nope," Nightwing added, handing Robin the glass. "Impulse is too fast. But at least we can track him."

Nightwing brought up a map and blew up to a large size, letting them all follow the little red dot currently speeding across the state.

"You planted a tracer?” Robin looked at Nightwing in impressed surprise. “Won’t it fall off at his speed?"

"It won't." Nightwing’s voice lilted with a smug laugh. "He drank it."

Robin held up the glass Impulse had been drinking from and studied the water.

"Sub-coetaneous micro-tracker in the water," he declared and Morgan finally understood. Nightwing hadn't really needed a DNA sample, he'd just needed the boy to drink the water so he could track him. "Nice."

"Thanks," Nightwing said, sounding very pleased with himself.

Morgan was unsure that she’d ever heard him sound like that before. The smug happiness was.. appealing. She looked at her feet, worried by her own reaction to seeing her mentor act so cocky and happy. It should’ve repulsed her, right? It would have a month ago.

What was up with her these days? Was it just because she was grateful that he’d helped her find her mom? Was it because she knew how good he looked in a suit? Was it because she’d had the balls to kiss his jaw for some ungodly reason?

“Where’s he headed to?” she asked, clearing her throat awkwardly when her voice came out like a squeak.

“He’s headed straight for Central City,” Nightwing said, once the GPS had properly locked on to Impulse’s location. “I guess he was serious about meeting Flash in his prime.”

“What do we do?” Robin asked.

“We can’t take him down – he’s too fast. But he’s not the only speedster around.” Nightwing pulled out his phone and made a phone call. “Hey,” he said, once the other person had picked up. “Need your help. There’s a speedster headed for Central City. I think he’s trying to find Flash.”

“Who’s he talking to?” Morgan whispered to Robin, as Nightwing explained their encounter with Impulse to the person on the phone.

“Wally, I assume,” Robin said.

"This has been such a weird day." Morgan complained, yawning, and holding a hand to her forehead to stave off the headache that was coming along. "And it’s not even noon."

Robin smiled. "Trust me, you learn to roll with the nonsense. Anything’s possible in this line of work."

"Yeah, I’m beginning to realize.”

His phone call ended, Nightwing turned towards the two of them.

“Wally’s on it. All we can do is wait now.”

And wait they did. For several hours.

After her usual spar with Nightwing – sometimes going three on three with Robin and still getting her butt royally kicked – Morgan had eaten lunch and settled back into her room, resuming her previous reading.

The Team had been on countless missions in the past six years and the list seemed endless, but Morgan was determined to at least skim through most of them. She wanted to be able to understand what the others were talking about when they mentioned some older mission. She wanted to stop feeling like she wasn't properly a part of the Team.

She knew that with time, she'd gain her own stories with the Team – She already had some, like the mission she'd gone on with Robin, Blue Beetle and Lagoon Boy, but that one incident wasn't enough. She wanted to share in on the inside jokes. She wanted to feel properly 'initiated' in a way.

Just another reason for her to wish she'd get to go on some missions.

But she didn't push the issue. She had promised to stop begging. And she had the feeling that the sooner she stopped nagging Nightwing about it, the sooner he'd let her go. She needed to prove that she was 'mature' enough to go on missions.

Personally, she didn't get why he got to decide when she was mature enough to go. He was only like seven months older than her. And he'd been going on missions for a decade already. Surely, if he had been ready at nine years old, she was ready at eighteen.

But, as promised, she didn't push the issue.

Didn't stop her from silently complaining about it in her head.

It had become common that the Cave was missing some of its usual residents during the weekend. M'gann left to stay in her uncle's apartment, claiming she'd promised to water his plants, and Connor sometimes went to visit his adopted parents. If the weekend was slow, La'gaan would go to Atlantis and practice his magic to keep it evolving.

Leaving behind only Garfield, Mal and Morgan. But Mal, being a very busy social butterfly, was rarely home. It was only Morgan and Garfield who didn't have anywhere else to go.

Or at least, Morgan didn't before. Now she could always visit her mom if the Cave was too boring.

She wasn't sure if she'd follow through with that plan too often though. She'd feel bad about leaving Garfield to stay at the Cave all by himself. The boy was a terrible cook, he'd live off toast for days.

With a sigh, she closed her computer again, realizing her thoughts were wandering and she wasn’t really paying attention to what she was reading.

Morgan emerged from her room again, and much like earlier that day, she went in search of the others.

When she stepped into the mission room of the Cave, she found herself greatly wishing she'd at least put on a pair of socks and perhaps attempted to tame her hair somewhat.

The future kid, Impulse, had returned. And with him he'd brought Flash, Flash Senior, and Kid Flash.

Everyone else was there too. In the middle of the room was the 'time machine' still firmly in place. She felt her cheeks redden and she kept her gaze firmly on the floor when everyone looked up upon her entry.

Thankfully, Nightwing redirect their attention when he spoke up from his perch behind the holographic computer screen.

"Impulse's DNA matches up with both Iris and you, Barry," he revealed, his voice laced with impressed wonder, as if what he was seeing shouldn’t be possible. "I’m reading both zeta and chronotron radiation from the machine he arrived in.”

“And while it’s only something based in theory in our current time,” Kid Flash sounded resigned. “It’s what you’d expect to radiate from a time machine.”

"Which means you're exactly who you say you are." Barry seemed pleased by this and placed a hand on Impulse’s shoulder.

"Told ya!” Bart cheered. He waved briefly at his relatives and took a few backward steps towards his, apparently, actual time machine. Morgan’s mind was reeling. Time travel? As if the krolotean invasion hadn’t been enough. "Anyway, it's been crash, but the future awaits! I gotta run."

The pun elicited groans from everyone in the room, apart from Flash who beamed with pride.

"Bart," Flash interrupted his grandson before he could jump back into the time machine. "Thanks for coming. I look forward to meeting you again for the first time.. and watching you grow up."

A soft look took over the hyperactive boy's face.

"That will be crash," he agreed and enveloped his grandfather in a hug.

Then he pulled back and saluted the room.

"See ya in the future!” he cheered and slipped inside the machine, closing the latch.

Several silent and tense seconds passed as the time machine stayed in place.

"Shouldn't something have happened by now?" Morgan asked quietly.

"Maybe he's traveling forward one second at a time?" Garfield suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

A moment later the hatch was kicked back open with a loud clank.

"It's not working!" Impulse groaned and kicked the machine angrily. "The whole thing's fried. Piece of junk!"

"Can you fix it?" Barry asked.

"I'm a tourist, not a chronal expert," Bart complained.

Morgan's heart sank in her chest. First because she felt bad for the boy who was maybe stuck in the past for good.

Then, because she realized that she'd have to put up with his hyperactive ass for far longer than she knew she had the patience to.

"Look at me!" Bart yelled, throwing his arms up in defeat. "I'm trapped in the stupid past. Ugh. I'm so moded."

The room was silent. She couldn’t help but think that his reaction felt.. rehearsed. Had he maybe known?

"Guess you'll be needing a place to stay." Nightwing spoke up first, always the practical one. "You're welcome to stay here at the Cave for as long as you need."

Ugh. Of course, he would say that – he didn’t live here.

"That won't be necessary," Flash Senior spoke up, placing a fatherly hand on the young boy's shoulder. "He can stay with Joan and I."

"Really?" Impulse asked, a large grin on his face. "That'd be so crash! Hanging out with my great grandparents!"

"Of course," The older man smiled. "We'll enroll you in school tomorrow."

Impulse's face fell. "Uhm, actually, the Cave sounds good too.”

"That won't help you much, kid." Morgan said with a humorless smile. "The moment I had settled into the Cave they sent my ass back to college."

Impulse's face fell even further, and Morgan's dry words elicited a few chuckles from the two oldest speedsters.

"Come on, Bart," Flash Senior said. "Let's go."

The Cave cleared of speedsters in a moment, and soon the others went to do their own thing.

Nightwing, as Morgan had expected, stayed by the computer, his attention undivided.

She hovered for a moment, stuck between her desire to talk to him and figure out how he felt about Bart’s stupid near-slip, and her want to get out of there because of how awkward she felt.

"What a strange day, huh?" she spoke up, trying to strike conversation.

There was a newfound tension between them that Morgan was afraid to pinpoint the origin of.

"How did your reading go?" Nightwing less-than-tactfully changed the subject.

She let him.

"Less than halfway through your missions by now. You guys’ve been busy," she answered, wringing her hands in a clump of curls. "Lots to catch up on."

She wondered why she suddenly felt nervous around her mentor. Why the tension was there.

But she didn't need to wonder. She already knew.

Was he thinking the same thing as she was at the moment? The thing she didn’t dare bring up?

Had Impulse seriously been about to call her Morgan Grayson? And if so, had it really been a mistake, as he'd claimed?

The thought that in some future, alternate or not, Morgan and Dick would literally marry sent her heart racing like nothing else.

The worst part was that she wasn't sure if it was a good racing or a bad racing. She only knew that she was starting to fear that her heart would beat so fast it'd simply stop working.

"Will.." Morgan paused and swallowed a lump. "Are you and Robin staying for dinner?"

She cursed herself for feeling nervous about asking him. She'd asked him the same thing several times before. Other members of the Team stayed over for dinner all the time. Nightwing had stayed too, sometimes.

Why should this time be different?

"No," he answered shortly, and Morgan tried to tell herself it wasn't a lump of disappointment and embarrassment settling in her stomach.

"At least, I'm not. Robin might." He closed the screen and turned to her. His face as unreadable as always and Morgan found herself annoyed with the stoic mask he seemed to always slip into place. She knew he had emotions, he'd shown them plenty of times before. Why did he feel the need to maintain the 'leader' persona when they were the only ones in the room? He knew Morgan didn't take it seriously anyway, so why even bother?

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, straightening her back. Best to leave him now, before her dignity suffered another blow.

"I guess I'll see you around, then."

She left the room, the sound of the Zeta tube activating following in her wake as Nightwing disappeared.

Chapter Text

March 3^rd

Mount Justice

Dick

Okay, so Dick wasn't necessarily avoiding Morgan per se, he was just not prioritizing her company at the moment. And if he'd severely slacked on their sparring sessions, it was only because he was too busy with Team stuff to train her.

There had been tension since Impulse had foolishly almost called her Grayson – Nightwing had no doubt that he had been about to call her just that – and even if it truly had been a moment of stupidity, the damage had been done. A can of worms had been opened.

Dick knew he wouldn’t have cared at all, if he could tell himself with absolute certainty that he didn’t think she was attractive. But the problem was.. he couldn’t lie to himself. It had taken the Winter ball for him to notice that his protégée was, regretfully, pretty.

He had been cool with it then – after all, just because he thought she was pretty, didn’t mean he thought she was attractive. Those were two completely different things. However, over the course of the following weeks, he had realized that perhaps that he wasn’t being entirely truthful with himself. As something in their relationship softened, and they had more talks without trying to bite each other’s heads off, he had come to appreciate the time they spent together. She was a great conversational partner, witty and honest. He had also found that anytime he opened up to her – about his time as Robin or his experiences as an orphan in the Gotham elite, she’d listened without prejudice and given his experiences the weight they deserved. It had also been extremely charming when she’d admitted to having a childhood crush on him as Robin. The flush on her face had been adorable.

And, as mentioned before, she was pretty.

So, maybe he did think she was attractive. But so what? He was only human! The important thing was that he wasn’t attracted to her. That was a completely different ballgame.

But Impulse’s stupid slip-up had made Dick all the wearier of his knowledge of her attractiveness. It was of the utmost importance that he didn’t catch feelings – not that he thought that was a possibility at all. The knowledge was just enough to make him feel awkward around her now. He could only assume she must’ve felt something similar, because Morgan hadn’t tried to seek him out either. One time, he’d seen her walk down a hall, spot him, and simply turn around to disappear back the way she’d come from.

The others were noticing.

Batgirl had approached him and asked what was up with the two of them and he'd simply lied, telling her that they'd been in a fight again. The lie was believable enough; it wouldn't be the first time they'd spent days silently sending each other frosty glares after an argument.

He could tell Barbara hadn't bought it. She knew him too well. Besides, this time their avoidance of each other was different. There were no glares, but redirected eyes and shuffled feet. No sarcastic quips, but forced and awkward one-word conversations.

And God dammit if his jaw wasn't still tingling from when she'd placed a chaste kiss on it over a week ago. It was annoying.

Eventually, thankfully, his common sense and his drive to keep his team as functional and happy as possible won over and he knew he'd had to fight through the awkwardness. He had decided the best way to fight through awkwardness was to pretend it wasn't there. He needed to hold a conversation with her for long enough for things to return to normal.

So, one night in the early days of March, he checked the Cave computer's log and was pleased to find that Morgan was all alone there – everyone else was out for the evening, some on missions and some with their families.

Stopping by a restaurant that he knew made the best pizza on the continent – he'd fight you over this is – he ordered two. His own favorite and one he assumed Morgan would like. She seemed like the type to prefer the classics.

After getting the pizzas he slipped on a pair of sunglasses and quickly walked to the nearest zeta tube that would transport him from Blüdhaven to the Cave.

He marched confidently, like a man on a mission, through the zeta tube. He kept up his long strides, afraid that he’d chicken out if he didn’t just keep going. He found Morgan in the kitchen, putting together a sandwich for what would become her lonely and disappointing dinner.

Slamming the pizza boxes harder onto the table than was strictly necessary – he blamed his steely resolve; it had gotten him a bit carried away– he fixed her with a stern look.

Morgan had jumped when the boxes had made loud contact with the table, and she'd quickly turned to see what was going on, her eyes wide and wings puffed up in fright.

Dick realized that, as he stood there, firm scowl in place, with two wrecked pizza boxes from the abuse he'd put them through, he looked insane.

And not at all like someone who was here to defuse tension.

"I brought dinner," he announced with no explanation. The silence that followed was deafening.

"Uh, hi," she greeted slowly, probably trying to gauge what was wrong him. "There's no one else here, so.."

He realized that she was giving him a fair chance to boot it out of there like he had – like they both had – been doing all week.

"I know," he squared his jaw, wondering why he was still scowling when he was trying to make her feel at ease. "It's for you. And me."

Morgan paused comically as she was about to flip over the bacon she was frying, arm stuck in an odd angle with the spatula clenched in her fist.

"Oh," she answered somewhat timidly, and she straightened, looking blankly at her half-fried bacon. "I guess this is pointless then."

She took the frying pan and threw the bacon back into the fridge before placing the warm pan in the sink carefully.

Dick was very thankful she wasn't questioning his motives.

"Where do you want to eat?" she asked as she washed her hands and took her curly hair out of the bun she’d put it in while cooking.

"Outside," he decided quickly. The night was lovely and warm. So far, spring had been pleasant, as had most of the winter. "I know a good spot.. Outside."

The good spot was actually a huge pine tree halfway up the mountain side that allowed for a stunning view over the ocean. The moon was round and big, illuminating the place so well neither teenager felt like turning on any flashlights.

Morgan had taken the two steamy boxes with her and flown high up, settling down on a large branch, her back leaning against the thick trunk. Dick climbed up after her and ended up on the neighboring branch, located to the right and a few inches below Morgan's, and because of his natural advantage, their heads were at the same height. He tried to remember the last time he'd climbed a tree for his own enjoyment and not as part of a mission.

He couldn't remember.

Morgan gave him the box that he declared as his and they silently dug into their respective pizzas.

Should've brought water, he thought to himself a few minutes later when the first slice of the glorious pizza made him thirsty.

They’d been eating in silence, and he started to worry. This was still awkward – did they really have nothing to talk about? He scrambled to think of something. Missions? But she hadn’t been on any. School? But then they might start talking about the fact that they had allowed the entire school to think they were dating, and he couldn’t help but feel like that was a dangerous topic right now. They hadn’t really talked about it since the decision to confirm the rumor had been made and he wondered if perhaps it would’ve been a good idea to at least talk strategies. They should have a good cover story, right?

Not right now, though. Not with the specific awkwardness hanging over their heads.

"So.." Morgan began, clearing her throat. He almost winced at the sound of her voice and he told himself firmly to pull his ass together. Morgan hadn’t done anything wrong; Bart Allen was just an idiot. "Good pizza."

He silently nodded; glad she shared his sentiment.

"The view is really nice up here," she added.

"It is," he agreed. The full moon cast a silvery glow over the mountainside and the ocean looked like a polished mirror. The calming sound of the waves periodically crashing to shore beneath them was like a symphony.

With a sense of horror settling in his stomach, Dick realized that the night was positively romantic.

Which was the exact opposite of what he'd been aiming for.

He wracked his brain for something to talk about to avoid a 'peaceful' silence from settling. Remembering a question, he'd been meaning to ask her for quite some time, he sighed.

Morgan was the kind of person that only divulged personal information in the right setting and with the right company. He hoped this was the right setting and he was the right company because he really did want to know.

"How old were you when you got your wings?" he asked, feeling like he'd taken a leap off a cliff without checking if the water below was deep enough.

She took a slow bite out of her pizza. She chewed thoughtfully on it as her brow furrowed in remembrance. He thought she was been confused that he'd brought it up now instead of months earlier.

Then, she took a bottle of water out of the pocket of her large hoodie – the zipper was open, the large fabric hanging off of her small frame and pooling around her. After drinking deeply from it, she offered it to him, and he accepted it readily, too thirsty to care about sharing spit.

"They started growing when I was thirteen.." she revealed slowly. "It was.."

Morgan cleared her throat and in the poorly lit tree, Dick wasn't sure if the darkening of her cheeks was in fact a blush.

"It was a few weeks after I got my period for the first time. And, you know, periods mess with hormones like nothing else and I think it kick started the growth. Somehow."

Nightwing understood the blush now. Talking about her period with him was probably not high on her list of things she wanted to do.

She drew her legs up against her stomach and rested her arms on her knees, eyes firmly fixed on the horizon. Her blonde curls shone like a halo around her face in the moonlight.

"My, uh, telekinesis came a year later. At least, I discovered it a year later." She went on and he paid rapt attention. She was opening up to him and he wanted her to know that he appreciated it. Mostly, when Morgan ever admitted anything to him, it was in the heat of an argument. He was happy that, for once, they were discovering things about each other in a friendlier setting.

"A bully at school was trying to beat me up and he pulled at my sweater. I was afraid he'd see my wings, so I pushed him away.. sent him flying across the hall and through a locker." She smirked to herself at the memory. "It was just a small shove. It shouldn't have been possible."

"What happened then?" Dick worried that people had seen and figured out that she had powers.

"We were all alone in the hall," Morgan had guessed his thoughts. "He was a few years older than me. I think he was too embarrassed from getting beaten up by a tiny, fourteen year old girl because he never told anyone."

She smirked slightly and turned her head to the side, making eye contact with Dick. He'd taken his sunglasses off once they’d gone outside, as it had gotten too dark for them. They were alone and Morgan had seen him unmasked plenty of times, there was no reason to keep it on.

"The school board spent an entire month trying to figure out who had wrecked one of their lockers.”

Dick let out a short chuckle. "I bet you were their last suspect."

"Totally," Morgan agreed. "Anyway, after the incident, I skipped school and went to this old, abandoned steel factory. Remember the one at the outskirts of Gotham?"

"Nichols and Sons, yeah," Dick supplied.

"I went there, and I spent the next five hours trying to figure out what was going on. I found out what I could do." Morgan scratched at her hair and pulled a face. "I was beyond freaked out. Not only did I have wings, I could also push things around with my damn mind."

Dick wanted to remind her that those were the qualities that had given her a spot on the Team, and they were a good thing now. But he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to anger her.

"So afterwards I started isolating myself. I'd already severed ties with most of my friends, but after that, I simply stopped talking to people."

“Why did you?”

She puffed out her cheeks as she considered his question. Releasing the air, she shrugged.

“I was terrified that people would find out that I was some mutant-freak. I had.. read a lot of X-men comics when I was younger, and I think I was scared I’d get ostracized from the world. I was.. worried my mom.. would reject me. I was sure I’d end up in some lab where they’d do experiments on me to figure out what was wrong with me.”

What was wrong with her..

"Isolation since you were thirteen.." Dick mused to himself, feeling a surge of sympathy, even though he’d already known she’d been keeping to herself for a while. "That doesn't leave space for a lot of friendships..”

“Honestly, I think I’ve missed out on most of those cliché, teen-experiences. No sleepovers with the girls. No high school crushes. No prom. No making out with some loser behind the bleachers.”

“So, you’ve never been in a relationship?”

He wondered immediately afterwards why he'd brought that up. Wasn’t this exactly the thing he didn’t want to talk about?

He told himself he was just curious – after all, it was rare to have her open up this easily.

"Nope." Morgan popped her lips at the word. She shrugged like it didn't bother her.  "I've never had a boyfriend. Purer than a nun.”

If Dick had guess how his night was going to go, Morgan admitting to him that she was a virgin hadn’t been on his list.

“Teenage boys suck anyway,” he assured her breezily.

She snorted and looked at him. “Aren’t you a teenage boy?”

“I am,” he shrugged. “And I’m sure if you asked my ex-girlfriends, they would tell you I sucked.”

“So, you’ve tried it?” she asked. “I mean, been in relationships? Multiple?”

Dick thought she had been about to ask him if he'd ever had sex and found himself very relieved that he had been wrong.

He wasn't a virgin. He was a nineteen-year-old, good looking guy, of course he wasn't a virgin.

The first time he'd ever had sex had been with Zatanna when they were both fifteen. It hadn't exactly been a success, more like a last resort to save a relationship that failed anyway.

There had been a few relationships since, though only one where he’d grown close enough to the girl to have sex with her – Raquel was the only other superhero he’d dated after Zatanna, and the only other one he’d been with as a result. He’d tried dating a girl from school but trying to keep the largest part of his life secret from who he was seeing, had quickly gotten too complicated. That relationship hadn’t moved past the casual dating stage before he’d called it quits.

"A few," he admitted. "Mostly within the Team. It's difficult to date civilians."

"Yeah, I can imagine it'd be difficult to find anyone with enough shared life experiences."

"Exactly. Also, there’s the whole ‘keeping a giant part of your identity secret’ thing. Really doesn’t help."

They were silent for another moment. Dick couldn't detect any underlying awkwardness and he thought his plan had been successful. Though, his plan had been to bring things back to normal. They weren't really – was it possible that things were.. better?

“So I just opened up about something personal,” she said breezily, looking like someone that was trying to swiftly change the subject. “Your turn now.”

Uh oh. What did she have in mind?

“Depends on what you want to know.”

“I’ve been reading the mission-logs you got me,” she began, and he wondered where this was going. “And I wanted to ask about.. Kaldur.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

He was absolutely sure he didn’t want to talk about this. His best-kept secret. His biggest source of guilt. His worst lie.

“I just wanted to hear from someone that was there.. what happened?”

Dick got ready to lie his pants off. He tried to recall what he’d written in the mission-log. What had the cover story been?

“We were working on uncovering a spy-net for Black Manta in Atlantis,” he began slowly, sticking to the part that was true for now. “We found their headquarters within the city, and shadowed them to Black Manta’s base. A fight broke out, and the entire Team was captured, except for Kaldur and I. Before we escaped, Black Manta revealed the truth of Kaldur’s parentage. The two of us got out and hid in a cave to strategize. Kaldur was.. confused. Conflicted. He helped me rescue the Team, but then he stayed behind, to find out the truth. That was the last we heard from him.”

Morgan nodded, accepting his explanation.

The truth was that Kaldur and Dick had spent hours in that cave crafting a plan. They knew that Black Manta was involved with the Light. Getting a mole at his operation, was an opportunity they both saw as too good to pass up. Kaldur had been shaken from the revelation, yes. But Dick’s faith in him wasn’t swayed. The two of them kept in contact when the opportunity arose – though those opportunities grew rarer and rarer.

“That must’ve been a rough couple of weeks, following..”

“It wasn’t an easy time for any of us. Kaldur had been our leader for five years.” He cleared his throat, searching for a change of topic. He didn’t want to talk about Kaldur any longer than he had to, but he couldn’t come up with anything else to say.

Silence fell, mercifully. Morgan seemed to have gotten what information she had wanted, and simply nibbled on a piece of pizza crust as she looked out over the water.

Minutes passed, with the silence stretching on. Eventually, Morgan was the first one to break the silence, her voice soft, bordering on vulnerable.

"I've spent the last five years coming up with all these theories, trying on grasping how my powers work and what made the wings appear.." She stared at her hands as she spoke, her fingers spread out as if mimicking the movement she did when she used her powers. "And all those unanswered questions are eating at me every day. I've accepted my wings and my powers as part of me now, but.. But I still can't help but wonder why? Why me? How did I end up with these powers? There has to be an explanation, right? A reason for me to grow wings and develop powers? They don't just appear at random, do they?"

Dick shifted slightly in his seat as he contemplated her questions. He and Batman had dug further into her absent father and found that they reached dead end after dead end. All they knew was that he had worked with crossbreeding birds, but that didn't necessarily mean he was responsible for his daughter's wings. There really wasn't anything for them to go on. They needed solid evidence, so, after only a few weeks of research, Batman had decided to drop the case, at least until something new came up.

Nightwing had never told Morgan about any of this. He knew her father was a sore subject for her, and he liked to avoid bringing it up as much as possible.

Dick wished he had the answers to her questions. He really did. He could tell that they really were eating away at her.

Instead, all he could do was shrug and shake his head apologetically.

"I wish I knew, Morgan. I really do."

Far, far back in a secret corner of his brain, a small thought made itself present. He barely even registered it, and he'd forgotten it as soon as it had presented itself.

Meta-gene.

March 4^th

Gotham University

Morgan

The semester was officially in full swing, and the number of assignments were kicking Morgan’s ass. Only a week ago, she’d been confidently musing about how she was ahead on schoolwork and that, really, this university thing wasn’t so hard.

Now, she was spending hours at the library every day, pouring over her books. Her laptop was never far from her reach, as she worked on a huge lab-project about deep-sea bacteria.

Why deep-sea bacteria? Supposedly because the professor had been paid to have students work on this by some billionaire that wanted to build the first underwater hotel, and his builders kept getting sick. She supposed having university students study the stuff was cheaper than hiring actual biochemists and scientists to figure things out.

She sat staring at the numbers on her screen, supporting her head by her hands, which were clutching at her hair. Surely, if she kept staring at the screen, the things on it would make sense at some point, right? The numbers would seep into her consciousness and become clear to her. She would reach enlightenment. 

She barely registered someone slipping into the seat next to hers, as she all but entered a trance wherein only she and the numbers on her screen existed.

“Trouble?”

She wished she had managed to suppress her surprise, but she really didn’t. Dick watched her with a raised eyebrow as she jumped a foot in her chair, nearly knocking it over.

“Can you not?” she gasped, giving him a good glare.

He looked at her innocently, his own books and laptop on the table in front of him. She studied the books and his relaxed posture.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to figure out why he was here right now. Sure, they’d reached some sort of truce yesterday when he’d unexpectedly shown up with pizza and surprisingly good conversation. She’d certainly stopped agonizing over Impulse’s stupid name-slip. But she hadn’t expected him to suddenly feel comfortable enough to seek her out at school.

“Every other table is full,” he shrugged, opening his books. Morgan shot a look around at the few other tables visible and saw that he was right. She quickly turned her gaze back towards him, aware that several people were whispering and staring at them.

After all, the rumor that they were dating had spread through the whole school by now – and this would basically confirm it.

“You know I’m going to get crucified by the next entitled brat that feels they had a claim to you, if you sit here,” she hissed at him.

It was true – the only reason they’d allowed the rumor to circulate was to keep his reputation intact, and to keep the vulturous guys at school from trying to get in her pants. The unexpected downside had been the host of girls and guys that had hoped for a shot at getting that Dick.. Grayson.

Morgan was still unsure which she preferred. The gross crowd or the jealous crowd. Really, neither was preferable.

“They’ll have to get used to it,” he said casually, eyes not leaving whatever section he was reading from his book on finance.

Morgan groaned lowly to herself and turned back to her computer, determined to ignore him. She was already being tormented by her schoolwork; she didn’t need anything to add on to that.

They sat in silence for a while. She almost managed to block out his presence entirely, focusing on the stupid, no-sense-making numbers from the tests she’d spent all morning running in the lab.

She’d thought she was good at biology, and she used to be confident in her abilities in the lab, but it was clear her time at community college had been spent in the kiddie pool. This – this was the deep end.

She didn’t blame her old professors – they had been overworked, understaffed, and wildly underfunded. Gotham’s community college was not the place you went to receive a good education.

She let out a deep sigh and rubbed her hands over her face, aware that she must’ve looked crazy as she stared at the screen unblinkingly from behind her hands.

“I’m going to ask again – trouble?”

“Butt out, Grayson.”

“I would, except you keep sighing very loudly and it’s distracting.”

“Asshole,” she mumbled, and glared when he visibly struggled to hold back a smirk.

She sighed again and leaned her head back.

“That right there is what I’m talking about.”

“I’m just trying to catch up to the level my professor expects of me, okay?” she said, sinking deep into her chair. “I’ve only ever gone to a poor, understaffed high school and then a poor, understaffed college. This stuff is much more complicated than what I’m used to.”

She was aware that she was sulking.

“Biolab usually comes super easy to me, but I’m staring at these numbers, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I think I did the tests completely wrong because I, apparently, have no clue what I'm doing.”

“University’s supposed to be challenging,” he said. “You’ve never had trouble before?”

“Not really..” she mumbled. “Maybe I’m just not as good at this as I thought.”

“Hitting a roadblock isn’t a bad thing.” He put his book down and turned to her. “That just means you’ve found the limit of your knowledge – that’s a good thing! Now you know where you can expand what you know.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie,” she grumbled. “As if you’ve ever struggled with stuff like this, mister genius.”

“I’m truly flattered,” he let out a little laugh. “You seriously don’t think I’ve struggled with school? I hate finance. It’s the worst class, and I would drop it in a heartbeat if I could and still get my business degree.”

“There’s a difference between hating a class and struggling with understanding the material,” she shot back, though without any real fire.

“Morgan, I was homeschooled at a circus for the first nine years of my life,” he reminded her. “I spent way more time training for our act than I did studying. You don’t think I was in for a rude awakening once I started going to a real school?”

“Hmpf,” she responded, unwilling to admit that she was losing the argument, and thus her pity-party.

“Talk to your professor," he leaned over and nudged her arm with his elbow, speaking in a kind voice. "They aren’t there to judge you, they’re there to educate you. I’m sure he’ll be able to help.” 

“I suppose,” she sat up a little straighter in her chair. “I’ll shoot him an email. His office hours are over for the week.”

“Good,” he grabbed his book and opened it again, continuing his reading and Morgan started drafting her email. They sat in silence for the next hour. Eventually, she gave up on the lab problem, and moved on to her math homework instead, finding it much easier to deal with. Dick read peacefully, putting the book down to type out notes on his computer from time to time.

At some point, he snapped the book shut and got up, and Morgan looked up from her furious scribbling to watch him leave.

“Good luck with your thing,” he said. She nodded.

“Thanks for the pep talk,” she said, and she meant it. She had been working herself into a rut, doubting her abilities. His words had pulled her back to the surface.

He made to turn and walk away, but then he came back and bent close, hovering over her. He was close enough that she could feel his breath fan over her face and smell his cologne. Was she lightheaded all of a sudden? No, of course not, she must've just been tired.

“And remember that struggling to do something on talent alone isn’t a failing,” he said, his voice low and contemplative. “Hard work will always trump natural affinity.”

She looked up at him, wondering why she felt breathless as she met his sparkly eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, wishing her voice hadn’t been so wistful.

He stood up fully and was gone in a moment. She stared at the bookshelf he’d disappeared behind, annoyed by the flush she could feel growing on her cheeks.

What was wrong with her these days? Was she still just affected by what Bart had said?

No, that couldn’t have been it, right? After all, Bart had said it was just a mistake because he struggled with her surname – an issue she ran into a lot. After yesterday, she had resolved to stop caring about it.

Why had Dick felt the need to bend so close to her and lower his voice in such a way?

She cast her eyes about the room and realized several people were looking at her again, some whispering like they’d witnessed a juicy piece of gossip, and others glaring openly at her.

 Oh, she realized. He must’ve been putting on a show for their dedicated viewers. If people hadn’t believed that they were dating before, they probably would now.

Morgan let out a little, annoyed whimper, and leaned forward to hide her face in her hands.

She had the feeling that he’d only made things more complicated.

March 5^th

Gotham

Morgan

"Your dad is back in town."

That was all took. Those few words were all it took for Morgan's brain to completely short-circuit.

She was lounging on her mom's old couch with a stupid elf-hat on her curly head, half a cookie falling to the floor, escaping from her limp hand. The other half she had been in the middle of chewing, and it was now unattractively on display as her mouth hung open in shock.

Morgan had suggested the belated Christmas and her mom had agreed to the idea right away. They were in the middle of watching Home Alone when Abigail had sprung the news on her.

"What?" Morgan asked, disbelief lacing her voice.

Her mom shrugged. "He approached me two days ago. He wants to see you."

Morgan felt anger squeeze its red-hot fingers around her heart.

"Well, you can tell him to go stick it where the sun doesn't shine." she growled out after swallowing the cookie she'd had in her mouth. The treat had felt like ash in her mouth, all taste gone. “How dare that piece of shit show up after ten years and say he wants to see me?”

Abigail sent her daughter a disapproving look at her colorful language.

"Morgan, he is your dad."

Morgan stood up quickly, throwing the elf-hat off her head, wings agitatedly flapping behind her, nearly knocking the bowl of cookies on the coffee table to the floor.

"Some dad," Morgan snorted, rolling her eyes. "He abandoned us ten years ago, what makes him think I want to have anything to do with him now?"

"He said he believed he'd have the answers to a lot of questions you've been asking yourself for years." Her mom fixed her with a loaded look.

Morgan froze mid-step. She turned slowly and fixed her shocked, wide eyes on her mom. Her knees turned to jelly, and she felt them buckle underneath her, only just managing to catch herself on the couch.

"Do- do you think..?" Morgan swallowed and pointed at her wings. ".. He means?"

Abigail came over to embrace her scared daughter. "I'm not sure Sweet. But I think it's worth a shot, don't you? You don't have to have anything to do with him afterwards, but as long as you get the answers you need, wouldn't it be worth it?" She brushed a few curls away from Morgan's face and behind her ear, smiling fondly at her.

Morgan felt tears press at the corner of her eyes and she blinked rapidly. She had no idea how to feel. For years, this was all she’d wanted – to see her dad again. But her heart had hardened against him so long ago, as the deafening silence of his absence rung louder and louder.

"I.. I don't know.." she whispered, feeling lost and eight years old again. Old wounds, wounds her father had left behind when he'd disappeared from her life so suddenly, were suddenly fresh and bleeding again. "I don't know what to do. I don’t want to see him. But if he knows something about why I am the way I am, and I miss my only chance to find out?"

"My beautiful daughter," Abigail smiled softly. "You don’t have to see him if it’s too painful. And you shouldn't feel like you're condemning yourself, but not getting any answers from him. You don't need to know to live."

Morgan weighed her mom's words, thankful that she'd been gifted with such a wise and understanding parent.

“What do you think I should do?”

Abigail pursed her lips and looked away.

“I don’t like Henrik showing up out of nowhere and talking about answers,” she admitted, sighing. “You know Henrik and I.. don’t exactly see eye to eye. He tried to approach me too, but I told him to get lost. I- I don’t trust whatever influence he hopes to gain over you.”

Ouch. Morgan considered her mom, watching expressions of anger and pain flash across her face. She was right – there was nothing good that Henrik’s influence would bring. He was a miserable man. But if his answers could help her understand herself, enduring a meeting with him might be worth the pain it was bound to cause.

Abigail was too close to this to help guide her, Morgan realized. Her mom wouldn’t approve of Morgan seeing Henrik. To Abigail, Morgan didn’t need answers to be a complete person.

But she wasn’t sure that she agreed with that – as she’d admitted to Dick only two days ago, the questions were burning at her.

“I need to talk to Nightwing about this,” she realized. He would be able to help her make a decision that wasn’t colored by his own feelings. Besides, he was the only person on the Team that really understood her situation with her dad, because she hadn’t truly told anyone else about it. “Did he leave you any way to contact him?”

Abigail pulled a paper out of the back-pocket of her jeans and smoothed it out, revealing a series of numbers in a far too familiar handwriting.

"He gave me his number," she handed the paper to Morgan.

She didn't take the offered slip.

"Take it." Her mom encouraged. "It'll be much easier for you to contact him by yourself if you choose to do so."

Morgan nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat, accepting the paper and stuffing it into her pocket.

"I've.." Morgan took a step back and found the front door with her eyes. Licking her lower lip in thought, she said, "I've got to go."

Abigail smiled softly and reached forward, placing a kiss in her daughter's curly hair.

"I know, Sweetie."

Morgan regretted leaving her mom so soon. They'd planned to spend the entire weekend together. Morgan had only been there for half a day.

"I'll.. I'll call you," she promised after gathering her things.

"I'll see you soon," her mom promised, watching as Morgan slung her bag over her shoulder, put her charmed pendant on, and walked out the door, disappearing down the dark corridor.

Morgan's thoughts were racing as she headed for the nearest zeta tube in Gotham. If he truly knew about her wings, how had that come to pass? They'd only appeared five years after he'd left them, and Morgan hadn't seen him since!

Maybe he'd known that they were going to appear.

But how?

Maybe it wasn't even her wings he'd talked about, but her other power.

Or maybe he didn't actually know anything about either, and just meant that he was willing to answer why he'd left for a decade without sending her a single letter, email or phone call.

She tried not to jump to conclusions, but it was hard. Especially because none of the conclusions she was tempted to jump to, were pleasant.

I’ll know what to do once I’ve talked to Nightwing.

Morgan wondered when she'd become so dependent on his opinion and advice. It wasn't like he was some old wise mentor guy – he was her age. Somehow, it didn't matter. If she had to choose between him or some old, wise dude, she'd chose Nightwing any time.

As she reached the zeta tube, she stopped to take a deep breath. Her eyes welled up at the overwhelming mix of confusion, betrayal and fear that churned in her stomach. This was why she always did her best to not think about her dad. She wiped at her eyes and blinked rapidly to rid them of any tears, determined not to look like she’d been crying once she found him.

Morgan arrived at the Cave and, not missing a beat, she marched towards the combined kitchen and living room, knowing it would be the place she'd be most likely to find any of the others.

Cassie, Mal and Barbara were sitting around the island in the middle of the room, and all looked up when she arrived.

"I thought you were spending the weekend at your mom’s place?" Barbara spoke up first, eyeing the bag slung over Morgan's shoulder.

She dropped the duffle bag to the floor and bit into her bottom lip, praying that her voice would sound normal once she started talking.

"Something came up," she said vaguely, mortified when her voice cracked halfway through the sentence. "Is Nightwing here?"

Cassie and Barbara exchanged a blank look as Mal answered; "I think I saw him in the mission room half an hour ago."

"He's not there now, I just left it," Morgan said, a panicked edge entering her voice. She was going to burst at the seams if she couldn’t get his help tonight.

Hell, she was probably going to come apart anyway.

"Then I don't know," Mal said. "Sorry."

"Dammit," Morgan growled and ran a frustrated hand through her hair, leaning into her anger so she wouldn’t cry. Anger was easier to deal with.

"Morgan, are you doing okay?" Cassie asked worriedly.

"I'm perfectly fine," Morgan snapped quickly, aware that she sounded hysterical. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"Because," Barbara spoke up, the same cautious note to her voice. "You're shaking like a leaf."

Morgan realized that she was. Her entire body, from her toes to the tip of her wings was overcome with tremors and she wondered how she hadn't noticed before.

"It's nothing," she persisted. "I just really need to talk to Nightwing."

Part of her still wondered why her first instinct was to go to him. It was more than the fact that he was the only one here that really knew the details of her past. It was also because any time she’d opened up to him – when she hadn’t done so in an argument – he had treated her with understanding and empathy. If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t just looking for him because she was seeking out his council, but also his comfort.

She wanted, needed, Nightwing of all people to comfort her.

“Let me check the security feed,” Barbara sighed, seemingly aware that none of them were getting anything out of their winged teammate. She drew up the small holographic computer she had installed in the wrist of her suit, similar to Nightwing and Robin’s. She looked through the cameras from every room, and Morgan followed the images flashing across the screen attentively.

“He’s in the garage," she finally revealed, turning to Morgan.

“Thanks!” Morgan called, already running back down the hall she had come from. When the run wasn't fast enough, she took to the air, soaring through the halls at a higher speed than she'd been able to reach had she been on her feet.

She burst through the doors and immediately spotted him tinkering with some small electronic device at a nearby table.

"Nightwing!" she shouted, and if her mad dash through the door hadn’t gotten his attention, her hysterical voice surely would have.

He had looked up at the sound of the doors flying open, but at the look on her face, he dropped his tools and turned towards her, hands ready to catch her, should she fumble her landing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

"My dad," she quickly clarified, landing right in front of him with a gust of wind that teased his hair and made some of the longer strands fall into his eyes. "He-he's back."

Why were her teeth chattering?

He must’ve understood how badly it affected her, because his gloved hands settled on her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. She felt out of breath, but she kept talking before he could interrupt her.

“He told my mom he wants to meet me, and after I told my mom ‘hell no’, she said that he’d told her that I should meet him because he would have ‘answers to questions I’ve been asking myself’.”

Realization dawned on her mentor's face and Morgan raised both eyebrows in silent agreement and nodded eagerly to the conclusion she knew he had made in his head.

"I think he knows something about my situation that I don't."

"I think that’s safe to assume,” Nightwing agreed, voice thoughtful. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, right as another powerful tremor shook her body, and he shot her a skeptical look. The look made her answer a little more truthfully. “I might be in shock; I honestly have no idea.”

“What are you going to do?” his calm voice help to ground her, same as his hands, which had slipped from her shoulders and to her upper arms, giving her another assuring squeeze.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, angry when her voice shook again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this frantic and off-balance. "I-I thought I would never want to see him again, after.. after everything. But if he has answers?”

He let go of her and leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. He was silent for a long while as he contemplated her dilemma.

"Will getting answers be worth the pain from seeing him?” he eventually asked her.

She opened and closed her mouth several times as she tried to answer his question. She had no idea.

“I don’t know,” she said again, this time with a much softer voice. “I feel like letting the opportunity go would haunt me forever. But I’m not sure I can face him.”

“You should do it,” he said, his mind made up. “For your own peace of mind. But you don't have to go alone if you don't want to."

He got up from the table again and approached her, once more placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. He bent a little in the knees so he could look at her face, which she was currently hiding behind a curtain of blonde curls.

“I’ll go with you, if you need it.” The softness in his voice made another tremor erupt down her body, making her legs wobble again.

Would bringing Nightwing make this better or worse? There was no doubt that having him there would lend her strength, but it would also bring with it the mortifying ordeal of Dick meeting her dad and knowing how shitty he was.

Then again, was that really some big secret?

"I'd.. I'd like that," she mumbled, accepting his offer, even as something inside of her struggled with the thought of him bearing witness to more of her stupid past. She reasoned that bringing Nightwing along with her would make the whole thing seem more professional and not as personal as a private meeting with her father would. It might make it easier for her to maintain an emotional distance.

Hopefully.

"Good," he straightened and dropped his hand back down to his side, nodding to himself. A tuft of black hair settled over the white film hiding his eyes behind his mask, and Morgan followed the movement, oddly captivated. "What's the game plan?"

"Uh," she shook her head to bring herself back to the matter at hand. "I've got his number. I can call him and arrange a meeting any time."

"We'll do it tomorrow," he suggested. "It'll give you time to get used to the idea."

Morgan nodded, knowing that his advice was sound. As she looked up at her mentor, she felt a sense of awe and deep gratitude warm her chest. How was it that a nineteen year old was so wise and emotionally intelligent?

"Thank you," she said as he turned back to the work he'd been doing earlier. She wanted to tell him that he was a great help. She wanted to tell him that she’d reached a point where she didn’t know what she’d do without him. She wanted to tell him that she valued him above every other person in her life, aside from her mom.

He offered her a brief smile.

“Of course,” he said. “I’m your mentor. It comes with the job.”

“Right,” she said, her voice going a little flat.

She quickly left, her insides a mess of anxiety and confusion.

Chapter Text

March 4^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Nightwing watched Morgan approach the cell phone on the kitchen counter, paper slip with her dad’s number next to it, pick it up, stare at it, and then put it down again to resume her pacing, fretting, and hair-pulling.

For the fifth time in a row, oh my god Morgan, just call you dad already.

Nightwing sighed from his position against the wall and uncrossed his arms, approaching her. Grabbing hold of her shoulders, he firmly directed her towards the phone.

She dug her heels into the floor, refusing to move. He bumped into her from behind and Morgan stumbled a step forward.

"Morgan," he said with exasperation. "You have to actually pick up the phone and type in the number to call him."

"I know," she snapped, still refusing to move towards the phone.

Nightwing sighed and rolled his eyes, not believing that she was actually making him do this.

Grabbing hold of her upper arms, he held on tight and lifted her clean off the floor, carrying her at arm's length towards the counter.

She let out a surprised squeak and kicked her legs out to find solid ground, her feet hitting his shins. Her wings flapped in short-lived panic and Nightwing got a mouthful of feathers. He ignored her loud protests and threats of bodily harm and placed her firmly in front of the phone.

She stared at it like it was a huge snail and Nightwing had just ordered her to eat it.

Then, she made to dart to the side, but he kept a tight grip on her shoulder, and he forced her to look at him.

“If you’re not ready to talk to him yet, then that’s fine. We’ll wait. But at least be honest with yourself instead of wasting my time and yours.” 

A vulnerable look came over her at his reproach and he felt a little bad. Morgan wasn’t a coward by any stretch of the word; it was fine if she needed a little bit more time before she was ready to call her dad. He understood that this was a huge deal; she hadn’t spoken to him in a decade. Dick simply feared that she would never do it if she wasn’t pushed by him a little bit.

“I’m ready,” she told him confidently, though he could tell the confidence was a thin mask. “It has to be tonight. Don’t let me go to bed before I’ve called him. I’m serious.”

“I promise,” he said.

Her actions didn’t back up her words – she still stood staring at the phone like it was a bomb waiting to go off.

Ten minutes passed.

Dick’s patience had run out. When she did nothing, he sighed harshly and dialed in the number himself.

“What are you doing?” she asked behind clenched teeth, though she could clearly see what he was doing.

When he was done, he grabbed her hand and forced it open, pressing the phone into her open palm.

“Ready?” he asked

“No!” she spluttered.

She did her best to squirm in his grasp, but Dick was much stronger than her. He pressed the call button and forced the phone to her ear.

“Hvad har du gang i?” Her voice rose and octave.   

He grabbed hold of the other side of her face too, making sure she couldn't remove the phone from her ear. She put up a very valiant fight, though. Her back was pressed to his chest, and she wriggled like a worm in his embrace, but he kept his tight grip on her, even when she kicked and hissed like a feral cat.

“I’m just keeping my promise,” he told her casually.

"Jeg slår dig ihjel! Jeg mener det!” she threatened – at least, the angry, danish hissing had sounded like a threat.

"I swear Nightwing, if you don't let me go right this instant I will – Hello Henrik." Morgan drastically changed her tone of voice as the person on the other side picked up. Dick could hear her voice stutter as she spoke her father’s name, and he hoped it hadn’t been audible over the phone.

“Talk to him,” Dick whispered from behind her, and he loosened his grip on her enough that she could turn and give him a panicked look.

"Who is this?" Nightwing could hear the man on the other end of the line ask. At the sound, he felt a deep tremor run through Morgan, and the hold he had on her turned less commanding and more reassuring.

Morgan swallowed dryly, but her voice was calm when she responded.

"I think you know who."

"Morgan?" The man responded, his tone that of disbelief. "My god, you sound so grown up."

Certain that she wouldn’t hang up now, Dick let her go, and she stumbled a step away from him. Walking in a little circle, she ran a hand through her hair and faced in Nightwing’s direction, although she didn’t look at him.

"Yeah well,” she bit into her bottom lip and looked at her feet. "A lot happens when you're gone for ten years.”

"We've got so much to talk about, Skat. I've been looking forward to this for so long.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your skat anymore,” her voice was seething and Nightwing looked away. He wondered if he should leave – though he had promised her to help her with this. Still, the emotions playing across her face seemed too personal for him to bear witness to. “I’m not calling you to catch up - Mom said you mentioned something about having answers."

“Always with that fire. Little Morgan, I promise I didn't leave-"

She swiftly cut him off, her face red and her eyes flashing.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t give a fuck about any promise you can make. I’m only interested in meeting you because you have something I want. And I’m going to get it –that’s all. I don’t want anything else from you, especially not your pathetic excuses.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Gotham. Out in front of your old elementary school. The streetlight that was always out of order. You remember the spot?" he asked. Something in his voice had gone dark, flat.

"Yes," Morgan confirmed, speaking through grit teeth.

"Meet me there on monday. Ten pm."

Monday.. that was three days away.

Nightwing steeled himself as he knew he approached three days of a tense and hostile Morgan as she fretted over meeting with her father.

"Deal," she responded flatly and ended the phone call immediately. She threw the phone angrily onto the table and it skidded along the surface from the force and landed in the sink. Unpleasant, tinny clanging rung in the air is the phone hit the sides of the sink roughly. Dead silence followed.

He wanted to ask if she was okay. He wanted to remind her that he was here if she needed to talk. But the tightness of her jaw, and her hands, balled into little fists, told him to only approach with extreme caution.

Morgan clenched her jaw and aimed her stormy eyes at Nightwing.

"Let's go train," she barked, marching out of the kitchen. "I feel like punching stuff."

He knew she wasn’t able to get any real hits in, and yet he swallowed nervously as he followed the black cloud that was his mentee.

Translation:

“Hvad har du gang i?” = ”What are you doing?”

"Jeg slår dig ihjel! Jeg mener det!” = “I’m going to kill you! I mean it!”

March 7th

Gotham

Dick

Predictably, Gotham was raining. The drizzle had settled in Dick’s hair immediately and the ends curled from the humidity. They should’ve brought an umbrella, he thought, as he leaned against the broken streetlight in front of Morgan’s old daycare.

After Morgan had been allowed to 'punch stuff', they had settled down to formulate a game plan. She had quickly stated that she had absolutely no interest in her dad knowing she was a superhero.

"Only people I trust gets to know that," she'd scowled.

"If he knows about your wings, chances are he'll figure it out by himself the moment he sees you in the news," Nightwing had pointed out.

Morgan's scowl had deepened, acknowledging that he spoke the truth.

"We can't be sure he knows about them. Yet. We'll figure that out once I talk with him. For now, I'm keeping my cards close to my chest," she had decided.

So, Morgan was meeting him as Morgan and not as Sparrow. They had agreed it would be weird for her to show up with a known hero for company, so Nightwing was in civilian clothes too.

The cover story was in place – after all, since rumors that they were dating had already spread throughout school and would soon bleed into the rest of upper society, and eventually tabloids, it wasn’t so weird that Dick was here. They might as well make use of the fake relationship they had somehow gotten themselves into at school.

The only issue, then, would be acting in a way that was convincingly like a couple would act. Dick had done his research on Morgan’s dad – the guy was a certified genius. And yes, that was mostly biological science, but several of his old colleagues reported said that he was sharp as a blade and quick to call out deceit.

The two of them had agreed to act convincingly in love, despite whatever awkwardness it would bring about. Dick understood that he carried most of that burden – Morgan was too on edge and focused on meeting her dad to also carry an Oscar-worthy performance.

However, he prided himself on his professionalism, and planned on playing his part flawlessly and without hesitation. This was why he was currently holding her hand and rubbing small circles into the back of it every time he felt her tremble from how tightly wound, she was.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice when he felt her give another powerful tremble.

“Loving life,” she responded in a flat voice, her eyes looking stiffly out into the darkness.

A car drove past and hit the puddle they were standing by. Water splashed up his jeans and his black sneakers, and Dick frowned in annoyance as he felt some of it leak into his socks.

He checked the watch on his wrist.

"It’s ten now" he said. "Your dad's late."

"Don't call him that,” Morgan glared at their feet.  

He rolled his eyes. "Henrik is late."

"No, I'm not," came a new voice. Dick had heard the footsteps approach for some time now, but he had been too focused on Morgan to check if it had indeed been Henrik. Now, as he turned, he had his answer.

Morgan, however, had been caught off guard. She was already wound so tightly, the sudden sound of his voice made her jump in her spot, and she whirled around.

As he caught sight of Henrik, Dick finally knew where she got her hair from.

Her father looked, for all intents and purposes, like a Viking.

Standing at about seven feet, he was a mountain of a man with broad shoulders and a square jaw. Long, thick hair that was wildly curled was tied back into a ponytail at the base of his neck, with his face covered in an impressive, blonde beard. Intelligent, grey eyes peaked out at them from behind a pair of round glasses.

"Drop the theatrics," Morgan rolled her eyes. "I didn’t come here for a performance.”

The man's severe face faded into a fond smile as he started chuckling, approaching them in long strides.

"I'd hoped my little girl hadn't lost her spirit."

He made a truly misguided attempt to hug Morgan, but she sidestepped his arm quickly, holding up a hand to keep distance. Dick was dragged with her by the hand she still had in his, and he quickly followed before he lost his balance.

"Don’t you dare touch me! I already told you that all I care about are the answers you can give me.” Her steely, gray eyes, so very like her dads, fixed him with a withering glare, and when she spoke her voice was seething. "So cut the crap. And start talking."

Henrik sighed as if he'd expected the moment would go differently. Dick wondered how he could have thought Morgan would welcome him back with open arms. Maybe he wasn’t as clever as people had given him credit for.

"And who's this strapping young fellow, then?" he finally acknowledged Dick. He eyed the young man with an air of disapproval, like he thought he'd actually have a say in who Morgan chose to be around.

Dick wrapped an arm around Morgan's waist and squared his jaw defiantly up at the taller man. He wasn’t scared of him – it wasn’t like Henrik could lay a hand on Dick if he tried. No, the only thing he was a little scared of was the feeling of his hand resting on Morgan’s hip, and the warmth of her as she was pressed to his side.  

"I'm Dick. Morgan's boyfriend," he said, the words feeling foreign and weird in his mouth. "She asked me to be here."

“Uh huh,” Henrik said, his tone icy. Dick found himself in a battle of wills as the mountain across from him attempted to stare him into submission.

Fat chance, Dick wryly thought. Once you’d been on the receiving end of one of Batman’s withering glares, every other paled in comparison. Henrik could try all he wished; Dick wasn’t going to be intimidated.

Henrik broke eye contact first, which Dick took as a win. He aimed his gaze back onto his daughter instead, who had been silence since the encounter between the two men had started. Dick hadn’t failed to notice that she’d gone rigid the moment he’d wrapped an arm around her, and she’d yet to relax. He subtly squeezed the hip beneath his hand, hoping to remind her that she was supposed to act like she was into him.

Morgan met her dad’s gaze with a scowl, but she relaxed a little more in Dick’s embrace.

"Hvordan er dit dansk? Har du holdt det ved lige?" Henrik switched to his native language, and Dick could only assume it was to keep him out of the conversation.

Morgan frowned at him and then rolled her eyes.

"My Danish is fine, Henrik," she responded in English, and her hand came down to squeeze the one Dick settled on her person. "Don’t be rude. Dick doesn’t speak it.”

Henrik sighed again, and it was clear that he was displeased with his daughter’s behavior. Dick had to wonder once more, how he had expected her to act. It was clear he’d thought she’d be the loving daughter he’d left behind, like his ten years of absence didn’t give her the right to be pissed at him.

"Let's go,” he finally relented and turned to leave downt he way he’d come.

"Where?" Morgan with suspicion, her eyes narrowed upon her father.

"This place is too public. We can't talk here,” Henrik elaborated, albeit cryptically. "Now, come on."

Morgan looked very much like she wanted to protest but Dick used the arm he had around her to guide her forward. The night would get long and frustrating if she kept fighting Henrik on every little detail, and he wanted this to be over sooner rather than later.

Dick's headache would only increase the longer they stayed with the man.

Morgan allowed herself to be pulled along by Dick, the arm around her waist too big of a distraction for her to put up much of a fight. She felt like his hand must’ve burned holes through her t-shirt by now, from how hot it felt on her hip.

She told herself it was ridiculous. Nightwing had had his arms around her plenty of times. He was her fighting instructor and sparring-buddy; she'd been locked in his embrace more times than she could count – this time shouldn't be any different.

But it totally was different because they weren't training right now, and his arms were only around her for a few seconds at a time when they fought. By now, the hand resting on her hip had been there for several minutes

Absolutely ridiculous.

Somehow, the arm around her was enough to pull her out of the frantic thought stream she’d felt stuck in for three days. She could still hardly believe that the guy walking in front of her was her dad. It felt unreal, after he’d been gone for so long. Surely, that dissonance inside of her, that feeling of unreality, was the only thing keeping her from crying or shouting and puking. Perhaps all three.

They walked along the busted, crumbling pavement until her father stopped and looked suspiciously to his left and his right, before ducking into a side alley.

The alley, small, dark - and wet because of the rain they'd been getting all day - was entirely the opposite of charming, and Morgan dearly hoped he didn't plan on explaining everything there. Her nose scrunched up as the sewer smell hit her.

Henrik approached the stack of soggy crates leaning against the building to their left and pushed them aside. As the crates were moved, their absence revealed a decent sized hole in the brick wall. It was roughly four feet in height and width.

"In here," Henrik pointed at the hole.

Morgan stared at the darkness that lay beyond, then her father and then at Dick. He gave her a tiny shrug, barely a twitch of his shoulders, but the messages was clear: why not?

She stepped out of his embrace and approached the hole, crouching down to go through it. Dick was right at her heels until her father placed a large hand on the younger man's shoulder.

She saw her mentor’s body go taut as he prepared himself for an attack at the sudden, unwanted contact.

"Lover-boy can wait outside," Henrik ordered, aiming a cold look at Dick. She could see Dick respond in kind with a stiff glare, and she got out of the hole once more.

"Sorry," she said approaching the two men and stepping between them. She grabbed onto the hand her dad had put on Dick’s shoulder, and squeezed it tightly, digging her nails into his flesh until he let go. "This is a package deal. Either we both go in or we both leave."

He turned a displeased look towards her, and she simply returned it with a blank stare, her mouth drawn into a thin line.

“Young lady,” his voice was tight. “You’d do well not to forget who’s the adult.”

“Hah!” she barked out a loud, humorless laugh. “In case you forgot, daddy dearest, I grew up while you were gone. I don’t give a fuck about whatever authority you seem to think you have.”

Henrik’s eyes flashed behind his glasses and he looked at his shoes.

“I knew your mom wasn’t capable of raising your properly alone,” he muttered, his voice thick with disapproval.

Morgan saw red. With a pounding heart, she lunged at him and grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket. She felt strong hands settle on her shoulders from behind, but she ignored Dick staunchly.

“If you ever say another bad word about my mom, I’m going to push you into oncoming traffic. Got it?”

He looked down at her with contempt, the hard, uncaring gaze hauntingly familiar.

When Morgan didn't relent under his hard eyes as she usually would've done when she was younger, her father eventually looked away and sighed again. She was just about ready to punch him the next time he decided to sigh at her like she was a naughty little girl that needed to obey his wishes simply because he'd been her dad once.

“Have it your way,” he said, his voice long-suffering. “Do you want to talk or not?”

God, the disappointed dad schtick pissed her off.

Keeping her glare trained on his face, she grabbed Dick’s hand and pulled him with her towards the hole. He crawled in first and Morgan kept her eyes on her dad as he did.

Crawling through the hole herself, her eyes worked hard to adjust to the total darkness of the room she found herself in. She held a hand in front of her mouth to keep in the cough that tried to escape when she took a deep breath and got a mouthful of dust. The room was dark, but the large window to her left, which had been closed off with large wooden planks, let in a small sliver of light and it provided just enough light for her to study the room.

It looked like an old office. A large desk, covered in dust and dirt, stood to the side of the room. There was a glass pane door at the other side. Morgan approached it, a sense of familiarity prodding at the back of her mind. Large black letters were plastered onto the door from the other side and Morgan took a small moment to read the backwards letters.

DR. JØRGENSEN, the letters read.

Remembrance felt like a flash of lightning surging through her whole body, starting at the top of her head and swooping down her throat and into her stomach before curling into her feet. Goosebumps, like she really had been struck with an electric charge, rose on her arms and legs, sending a tingle down her spine.

This had been her dad's office back when he still lived in Gotham. Morgan remembered him taking her with him to work occasionally, remembered drawing small childish doodles as she sat on the old green couch he had in the right corner of the room – or had the couch been blue? She’d sat there for hours in her small dresses and curly pigtails, hoping that he would give her even a sliver of attention if she managed to make some nice drawings. Somehow, she always fell asleep on that couch, usually right after lunch. She’d wake up hours later to Henrik telling her it was time to go home.

Henrik had arrived in the room as well by now and he saw her gaze at the spot where the couch had been. He must’ve guessed the memories she relived, because a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he spoke up.

"You were such a cute kid. Couldn't draw for shit, though."

Morgan felt a small smile quirk at her lips before she realized it. She immediately curled her lips into a scowl instead and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If all you wanted to do was remind me of my childhood, I'm leaving now."

He held up his hands in a pacifying manner.

"Alright, alright, I'll cut to the case. I'm assuming Dick over here knows everything?"

Morgan wasn't sure what he meant when he said 'everything'. Did he mean about her wings? Her family history?

She settled for a neutral answer.

"He probably knows more than you do."

Henrik gave her a condescending smile and walked towards the door, flicking a switch. Morgan was surprised when the ceiling light actually managed to flicker to life. The old bulb blinked a few times before bathing the room in an orange glow, only making the room slightly brighter with its weak source.

"I sincerely doubt it," Henrik said. "Take that silly trinket off now, Morgan. It's unnecessary." He motioned for the pendant around her neck as he settled against the table, crossing his arms in front of him.

Morgan and Dick exchanged a look. So, her father did know about her wings. She was unsure why, but she already felt sick to her stomach. Hesitating for a moment with her heart hammering anxiously in her ribcage, she slowly reached up and unclasped the necklace. A small part of her wondered how he even knew about the necklace's function.

Her wings were now visible to the world and her father's face lit up with the first genuine look of happy interest that she’d seen on him since he’d arrived.

"Extraordinary," he mumbled and made to step closer. Morgan took a step back as he took one forward, and Dick took a large step to get between the two of them. Henrik looked at him in distaste again, but Dick’s eyes were only on her. She was unsure what he could read on her – maybe panic? If nothing else, it was clear that she didn’t want the man anywhere near her.

"What do you know about them?" She tried to keep her voice steady, leaning into her anger to keep as far away from the panic she could feel building. Her father hadn't seemed surprised in the slightest at their appearance. He more so seemed impressed – he had to know something she didn’t.

He settled back against the table again and readjusted his glasses before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Back when your mother and I were still married, I worked in this building as you remember. I was newly done with school and already a known name in my field. You were only about a year and a half, so you don't remember this, but I was working on crossbreeding bird species," he began.

A cold feeling settled in Morgan's stomach. The fact that her father worked on cross breeding birds and that she just happened to have wings just seemed like too much of a coincidence.

“We did some brilliant work, my partner and I. We were both young and ambitious. Officially, it was to help endangered species. However, off the books, some of our employers had.. larger ambitions.”

Morgan held up a hand to stop him, feeling nauseous. Dick had stepped closer to her during her father's little speech, whether to keep her from falling to the floor when her knees undoubtedly gave out, or to stop her if she attempted to strangle her dad, she wasn't sure.

"Are you telling me that-"

“They wanted to try something a little different – something to help mankind evolve.” His voice was chilling for all the wrong reasons. He spoke with excitement, and the undercurrent of smugness made her want to punch him. “My partner and I both happened to have a child at roughly the same age. We volunteered both of you as test subjects."

Her world felt like it was tilting on an axis, and she was sure she would’ve fallen, had Dick not grabbed the crook of her elbow gently. She looked at him through eyes that had glazed over, and through the haze, she could see his eyebrows drawn in a look of sympathy and concern.

"We injected the two of you with what we believed would grant you both bird-like traits. Couldn't be sure which traits though, so we kept you under close surveillance for a long time, always working to perfect the formula. After almost seven years with no results, I declared the test a failure and moved back to Denmark, where I continued my research." He spoke in such a conversational way, like he didn’t notice the looks of horror on the faces of the two teenagers across from him. Morgan’s heart was threatening to pound out of her chest and she thought she might puke if he kept going for any longer. The anger and panic fought a battle in her to the point where she ached on the inside.

"Unfortunately, one of my other.. experiments, this one thankfully not with a human test subject, was discovered and I've been in jail ever since," he said matter-of-factly. "Once I was finally released, my first thought was to return to Gotham and see you again."

“I-“

I've wanted to reach out to you countless times during all of those years, Morgan. You have to know that.” A soft look suddenly took over his features. "You're still my little girl even though I thought you'd failed as a test subject."

He eyed the wings on her back. "Which I was also wrong about, as I can clearly see."

Morgan found the ability to breathe again, though her breath came out in irregular pants. Her entire body was shaking with a fury she'd never experienced the likes of before. The only reason she'd let him speak without interrupting for so long was that she felt like her lungs had collapsed and her voice had disappeared entirely.

Well, she'd found her voice again.

"You fucking bastard," she seethed venomously, her voice raising into a shout. "How could you use your own daughter as a test subject, you psychopath! What the hell is wrong with you?"

He looked taken aback at her reaction, and like he was about to defend his actions, but Morgan was on a roll and not about to let him off that easily.

"Do you have any idea whose things did to me? They ruined my life! I've been living in fear and isolation for five years because you decided to play God!"

Dick bent close to her side and gave her arm a squeeze.

Her dad spoke, but Dick’s calm voice drowned him out, and Morgan focused on his face, inches from hers.

“Let’s go,” he urged her quietly. He must’ve known she was seconds away from beating the shit out of the man across from them. “We got what we came for, so let’s go. He isn’t worth any more of your time.”

Through her rage, she knew he was right. Leaving her father behind in the dust would almost be as satisfying as clocking him one. She looked up into his steady gaze, and it calmed her enough to think straight. What would she have done if he hadn’t been here? She was glad she wouldn’t have to find out.

"Can't I at least hit him once?" she mumbled back, feeling weary to the bone now that her panic had settled.  

He considered her request.

"Fine. Once."

Morgan fixed her stormy eyes back onto her father, her voice dangerous and low when she spoke.

"I'm leaving. And if you ever contact me again, I'll throw you off a tall building."

"Morgan, don't-"

"Shut up!" she roared, her voice cracking from the sheer volume.

With a strangled growl, she threw her arm sideways roughly, and the wall that already had a large hole in it completely gave away, bricks blasting shooting through the air like a bomb had gone off.

She barely registered the look of pure shock on her father's face before she jumped forward and punched him square across the jaw. He stumbled to the floor with a grunt, and Morgan felt satisfaction settle in her stomach at the sight of him scrambling around in the dirt and dust to find his glasses.

"You deserved to spend much longer in prison," she spat at the heap on the floor and marched out of the room, Dick at her heels.

Her movements were stiff with rage, but she yanked her pendant on as they got outside, ignoring her father’s angry protests. Then, she grabbed Dick’s hand and started running.

The warm hand in hers was the only thing that kept her focused as Morgan ran away with no specific location in mind, just away from her father and the awful truth she'd learned from him. She squeezed it tightly, feeling just a tiny bit better when he held on just as tightly.

As they ran, horror settled even more heavily in her gut as she fully realized the truth of her situation.

She was a genetic freak because her father had made her one.

She was a test subject.

She was an experiment.

Her own father had used and abused her, and then discarded her like a used rag once she hadn’t managed to give him the results he’d wanted.

Tears blurred her vision, and she nearly ran into a lamp post. Dick pulled her out of the way and she let him take the lead, hand still clasped in hers as they kept their fast pace down the gloomy streets of Gotham. They hit a main street and their pace slowed as they had to weave through other people, but Dick expertly led her through the crowd. Tears leaked down her face, soaking into the hem of her blue hoodie.

Some blocks later, Morgan recognized where he was taking them. Back to the zeta tube.

She dug her heels into the asphalt, shaking her head and sniffling loudly. He let her hand go and started typing in coordinates.

“I don’t want to go home,” she said in a thick and wet voice. Her nose was completely blocked.

He stopped typing and looked at her. She almost turned away – her eyes were puffy, and her face was splotchy and red. The rain had soaked through her hair, which hung in sad clumps around her face.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “Come on.”

She allowed him to push her through the tube, figuring it was her best choice to just go back. Maybe she could sneak into her room before anyone saw her.

But as the light from the zeta tube died down, she wasn’t in the Cave. She looked around at the foreign street, unsure where he had taken her. She looked at him with question, but instead of answering, he grabbed her hand again and tugged at it, leading her down the street.

They arrived at the front steps of a tall apartment building and she watched him dig out a key to let them inside.

It was when he paused in front of a door with the name 'Dick Grayson' on it that Morgan realized where they were. They were in Blüdhaven and Nightwing had led her to his apartment.

Gratitude was the most prominent feeling in the boiling pot of emotions that was her body at the moment. He knew she didn't want to return to the Cave and have the others see her like this. He knew she didn't want to go to her mother's place in her current state either. He also knew that she didn't have anywhere but those two places to go, so he had opened his home to her, that she may have her emotional breakdown without an audience.

At that moment, Morgan was grateful her mentor was so good at reading people. Usually, it could get annoying because it made him impossible to lie to, but right now she was happy for it.

He unlocked the door and stepped into his dark apartment, flicking a switch next to the door with practiced ease, no doubt having repeated that action thousands of times.

Light flickered to life above them, revealing a small and cozy apartment. The kitchen and living room were combined, separated by a little kitchen island with two barstools. She could see another door at the end of the square room and assumed it led to his bedroom. It was less tidy than she would have expected from someone as anal as Nightwing, but she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised – he was a busy guy, after all.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, making a halfhearted attempt at picking up the articles of clothes that lay scattered about the living room. He didn’t really sound sorry – it was more like the phrase was a formality he had to get out of the way.

She hadn’t moved from the doorway yet as he opened the door to his bedroom and threw the clothes through it unceremoniously. Then, he headed for the kitchen, throwing his keys and jacket onto the island as he went. She was unsure what she was supposed to do.

As if guessing her train of thought, Dick looked back at her.

"Sit," he ordered, and pointed at the kitchen island.

She dragged herself further into the room and slowly pulled out one of the barstools, climbing onto it. She watched with a numb face as he threw all of his unwashed dishes into the sink and then pulled out two mugs from a cupboard. He had produced a cup of hot chocolate in no time. He placed the beverage in front of Morgan, and she gratefully wrapped her numb fingers around the mug.

She wasn't necessarily cold, but after her first bout of fury had faded, she'd descended into a numbing sadness that seemed to dull her senses. The hot mug felt soothing against her hands and woke her up even just slightly from her numb state. She knew she should've been crying right now, but she'd already spent her tears on their walk to his apartment and had no more to give. Her eyes stung and were undoubtedly red rimmed and puffy, matching her runny nose.

He pulled out his own stool on the other side of the table and sat down too, propping his elbows onto the counter.

There was a long silence, occasionally broken by Morgan taking a small sip from the hot chocolate. Dick switched between studying her and shifting his eyes around the room in thought as the moment stretched on.

Eventually, Morgan pushed the chocolate away, finding she didn't really have the appetite for it. She ran both hands through her hair as she lowered her head onto the white surface of the table, weary to her very core.

Still Dick said nothing. It seemed he was waiting for her to speak first.

Morgan sighed.

"I'm such an unbelievably screwed up mess," she mumbled behind her mane of hair.

"No," her mentor disagreed, almost casually. He grabbed her hands and pulled them away from the back of her head, giving them a little squeeze. She hesitantly moved to look up at him.

"What was done to you was messed up. That doesn’t mean you’re a screwed-up mess. You aren’t your worst moments,” he spoke with such simple conviction, like he believed this to be the obvious and utter truth.

She blinked at him, warmth pooling into her chest, which had felt so empty before. He gave her a small smile, and she appreciated more than ever, that he was her mentor. Out of every hero that could’ve been picked to fill the role, she was happy it was him.

She mustered up a small, appreciative smile, and because of the dried tears on her face, her cheeks stretched uncomfortably with the movement. If he, and others, really perceived her as whole, maybe it could help her to stop feeling so broken.  

Dick looked at the watch that hung on his kitchen wall.

"It's late," he said. "You should get some sleep."

Morgan felt her heart take a small plunge at his words. She didn't want to go to sleep. She didn't want to return to the Cave right now.

She.. she wanted him to be close.

"I don't want to," she admitted, cheeks flushing slightly at her thoughts, which she quickly buried. "I- I don't want to go back to the Cave just yet."

Dick looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"I know," he said. ”C’mon, let’s find you a blanket.”

Translation:

"Hvordan er dit dansk? Har du holdt det ved lige?" = “How is your danish? Have you been using it?”

Also “Skat” is a term of endearment sorta like honey. The direct translation is treasure.

Chapter Text

March 8^th

Dick’s Apartment

Morgan

Morgan lay on the couch in Dick's small livingroom, listening to the tick tock of the watch on his wall.

Like hell she was going to fall asleep now.

Not with her head racing with everything that had happened that day. Not with half of her face buried in a pillow that smelled so much like him. Not with her damp hair, reminding her of the fact that she'd showered in his bathroom and dried herself off with one of his towels. Not with her upper body drowning in one of his large t-shirts, which she'd borrowed for the night because she hadn't had a change of clothes once she'd finished her shower.

Not after she'd accidentally walked in on him shirtless after her shower, wearing nothing but underwear and a towel herself.

It wasn't even her fault. The only entrance to his bathroom was in the bedroom so she kind of had to pass through to get to the living room. He'd told her that once she finished her bath, he'd lend her a t-shirt to sleep in, but she'd forgotten to take the t-shirt with her into the bathroom.

After realizing this, she had cursed colorfully for thirty seconds straight, running a hand through her hair in frustration as she attempted to figure out what she should do.

In the end, she had decided that this was Nightwing and she had nothing to be embarrassed about. She was wearing a towel, with underwear underneath. She was, debatably, decent. So, she'd wrapped the towel extra firmly around her body – glad that she was so short, because the towel reached all the way down to past her knees – and slowly unlocked the bathroom door, peaking into his bedroom.

What a mistake that had proved to be.

The room was dark, only illuminated by the half-opened bathroom door. He was in the middle of changing, already having discarded his leather jacket, and was halfway out of the dark-grey t-shirt he'd been wearing underneath.

In that split second, as she watched the fabric ruffle and move along his rapidly exposed upper body, Morgan was thankful he at least hadn't gotten rid of his pants too.

She cleared her throat to gain his attention just as he slipped the t-shirt over his head in a way she swore she’d only seen hot, male leads do in movies. The fabric messed his hair up deliciously and she swallowed dryly. Then, he turned to throw the shirt onto the pile of laundry next to his bed, and she felt a brain blow several fuses as she was blessed with a full view of her mentor’s torso in all its bare, sculpted, and muscly glory.  

Though she knew he must've heard the bathroom door open, he only seemed to register her presence when she had cleared her throat. Had he been lost in thought? He seemed surprised by her sudden appearance, but he wasn’t scrambling to cover himself.

Morgan did everything she could not to stare but oh my god.

Oh.

My.

God.

A rather unwanted memory of Rachel and Esmeralda discussing stuff like flexibility and stamina entered Morgan's mind and she was glad for the relative darkness in the room so he couldn't see the scarlet blush creeping up her neck.

”If you were going to shoot your shot with anyone..” came Rachel’s voice in her mind and the blush creeped up to the roots of her hair.

She had obviously already known that he would be cut – there was no other option with their lifestyle. She’d just never so much as been in the same room as a guy with his shirt off.

She figured she was starting at the top. It could only go downhill from here. There was no way any other guy could compare to all of.. this.

He was perfection personified, Morgan decided. Especially with the mussed-up hair and the unnecessarily low-riding, fit jeans – seriously, how was that fair? Did he not care about her blood pressure?

She hadn’t known until just then, that she had a weakness for well-muscled guys. Well, not all well-muscled guys. With confusion settling in her stomach, she realized she just had a weakness for him, muscles or not.

"Uhm," Morgan began, trying to remember what it was she had wanted before the unexpected – but not unwelcome – distraction.

He looked at her as he waited for her to speak. Morgan wondered if he was doing that supermodel-smolder thing on purpose of if it was the limited light in the room that made it look like it. His blue eyes burned blazing hot and she couldn’t meet them for more than two seconds.

What was it she had wanted again?

God, her brain was working overtime.

Oh, right. A t-shirt.

"I forgot the t-shirt," she explained, voice small and squeaky.

He looked at the foot of his bed where he'd put the t-shirt twenty minutes earlier, and where it was still lying innocently because she’d been too scatterbrained to pick it up.

Morgan fully intended to close the small distance and grab the shirt herself. She just needed to work on her feet, which had been nailed to the floor for some inexplicable reason. Hell, maybe she was simply petrified at the prospect of entering the room in nothing but a towel, when he was so undressed. She was all too aware of her wet hair leaving behind small trails of water down her collar bone, soaking into the hem of the towel and making it cling revealingly to her chest.  

Before she had the chance to pull herself together, Dick went for the shirt. Her heart did a little jump and she hated herself for ogling the way his muscles moved and shifted when he walked over and picked it up. Then – oh god, no, stay away – he walked towards her and offered the shirt without a word.

She gingerly took it, keeping her eyes stoutly trained on the red fabric and not on his beautiful chest or his intense gaze. Or his seriously well-muscled biceps.

Or just all of him altogether. Not looking. Not looking.

Okay, she looked at the arms a little bit.

Ugh, why does he have to be so extremely handsome?

Her eyes darted briefly to his chest, tracing his abs before she realized what she was doing and forcibly refocused on the t-shirt.

"Thanks," she forced out, mortified when the word came off like a frightened squeak and not an actual word.

"No problem," he quickly responded and turned around – giving her a full view of his equally fit back, lord have MERCY – and sat down on his bed, shrugging off his sneakers. He seemed too damn at ease about being in such a state of undress around her. It was like he didn't even care that he was showing off all that skin. He must’ve known she had been staring, right? She wasn’t known for her subtlety, despite her best efforts.

Did that mean he didn’t mind? Because he.. wanted her to see him naked?

Before he got the chance to start taking off his jeans, Morgan slammed the bathroom door shut behind her and locked it, leaning against the wooden frame until her heart rate somewhat returned to normal.

No, that wasn’t it. No way in hell was that it. He didn’t care if she saw him with his shirt off, because he didn’t care what she thought. She was just his mentee. She was sure he barely even saw her as a woman, but rather a lump of clay for him to mold into the perfect hero.

Right?

Absolutely.

She wasn’t sure if the thought was meant to make her feel better. She looked at the red shirt clutched in her clenched fists, her heart beating loudly, even as it sunk into her stomach.

She considered staying in the bathroom for the rest of the night. There was no way in hell she was leaving this bathroom again if he was going to prance around like a half-naked dream come true. If she curled up in the right angle on the floor, she was sure it wasn't that uncomfortable.

Then Morgan shook her head to clear it of the panic. Taking three deep breaths she reminded herself that she'd faced down multiple armed men at the same time without blinking. She'd faced down green aliens and a huge bomb.

Why should an extremely attractive, bare-chested teenager intimidate her?

She knew the comparison was stupid – this was so completely different than fighting criminals.

She pulled off the towel and used it to dry her hair carefully – no, she totally wasn't stalling – before she slipped the t-shirt over her head.

It reached her mid-thigh, Morgan realized with relief. Had it landed even a bit higher up, she'd have had to wear her jeans too, and she was too exhausted to bother with them.

Despite her resolve to skip her jeans – if he got to prance around with no shirt on, she was allowed to show off a bit of leg – she still stood in front of the mirror and worried her bottom lip as she tried to convince herself that it wasn't too short for her to go without pants.

She tugged at it several times, but as she realized that this only served to make more skin visible around her collar bone and chest area, she stopped. He'd ripped part of the back open, assuring her that ‘it was okay, the t-shirt was old and ugly anyway', to allow her wings freedom. Meaning that enough skin on her back was visible anyway, she didn't want to create more of a view than there already was. Not that he’d be looking – as she’d firmly reminded herself to calm her stupid nerves, he was barely aware of the fact that she was a woman.

Morgan gathered her discarded clothes up off the floor and folded them into a small bunch under her arm. Telling herself once more to act her age, she turned the lock on the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

She located her mentor and wondered just how much time she'd spent in the bathroom.

He was already asleep, lying on his stomach with one arm tugged under his pillow while the other was grabbing a fistful of the pillowcase. Half of his face was buried in the soft-looking pillow, black locks of hair falling in front of his closed eyes.

His face was peaceful and relaxed, a look Morgan had rarely seen on her mentor before. She didn’t want to stare but she found herself transfixed by the way his eyelashes kissed his skin and she wondered, not for the first time, what the hell was wrong with her.

She quickly looked away, feeling like an absolute creep for watching someone else in their sleep. A part of her was touched that he felt so relaxed as to fall asleep, even when she was here.

She flicked the light switch in the bathroom, leaving the room bathed in nothing but a sliver of streetlight, streaming in from behind his curtains, and she cursed to herself as she walked slowly out, hoping she didn't trip over anything in the darkness and wake him up.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she took a confident step forward..

.. and let out a gasp of horror as her foot snagged on the clothes he had thrown on the floor. She felt herself fall over and flailed to catch herself. The clothes she’d had in her grip flew off somewhere – she couldn’t see in the darkness.

Her hands brazed against his bed just as her right wing knocked over the lamp on his bedside table, and she realized that there was no way he wasn’t going to wake up from her sheer stupidity.

The moment her weight caused the bed to dip, Dick sprang to life with the precision and speed of a deadly viper. His blanket was thrown off, allowing him full movement, and then an arm shot out and went around her neck. As she found herself pinned to a bare chest, she realized two things with increasing horror:

One, her sleeping mentor had registered her fall as an attack, and his instincts were currently making him subdue her to stop the perceived attacker.

Two, neither of them were wearing nearly enough clothes for this.

She let out a wet cough as she felt his arm squeeze her windpipe tighter, and her heart did several somersaults when his legs wrapped around hers, forcing them apart and pinning them down against him. She could feel his breath against her ear, and then an escrima stick, the tip crackling with electricity, was pointed at her abdomen.

The sight of it made her gasp, and she prepared herself for the pain, when the arm around her neck let go, and Dick let go of the escrima stick, throwing it across the room. It hit the wall with a clank, just as he pushed her away from him, sending her sprawling across the bed, face first, ass in the air.

“Are you okay?” he gasped. She’d never truly been on the wrong end of his full strength and ferocity, and it had been terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Before she could pick herself back up, he had already grabbed her and turned her towards him, and she bore the full weight of his wide, concerned eyes. “Morgan, say something.”

She grimaced and touched her throat, which felt sore from his grip. He’d pulled the blanket over himself again, which she considered a mercy.

“Sorry for tripping,” she said. “You should really clean your room.”

He blinked at her, his hands hovering to replace hers, as she massaged at her throat. She slumped back onto her haunches, hoping the t-shirt was covering her underwear. Why hadn’t she put her bra back on? She swallowed dryly again when she saw the way the blanket had pool around his hips, the top of his boxer-briefs visible against his exposed skin. Despite the danger she’d been in, her body seemed to only remember how it had felt to be pinning against him, skin against skin.

God, if she blushed anymore, her head would pop off from the pressure.

“Is your throat okay?” he asked, and his fingers touched what she was sure would become a bruise on the morning. The touch was featherlight, although she could feel the roughness of the pads of his fingers, no doubt from years of fighting and training. She snapped her mouth shut to keep in whatever sound had been about to leave her lips – a moan or a gasp, she wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t willing to find out.

“I’m great!” she insisted, batting his hand away and scrambling out of his bed before she did something incredibly stupid. 

As if she had anymore dignity to lose.

“I’m sorry for waking you!” she said, her voice rushed and squeaky. She had to get out of this room now. “I’m going now! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Why was she yelling?

She took a step towards his bedroom door, but he must’ve misunderstood her awkwardness for fear after his attack, because he looked sad and then he began moving towards the edge of his bed. He reached down to pull his covers off, and she felt the rest of her sanity gleefully nosedive down a gutter.

“Don’t!” she cried, holding a hand up out to stop him before he got out of bed, exposing even more of himself to her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to attack you!” he insisted, still looking like he was about to get out of bed. “It was instinct, I was asleep!”

“I know, I know!” Why were they both yelling? “I’m not blaming you; it was my fault for tripping! I’m fine, really, I just want to go to bed and forget about all of this, okay?”

He regarded her for an extended moment, and she kept having to remind her eyes to stop trailing down the length of his exposed body. He could see her looking. Was it her imagination or was he looking at her legs?

“Okay,” he accepted her plea. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she said, wishing she’d just gone back to the Cave. There was no way she was going to recover from this.

She darted out of his room and threw the door shut behind her. Diving for his couch, she lay for a long while, heart pounding.

What was wrong with her? She’d never felt like this before. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his bare form dance across her imagination. She swore she could still feel his skin against hers. The fantom the weight of his legs snaking around her thighs to pull them apart invoked heat in her that she didn’t want to confront.

Morgan was inexperienced with guys, but she wasn’t stupid. The knowledge of her own reaction to his closeness made her miserable, and shame pooled into her stomach. She was making something sexual out of a situation that hadn’t been. It was a truth long known that Dick was gorgeous. She remembered reminding her school friends that he wasn’t a piece of meat. She remembered the way teen magazines had written article upon article about Gotham’s “sexiest heartthrob”. She could only assume he must been sick of it.

Her reaction made her feel like she was no better than any of those hack journalists. Would he feel betrayed by the way her body was reacting?

Yet.. there was something more at play here. Surely, she wasn’t so shallow that a well-sculpted chest made her lose her damn mind. There was no way she’d have the same reaction if it had been Connor.

Morgan rubbed her hands against her tired face and sighed deeply, staring up at the dark ceiling.

No.. the truth was, maybe she harbored feelings for him that were a little more complicated than friendship.

Maybe.. maybe she had a crush on him.

Letting out a low groan, she took the blanket he’d provided her with, and dragged it over her face, hoping it would suffocate her.

How had this happened? When? Why?

“Why me,” she whispered aloud, her voice almost cracking under how miserable she felt.

There was no way this could ever end well for her. The fact that she even dared to have feelings for someone like him was bound to end in heartache and nothing more.

Because..

Because now she knew what she was.

An experiment.

She felt the weight of her wings beneath her as they pressed against her back, and nausea rushed up her throat. She feared for a moment that she had to throw up, and her eyes darted across the room, wondering if she should go for the window or the kitchen sink. No way was she risking the bathroom again.

She had thought that she was starting to accept her wings, that she had begun to appreciate them and see them as part of her.

Now.. now, she wanted to claw and gnaw at them until she could rip them out of her, remove the evidence of Henrik’s sick experimentation.

Tears threatened to spring forth, and she squeezed her eyes tight, curling in on herself until she was only a little ball beneath the blanket.

She’d do well to forget all about whatever feelings of affection she’d begun to harbor for Dick. there was no way he’d ever see her as more than.. this. A freak of science. A dirty, violated thing.

With that thought, she shoved any feelings she might’ve had to the very far back of her mind and heart. She had a job to do – all she needed to focus on was training to become the best hero that she could.

Use the wings Henrik had forced onto her to do good. Forget where they came from and instead think of where they could take her.

After all, she was from Gotham, dammit. Gothamites knew how to take a shitty situation and turn it to their benefit. They were used to having little and getting much from it.

“I should be grateful, really,” she mumbled to herself, still keeping her eyes shut to prevent tears from escaping.

She'd wanted answers, and she'd gotten them.

Now all she had to do was move on. Forget about the sick man that had unfortunately fathered her, and move on. It was almost a relief. For ten years, she’d wondered about him. She’d hoped he would someday return with a perfect excuse, so his absence could be forgiven, and they could be a family again. She’d hoped that he actually did love her.

Now, she could put that foolish, childish thought to rest. She had her answer.

With a flicker of annoyance, she realized she didn’t have all her answers.

She'd seen the shocked expression on her father's face when she'd blasted a hole through the wall. He hadn't known about her telekinesis.

Meaning he wasn't responsible for her powers.

Meaning Morgan had to find answers elsewhere.

Meaning her search wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

March 8^th

Dick’s Apartment

Dick

Dick's alarm blared to life, rudely awakening the sleeping teenager.

His brow furrowed in distaste as he was forced from his sleep-induced state of bliss. A heavy arm reached up and hit the snooze button, before he reburied himself beneath his covers. He lay for a minute, stuck between awareness and sleep. Squinting one eye at the watch, he wondered why he'd set it to ring this early – seriously, seven thirty was ridiculous – when he didn't have any classes today.

His eyes moved past the alarm and he frowned when he saw that his lamp had been knocked over.

The sight of it finally jumpstarted his tired brain and he realized why he’d set the alarm so early.

Morgan had slept over.

She was lying on his sofa, at this very moment, in nothing but one of his old t-shirts.

He groaned and tugged his covers up over his tired head. It was far too early in the morning to be thinking about mental images like that.

He lay for another ten minutes and then the alarm started ringing again. This time, Dick forced himself to sit up and shut off the alarm for good. With heavy limbs, he stood up, stretching like a cat. Since he had guests, he shrugged on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants over his underwear.

He looked across his room and saw the results of the.. situation from the night before. His lamp wasn’t broken, thankfully, but the shade had fallen off and lay in front of his bathroom door. He could see Morgan’s jeans at the foot of his bed, and her bra had somehow ended up hanging off the back of his desk chair. He eyed it briefly and then hurried out of his room and the scene it presented.

He walked barefooted into the living room, padding quietly along the wooden floor as to not wake her up. Pulling out a large carton of orange juice from his fridge, he poured himself a glass and went about searching of something breakfast-y that he could make.

If there was one thing Alfred had managed to drill into his head, it was how to be a good host. Serving breakfast after having someone sleep over was at the top of that list.

He shot a quick look in her direction, wondering once again why he’d even brought her here. He didn’t let just anyone into his private space. Least of all to sleep over like this.

He smiled in triumph when he found a bag of bread in one of his cupboards that wasn't past its expiration date. In the fridge he found eggs, a stick of butter, honey, and jelly. Usually, his fridge was pretty empty, owing to his busy life. He was happy that he could at least offer her something resembling breakfast.

It seemed that whatever measure of professional distance he’d once tried to uphold, was truly gone now. They couldn’t come back from this.

Especially not after.. last night.

God, he still felt like an ass about what he had done. It was clear she hadn’t just been shocked from the attack, but also because she’d suddenly found herself held against an almost entirely naked guy, in a bed. A situation he knew she’d never been in before. Her flustered behavior let him know she hadn’t been unaffected.

Idiot. He was an idiot. Why had he allowed himself to fall asleep before she’d left the bathroom? None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t let his guard down. 

Dick purposefully scrambled loudly around the kitchen to wake Morgan up without having to actually approach her. He could only assume she hadn’t gotten much sleep, what with the night she’d had, and he got the feeling she was the grumpy type of morning person.

He chanced a glance in her direction again, his gaze lingering a bit longer this time. The girl in question was lying partly on her stomach, one arm tugged under her head, the other falling off the side of the couch with a hand touching the floor. One of her wings was folded neatly against her back, and the other dangled limply off the side of the couch, covering most of her upper body from view – a good thing since she had kicked the blanket off during the night and the shirt she wore had crawled up high on her stomach.

Most of her face was covered by wild, blonde curls.

The scrambling he did with the pan as he fried the eggs seemed to do the trick as her relaxed features scrunched up, and she drew in a deep breath, withdrawing her hand from the floor to rub it against her face. Her wings fluttered lazily and he was reminded of a nesting bird.

"Good morning," he greeted her carefully as she opened one gray eye to spot him. He had no idea what kind of mood she would be in – not after the news she’d found out the night before, and then the attack she’d been through.

She rose up onto one elbow and pushed her hair out of her face. She opened both eyes and studied him briefly, as if unsure where she was. Then, she turned over to lie on her back, a hand slung over her face.

“’Morning,” she said groggily. He looked away quickly to avoid the full view of her panties currently on display.

She seemed to realize as she leaned down to paw at the blanket at the foot of the couch and pulled it tightly to her. She turned her face against the backrest of the couch and lay for a while. He started to wonder if she had gone back to sleep.

Then, she sighed and sat up, wild curls sticking everywhere.

"Breakfast is almost ready,” he told her, still studying her carefully to glean her emotional state.

"Awesome,” she said blankly, a wide yawn leaving her mouth as she looked for her pants with tired, half-lidded eyes.

Dick flipped the eggs on the frying pan as Morgan headed for his bedroom, hopefully in search of her clothes so she would stop showing him her underwear already.

Not that it mattered to him, of course. He’d accepted a while ago that he found her attractive. He was only human! He was allowed to think she was attractive, especially when she looked so adorable with her bedhead and bed-wings, the feathers ruffled and messy.

The important thing was that he didn’t have feelings for her. Being attracted to someone and having feelings for them were two entirely different things.

She came out of his bedroom slowly, now fully clothed – though she still wore his shirt, and he eyed the collarbone and shoulder the wide neck exposed. Then, his eyes found the angry purple marks on her throat and he felt wretched.

 “Let me see your throat,” he said instantly, dropping the spatula he held into the pan. He turned the stove off and went to her side.

“I told you it’s fine,” she mumbled, looking at her feet.

“Sometimes strangulation causes late complications that aren’t obvious at the moment of attack,” he said, looking at her with beseeching eyes. “Please, let me look at it.”

She sighed and tilted her head to the side, exposing her throat to him. He bent low over her to see better, and carefully combed her curls out of the way, pretending he didn’t see the goosebumps that erupted along her exposed flesh as he did so. She quickly gathered her hair and held it back, as he prodded at her throat, feeling for any ruptures, punctured veins or damaged pipes.

She stood still as a statue during his careful examination. Eventually, he concluded that she hadn’t sustained any lasting injuries.

“I’m sorry about the bruises,” he said as he guided her onto one of the barstools by his kitchen island.

“I’m leaving if you apologize one more time,” she threatened with no real fire as she sat down.

He set the table, pressing a mug of coffee into her hands. She took a long sip from it, letting out a sound that was uncomfortably close to a moan. He felt some point low in his stomach give a little stab of heat, and quickly turned to spoon scrambled eggs onto their plates.

"Man, I'm beat,” she sighed over the rim of her cup.

"When did you fall asleep?" He put a plate of eggs and toast in front of her before piling the same thing on his own plate.

"I dunno,” she shrugged and scrunched up her face as she tried to remember. “I think it was like three AM I last looked at the time before I fell asleep."

Dick could understand why she'd have trouble falling asleep. If he'd received the same news she'd gotten the previous night, he'd probably have spent the rest of the night with his mind reeling too.

"So." He sat down across from her with his own plate and coffee. "What are you going to do now?"

Morgan looked at her eggs in distaste and pushed them to the corner of her plate before buttering her toast, holding the knife loosely in her hand as she contemplated his question.

He made a mental note of the fact that she didn’t like eggs.

"I'm going to do what I've been already been doing, I guess. Train. Fight. Become a hero." She tried to sound unbothered, but there was an intensity, and a hurt note to her voice, and her body looked taut. “Just because I got my wings the.. the way I did.. well, doesn't mean I'm not gonna use them for good. It’s not like I can get rid of them.”

“And you shouldn’t,” he cut across her. He didn’t want to tell her what she should or shouldn’t do with her own body, but the thought of her amputating her wings because of what her dad had done, was too terrible for him to even consider.

She blinked at him before refocusing on her toast, chewing thoughtfully.

“I know. I’m saying I’d want to.. I'm going to take something he had only meant to be a small experiment and make it so much more than he'd imagined. But it'll be by my own hands, my own achievements, and not because he 'gifted' me with wings,” she spoke through grit teeth, and then took an angry bite out of her toast.

Dick nodded to himself, glad that she seemed more determined than ever to enter the hero life and that her new-found knowledge hadn't soured the entire thing for her.

“That sounds like the right attitude,” he assured her, giving her a cautious smile. “What are you going to tell Abigail?"

He could only imagine the guilt and confusion Morgan's mother would have to go through when she found out that her ex-husband had used their daughter as a lab-rat, and she had never realized.

"Nothing," Morgan decided, pressing her lips into a thin line. "She's better off not knowing. If he wants her to know, he can tell her herself. I'm not going to make her cry again."

He really wanted to protest. But he didn't. This was her own decision. There was a limit to how much he was willing to meddle in her family-drama, and that was it.

"There's a new problem too," Morgan spoke up when Dick didn’t answer.

"Which is?"

Honestly, they had so many problems, he wasn't sure which one she was referring to.

"There's another one out there. Henrik mentioned his colleague's daughter was used too," Morgan pointed out. "Somewhere out there, there might be another girl going through the exact same thing I've been going through."

"We'll do some digging.." Dick decided. "Try to find her."

"When?"

He downed his orange juice as he considered it.

"Whenever there's time, I guess. I suggest we keep this off the record for now. We can work on this from my apartment. No need to include the Team."

Was inviting her back to his place more times really in his best interest? He was unsure. All he knew was that, so far, her one visit had been interesting, and his curiosity was piqued.

Morgan nodded. "I'd like to keep it under wraps for now. I'm not.." She pursed her lips and rephrased. "I need to get used to the truth before I'm ready to tell anyone. I need to come to terms with it before the others can know."

"Of course,” he agreed readily. “I won’t tell them anything.”

If there was one thing Dick was good at, it was keeping secrets.

"Thanks," Morgan smiled gratefully at him, her first smile all morning, spreading jelly onto another piece of toast.

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. At some point, he asked about her eggs, and she revealed to him that eating anything avian-related made her feel like a cannibal. He wasn’t sure he really understood, but he accepted her stance, and ate the eggs for her.

Once they’d finished breakfast, Dick put the food away, and Morgan compiled their dishes and started washing them.

"He didn't know about my telekinesis," she said as she pulled a mug from the sudsy water. Dick took it from her and dried it before putting it way.

“I know.” He'd seen the look on Henrik's face. Her father hadn't expected her to be able to do anything but fly.

"So, we still don't know where it came from."

Dick thought he had an idea, but he didn't voice it. It was only a small idea. He didn't have enough facts, didn't know enough about it yet to bring it up. He didn't want to ignite hope in her if he turned out to be wrong.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder if this meta-gene thing the Kroloteans had been so desperately looking for in humans, was the secret to understanding why Morgan had the powers she did.

Chapter Text

March 19^th

Mount Justice

Morgan

"Next on Godfrey's bonehead list; the launch of Ferris Aircraft's new Earth-Mars communication satellite. That's right, folks. It's not enough we've been invaded by aliens now we're going out of our way to contactthem! My friends if you're asking what's wrong with this picture you're not alone. That's why old G. Gordon's jumping on a plane to Florida to get to the bottom of this –"

"Literally what is this guy's problem with aliens, though?" Morgan blurted out, unable to keep her tongue any longer. She grabbed the remote and muted the program to stop the Godfrey’s constant yammering.

Connor, standing behind the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, answered; "It’s not like he’s the only prejudiced asshole in America, he just happens to own a news channel.”

Morgan leaned her head back against the armrest, curls spilling over the side of the couch and sighed loudly.

“See, and he doesn’t even live with any aliens. He doesn’t even know you guys leave your stinky socks in the living room and your dirty dishes in the sink!”

She heard Connor snort out a laugh and aimed a dark grin at him, which he returned.

Twisting her torso so her feet came into contact with the floor, she stood up in a whirl. Spots danced in front of her as blood rushed from her head at the sudden movement.

“Woah, dizzy,” she said, but waved a hand at Connor when he made to steady her.

 How long had she been lying on that couch? She needed something to do with her time.

“Well, maybe he’d also love to know that you clog the showers with your feathers,” Connor teased.

“Gasp,” she threw a mocking hand over her mouth. “Maybe I’m an alien too!”

She played along, though she knew the truth now. She hadn't told anyone yet about the discovery she'd made twelve days ago. So far, no one knew that her wings were a product of her father's illegal transmutation experiments. It wasn’t something she was ready to share. In fact, she waffled back and forth on whether she regretted Nightwing knowing. Some days, his encouraging words felt like the only thing keeping her steady. Other days, she wished no one knew, so she could pretend it wasn’t real.

He hadn’t treated her any differently. Well, maybe he’d been a little bit nicer. She supposed seeing something have a complete breakdown, changed how you treated them.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Nightwing turned the corner, appearing before them. Morgan felt a rush of some stupid emotions swell in her chest, and she hurriedly looked away.

She wish she’d never realized the truth of her feelings – they made things so much more complicated. Especially because she had resolved to ignore them at all costs. Usually, she was good at that, but when he showed up this suddenly, she hadn’t had the time to prepare herself.

"Connor," he nodded at Superboy, who looked at him in return. "Briefing's any moment now."

Connor nodded and headed for the mission room without another word.

Morgan leaned against the back of the couch, watching Superboy walk away. As much as she tried to, she couldn't help but feel jealousy squirm around in her stomach. She wished she could go. Directing her eyes towards her feet, she kept telling herself that she'd be allowed to go when Nightwing thought she was ready. She trusted his judgment.

Connor left the room, but Nightwing didn't. He appeared to be waiting for her to look at him, something she’d lacked the courage to do since he’d entered the room.

Then, when the silence stretched in just a second too long, she had to look up. Before it got obvious that she was intentionally avoiding his gaze.

"You too, Morgan," he said.

She felt her eyes widen as she studied his serious face. Did this mean what she thought it meant?

"For real?" she asked, hardly daring to believe he was letting her go on a mission. "You're letting me go on this mission?"

"Yes," he gave her a restrained smile. "I'm going too. Consider it training."

She resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air and yell at the top of her lungs, pretty sure that this would be considered immature behavior and might change his mind about letting her go.

"Suit up,” he ordered, already heading back down the hall. "Meet in the mission room in ten."

"Yes sir!" Morgan yelled and bounced out of the room, running towards her bedroom as fast as she could.

Determined to be there on time, if not early, she rushed out of her clothes the moment she arrived at her room and pulled on her suit as fast as possible. Taking off her glamour charm, she threw the necklace onto her bedside table and grabbed a hair band residing on the wooden surface in one fluid movement.

Clicking her own, custom made, belt into place around her waist, she checked to make sure the pouches where properly stocked. Nightwing had given her a bit of advice on what he'd learned to be useful on a mission during his ten years of experience.

She had a bunch of stuff like a lock-pick, a small penknife – not as a weapon but rather as a tool is she found herself bound or needed to cut through something – and some string, to list a few. There were also some more high-tech gadgets, but she hadn't read the manual for them yet, so she didn't know what most of them did.

She also kept a few spare scrunchies in there. Just in case.

Putting on a pair of socks, she quickly pulled her boots on and fastened them, making sure they weren't too loose or too tight. Then, she ran for the mission room.

Today was going to be a good day – she could already tell.

March 19^th

Mount Justice

Nightwing

Dick knew it was against his better judgement that he was allowing Morgan onto this mission.

Really, what had he been thinking, telling her she could come. He knew what was going to happen.

He knew he, Kaldur and Artemis had planned.

But she’d just looked so sad at being left behind again and he was weak.

He tried to think of it from Batman’s perspective. It was going to be a hard lesson to learn, but it was good that she learned it. Being on a mission where a death happened was the kind of thing none of them were prepared for, but everyone knew was a possibility.

And Artemis wasn’t actually going to die. So, it would be fine – right? In a few months, the truth would be revealed, and everyone would be fine. He was also bringing Connor, M’gann and La’gaan, and none of them had any idea either. It wasn’t like Morgan was the only one he was throwing under the bus here.

He looked at his feet, resisting the urge to clench his fists.

No, she wasn’t the only one. But she was by far the one with least experience. He was her mentor – he was supposed to protect her. Was this protecting her?

But he wasn’t just meant to protect her. He was also supposed to teach her. She’d be fine. She was strong.

“How are they doing?” Mal’s voice cut across Dick’s internal debate, and he looked up to see what his friend was talking about. On the holoscreen was an image of Impulse, and one of the recently discovered ‘original’ Roy. Next to Mal stood Connor, who was also watching the screen with a tense brow.

“Bart is settling with Jay and Joan. Roy is still recuperating at Royal Memorial Hospital in Star City. The Arrows are with him”

“Cool, cool,” Mal said, pausing in thought. “So, when are they going to wind up our responsibility?”

“Who says they are?” Boots padding softly along the floor made Nightwing look over his shoulder and he saw Morgan arrive in her Sparrow suit. She looked excited and ready, and he battled once more with the uncertainty of letting her come along. But he’d be there too – he’d protect her from any danger. Even though he knew there were some things he couldn’t keep her safe from.

“Doesn’t everything wind up our responsibility?” Connor said with an air of annoyance. “Or is someone else also trying to uncover the Light’s new partner? How far are we on that?”

Sparrow came up to stand next to them, and he could see her eyes flit between all three of them from behind her mask. She remained silent, but she was obviously observing.

Nightwing sighed and ran a hand through his hair, letting his shoulders slump.

“No news yet..” he admitted, allowing tiredness to seep into his tone.

"We'll get 'em." She simply said, sounding confident. "People like that don't lay low for long, do they?"

"No, they don't." Connor agreed, though he didn't sound happy. "Problem is, usually when they surface, it brings us a whole lot of trouble. Which is why I'd like to find them before they get the chance to make a move."

Sparrow frowned at their grouchy teammate, and when she looked to him, Nightwing made sure to give her a little smile to let her know her encouragement was appreciated.  

Giggling erupted from the other side of the room and the four of them looked at the entrance as M'gann and La'gaan arrived.

Nightwing kept his eyes on the screen, doing his best to tune out their giggled conversation about crab cakes. He preferred to stay out of his teammates’ private business – but he wished M’gann and Connor would stop this weird jealousy-war they had going.

Especially because neither seemed willing to admit that that was what was going on.

As Connor tended to do whenever the happy couple arrived on scene, he made to leave.

"Call me when the briefing actually starts," he grumbled and headed for the exit.

Behind them, the zeta tube lit up, the bodiless female voice announced that Artemis had arrived.

"Time for the briefing,” Nightwing announced, smiling. He hadn’t told anyone that she was joining – it would be a nice surprise before.. well.

"Artemis!" M'gann called for her friend with excitement and headed towards her. The rest of them quickly approached and greetings were exchanged. Even Connor forgot about his annoyance and went to say hallo.

He stayed by the holoscreens to set up the mission brief. He’d talked to Artemis a lot in the past few days anyway, as they strategized. Morgan hovered by his side, and he could tell she was unsure if she was meant to go greet Artemis, who was still a relative stranger to her. He let her be – some cynical part of him thought it was probably best that she didn’t get to know Artemis before –  

Nightwing cleared his throat and drew the attention of everyone to him. The others approached him, and he saw Morgan give Artemis a shy smile and a little wave.

"Hi, Artemis. I'm not sure you remember me, I'm –"

"Morgan, right?" Artemis interrupted, a friendly smile on her face. "I remember you, we met last Christmas."

"Okay, Gamma squad, listen up," Nightwing spoke up, interrupting the small talk going on. “You all know about the launch of the first Earth-Mars communications satellite, taking place today at Cape Canaveral. Prior to the launch, the center received dozens of threats of sabotage, some more serious than others. There’s a lot of people out there that don’t like the idea of aliens, and they see the communications satellite as a danger to their status quo.”

The room grew serious as he spoke. The launch of the satellite was important for several reasons – chief among them to signal that aliens were welcome on Earth, despite what reporters like G. Gordon Godfrey liked to preach.

“And that’s why I’m joining this mission,” Artemis told M’gann and Connor, both of whom looked visibly upset. “To show support for this cause.”

“And to stick it to assholes like Godfrey,” Morgan added, her jaw clenched. “We’ll make sure that satellite gets to launch.”

“That’s our mission,” Nightwing grabbed the word again. Their time was short. “We’re there to make sure the launch goes smoothly, and to signal the League’s support for future extraterrestrial communication. Mars is a small step into a larger future.”

“So that’s why you’re going?” Mal asked. “I was wondering.”

“I’ve been stuck delegating missions for a year,” Nightwing gave him a confident smile and grabbed one of his escrima sticks, twirling it in the air with a little flourish. “I’m peckish for a little action myself.”

Inside, he did his best to keep a swell of emotions at bay.

Now, more than ever, Dick wished Bruce wasn’t off planet. He couldn’t tell if this plan of theirs was too risky. If the price he was forcing others to pay for his secrets was too high.

No, he had to stick to what Batman had taught him. His biggest responsibility wasn’t to the Team; it was to the world. If they pulled this off, a lot of lives would be saved later down the road. He couldn’t concern himself with hurt feelings, not when the future of the planet was at stake.

This was the right thing to do.

Right?

March 19^th

Cape Canaveral

Sparrow

"It suits you."

Morgan looked up and locked eyes with the only other blonde in the Bio ship. They were sitting at the same station, close enough to hold a hushed conversation without it carrying to the rest of the ship.

Not that they'd been having a hushed conversation. She’d had been staring out the window since they'd gotten on board, unsure if and how she should engage the other girl in conversation.

"Sorry?" she asked for clarification.

"The superhero life,” Artemis elaborated. "I know I've only met you once before, but in those few months you already look a lot healthier and happier.”

"Thanks," Sparrow automatically smiled quietly to herself at the compliment.

She leaned forward in her chair, wishing it wasn't so uncomfortable on her wings. Some chairs were worse than others, and the ones in the bio ship were some of the worst ones because of how tall the backrest was.

“I guess all the training leaves a mark. And, you know, finding a group of people you feel like you belong with.”

Artemis sighed wistfully. "That's what I miss the most. Spending most of my time with the Team. They become family."

Morgan nodded in agreement, staring ahead of them as they zipped over the landscape below. The ocean stretched out in front of them, dark and mysterious in the setting sun. She shot a subtle look across the cabin, at all the people there. Connor and La’gaan who she considered good friends, although in much different ways. M’gann who had made Morgan feel so welcomed on the Team, and who she’d spent hours with just talking and cooking. She was like a big sister, a mom, and a dear friend all in one.

And then there was Nightwing. She was unsure if she could define the relationship they had right now as easily and succinctly as the others. He belonged to a category that was entirely his own.

“They do,” she said, straightening in her seat to look back out the window to keep her face hidden. “They really do.”

She was unsure if Artemis had more to say, but she never got the chance to, as Nightwing spoke across the cabin.

"ETA two minutes," he announced, and M'gann turned the Bio ship into camouflage mode as they traveled across the flat landscape. The launch-site came into view and Sparrow studied it with fascination.

Surrounding by four red control towers, the satellite stood magnificent and huge in the waning sunlight. A gathering of reporters and journalists were slowly amassing in front of a podium next to the launch site, eagerly waiting to cover the story.

The heroes watched the scene for a moment before getting out of their seats to launch the next part of the plan. During their flight, Nightwing had reminded all of them of how shorthanded the League was, and explained that they were going to have to play a little masquerade.

“Ready, Superboy?” he asked. Connor looked supremely grumpy about it, but he approached their leader with a squared jaw. He snatched the bundle of red and blue from Nightwing’s hands and marched to the back of the ship, so he could change in private.

A moment later, he came back out, and Morgan couldn't stop a snort of amusement from leaving her. She quickly covered her mouth with a hand to keep another laugh at bay.

It wasn't so much Superboy posing in Superman's suit that was funny – though that was funny too – it was the furious look on his face as he came out.

He aimed a murderous glare at her once she’d let out her snort, and she quickly straightened her posture and sucked her lips in to keep the smile hidden.

"Alright, everyone." Nightwing spoke up, and Gamma squad gathered around him, waiting for instructions. "Lagoon Boy, we need you in the water. Look out for any potential threats coming from the sea."

The green-skinned teenager nodded at his orders.

"Superboy, and Miss Martian, you will be posing as Superman and Martian Manhunter."

Connor scowled harder but didn't protest.

"M'gann, can you hover Connor in the air above the site, so nobody gets close enough to see his face? Make it look like he’s flying."

"Easy," M'gann answered with confidence.

"Good. You'll be at the press conference as Martian Manhunter. Make sure everyone sees you and then return to the Bio Ship. The two of you are responsible for guarding the air."

Lagoon Boy looked like he wanted to strongly protest at his 'Angelfish' and Superboy going together, but he kept his mouth shut. Good. Morgan didn’t want their petty drama to get in the way of this.

She was on a mission! Her first real one in months!

"Artemis, Sparrow," The two snapped to attention. "You're with me. We'll be stationed in one of the towers, keeping eyes on the ground."

Morgan wanted to ask him why he was asking the girl on the team with a pair of wings to cover the ground instead of the air, but she didn't. She knew it was because he wanted to keep her close by so he could keep an eye on her. This was the first mission she'd gotten to go on since that fiasco with the Kroloteans and their underground layer, and she supposed it was natural that Nightwing wanted to make sure she didn't get injured because he'd let her go on a mission too soon. She knew the only reason she was here, was because he was there too.

"That’s all,” he tapped a button and a hatch appeared at the back of the ship. “Execute!”

Sparrow watched as he went to the captain’s seat, steering them towards the ocean. As she turned, she jumped in surprise and held back a gasp, when the tall and intimidating figure of Martian Manhunter stood where M’gann had been only seconds ago.

“God, warn me next time!” she exclaimed, and Martian Manhunter simply grinned in response.

She – or he? – levitated Superboy off the floor and the two of them left out the hatch Nightwing had opened. The ship reached the ocean, and Lagoon Boy jumped in.

Next, he flew the ship towards the nearest tower, hovering beside it.

"Aren't you gonna land?" Morgan asked.

"No. Miss M and Superboy need access to the Bio ship in the air," Nightwing reminded her.

"How are you guys going to get down, then? Because I'm not carrying you."

Artemis cocked an arrow onto her bow, a confident smirk on her lips.

"That," she fired the arrow with a thin wire attached to it, hitting the side of the tower, “won't be necessary."

She jumped out and used her bow to zipline to the tower. Nightwing, using the same line, followed suit.

Sparrow watched them land safely before squaring her shoulders and jumping out after them. Waiting for a moment to unfurl her wings, she enjoyed the rush of the fall. It tickled her stomach and made her feel alive, and knowing her wings were there to catch her gave her courage.

Spreading her wings, she angled them so she could glide towards the tower with minimal effort. With a little beat of her wings, she landed nimbly next to her mentor.

"You've gotten good at your landings," he told her, a proud smile on his face.

"Thanks," Morgan returned the smile, color rushing to her cheeks at the praise. "I've been practicing them a lot. Not very intimidating if the first thing your opponent sees is you falling flat on your face.

“True that,” Artemis agreed as she put her bow back in its holster.

Nightwing handed the two girls a pair of binoculars.

“Keep your eyes peeled for any trouble.”

The three of them settled in each their respective corner, watching the site and the desert landscape surrounding it. It was quiet for a time, and Morgan tried not to get restless. Yes, she knew there was a possibility that nothing happened, since Nightwing had stressed they were only there as a precaution. Yet the prospect of her second mission being just a couple of hours of eventless watching, sounded like a dud.

This wasn’t about her, though. She reminded herself that a good outcome would actually be no fights, even if that would be boring.

Trying to stave off the boredom, she trained her binoculars onto the press conference happening below. M’gann, still looking like her uncle, was still speaking. From their position, Sparrow couldn’t hear anything, but she could see reporters wave their hands in the hopes of getting a statement, and Martian Manhunter patiently answering every inquiry.

"I wish we could hear what's going on down there," she sighed. That, at least, would’ve been something to keep her bored mind occupied. Was this what hero-work really was? A bunch of waiting around in the hopes that something happened?

Neither of her two companions reacted to what she had said, and she kept her eyes on the crowed below, trying to see if there was anyone she recognized.

 "Ouch," she grimaced at what she saw, gaining the attention of Artemis.

"What?" Artemis came over beside Morgan to look at the conference.

"That G. Gordon dude is down there,” Morgan said.

"Ugh, the xenophobe?” Artemis made a sound like she could barf.

"The very same.” Morgan frowned and moved the binoculars from her face, looking at Artemis with a serious face. “Should we throw him in the ocean?”

Artemis snickered at the suggestion.

"Sparrow," Nightwing's resigned voice carried over to the two women.

She looked up at her mentor with an air of innocence.

"Focus," he said with a stern voice.

"Killjoy," Morgan replied and stuck her tongue out, but she put her binoculars up to her eyes again and resumed her watch.

Another moment stretched on in silence. She started to feel the nerves she'd previously harbored from being on a mission slowly wane. She was beginning to doubt that any trouble would even come their way at all. Everything was peaceful and quiet. She used the opportunity to study the stars above them. The sun had almost fully set, leaving a purple sky behind with more and more stars coming out. Having lived most of her life in Gotham, she so rarely got to see any real amount of stars.

She remembered the last time she'd been stargazing. She'd been sitting in a tree with her mentor, eating pizza and talking about her past.

How very odd that seemed now. The very same guy was standing a few feet away, but at the same time, he felt like an entirely different person to her.

He'd been doing this for so long, Morgan wondered if he sometimes had trouble remembering which of his identities were mainly him.

And if it was even that simple.

"If nothing else, we have a nice view." Artemis said eventually. It seemed she was getting bored from the lack of action too.

Nightwing brought a hand up to his ear, activating the small earpiece.

"Miss M," he said. "Link us up."

Link established, came M'gann's voice suddenly in Morgan's head. She nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise. She'd heard about the mental link the Team used on missions, but she'd never tried it herself. A bit of a warning first would've been nice.

Good, said Nightwing, and she jumped even more at his voice than she had with M’gann’s.

Holy shit, that. Is. Creepy! Morgan exclaimed, not without enthusiasm, before she could stop herself. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken through the link, but then M’gann’s lilting laugh came through, and she quickly elaborated. And awesome. But I'm gonna have to get used to having all of you inside me.

Morgan froze when she realized what she’d just said, and what followed was a few seconds of dead silence, and then a snort of amusement from Connor. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nightwing drop his binocular and turn to look at her weirdly.

Inside my mind! she rectified quickly, her face flushing. I meant inside my mind!

Her and her big mouth.

Speaking of mouths, she could’ve kissed Nightwing when he immediately brought everyone back in track as he cut across the silence.

Begin aerial sweep of the cape's perimeter, he told Miss Martian and Superboy.

Hey boss, I'd be happy to join my Angelfish on that assignment, Lagoon Boy said casually from his perch below the water.

Morgan really, really needed to get used to this psychic link thing.

Negative, Lagoon Boy, Nightwing answered, sounding tense. He clearly had hoped to avoid all this couple drama on his mission, and the psychic link wasn’t helping. With you in the water, we’re got maximum coverage of the site, in case there's any attempt at sabotage.

Wait, so how does this link thing work? Morgan asked, wondering if she was doing it right. Do I get to decide which of my thoughts you guys hear or is it just everything going through my head?

It's easier once you get used to it, but you can sort out which thoughts you want us to hear, M'gann helpfully explained.

Got it.

Guys, focus, came Nightwing's annoyed voice.

God, he’s so uptight on missions, Morgan thought.

Nightwing turned a glare in her direction, and she realized he had heard her.

See, that would be a great example of a thought I had meant to keep to myself, she said across the link, smiling innocently at her mentor. Artemis began laughing, which only strengthened Nightwing’s glare.

Hearing Nightwing's voice inside her head was such a weird thing. She'd imagined it several times before, actually. Whenever she was fighting any criminals, she remembered all the advice he'd given her during training, repeating them in her head in his voice as she fought. It helped her to stay focused.

But that hadn't been like this at all. Right now, it was the actual Nightwing talking straight to her mind.

Silence fell, both on the link and between the three people on the platform.

Morgan kept her eyes glued to the ground below them, determined to do a good job. She'd already been acting unprofessionally so far, and she wanted, needed, more than ever to prove to her mentor that she totally had this. She could be serious – she was just excited about being here, surely he could understand that!

"I know.. that Wally isn’t super happy with me right now," Nightwing suddenly spoke up, leaving Morgan surprised that he'd be the first person to break the silence. "But it’s nice to have you back."

"It's nice to be back." Artemis admitted, drawing out her bow from her quiver and studying it in her grip. "It’s been so long, I think I forgot how it feels, really.”

Morgan groaned lightly to herself and turned back around to continue looking out over the horizon, pretending she couldn’t hear their conversation. It clearly wasn’t meant for her to join, anyway.

“And that’s what Wally’s afraid of, I think. He’s not angry at you; it’s me he doesn’t trust. He’s worried that the rush that comes with the mask will get its hooks in, and I won't give it up until my dying day."

"I know what that feels like,” Nightwing responded so wistfully it made Morgan turn her head to study her mentor.

He had been a hero for more than half of his life, she realized. He was so deep in, he probably couldn't quit, even if he wanted.

Which, judging by the look on his face right now, he didn't.

She couldn't decide if that was sad or not. It struck her that leading this sort of double life didn't really leave much time to have a normal life with a family and a day job. Did he ever wish for normalcy? Probably not – there was a good chance he had no idea what normal even felt like. No, it seemed like Dick was born to become Nightwing.

And what about her? Morgan had been drawn to the idea of the hero life, to the idea of never having to live a normal life. As she looked at the two more seasoned heroes before her, however, she wondered if perhaps it was a blessing, to not be so deep in that quitting felt impossible. If she kept going, would she feel like they did eventually? And when? In a few years? Months?

For now, she was glad that she felt like she could still choose differently, if she wished it.

It made her sad to realize that her mentor might not have the same freedom of choice anymore.

Whoa. Lagoon Boy's voice in her mind broke Sparrow out of her train of thought. Heads up minnows. We got bad guys. Black Manta's troopers working some kind of platform beneath the surface just offshore.

Morgan felt her nerves return. So, there was going to be a fight.

I'm taking them down! Lagoon Boy said with urgency.

Not yet, Nightwing stopped him, voice calm. Don’t engage alone. Wait for backup.

I'll scrounge a rebreather from the cargo hold and help the rookie out, Superboy's moody voice answered.

Rookie? Neptune's beard! I don't need any help from the boy of steel! Lagoon Boy raged, and Morgan was sure he was already betraying orders and heading straight for the enemy.

Lagoon Boy! Stand down! Nightwing ordered firmly. Sparrow felt her nerves rise further as she saw his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

Sorry, you're breaking up, Lagoon Boy replied, and he followed the lie up with a series of fake-sounding static noises.

There's no static on a psychic link! Nightwing exasperated voice pointed out.

Morgan would have laughed at the indignation in his voice and Lagoon Boy's stupidity if the entire situation hadn't been so frustrating and potentially dangerous. She knew Black Manta was serious business. She knew what the group had caused of personal loss on the Team. Despite never having met him, Kaldur’ahm’s betrayal hung like a ghost over the Team even to this day.

Nightwing had told her long ago that every mission had a hiccup. An unexpected turn of events.

She realized Lagoon Boy going rogue must’ve been their hiccup.

Nightwing growled out loud in frustration and clenched his hands around the binoculars. He must’ve felt useless, being too far away to help their reckless teammate.

"We've got company!" Artemis pointed at the seaside below them. Nightwing and Sparrow hurried to her side, where they spotted the dozen black-clad soldiers emerging from the water.

Artemis fired another wired arrow at the wall built around the perimeter of the satellite launch site and, much as she'd done when she left the Bio ship, she used her bow to glide down towards the ground.

"I need you to stay up here," Nightwing turned towards Sparrow. "As our look out."

Morgan wanted to tell him that was bullshit – they had Superboy as a look out already. But she knew it was an excuse to make sure she stayed out of direct contact with the enemy. There were a lot of them, and they were trained fighters.

She wanted to protest. She really did.

But Nightwing already had one rogue member on his team as it was. He didn't need two.

She squared her jaw and nodded, a severe look on her face.

He smiled gratefully and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

Superboy, you have that rebreather? Nightwing asked through the link.

Negative. someone forgot to restock, Superboy said.

Then take the helm, Nightwing responded. Miss Martian, gill up and help Lagoon Boy. Superboy, we need cover fire down here.

Morgan was amazed at how well and how quickly he took control of the situation, somehow managing to balance all the different things that were going on. He made it seem almost effortless.

Acknowledged. Miss Martian responded. Bio-ship reconfigured for manual flight.

Nightwing turned to Sparrow again and she snapped to attention.

“Morgan, just..” his tone was suddenly a strange mix of emotions. He appeared to fight some internal battle, but then he sighed and looked at her. She tried to read his face, though it was a futile endeavor. She suspected she wouldn’t have had much luck, even if he hadn’t worn a mask.

“You’ll be alright,” he said, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than her.

Then, he jumped over the side of the tower and ziplined down the same way Artemis had gone.

She kept her perch on the platform, keeping an anxious eye on her mentor and the archer below. The bio ship swooped down and released a volley of stunning shots, and a few of the bad guys fell down as they were hit. The rest scattered as they attempted to escape the line of fire.

That's our cue! Artemis yelled, and Morgan could see her make to jump over the steel wall.

No, no, not yet, you’re not clear! Morgan called over the link. From her position, she could see several of Manta’s soldiers still standing at attention.

At her warning, Nightwing leapt forward and pulled Artemis back down before she could vault herself over the wall.

I know you're rusty but are you trying to get yourself killed? he reprimanded the archer.

The good thing about the link was that Morgan didn’t feel out of the loop. The bad thing was that she knew how much she was missing out on.

Half a mile out at sea, Sparrow spotted a ball of fiery light erupt from the surface and soar into the sky. Grabbing her binoculars, she confirmed that a missile had, in fact, just been released from beneath the surface.

There's a missile coming our way, guys, she informed them, working to keep her mental voice calm.

Superboy! Nightwing commanded over the link.

That was all the other boy needed. On it, he reassured their leader as he turned the bio ship around and headed after the missile.

We're on the wrong side of this wall, Artemis pointed out.

Morgan wholeheartedly agreed. Sure, right now the wall was saving them from being shot by the enemy, but in a few moments, that very wall was supposed to stop the fire from the satellite launch from frying any unfortunate bystanders. Artemis and Nightwing would be nothing more than two spandex-clad crisps if they didn't get away.

She turned at the loud boom of an explosion and saw that Superboy had dealt with the missile. Fire and debris rained down on her, and she jumped back, shielding her face.

Sparrow, get down from the tower. It's no longer safe up there if they keep firing missiles, Nightwing ordered.

Coming! she quickly agreed and climbed over the railing, jumping off the building. She flew down quickly, aware that she was an easy target in the air. Landing about a hundred feet from her teammates, she ran towards them quickly.

As she reached his side, she sat in a crouch and looked expectantly at her mentor.

“What up?” she said, aiming for casual.

Behind them, a warning alarm came to life as the launch of the missile was initiated.

Morgan realized she might've chosen a bad place to touch ground.

“We’re really on the wrong side of this wall!” Artemis repeated, this time with more urgency.

Behind the wall, Morgan could hear a large explosion and she figured Superboy had taken down another missile. They were running out of time. By now, they choices were between getting shot or getting burned to death. Neither sounded particularly attractive, if you asked her. Morgan felt fear and urgency clench at her insides, and she looked to Nightwing for a solution. He had to know what to do, right?

“The troopers' helmets!” Artemis suddenly realized, pulling out a specific arrow from her quiver. “Designed to enhance vision under water, right?”

She fired the arrow into the sky and Morgan squinted as it erupted into a blinding beam of white light.

The soldiers all let out startled shouts as they found themselves blinded from the harsh light.

“Move!” Nightwing grabbed hold of Sparrow’s shoulder and pulled her up with him and Artemis. 

She beat her wings to gain enough momentum to launch herself over the wall, stirring the sand underneath her. Artemis and Nightwing jumped over the wall and immediately ran at the bad guys, taking advantage of their blinded foes. Morgan hovered in the air, preferring to do her job from up there. Gaining mental control of one of the soldiers, she threw him into the one next to him, sending both sprawling in the sand.

She aimed her mental focus on the other guy and pulled him up into the air in a harsh tug, watching as he crashed down into the first guy. Neither got up again.

A new score of missiles erupted out of the water in rapid succession. The bioship chased after them, but it was clear that there were simply too many for Superboy to take down at once, and inevitably, one slipped past his defenses.

Sparrow! Nightwing cried over the link, take out that missile!

Easier said than done. She wasn't even sure that she could take it out.

But Nightwing had given her an order. He'd placed his trust in her abilites. She would do her best to not let him down.

She flew towards the satellite and squared her shoulders, preparing herself for the missile heading in her direction, waiting for it to get close enough.

Once it did, she held out both arms, spreading her fingers wide, and threw them to the left, hoping it worked. She'd never tried to use her powers on something that big or with that much speed, and she had no idea what her chances were.

She breathed out a sigh of relief when the missile went off course and crashed onto the beach a few hundred feet to their left.

Good job, Nightwing praised her from below. Stay on the lookout for more of them.

Got it, she replied, keeping her eyes peeled. Her heart was still thundering in her ears, but she felt her mind sharpen, her focus unbreakable.

More missiles came her way, and they took all her focus. She heard the others speak over the psychic link, but she hardly heard what they were saying, only paying enough attention to know if she was being spoken to. Behind her, she could hear the countdown for the satellite launch, and it felt far too slow to her.

Couldn’t they just get the damn thing in the air already?

Her world zeroed in as it became her and the missiles. Her arms shook with the effort of keeping them from hitting the satellite, but she hardly cared. If she let even one of them through, then she’d let the bad guys win. All of their work would have been wasted.

She had to do this.

Morgna had no idea how much time had passed, when a terrible voice broke through her concentration, uttering a single word laced with pain and panic.

Artemis!

"Artemis!" Nightwing’s shout carried both through the air and the psychic link, and the combination made her head spin. She looked down at her teammates for the first time in several minutes, and the sight made her stutter and lose altitude as she forgot to use her wings.

Artemis had been stabbed.

By –

Kaldur’ahm?

How much had she missed?

Sparrow drifted to the ground, landing harshly, and tumbling over. Her body shook to the point that her wings barely worked. Neither did her legs, for that matter.

The Atlantean retracted his blade from Artemis’s abdomen and let her fall like a ragdoll. Nightwing was already sprinting towards them and caught her before she could hit the dirt.

"I got you," he spoke in a shaky voice. "Just- hang on. Hang on."

There was blood. So much of it. Morgan tried to get on her feet, but her shaking knees gave out again and it was all she could do not to faceplant right there on the shoreline.

She had to get up. Had to – do something.

Nightwing was focused on Artemis, but their enemy was still there. Someone had to keep kaldur’ahm from hurting anyone else while Nightwing treated Artemis.

Because she was going to be okay, right?

Right?

Artemis was just here as a one-time favor. She wasn't going to die, surely not.

Sparrow got up again and jogged towards them. She sent a telekinetic blast in Kaldur’ahm’s direction, and he stumbled back from it.

His cold, green eyes locked onto her form, and she shivered, but she kept running. She would not let herself get cowered.

"Move out!" Kaldur'ahm abruptly ordered his men. What, was he done watching his former teammate bleed to death? “The mission is a failure."

With a growl, Sparrow bound after him, fully intending to rip him apart. There was no way he got so simply slip-

“Sparrow, stand down!” Nightwing shouted after her, sounding so panicked that she stumbled over her own two feet. This time, she did faceplant into the sand.

She looked up just in time to see Kaldur’ahm disappear beneath the waves, and she punched the sand in fury.

Getting up onto her knees, she looked back at the carnage that was the satellite launch. Bonfires left behind by exploded missiles lay scattered across the landscape, and one of the construction towers had been destroyed.

At least, Sparrow weakly thought, the satellite launch was a success..

The remaining soldiers slipped back into the water, and Sparrow let them.

As she watched Nightwing perform CPR on Artemis, she couldn't help but wonder at what cost.

Above them, the satellite exploded into a mess of fire and mangled metal. She had thought it impossible, but her heart sank even lower into her stomach at the sight. They had failed.

After the explosion came silence. Her head started ringing as she slowly stumbled towards the two figures on the ground. Nightwing kept performing CPR, his voice cracking on every number he counted to. As she reached them and saw the amount of blood, her knees gave out for good, and she fell to the ground by Artemis’ feet.

Morgan wasn't sure when Superboy and Miss Martian had arrived, but suddenly the two of them stood behind Nightwing, watching with drawn, terrible faces.

“I-“ Connor halted, barely able to get the words out. “I don’t hear a heartbeat.”

Morgan felt her eyes, as if it could somehow shut out the horrors. Nightwing finished his count to thirty and then blew breath into Artemis’ mouth, but it changed nothing.

Falling back onto his behind, he leaned his head against his hands, taking a moment to gather himself.

“She’s.. she’s dead.”

The shock of the situation made Sparrow go numb, delaying her natural reaction.

Artemis was dead.

And it felt like Morgan couldn't even comprehend it.

She knew what she was supposed to do. She was supposed to cry like M'gann. Or let out a pained howl like Connor. Or slump over in the sand like Nightwing, sitting with a bowed head to hide his grief.

But she just sat there. Helplessly staring at the dead girl in front of her. Her mind completely unwilling to comprehend what was going on around her.

When her mentor let out an unsteady sigh, Morgan snapped somewhat back to attention. She felt tears well in her eyes and she welcomed the emotion they brought with them. Fury pushed numbness to the side, and she found her legs were steady once more. Getting up, she approached the others.

Morgan hesitantly reached a hand forward and placed it on Nightwing's shoulder in a weak attempt to comfort him. She hadn't known Artemis for very long, but the others had. They'd fought alongside the archer for years.

And now she was dead.

She didn’t deserve to die.

Nightwing didn't acknowledge the hand on his shoulder for a long while, but eventually he reached his own hand up to cover hers, taking in another shaky breath.

At the touch, she felt her fury die down, replaced by grief. The tears she’d kept back stubbornly started falling freely, and she let them tumble down her face and into the sand below.

Was the life of a hero worth this? Was all the camaraderie, the excitement, the meaningful work – was it worth this feeling?

Was she strong enough to withstand the pressure? The grief? The fear?

In the end, she'd been wrong. La'gaan going rogue had not been the hiccup.

This was.

Chapter Text

March 19^th

The bioship

Sparrow

Morgan didn't even notice that La’gaan was missing until they were almost home.

She'd been staring out the window, much like on their way to the launch site, only this time she wasn't excited and nervous. She was scared, angry and sad.

She’d done her uttermost best to avoid looking at the limp, green-clad figure lying on a raised dais in the middle of the ship. She’d never seen a dead body before, and she felt like she could already smell the decay. Her neck hurt from looking to her side for so long, but she didn’t dare move a muscle. It was like she knew, if she turned to look, she’d see Artemis’ ghost hover above her dead body.

Leaving the body on the floor had seemed too harsh, so M'gann had made the ship form a simple dais for her dead friend, and now she lay like a grim, morbid statue in the middle of the ship.

"Where's La'gaan?" Morgan whispered with a hoarse voice into the empty silence of the ship. The only continuous sound in the ship since they'd taken flight was M'gann's sobbing.

At the mention of her vanished boyfriend, the Martian only sobbed harder. Morgan's face drew into an apologetic and miserable look as she realized she'd probably rubbed salt in an already bleeding wound.

In front of her, she could see Superboy’s shoudlers tense so hard they almost touched his ears, and she knew she wasn't likely to get an answer from him either.

She looked back at her mentor, who sat silently by the helm. M'gann had been too distraught to fly the bioship. The ship, apparently able to feel its master's distress, had simply refused to move from its spot and Nightwing had had to take over.

He met her eyes briefly before looking down at the floor, perhaps in mourning, perhaps in shame. Out of the three of her companions, he was the one who seemed to be holding up best. She realized that, as their leader, he probably had to. She also knew Dick had dealt with death before. Had he grown numb to it? Surely not. She knew how much he cared for the Team. If his behavior as her mentor was any indication, he saw it as his responsibility to keep everyone safe – she knew this had to hit him hard.

Did he blame himself? She wasn’t sure if she liked that thought. Even as she sat there, unsure if she didn’t also blame him.

Artemis had quit the life. Morgan had heard their conversation – she had only been there today because Nightwing had persuaded her to come.

"He was taken by Black Manta's men," Nightwing told her eventually.

She’d already guessed as much, but she still felt a fresh wave of tears well up in her eyes at their disastrous mission, and she leaned her elbows onto the table in front of her, her head resting in her palms. Her hair fell around her features, hiding her tears and gritted teeth from view.

Morgan was almost certain that she'd never felt this miserable before. She'd been devastated when she'd run away from home. She'd been deeply affected when her father had told her that he was the reason for her wings.

But those two scenarios seemed to pale in comparison to the overwhelming sorrow she felt right now.

Brief acquaintance or not, Artemis had been a teammate. And maybe even a friend.

And Lagoon Boy, for all his anger and weird ways, was her friend. And he was gone too. Maybe already dead as well.

Morgan forced herself to not think like that. If not for herself, then at least for M'gann. M'gann hadn't just lost one of her best friends tonight, she'd also lost her boyfriend.

Morgan had to believe that Lagoon Boy would come back to them somehow.

Could she have done something to stop this? Maybe if Nightwing hadn’t brought her along, but someone more capable, someone who had experience –

No, she couldn’t blame herself. None of this had been her choice – none of it had been her responsibility. If she found a way to blame herself, she’d drive herself mad with it.

She felt hate stir in her heart, an ugly, dark ball of emotion.

She knew who to blame – really.

Kaldur’ahm.

Once they arrived back at Mount Justice, everybody from the Team was already there. She didn’t ask, but she could only assume Nightwing had sent out a memo on their way back. Always the man with the overview. He disappeared through the zeta tube the moment they arrived, and she felt a sting of anger in her chest as she watched his broad back disappear. She almost went after him but stopped herself when she realized why she didn’t want him to go – she didn’t want him to leave her. Not now. She needed him – and maybe she had hoped he needed her a little bit too.

Was he so callous to not even stay for a bit?

Once he was gone, she stood in the garage, unsure what to do. What now?

She wanted to go hide in her room and cry her heart out in private, where no one else got to see her weakness. But as if they were all led by a hivemind, everyone flocked together in the living room and the kitchen and mourned together. As a team.

Morgan didn't want to. She didn't like to deal with sadness in front of others. It was the same reason she couldn't go back to the Cave after her talk with her dad.

But she stayed. The Team was mourning together, and she was part of the Team. She lingered by the wall behind the couch, to have as few eyes on her as possible, and stood with her head bowed low, to hide behind her hair. She still felt like she was in shock. Some part of her refused to understand the reality of what had happened.

M’gann sat on the couch, surrounded by her sobbing friends. Connor stood off to the side, looking like he, just as Morgan, wanted to leave.

During the half hour Morgan stood by the wall, several of her Teammates came to her. Everyone knew she’d been part of the mission, just as M’gann and Connor, and they tried to offer sympathy, a listening ear, a hug – whatever she needed. They must’ve all understood that a teammate so new as her, so untried, would’ve been deeply traumatized by what she’d seen.

She allowed the hugs mechanically and pretended to listen to whatever words were spoken to her. In her mind, she kept struggling with the why. How could Kaldur’ahm have done this? Hadn’t they been friends? How could he forsake years of friendship just because he found out his dad was evil?

Did parentage really matter so much? And if it did, what did that mean for her?

Through her numb mind, she registered Mal asking where Nightwing had gone. His usually calm voice was colored with anger, and she understood why. Nightwing was their leader. He should’ve been there with the rest of them – the entire Team was here. So where was he?

“He should be here,” Mal ground out. Morgan felt the anger in her chest blaze higher.

Connor sighed and looked to his feet.

“He went to.. to tell Wally.”

Oh.

Of course.

She felt foolish for a moment for being so caught up in her own shock and sadness that she’d forgotten other people were going to feel much worse. Other people needed Nightwing more than she did.

Morgan pushed off the wall and quietly slipped out of the room. As she rushed down the hall, she felt the tight lid she’d kept on her emotions start to give, and her hurried walk turned into a run. Reaching one of the secret exits to the mountain side, she burst through the door and flew out blindly. Her eyes swam with unshed tears and she flew directly into a tree as a result.

“Oouf!” she gasped when all air knocked out of her, and her face stung when she smacked it directly into the rough bark of the large pine.

Dropping like a stone, she sat in front of the tree for a moment, gasping through her tears. The physical pain distracted only a moment from the internal torment. It felt like a ball in her chest, growing steadily bigger, until it threatened to cut off her airflow.

Once it got so big that it choked her, she let out a shuddering gasp and released the first sob. She sat there for a while, ugly, loud sobs and wails shaking her body. Always, she kept one eye on the door she’d come from. She had to believe she was alone up there, because the thought of someone seeilng her like this was horrible.

But she couldn’t stop it. The floodgates were open, and they refused to close back up.

She must’ve sat like that for at least half an hour before she managed to get the tears back under her control. Her body still shook with sobs, but she made no more sounds.

Morgan rubbed at the tears on her face, and as her hand came back down, it was stained red. Feelings around her tender face, she discovered that she had split her eyebrow during her crash into the tree, and she aimed a glare at the stupid pine that had been in her way.

Not caring how childish it felt, she got up and kicked the thick trunk. It had felt cathartic, giving movement to the whirlwind of her feelings. The grief had died down from her long cry, moving over to her fury once more.

She thought of Kaldur’ahm’s evil face, his cold eyes flashing like steel as he disappeared beneath the dark waves, and she punched the tree. She put her telekinesis behind the punch, and the tree shook.

She thought of Nightwing walking away without so much as a word, and she punched the tree again. A section of the bark cracked and fell to the ground.

She thought of Artemis talking about the Life getting it’s hooks back into her, and Morgan punched the tree so hard it left a splintering dent. Despite her telekinesis protecting her hand, the skin on her knuckles was starting to break.

This was another reason she’d left the Cave – she knew when she got sad, she got angry. She’d lashed out before, and it hadn’t been pretty. She distinctly remembered when she was ten and one of her classmates had been making fun of her for her dad leaving. She’d beat them up in her fury and almost gotten expelled, if her friends hadn’t been there to support her claim that the other student had started it.

She wished this wasn’t her coping mechanism. It was ugly and it should’ve been below her.

But she was just. So. Angry.

She punched the tree again, and pain shot up her arm. Was she even using her telekinesis anymore? She had no idea. She’d lost control of it a long time ago.

She wished she had the same level of restrain as many of the others. Superboy was usually an angry person, but even he had just stood against the wall with a tense expression on his face.

Was she the only one that had so little control, that she needed to go maim a tree?

She punched it again and her knuckles groaned from the abuse.

It didn’t matter – she simply switched to her other hand.

With labored breathing, she forced herself to stop. Her hands were torn and scratched to hell, and her face still stung. She could feel her eyebrow swelling up and she wondered if she’d given herself a black eye.

The exercise had calmed her somewhat. At least to the point where she no longer desired to punch her hands into bloody stumps.

She flew off, locating a specific tree on the slope. It overlooked the ocean, which was serene and beautiful, despite the storm raging inside of her.

It was the same tree she'd sat in when she and Nightwing had eaten pizza together. Now, she sought it out for its privacy and quiet.

Finding the very same branch that she'd sat on the first time, she landed on it and stayed there. Her hands throbbed as she looked at silvery moonlight playing in the waves, but she ignored them stubbornly. The pain was grounding, and it kept her mind distracted.

However, when the pain had not subsided after half an hour, Morgan relented and looked at her bloody hands, inspecting the knuckles.

She hissed in pain and annoyance as she began the slow labor of picking dirt and bark out of the tender wounds she had sustained. Using her hands was rough, but she powered through it, aware that this was entirely her own fault.

She had antiseptic bandages in her belt, but she knew it was going to sting like hell, and so she sat for a while and waited for courage to arrive.

"Let me," came another voice, and she nearly fell out of the tree in surprise. She turned and saw Connor hoist himself up onto the branch that had been Nightwing’s. How had she not heard him climb up the tree? He wasn’t exactly known for his stealth and grace.

He motioned for her to hand over the bandages and her bloodied hands, and she hesitated for a moment before allowing it.

“This’ll sting,” he told her.

“Obviously,” she responded and grimaced when her voice was barely more than a deep croak. He looked up at her with sharp, discerning eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

Connor placed the wet bandage over her sore knuckles, and Morgan nearly fell out of the tree for the second time in a minute.

“Motherfucker!” she cried, biting into her lip, and resisting the urge to kick him out of the tree in revenge for the pain.

He made sure the adhesive edges lay flat against her skin, sealing the wounds completely in the bandage.

“The other,” he said, and she was a lot more hesitant in offering him her other hand.

With more hissing and cursing, the other hand was bandages too.

"How did that happen?" he asked, fixing his serious eyes onto her. “I didn’t see you get hurt on the mission.”

Morgan shrugged and leaned back against the trunk of the tree, staring out over the ocean.

"I punched a tree.. Twenty times."

Connor nodded and trained his own eyes towards the horizon. She was relieved that he didn’t seem to think something was wrong with her for reacting like she had.

"This was your second mission, right?"

"Yeah." She wasn't sure why it mattered, but she confirmed it anyway.

"I'm sorry it went the way it did," he told her. "You shouldn't have had to experience this kind of thing so early on."

Morgan wondered why he was worrying about her when she was sure some of the others were in much worse shape. She hadn't even known Artemis that well. Surely his sympathy was needed more somewhere else.

Maybe he'd also left the Cave to deal with his sorrow on his own and he’s simply happened upon her.

"I never should've been allowed on that mission," she admitted, anger seeping into her tone even as she tried to keep it out. "I know I've been eager to go on missions for a long time, but I'm starting to think I'm not actually ready. At all."

"I don’t think that’s true,” Connor told her, to her great surprise. “Up until that last moment, you did great. No one’s ever ready for a mission where they lose a teammate.”

"No one should have to experience that," Morgan said behind clenched teeth.

There was silence for a small moment before she felt the need to fill it. Connor looked relaxed, but she feared the silence.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she mumbled, drawing her legs up towards her torso. "I didn't know Ar-her as well as you did, but she seemed like a good person."

She couldn’t get her name past her lips.

"One of the best," Connor quietly agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment longer and then he turned to her.

“Will you be okay?” he asked, and if her eyebrow hadn’t been so swollen, it would’ve risen high on her forehead.

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about the people who knew her.”

He shot her a critical look that she staunchly ignored.

“Get those hands checked out tomorrow when you have the time. Don’t pretend to forget.”

He started to climb back down the tree, and she let him.

Connor was halfway down the tree again when Morgan forced herself to speak up.

"Connor?" she called out.

There was a pause in which she could hear his movements still.

"Thanks," she said.

There was a long silence before she heard him resume his downwards climb.

"You're welcome,” he answered, and then he started climbing again.

He was gone a moment later, and Morgan sat immobile on her perch, all alone again.

When the moon was starting to wane and the eastern sky slowly turned pink and orange, Morgan, body cold and stiff, got down from the tree and went back inside. She collapsed on her bed and allowed sweet, blissful sleep to take over, grateful for a few hours of numbness.

March 21^st

Mount Justice

Morgan

She'd been dreaming about it. Over and over for the past two nights.

Dreaming about that cold face with the glowing blue knife, stabbing all her teammates. First it was Artemis. Then Tim. Then M'gann. She'd even been on the receiving end of the knife herself a few times.

In every dream, she was powerless to stop him. There were different versions, though all had the same outcome. She was too far away. She had her back turned until it was too later. Her telekinesis didn’t work. Her legs were broken.

One of the most disturbing versions was when Nightwing held her back. He would tell her that it was meant to happen, and force her to watch as Kaldur’ahm sliced one of her friends in half.

Then, they would die. Because Nightwing had wanted them to.

Worse were the dreams where Nightwing was the one getting stabbed. As he lay bleeding out, he would turn to her and tell her not to save him. That this was part of the plan.

She wasn't sure which one of the two dreams made her feel worse. Nightwing dying was one of her worst nightmares, but Nightwing letting somebody else die when he could've stopped it? That also made her feel extremely terrible. What was her subconscious trying to tell her?

She would wake in an exhausted stupor several times during the night. She’d toss and turn in a state between slumber and waking, and then she’d go back under before she got the chance to wake up fully and put an end to the horrible dreams. Then, the nightmares would restart.

She’d woken up in the early hours of the morning, feeling worn and not at all like she’d rested. A cold shower was the only thing that could rouse her muddled brain somewhat.

At least she didn't have any classes today. She looked like death and she didn't need Rachel and Esmeralda to bug her about it. Mal had treated her knuckles, though she was to keep them bandaged for now.

Slowly dragging her tired body out of her room, clad in a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts, she left the Cave and went for a long jog along the beach next to it.

Her muscles protested as she ran, but she ignored them.

The jog gave her time to think.

She knew she was dealing with the Artemis’ death well. She felt cast adrift.

She was angry with Nightwing. Furious. He had been at the Cave most of the day before, but not once had he tried to talk to her. She knew she was being unreasonable – after all, she hadn’t tried to talk to him either.

She was ashamed to admit it, but part of her blamed him for Artemis' death. She knew how incredibly unfair it was. Knew that Artemis had chosen to go on that mission. Artemis had known the risks.

And yet..

And yet, Artemis wouldn't have been there if Nightwing hadn't asked her to join them.

Did he blame himself too? He gave no indication. Yesterday, he had been a lot more quiet than usual, but he had seemed himself.

She wondered if that was his way of dealing with sorrow. Pretend it wasn't there. Push it under the rug until the ache dulled so much, he forgot about it.

She mused about how often he might’ve been sad about something these past few months and she hadn't even noticed it because he was that good at hiding his emotions. Hell, maybe she was just not very good at reading him. Maybe his sorrow was obvious to everyone else.

By the time Morgan arrived back at the Cave, sweaty, out of breath, and utterly exhausted, some of the others were up and about.

Even though she didn't have much of an appetite, she forced herself to eat a bowl of cereal.

When she was done, she walked back to her room and collapsed in her bed, hoping that the run had, by some miracle, tired her out enough for her to sleep without the nightmares.

She slept for another two hours. But it was an uneasy, restless sleep that didn't make her feel much better. Rather, when she woke up she felt like her brain had been swapped with cotton, and her heavy limbs felt numb.

Through sheer force of will, she made herself get up and into her shower for the second time that day. Another cold shower helped a little to dispel her exhaustion – the second-best option short of injecting caffeine straight into her blood stream.

Standing under the showerhead, she focused all of her attention on the cold water soaking into her hair and down her body, finding that the sensation somehow managed to distract her from the otherwise constant picture of Artemis getting stabbed that seemed to play on a loop in her mind.

Why was she coming apart at the seams like this?

Many of the people that knew Artemis far better than Morgan were already getting back on track. They were sad but collected.

Maybe it was because they'd experienced death before and had learned that the best way to deal with it was to plow on and move forward.

She remembered talking to Nightwing about this once before. That the heroes were made from a different cloth – that they had some drive that let them keep going, even through pain.

Maybe she had been right then, when she’d feared that she wasn’t cut from that same cloth. Maybe she was too weak to make it.

Maybe she wasn't hero material. Maybe she'd never be.

She forced herself to stop thinking about it as she got out of the shower and dried herself off before slipping into a pair of jeans and a large hoodie.

It wasn't until she'd finished dressing that she realized it was the exact same articles of clothing she'd worn when she had first arrived at the Cave. She could appreciate the bitter irony in this.

It was like her subconscious wanted her to leave.

The thought was scary, though, and she went and sat on her bed, holding her legs tightly to her chest like she was scared they’d suddenly carry her off against her will.

Two hours later, knowing that hiding away in her room wouldn't make her feel any better, Morgan slipped out and walked aimlessly around the Cave, partly hoping to find some of the others, partly hoping she wouldn't.

The part that hoped she wouldn't was severely disappointed when she happened upon Karen and Barbara.

"Hey Morgan," Karen greeted her with a worn voice.

"Hi guys," Morgan responded, inwardly winching at how exhausted she sounded. She hadn’t spoken once yesterday, and now her voice cracked from lack of use. She could see the two women were dressed in civilian clothing and looking like they were heading out. "Where are you going?"

"Rocket's bachelorette party," Barbara explained, slinging her sports bag over her shoulder. "We've been planning it for some time. Since before.. "

She trailed off.

"We didn’t want to cancel,” Krane took over when Barbara stopped talking. “This was the last available day, and Raquel deserves a celebration.. even in spite of recent events..”

"Oh," Morgan simply responded. What else was there to say, really? She could understand why they’d want to distract themselves, even if she thought a celebration right now was callous.

The two women exchanged a look.

"Do you want to come?" Barbara offered. "I'm sure Raquel wouldn't mind. We all need a day off."

Morgan froze for a moment, her mind reeling as she frantically searched for an excuse to get out of the invitation. The very last thing she wanted was to have them haul her melancholy ass to a party that she wasn’t even supposed to be at.

"I would," she slowly began, burying her hands in the pockets of her hoodie as she stared at the floor. "But I've only ever met Rocket, like, once, so.."

She shrugged and scuffed her shoe against the floor. She couldn't help but think that the only reason they invited her was because there was an extra seat at their table now, one that had been meant for another blonde.

“I’ll sit this one out. I’m not really in the mood. Sorry.”

"Hey, it's okay," Barbara said gently, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. "We'll do something tomorrow, okay? Go into town and get an ice cream or something."

"You don't have to. I'm fine." Morgan absolutely hated feeling like a burden. She hated that Barbara apparently felt like it was her responsibility to cheer her up.

"We know we don't have to, Morgan,” Karen rolled her eyes. “We're offering because we want to."

Morgan found herself absolutely stumped, like the thought that the other girls would want to spend time with her hadn’t even entered her mind.

"Oh."

"We'll see you later." The two of them gave her kind smiles.

She nodded, wetting her bottom lip in thought. "I'll see you."

A strange weight settled in her chest as she watched them walk away. She'd been at the Cave for months now and still sometimes found herself feeling like a total stranger to the others. Why did she have such a hard time accepting that she was welcomed? Why did their friendship seem like such an impossibility to her, when the truth was that they probably didn’t even doubt whether they were friends of not?

Had all of the movie nights or boardgame afternoons meant nothing to Morgan? The dinners and midnight talks?

Morgan started to feel guilty when she realized that she'd taken their friendship for granted by assuming it didn't exist.

She had to do better, she resolved as she resumed her aimless wandering.

As it had happened so many times before, Morgan heard Mal's voice carrying down the hall before he came into view.

"Every available Atlantean soldier is looking for Lagoon Boy, according to Aquaman," she heard him say as she rounded a corner and the mission room came into view. She paused by the entrance, unwilling to enter when she saw Nightwing was there as well.

Mal and Connor stood together in front of a holographic screen with Nightwing a little ways off, listening in but not quite joining the conversation.

"We'll find La'gaan," Connor reassured Mal, placing a hand on the taller man's shoulder. “We have to.”

"And Kaldur," Mal seethed. "I want his fish head on a platter after what he did to Artemis!"

Morgan had rarely seen Mal upset. To see him this angry and vengeful was scary, despite that fact that he was the most harmless person in the Cave at any given time. In the beginning, Morgan had wondered what the perfectly normal teenager was doing with a bunch of superpowered beings, but she'd quickly learned that his role as squad supervisor on missions was just as important as the work the squads did. He and Nightwing kept the Team together. She could only hope their relationship hadn’t been fractured by this. She’d seen how angry Mal appeared to have been at Nightwing two days ago. The tension between them had been frosty all of yesterday.

She wasn’t sure if Mal blaming Nightwing too made her feel better or worse. Did it make her feel justified? Or did she feel that she was betraying her mentor by not sticking up for him?

She found the courage to look at her mentor. He had begun to move, and he meet her eyes briefly before he slipped out of the room. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she had no idea what it meant anymore. She was angry with him but.. well, she knew that hadn’t removed the feelings she unfortunately carried for him still. She had to assume he was hurting, and through the cloud of her own pain, she wished she could somehow make him feel better.

If only they were talking.

Connor sighed harshly, breaking her out of her thoughts. She started moving slowly across the room, not sure where she was heading.

“And I’m guess we still don’t have any news on the Light’s new partner?” As he turned, he realized Nightwing was gone, and he squared his jaw in frustration. "Where is everyone?"

"The girls are all going to Raquel’s bachelorette party,” Mal said. “The rest are.. down in the grotto.”

The grotto.

She should've known the others would be down there. The statue of Artemis had been put up today and many had wanted to go and pay their respects.

She had intentionally avoided the place but now she felt the need to go down there.

She'd been on the mission where things had happened. Going down there to at least acknowledge Artemis' sacrifice seemed like the right thing to do.

Maybe it would offer her some peace of mind?

Slipping down the hall, she headed for the lowest level of the Cave.

She walked slowly down the steel staircase, wrapping her arms around her body when the temperature dropped with each step. The grotto was silent, saw for her own footsteps and drops of condensation hitting the still lake at the back of the cavern.  

Morgan reached the bottom of the staircase by now. It was empty, except for Tim and Garfield, who stood in front of the newly installed memorial.

Three statues had become four.

Garfield and Tim both looked up at her arrival, and Garfield gave her a sad little smile before beckoning her closer. She accepted his invitation wordlessly, stepping up next to the two boys. Neither of them spoke, which she was grateful for. If one more person asked her how she was doing, she would start hitting people.

Maybe.. maybe she should ask the two guys how they were doing. That’s what a good friend would do, right?

But the moment they were sharing felt peaceful. The others hadn’t spoken – surely it would be wrong to break the quiet.

She spent several minutes looking across the grotto, studying every aspect of it except the new memorial.

As she finally forced herself to look up at the green-clad statue, she felt the lump in her throat grow bigger.

She swallowed in a vain attempt to get rid of it, and looked away.

Then she steeled her nerves and looked at it again. Forced herself to keep her eyes trained on the memorial.

Her hands shook unexpectedly, and she clenched them together, stuffing them into the front pocket of her hoodie.

Morgan sighed.

"Screw this,” she said, and the words seemed to bounce loudly across the silent space.

Tim looked at her. "What?"

"Nothing," she responded. She'd spent so long forcing herself to look at the statue, she’d almost forgotten she wasn't alone. "I just.. don't understand why I thought doing this was going to make me feel any better."

He never got the chance to respond to her statement because as soon as she'd said it, Morgan turned on her heel and walked out of the grotto.

March 22^nd

Gotham University

Dick

The sky outside had been clear half an hour ago, but now rain clouds were rolling in, heavy and dreary in a way they could only be in Gotham. It had been light before, but now the library had darkened so much, the automatic lights came on.

Dick sighed and turned away from the windows, trying to move his focus back onto the screen in front of him.

What had he been working on?

Right, some essay that was due tomorrow.

Across from him, his study partner Michele shot him his third worried look of the afternoon.

Dick ignored him and pretended to type something on the essay, though he was really just typing and deleting the words ‘terrible friend’ over and over.

On their own accord, his eyes traveled across the library and settled on a figure sitting four tables over. She had a large stack of books on the table in front of her, as well as an open computer. They were all untouched as she sat, still as a statue, with a bowed head. She had a pen in her hand, though she had yet to write anything down.

Morgan looked like she hadn’t slept for days, her skin pale and her eyes bloodshot. Dick couldn’t remember her getting hurt on the mission, but her hands were wrapped in bandages, and she had a black eye and a split eyebrow, which thankfully looked to be healing nicely.

But she looked like a shell of herself. Broken and defeated. The spark, the stubborn glint that usually blazed in her eyes, had dimmed to a tiny ember.

God, he was failing as a mentor. He regretted bringing her on that mission. What had he been thinking?

Even now, he wanted to go over there and talk to her, ask her how she was doing – if there was anything he could do to ease this load she carried. But it was clear she didn’t want to talk to him. Whenever she’d entered a room and found him in it, she had turned on her heel to escape him.

“Trouble in paradise?” Michele’s voice cut across his miserable thoughts.

Dick realized he’d been staring forlornly at Morgan.

He shook his head and sent his friend a terse smile.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, leafing through a few pages of the book he was supposed to be reading from.

“Really? Because you look like you’re afraid to talk to her, and she looks like she was in a car crash.”

“Kickboxing accident,” he quickly responded. “We went to kickboxing together and she’s mad at me because I accidentally got her in the face.”

What a terrible excuse.

“That’s horrible. You never hit your girlfriend, dude.”

“I didn’t hit her; it was a spar that went wrong. She’s begged me for months to join some of my training. She’s just mad because she lost.”

Michele looked at him with disdain and Dick began typing on the computer again, this time trying to write something actually related to the work he was meant to be doing.

God, these few days had been rough.

Dick hadn't had such a row of lousy days since Jason had died.

And this was a much different lousy.

Jason's death had made him feel horrible for weeks. He'd mourned and cried and beaten up so many bad guys so harshly that he'd sent several of them to the hospital in his anger.

But he'd never felt responsible. He'd known that Jason's death wasn't his fault, he hadn't been involved in that incident at all.

But this time..

This time, even though nobody had died, the absolutely crushing weight of the guilt he felt almost brought him to his knees. He kept reminding himself that he was doing this for the greater good. Artemis was alive and undercover, helping him and Kaldur bring an evil organization to its knees.

But that didn't help much whenever he saw a member of his team stare off in the distance with tears in their eyes, whenever somebody went down to the Grotto to look at her memorial.

Whenever he could feel angry eyes on him.

To be fair, not many people had blamed him. It had mostly been Morgan and Mal. For the first day, Mal had been angry with him, but he’d come around. Mal knew playing the blame-game wasn’t going to bring Artemis back. He knew the two of them had to be able to work together, to keep the Team functioning.

The first heavy drops of rain hit the large, gilded windows of the building, and he watched them race down the glass. Soon, the downpour was heavy and the outside world became a blur.

No, Mal had dropped the issue quickly. The two of them had talked it through, and it turned out Mal had mostly been angry about Nightwing not being there when the Team had gathered.

Morgan was another story entirely.

Three days had passed since Artemis' staged death.

Three days, and Morgan hadn't uttered a word to him.

She blamed him for it. He could tell.

He knew that she felt bad about it, too. She was so easy for him to read, and the strangest part was that she didn’t seem to even realize it.

That didn’t mean he understood the logic. She was angry with him, but she was angry with herself too, for being angry. Dick was sure he could train her for a decade and still not understand how her mind worked.

What nobody in the Cave knew was that Artemis' 'death' was entirely his fault. After all, Kaldur, Artemis and Dick had staged the whole thing since the beginning.

He had to believe the Team would recover once they found out the truth. The three of them knew that this would hurt their friends. But Dick just couldn’t risk it. Not when there was a mole on the Team. Not when their enemies had a secret partner that they still knew nothing about.

There was too much at stake. He had to think about the fate of the world – being the leader of the Team didn’t mean he had to be popular, it meant he had to get results.

He hated carrying this secret when he knew the truth would help the people he cared about. Yet, he dreaded the moment the truth would come out, too. When his friends would discover that he'd been operating behind their backs and let them believe one of their friends had been killed..

Some of them would probably never forgive him. Some of them might never feel comfortable trusting him again.

Being a leader means having to make hard choices for the greater good, Dick reminded himself.

He knew that. But it didn't make him feel any less guilty about lying to all the people he trusted and worked with. All his friends.

“Alright, I’m going home,” Michele sighed. He got up and started packing up his things. “You’re not getting any work done, and your moping is seriously distracting.”

Dick didn’t even answer, he just watched his classmate pack up and leave.

He sat for another ten minutes, brewing in the doubt and the confusion.

He wished Batman was here. Bruce would tell him he was on the right track.

Was that comforting, though?

He got up and threw his things carelessly into his backpack. He needed to get out of here. Weaving through bookshelves and tables, he stopped by the entrance and looked back at the small figure, sitting at a table alone. Morgan hadn’t moved from her position, but as he paused by the door, he saw her look up at him.

He held her eyes for a moment, and he almost made to go to her. Then, she looked down again and he felt a defeated breath rush out of him.

Marching down the halls, he resisted the urge to start running.

Batman had taught him long ago that a good leader wasn't necessarily a popular leader. A good hero wasn't necessarily a popular hero. No, it was someone who had the guts to do what was necessary without worrying about his own image. Bruce had long ago stopped caring what people thought of Batman. All he cared about was getting the job done.

The front doors burst open from his rough push, and harsh wind blew rain into his face. He didn’t care as he rushed down the street, allowing puddles to soak through his shoes.

Dick remembered telling Black Canary a long time ago that he didn't want to be like Batman. He didn’t have that drive to sacrifice everything for the mission – to sacrifice his friends for the greater good.

And yet – the thought chilled him – wasn't that exactly what he was currently doing?

Chapter Text

March 23^rd

Mount Justice

Morgan

She could feel sweat travel down from her hairline and across her forehead. With a grunt, Morgan quickly finished the set she was doing so she could wipe at her face. The gym was thankfully empty, except for her. Her body was already sore, but she kept going. These days, it felt like training was the only thing she had the headspace to throw herself into. Despite her poor sleep, despite her exhausted body – she just wanted to keep training. She’d even worn her Sparrow suit because she planned to go on a long flight later, to exercise her wings too. the benefit to wearing the mask was that no one could see how tired she was.

She might as well make up for the lack of sparring she got. Nightwing had yet to initiate any training since.. that day.

She got it – she did. Things had been chaotic afterwards. He was struggling. Hell, so was she. She was avoiding him too. So, she made up for it by training excessively.

Morgan got of the machine on shaking legs. Standing for a moment to stretch them out, she slapped and massaged at them to avoid cramping. Then she went to increase the weight on the machine before getting back on it.

“You’ll end up injuring yourself if you push your limits like that,” Nightwing said. She hadn’t heard him arrive, but the voice was unmistakable.

Dammit. He had cornered her – there was no way she could get out of the gym without making it obvious that she was trying to avoid him.

“I hate it when you do that,” she grunted as she tried to do press the lever up with the added weight. “Sneak up on me. Someone should put a bell on you.”

“Sorry, force of habit” he said, sitting down on the machine next to the leg-press she was using. He watched critically as she struggled to get her legs to move the lever. “Seriously, you should let yourself rest.”

“Can’t,” she got off the machine when she had to admit defeat. She’d reached the limit of her strength, but she’d be back later when her legs stopped burning. “Lots to do.”

She walked across the room to the shoulder press, making sure to sit so her back faced him.

“Morgan..” her eyes closed against the sound of him sighing her name like it was the source of all his frustration and sadness. “Talk to me. Please.”

She looked up at the handles on the machine and considered grabbing them to keep training and ignore her mentor. Surely, if she didn’t answer, he would go away. If that was what she really wanted?

Suddenly, her arms felt like lead, and she couldn’t get them to reach up and grab the handles. She sighed and wiped at her face again, and then she cautioned a small look at him over her shoulder.

She turned back around quickly at the sight of him.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Whatever it is you need to say.”

She sighed as the last of her fight seeped out of her.

“I don’t know what it is I need to say,” she admitted, clenching her fists at how small her voice came out.

“Then let me start,” he offered. “I’m sorry about what happened that day. I’m sorry for not helping you get through it afterwards. That wasn’t something you should’ve had to deal with on your own. As your mentor-“

“I didn’t deal with it on my own,” she interrupted him quickly. “The entire Team was there, except for you. I talked to Connor about it. And then Karen and Barbara over ice cream.”

“Oh,” he said, with a strange voice. “That’s.. good.”

Morgan’s legs shook so bad she could barely get off the machine she sat on, but she forced herself to get up. It felt weird, talking to him with her back turned.

Right as she turned, her legs seized in a cramp, and she let out a hissing breath before dropping like a stone.

Nightwing was by her side on the floor in an instant.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes roving over her body to find the source of her pain.

“Cramp,” she admitted, the muscles in her thighs tightening and locking to the point of pain.

“Can I?” he asked, hands hovering over her outstretched legs.

“By all means,” she said with a clenched jaw. Anything for the cramps to go away.

He reached forward and put pressure on her thighs, massaging them one by one until the tightness disappeared. She could only assume he must’ve had training because his movements were precise and effectful.

As she watched him work, she felt the tight ball of emotions in her chest start to dissipate. What exactly had she hoped to achieve by avoiding him? Even with his mask on, she could tell he was tired. He looked worn, and his hair was greasy like he hadn’t had the time or energy to shower for days.

She wasn’t the only one struggling.

“I guess you were right; I was overdoing it,” she sighed once the pain had gone. “I’ll take a break.”

“Give your body a rest tomorrow. If you’re still sore, skip the day after too. Peak physical condition isn’t just about getting as strong as possible as quickly as possible. You need to know when to take a break too.”

She gave him a sarcastic little smile.

“Why do I get the feeling you just said something massively hypocritical?”

He sat back on his haunches and shrugged in defeat.

“Probably because I did. I’m better at doling out advice than following it.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Morgan thought about getting up, but she was pretty sure her legs would just cramp up again. Better not risk it.

“So, do you want to talk now?” he asked eventually.

Morgan looked at her feet.

“I’m, uh. Still trying to figure out how I feel,” she admitted. “I think I’ve been blaming you for what happened to Artemis, but I know that’s not fair. So, I’m sorry about that.”

“Apology accepted,” he said carefully “And it’s okay. What happened was.. terrible. Seeing something like that.. it leaves a mark. And I’m sorry I haven’t been here to help you through it.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘As your mentor it’s my duty’ and all that, right?” she said with a bitter voice.

“How about, as your friend I wish I could’ve helped you,” he shot back, and she looked at him with wide eyes.

“She was your friend more than mine,” Morgan pointed out. “I figured you were dealing with your own grief.”

“Maybe, next time,” he looked at his hands in his lap before meeting her eyes. “We help each other deal with it. Together.”

She opened and closed her mouth as she searched for the right words.

“I- yeah, that sounds good,” she agreed, and the smile on his face made it worth it. She resisted the natural urge to make some dumb comment to cut across the moment.

He reached forward and gave her knee a small squeeze.

“Good,” he said. The touch awoke some impulsive courage in her, and she shot forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

He caught her around her waist to return the hug, but with her stiff legs, she immediately lost her balance and fell back onto her butt. Nightwing fell with her, and he caught them both on a single arm stretched out behind her.

Suddenly, she found herself looking up into his face as he leaned over her. She had her arms around his neck still, and he was holding her close by the waist. In theory, the closeness was not that different from a hug, except the fall had altered their positions in such a way that she was clinging to him with his face directly in front of hers, so close his nose bumped into hers when she moved.

“Sorry,” she let go of his neck and pushed him back, to get him out of her space before he noticed the blush creeping up her face. “Legs still out of commission.”

“Clumsy,” he said with a small smile that she told herself wasn’t tender. “I don’t think I can train that out of you, unfortunately.”

The door to the gym had been left open, and through it they could hear laughter and hoots of triumph. The two of them looked at the hall that lay beyond as Impulse and Blue Beetle rushed through it, looking to be in loud, joyful spirits.

“Left them in the dirt!” Impulse cried with enthusiasm.

Morgan and Nightwing exchanged looks as the two younger teenagers disappeared down the hall.

“I’d better go figure out what those two are up to,” he sighed, getting up. “You should rest for a bit more before moving. Don’t want your legs to cramp up again.”

She watched him leave, her heart a mess of emotions.

Together.

The way he’d said that single word evoked all sorts of butterflies in her stomach. With a sigh, Morgan lay down, blinking up at the white ceiling.

She could hear the distant, garbled echoes of the guys talking in the mission room, but she couldn’t understand what they said. Nightwing sounded annoyed, though.

That piqued her curiosity. She sat up slowly and bent her legs to test their condition. They complained, but they didn’t cramp up, and the shaking had subsided.

Leveraging herself on the machine she sat next to, she hoisted herself up slowly.

So far so good. She’d taken about three slow steps across the gym, when the ajar door burst fully open, and a tall, blonde woman rushed through it.

Morgan flinched in surprise, and she quickly jumped to the side when the woman locked eyes with her and ran straight for her.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed when the woman lunged for her again and Morgan had to push her back with her telekinesis to avoid getting grabbed. “Who are you?”

The woman didn’t respond. She got up from where she’d crashed into their wall of weights, looking pissed as several had rained down on her. She ran towards the much shorter hero again.

With her legs as exhausted as they were, Morgan was far from nimble. She quickly realized her only chance to avoid getting grabbed, was to fly.

So, fly she did. She flew so high the unknown woman couldn’t reach her and she looked around for something to defend herself with. The blonde woman below let out an irritated huff at Morgan’s evasion, and she grabbed some of the weights that had fallen on her and threw them at Morgan.

“Get down here!” she said in a thick, southern accent, lobbing several more weights and dumbbells at Morgan. The gym’s walls became littered with holes as Morgan maneuvered around. Whoever this woman was, she was, thankfully, not a very good shot.

Morgan dodged to the best of her abilities, but when the weights came towards her too quickly for her to escape, she trained her telekinesis on them and sent them flying back to where they’d come from. The blast that came out of her hands was unexpectedly powerful and sent her flying back, and the dumbbell she’d focused on shot off like it had been blasted out of a cannon.

It hit the woman right in the temple and she fell down with a pained grunt, looking like she’d been knocked out.

Morgan knew it was short-lived. The woman clearly had powers, something akin to superstrength and endurance, and her throw with the dumbbell had been extremely lucky.

She made to rush out of the gym, to get help from the others. But the moment she reached the door, she paused. She could hear agitated shouts and the sounds of a scuffle.

A battle?

Her heart climbed up her throat when the reality of the situation dawned on her.

The Cave was under attack. Someone had broken in.

“What now?” she wondered aloud, chewing on her lip and looking around the room. She had to contain the woman while she was still unconscious, and if the others were already fighting, she couldn’t count on their help.

Looking above, she spotted the trapdoor at the ceiling that held all the trapeze ropes that Nightwing used when he trained his agility, and she flew towards it. Prying the trapdoor open, she caught several of the thick, heavy ropes as they spilled out, and she unhooked them from the mechanism that kept them tied up.

She landed next to the woman and did her best to tie her up, hoping the ropes were strong enough to contain her for now. It took some lugging around, but eventually she was confident that the ropes would at least slow her attacker down once she woke up.

She didn’t have time to do a better job. She could hear the fight in the mission room going on still, though it sounded like it was dying down. Which side had won?

Slipping out of the gym, she closed the doors behind her and tapped in the code that locked the doors from the outside, hoping they were strong enough to stop someone with superstrength.

Then, she tiptoed down the hall. She peeked around the corner and her stomach dropped at what she saw.

Her friends were all getting rounded up. She could see several had been fitted with collars, though she could only guess at their purpose.

From her position, she saw that Nightwing was still fighting, and Blue Beetle was in the air. The woman Nightwing fought wore a mask, fashioned to look like the upper half of a tiger, and Morgan winced when she knocked Nightwing to the ground and pounced on him, placing another collar around his neck.

Morgan pressed her head back against the wall she hid behind, her breath shallow as she fought to keep the panic at bay.

What should she do? Should she go in there and help, or should she try to escape to call for backup?

“Sorry,” her mentor’s confident voice reached her, and she looked back around the corner cautiously. “No powers for your collar to turn off.”

With speed and agility that was truly impressive, he wrapped his legs around the woman’s upper body and threw her down. She collided with the floor with a loud thud. Morgan couldn’t tell if she should wince on the attacker’s behalf or feel jealous that he’d used that move on someone that wasn’t her.

Because seriously – she wouldn’t mind.

The sound of Blue Beetle’s plasma cannons firing up echoed down the hall, just as the woman that had attacked Nightwing pressed a button on a remote she held. Nightwing cried out as the collar shocked him. He fell to the floor, and Morgan had to stuff her hands into her mouth to keep in the shout she’d been about to release, the urge to cry out for him almost overpowering her common sense.

Nightwing lay on the floor, panting through the pain. A large, blonde man, dressed in the same white shirt and red suspenders as the woman that had attacked Morgan, came forward. He carried Wolf in one hand and Superboy in the other, and he threw them in a pile next to Nightwing, who was slowly finding the strength to get onto his knees.  

Morgan could see that the rest of her friends had been corralled into a separate corner. Garfield and Impulse were held back by a strange looking, blue man with a jagged face and arms. He looked almost like he was made of ice, and she supposed it made sense, as he created a barrier of ice, to keep the two heroes trapped.

Why weren’t they just running away?

No powers for your collar to turn off, Nightwing had said. Her eyes widened in horror.

Okay, she needed to go get backup. There was no way she could take them all by herself, and she had no idea if she could get the collars off.

She began to mentally route her best path to escape, when Blue Beetle, still in the air, fired a warning shot at the feet of the icicle man.

“Let them go!” he commanded.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said a new figure as they emerged from the shadows. The voice had been chilling, and Morgan, previously intent on escaping, became rooted to the spot.

She felt fury and ice-cold fear fight for dominance inside her as she saw Kaldur’ahm step into the light, carrying with him a large bag, which he had slung over his shoulder.

“And why wouldn’t I do that?” Blue said with scorn in his voice. He held the cannon aloft again, and it beeped as it started to power up again.

“Because I carry with me a bomb,” Kaldur’ahm said with a cool and confident voice. He let the bag fall from his shoulder and opened it to reveal a smooth, metallic device. “The same kind that obliterated Malina Island in a matter of seconds.”  

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

Morgan realized she couldn’t escape now – if she ran off, she may as well doom her friends. She had missed her chance to call for backup, and with resolve settling in her chest, she realized that she was the backup.

She just had to wait for the opportune moment.

“This is the dead man’s switch,” Kaldur held aloft a little remote, on which he was holding down a large button. “If my finger leaves this button, we all die instantly.”

Oh fuck.

What should she do? What should she do, what should she do?

What would Nightwing have done in her situation? She realized that was a stupid question. He would run in and save his friends. But he was so much more experienced than her, so much better at fighting and strategizing.

How could a rookie like her stand any chance?

She could tell Blue was deliberating his best course of action for a moment. But he was quick to back down, and as he landed, his plasma cannons went away, his hands held aloft.

“I surrender,” he said with a dead voice.

“Good,” Kaldur’ahm said calmly. He walked further into the room, stopping in front of Nightwing. “Now, tell me.”

He grabbed Nightwing by the collar around his neck, and pulled him up, staring down at him with cold eyes. Nightwing looked up at him with narrowed eyes, the anger and defiance evident on his face. Where none of them as terrified of the bomb as her?

“Where is the girl with the wings?”

Morgan’s heart stuttered in her chest. They knew she was here. They were looking for her – to put one of those collars around her neck and then what?

Kill her with the others? Kidnap her?

“What girl?” Nightwing shot back. “You’ve caught all of us.”

“Stupidity doesn’t suit you, Nightwing,” Kaldur’arm responded. “She was there when we last met. The Light has taken a special interest in her.”

“Tuppence went looking for her,” the blonde man spoke up, with the same accent as the woman had spoken with. Related? Siblings, maybe?

Not that that mattered. Morgan pressed a hand to her chest to keep her heart from beating so wildly she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Their voices already echoed down the hall, and she had to concentrate to understand what was being said.

The Light was looking for her – specifically. Why?

“I can go look for them if you want, boss,” said the icicle man with a smarmy voice.

“Negative. The girl is a rookie still. Tuppence will catch her.”

“She’s not here,” Nightwing spoke up, his voice hard as steel. “She left earlier. You’re wasting your time.”

God, what should she do? What should she do?

He was trying to help her escape. But what about the rest of them? What about the bomb? What about Wolf and Connor, who all lay unconscious at their feet? What about Jaime, Garfield and Bart, who were all being held back by their captors?

Nightwing was giving her an out. But how could she take it when the rest of them were still in danger?

She heard a loud rattle and then a booming sound behind her and realized instantly what it was.

Tuppence was awake – and she was breaking through the locked doors to the gym.  

The sound caught their attackers off guard. Kaldur’ahm looked down the hall Morgan hid in with narrowed eyes, and she quickly moved behind the curved wall once more.

“Tigress, go find them,” he said.

The woman with the tiger mask withdrew her weapon and walked towards the hall Morgan was in.

“Shit, shit, shit.” she looked around frantically. She had caged herself in. Idiot!

There was no choice but to fight, she realized. The adrenaline pumped through her body like lava, but she got ready to step out into the light and reveal herself.

Right as Tigress’ foot came into view, Morgan sent a telekinetic blast in her direction, and the ninja was thrown back. She righted her position mid-air and landed in a crouch, unscathed from Morgan’s attack.

Releasing a deep breath to calm her pounding heart, Morgan pushed off the wall and faced the room.

She locked eyes with Nightwing, and even from this distance, she saw his eyes widen with fear.

“Sparrow, no!” he shouted. “Just get out of here!”

It was too late for that now. Tigress ran for her, and Morgan flew off. She hovered in the air, too far away for any of them to reach. She could feel kaldur’ahm’s eyes on her and felt her fear and fury mix into a dangerous cocktail.

Tuppence joined the rest of them, looking pissed that Morgan had managed to get the better of her.

“Let them go!” Morgan tried to sound intimidating. Unfortunately, her voice stuttered as she spoke, and the icicle man flashed a dark smile at her.

“Your situation remains unchanged,” Kaldur’ahm said, throwing Nightwing back onto the floor. Her mentor stumbled but caught himself, and he got up on his feet. “I still carry the dead man’s switch to this bomb.”

“Yeah, but I’m willing to bet you’re not prepared to die here with the rest of us, asshole,” Morgan shot back. “And I’m just fine staying up here while we wait for someone to realize Mount Justice’s been infiltrated.”

She sent a blast in the icicle man’s direction, and he slammed against the wall.

“And I’m not above kicking your asses from afar. You really should’ve brought guns.”

Confidence blazed like a dangerous fire in her stomach. Was she doing this? Could she save the day? Save her friends?

Kaldur’ahm looked at her with an unbothered air.

Then, he turned towards his team.

“Move the cargo,” he told them.

Morgan’s heart sank as the icicle man, Tuppence and the blonde man grabbed Bart, Garfield, and Jaime and headed for the exit.

That was cheating! He was cheating!

Then, Kaldur’ahm turned to look up at her again.

“Let us test how strong your resolve truly is,” his voice sent a chill down her spine. He looked towards the ninja woman beside him, who must’ve been his second in command. “Tigress.”

He didn’t need to explain, for her to understand what he meant. Pulling out the remote she’d held before; she pressed the button again.

Nightwing’s collar came to life, and he let out a startled shout when it electrocuted him. He fell to the floor again, unable to control his own body.

“No!” Morgan cried in a shrill voice. His body convulsed, and he writhed around on the floor under the torture of the electrical current running through him.

“Are you ready to stand down?”

The sight of him lying on the floor under torture was too much. She felt terror steal her breath away, but her decision was easy – she had no idea what was in store for her, but she wasn’t willing to bet Nightwing’s life on it.

“Fine!” she dropped to the floor immediately, landing beside her mentor. Tigress let go of the button, and the collar stopped. He was gasping in pain still, but he had the wherewithal to look at her.

“Why didn’t you just escape when you had the chance?” his voice was tinged with fear, and she realized it wasn’t for himself. His hand shook as it reached out and gave hers a squeeze.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” she admitted. She squeezed his hand back and resisted the urge to touch his face in reassurance.

She was forced to her feet roughly and clenched her eyes shut as a pair of hands slipped underneath her curly mane and clicked a collar into place. The weight was unfamiliar and restricting.

Immediately Morgan felt like part of her mind had been closed off from her. She didn't have to test it to know that her telekinesis was no longer working. Tigress kept a firm grip on her upper arm.

“Take her to the others,” Kaldur’ahm told her coldly.

“What about those two?” Tigress asked, motioning for Connor and Nightwing.

“Neither are of interest to our partner. Superboy is a Kryptonian-human clone, and Nightwing is a normal human. Their only value is as hostages.”

Morgan stumbled ungracefully in sheer surprise at what he was saying. Her mind was reeling as she was figuring out what this meant.

He wasn't just capturing her and the others for fun, or to kill them.

They were taking them because the partner, the Light's partner, whom the Team had tried to discover for weeks now, wanted them for some reason.

But what did they need her for? He had specifically said the Light wanted her. What made her different?

Tigress began to drag her off, and Morgan dug her heels in.

“Mark my fucking words, Kaldur’ahm,” she turned to him, trying to match the cold look in his eyes, and hoping her fear wasn’t visible. Tigress pushed her forward, forcing her down the hall. “I’m going to rip the gills out of your stupid neck when I get my hands on you!”

An empty threat. But it had felt good to say it, nonetheless.

Kaldur’ahm looked at her blankly as she was pushed out of the room. Clearly, her words had had no effect on him.

“You’ll regret this, Aqualad!” Nightwing exclaimed venomously. Just as she was thrown around the corner, she heard fist connect with flesh, and Nightwing let out a pained grunt.

"I believe I have outgrown that name." Kaldur'ahm responded. "As well as anything resembling regret."

His voice echoed through the Cave as he spoke a final warning before following Tigress.

“You can keep the bomb as a souvenir. And don’t bother pursuing – the dead man’s switch has a five-mile range.”

Her blood ran cold when she realized that Nightwing and Superboy were going to be left in there with the active bomb.

A bomb which a vengeful murderer only had to move his finger slightly to activate.

She was being led through the garage and towards the beach. Initially, Morgan had kept struggling in Tigress’ grip until the woman had threatened to electrocute her if she didn’t stop squirming. Now, she was walking by herself, mind whirring as she tried to think of something she could do. They had caught up to the others by now, and she could see Blue Beetle ahead of her, being pulled along by the tall, blonde man.

There had to be some sort of way to get out of this. They couldn't just give up.

A large flyer was waiting for them in the water. Where would it take them? She could only shudder to guess. She faltered in her steps once more. Her window of escape was closing rapidly.

"Move it, girly." Tigress pushed her roughly forward and Morgan only just managed to catch herself before stumbling to the sand below.

She wanted to turn back – Dick and Connor and Wolf were still stuck with the bomb. Maybe she could do something – grab the bomb and fly off with it, throw it into the ocean and right on top of Kadur’ahm’s stupid face.

She felt angry tears well up in her eyes, brought on by a mix of her fear and at the desperate need to aid her friends. She hadn't felt this helpless and useless since she'd run away from home.

Morgan tried to focus on something else, anything to keep her from crying – dammit, she refused to cry in front of these people.

There was a commotion suddenly when Blue Beetle's arms turned into two huge, round clubs with blunt spikes on them.

"Wait, no!" Blue Beetle cried, like the appearance of the weapons hadn't been voluntary. "You can't!"

The clubs hit the large blonde man over the head, and then he flew forward and knocked over Tigress.

Morgan realized that this was the chance she'd hoped for. She looked at the fallen ninja and saw she had dropped the remote used to control the collars. She dashed forward and grabbed the small remote before Tigress to get it.

They could no longer electrocute her.

Their collar had turned off her telekinesis, she knew.

But it couldn't turn off her wings.

Morgan spread her wings, and with a powerful beat, she was airborne.

The rest of their enemies had noticed the commotion by now, and their leader turned towards Blue Beetle, engaging him in battle. Blue shot a laser at Kaldur’ahm, and he only just managed to block it with a small, round shield. The laser blast had already done its damage, however. Kaldur’ahm was thrown back, and Morgan watched with her heart lodged in her throat as he hit an outcropping of rocks and let go of the switch in his hand.

"Nooo!" Blue Beetle cried, just as Morgan let out a strangled gasp.

She held her breath for a moment, waiting for the mountain behind her to erupt in flame, killing everyone in and near it. She prepared herself to die.

The explosion never came.

“It was a bluff!” Blue Beetle cried. “Get him!”

He charged for Kaldur'ahm. Morgan wanted to go down and help him, she really did, but she found herself frozen in place, rendered useless by the paralyzing fear she'd felt when she’d thought they were all about to die.

Blue Beetle screamed in pain when Kaldur’ahm placed a flat hand on his chest and sent out a beam of what looked like blue electricity.

His painful cry shook her awake and she settled her nerves, preparing to charge in and help her friend as he stumbled back.

Before she could reach them, Blue had been felled.

No!

“I’m getting tired of these distractions.” Kaldur’ahm looked at the icicle man. "Bring him aboard!"

Powerless to stop it, Morgan could only watch from the air as her friend was pulled onto the ship.

If only she had her telekinesis. But the remote was impossible to decipher, written in an alien language, and she couldn’t risk electrocuting herself. That would help no one.

"What about her?" The Tigress asked, pointing up at Morgan, who was still airborne.

Kaldur’ahm looked up and met Morgan's eyes.

"Bring her down," he ordered.

The woman pulled out another of the sedatives she’d used to subdue Blue Beetle and shot it after her. Morgan swerved out of the way and flew up higher, out of their reach.

“Another impasse, dickface!” she shouted at him.

"We have run out of time," she could hear Kaldur'ahm say. "Leave her. I believe the others will satisfy our partner sufficiently. The Light will have their prize.. eventually."

As he looked up at her, it felt like he had prophesied her doom.

The Light would have their prize..

Morgan was stuck in a horrible dilemma. She wanted to save her friends, but if she got any closer, she'd be subdued immediately by their tranquilizers.

If their enemies had been any less trained, she would've have engaged them immediately. As it were, she knew she'd never be able to take them all in a fight, even if she had her powers.

She wanted to scream in frustration when she realized that all she could do was watch the flyer take off with her friends.

Her chance of saving them was slim to none.

"But I have to try anyway!" she ground out before taking off after the dark ship. Maybe she could down the ship in some way, and her friends could escape. It was a desperate plan, but what else was there for her to do?

She’d barely flown half a mile before the ship had disappeared from view. Stupid. Obviously, she couldn’t catch up to a giant ship.

She turned and looked at Mount Justice, grateful that it was still standing.

"Nightwing.." She gasped under her breath when she realized that her leader was still trapped with that bomb. It hadn’t gone off before – but it could explode at any moment. Her curls whipped around her face as she raced back towards the mountain as fast as her wings could carry her. She flew over land, approaching the mountain from the surrounding forest instead of the beach.

The mountain was close. She was only about three hundred away, heading for the front entrance to the Cave, when the entire mountain exploded into a giant, blinding light, followed by a wall of fire.

She was blasted out of the sky by the shockwave, propelled further into the forest she’d been flying over. The force shook her eardrums and rattled her bones, and the heat wave was close to unbearable. Losing stock of what was up or down as she was thrown around like a rag-doll, she was helpless to right herself, and she plummeted towards the dark canopy of trees below.

She must've blacked out for a moment because suddenly everything was dark and quiet.

Chapter Text

March 23rd

Happy Harbor

Sparrow

Her ears were ringing, and it was the first thing Morgan noticed as she came to. The second thing she registered was the wind lashing at her. Her eyes were still unfocused when she opened them, and she shook her disoriented head before realizing that she was in the middle of a deadly crash into the forest below.

Letting out a surprised gasp, she spread her wings out to break the fall as best as she could. She was only feet away from the dark canopy of the forest, and her attempt at breaking her fall had only slowed her down marginally. She hit what must’ve been dozens of branches as she crashes through the trees, and she folded her wings tightly against her back so the fragile bones in the still-growing limbs wouldn’t snap from her tumble.

She hit a thick branch stomach first and let out a shout when she felt her ribs bear the brunt of the hit. Then, she slipped off the branch and landed with a dull thud on the mossy ground.

She lay for a moment, every part of her body feeling sore. Her ribs were pounding, and every inch of her exposed skin had been scratched up. She let out a prolonged groan where she lay, face first. At least the ground had been soft.

Why were her ears ringing? Why had she been falling through the sky? She turned over slowly, blinking up at the dark sky that lay beyond the trees.

Except the sky wasn’t dark – it was lit up by an orange, flickering glow. The ringing in her ears subsided as she slowly sat up to look around.

She looked over her shoulder and saw a giant crater, surrounding by burning trees. Smoke reached her nose and made her eyes water.

The rest of the day came back to her in a flash, and she got on her knees quickly, despite her protesting ribs.

Mount Justice..

It had fallen.

She scrambled up, but her bruised body and disoriented mind hadn’t been ready for the movement, and she lost her balance, falling onto knees and hands. She didn’t allow it to slow her down and simply got up again to charge through the trees on unsteady legs.

As she neared the part of the woods what was on fire, her run slowed to a walk so she could maneuver around the burning trees without hurting herself. As she reached the end of the tree line, she found herself standing in complete destruction. Blackened trees lay scattered about like someone had dropped a box of used matchsticks. Beyond the felled trees were piles of debris and rock, and a giant hole in the ground where her home had once been.

Amongst the piles of debris and rocks was Mal, frantically digging through the mess. She had no idea when he had arrived, but she was overcome with relief when she saw him.

"Mal!" Morgan attempted to shout, but her voice was hoarse, her throat raw from smoke and her lungs empty on air after the tumble she’d taken through the trees. She coughed once as she stumbled closer to him.

"Mal!" She cried again; this time louder.

He heard her and turned swiftly around.

"Morgan!" he exclaimed in relief and rushed towards her, pulling her into a tight hug before she had the chance to protest on account of her ribs.

"Please tell me everyone else got out!" His dark eyes were wide with panic as he spoke, and he shook her by her upper arms.

The others..

Morgan finally felt the last pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

Jaime, Bart and Garfield were gone. Taken by their enemy.

And..

"Oh my god.." She felt tears well in her eyes. "Nightwing and Superboy.."

They couldn't be..?

Could they?

"I don't know," she shook her head, the first tear leaking down her face, forging a path down her soot-covered cheeks. "Mal, Nightwing and Superboy were left with the bomb. I don’t know if..”

Please, no. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, if Nightwing was gone. He couldn’t be – it was wrong. There was no way he hadn’t gotten them out of there. She refused to believe he lay somewhere beneath all of this rubble.

At her words, Mal slumped over in defeat. Had they lost two more team members, less than a week after losing Artemis?

They stood for a moment, both too scared to voice the possibility aloud. Then, Mal straightened and looked around like he’d heard something.

Morgan picked it up a moment later. A series of mechanical whirring and chattering.

“Is that..?"

"Sphere!" Mal cried before sprinting towards the beach.

Morgan rushed after him, her eyes roving over the water to find what he had seen.

Sphere had unfolded into the supercycle, and it was way out in the water. From the tone of her beeping, Morgan could tell she was in distress, and although Morgan knew Sphere was just a ball of mechanics, she still rushed to her aid.

As Mal threw his jacket off and raced towards the water, Morgan took off in the air. Her wings groaned from the use, but they still fared better than her wobbly legs, which had already been tired even before the attack.

She sped through the air ahead of Mal. Because she was faster than him, she saw Sphere’s cargo before he did.

“Nightwing.” His name rushed out of her like a secret prayer because he was there – and he looked unscathed. Superboy and Wolf were there too, and all three of them were unconscious. Wolf and Superboy both lay in the seats of the supercycle, but Nightwing’s limp body lay slumped carelessly over the front wheel. His wet hair was plastered across his forehead and framed his slack features.

A great wave washed over the machine and Morgan watched with horror as it gripped Nightwing and pulled him beneath the dark water.

She completely panicked.

"Nightwing!" she screeched and plummeted head-first into the ocean after him.

The water was cold and uncomfortable, and even though it hurt, she forced her eyes to stay open as she looked for her mentor. His dark-clad body was slowly sinking deeper into the black depths of the sea, and the blue bird on his chest became her guiding light as she chased after him.

Her hand grasped onto the shoulder plate of his suit, and she would've let out a cry of relief if she hadn't been underwater. Her lungs were already asking for more air, but she tried to ignore that as she pulled him to her and started kicking to get them both to the surface.

But it was slow progress and Morgan wasn't a very good swimmer and she was running out of air and her legs were so exhausted and she was injured from the explosion and it felt like her wings were dragging her down and oh god please, somebody..

The surface was close, she could tell. But her legs were cramping up again in the cold water, and she had used up the last of her strength.

How cruel, she mused quietly as she felt, despite her best attempts, the two of them slowly sink. She felt her mind forced into tranquility as she ran out of oxygen. The things that were supposed to help me fly are the ones dragging me down.

Morgan clutched Nightwing's still body closer to her chest. As she felt her eyes begin to drift close, a hand suddenly shot into her line of sight and grabbed hold of the front of her suit, pulling her upwards. Air rushed into her lungs when she broke the surface, and Morgan took in deep gulps of it, feeling like a starved woman at a buffet.

With impressive strength, Mal threw her onto the Supercycle, and she caught hold with shaking hands.

She started coughing up water, and quickly leaned over the side of the Supercycle to vomit up whatever mix of food and seawater was in her stomach.

"What were you thinking?!" Mal shouted angrily. He was supporting Nightwing's unconscious body as he treaded water, and the look on his face was thunderous.

She blinked blearily at him. "I-"

She wasn't sure what she'd been thinking, to be honest. She'd been driven by the panicked and desperate need to save Nightwing's life. Twice tonight, she’d thought she had lost him.

And even now, she wasn't sure if he was dead.

"Is he alive?" she croaked out, glad that she was so soaked Mal couldn't see that she had tears streaming down her face.

He held a hand to Nightwing's chin, feeling for a pulse. "Yeah. He's fine. He-"

Sphere let out a loud, sorrowful sound and sunk deeper into the water.

"She's sinking!" Morgan exclaimed.

"Superboy!" Mal shouted, trying to wake the unconscious boy up. "Connor! Wake up!"

Morgan splashed a small stream of water at him, and he immediately woke up.

"Wha-?" he mumbled, looking just as disoriented as Morgan had been when she’d woken up in the air.

"Questions later, man!" Mal interrupted him. "You gotta grab Wolf, Sphere is sinking!"

"Uh, right. Right," Connor immediately sprang into action and grabbed Wolf. Right as Sphere started to sink beneath the waves, Morgan pushed off her and into the air. She knew she’d never make it to shore in the water.  

"Is she gonna be okay?” she asked, already losing sight of the big ball as it sunk to the bottom of the sea.

"Yeah, I think so,” Connor responded, sounding remarkable calm, considering their circumstances. "She folds up to heal. She’ll be back."

He looked over at their unconscious leader and Morgan followed his eyes, worry still clenching at her heart. Nightwing looked pale, and the stillness of his body worried her. Mal had assured her that he was alive, but he looked dead.

He had to be okay.

She needed him to be okay.

"Can you make it to shore with Nightwing?" Connor asked.

"Sure," Mal promised. He turned towards Morgan with a meaningful look. "I’ve got him."

She still hadn't stopped crying.

The three of them slowly made it to shore, Morgan feeling the effects the explosion and the fall had had on her body more and more as they kept going. She knew she could’ve simply flown there in less than a minute and waited for them, but she dutifully kept pace, to keep an eye on her mentor’s state.

She knew every single part of her body was going to be bruised and tender for a while.

But it didn't matter. They’d all made it out alive. She'd trade a thousand bruises for Nightwing's life.

As long as he was okay, then they could find a way to deal with this. She’d lost her home. All of her things were gone.

But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that they’d all escaped with their lives.

Morgan knew tomorrow they would have to find a way to save Garfield, Bart, Jaime and La’gaan. Tomorrow, they would have to deal with the aftermath of the loss of their base. Tomorrow, the work began.

But tonight, all she could was feel. Scared. Lost. Relieved. Angry.

She helped Mal drag Nightwing’s limp body onto shore and watched as he gathered his limp body in his arms to do the Heimlich. Nightwing started coughing and water came out of his mouth, but he didn’t wake up.

They lay him down with his head turned so that any leftover water could leak out on its own, and Morgan resisted the urge to brush his hair way from his face. Connor and Mal let her watch over Nightwing as they went looking for some way to contact help.

She felt all those emotions fight for dominance in her chest, but there was some underlying feeling there, more powerful than all the others, and she was scared to give a name to it.

As she sat in the sand beside him, watching his chest expand with each breath, she realized she didn’t have to name it.

She already knew what it was called.

The moment Captain Atom, Green Arrow and Black Canary arrived to see the damage; the four of them were sent to the Hall of Justice.

The Leaguers had only had to take one look at the drenched kids – Nightwing unconscious, carried by Mal, Morgan covered in sooth and bleeding from several small cuts on her body, and Connor worrying over Wolf – standing amidst the wreckage of what had once been their base, to know that they had had enough for one night. All they needed was to get somewhere safe and warm.

Captain Atom led them to the Hall while Green Arrow and Black Canary stayed behind to inspect the scene for an official report. The four people involved would have to give their own statements tomorrow, once they were well enough.

But tonight, they were bloody, bruised, and beaten up.

And homeless.

An entire mountain had been obliterated in a matter of seconds, taking with it all the efforts Morgan had made to turn it into a home for herself. The only thing left behind were the memories and a deep wound of sorrow that ached in her chest.

The Hall of Justice was a huge hunk of a building, and as they entered it was still housing tourists, even this late at night.

"The exhibit is closed for tonight," Captain Atom spoke up, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

Not that he needed to get their attention. The second the five heroes had stepped through the door – four walking, one being carried to Morgan's everlasting anxiety because why wasn't he waking up – disheveled and injured, still dripping seawater, every single person in the room had turned to look at them.

"Please, leave immediately,” he added, and all the civilians respectfully headed towards the exit, most of them shooting concerned glances at the limp Nightwing in Captain Atom's arms. Morgan was about to get in front of him and use her wings to shield him from their curious eyes, but she resisted the urge.

His arm was dangling off the side of his body, rocking back and forth with each step Captain Atom took, and not realizing herself, she picked it up and gingerly placed it across his chest. Mal sent her a shrewd look, but she kept her eyes firmly planted on her feet in front of her. She was beginning to wonder if maybe she’d hit her head.

Why did I do that? she asked herself with wide, confused eyes. It wasn't like that stupid arm was harming anybody!

They stepped through the rooms that served as tourist attractions, and as the steel doors slipped shut behind them, Morgan found herself in a large, blessedly private, and quiet room. There was a table in the middle of the room, and the walls were covered with computers and bookshelves.

Directly at the other end of the room there was a new door, identical to the one to their left.

"Do you need medical attention, Superboy?" Captain Atom asked.

Connor shook his head. "I'm already healed up."

"Mal?"

"I wasn't near the explosion. I came afterwards. No damage done."

Captain Atom looked at the boy in his arms and then at the girl standing beside him, looking beaten up and in pain.

"You two are going to the infirmary. You two," he trained his eyes onto Connor and Mal. "Stay if you want. Otherwise, you're free to go home."

Which home?

"Will he be alright?" Connor indicated for Nightwing. Apparently, neither of them were keen on leaving until they knew their leader was going to be okay.

Captain Atom weighted the teen in his arms for a moment. "He'll be fine."

“Check for symptoms of secondary drowning. He was unconscious in the water. I don’t know how much he inhaled,” Mal told the captain. Then his discerning eyes zeroed in on Morgan and she looked away. “Check her too. Sparrow dove after him and nearly drowned.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted immediately. She didn’t like the looks that were levelled onto her at his statement. “I just cramped up.”

“I’ll have you both looked at,” Captain Atom said, his decision final. Morgan knew she might as well not resist.

“Go home. Sleep this off. Tomorrow, the real work begins,” the captain told the two unscathed Team members, and then he moved on. Morgan scrambled to keep up with his long strides. He swerved left, and she shot a last look over her shoulder and met the eyes of Connor and Mal.

Their looks were as sad as hers.

In the infirmary, he placed Nightwing on a sickbed and hooked him up to a machine that monitored his heartbeat and brain activity.

“I’ve contacted our resident doctor. He’s on his way.” Captain Atom assured her and motioned for the sickbed directly next to Nightwing’s. “Take a seat.”

She slowly sat down on the cot, feeling every one of her dozens of scratches and bruises moan and complain. God, the next few days were going to suck. She’d never in her life been this sore.

He placed an oxygen mask over Nightwing’s mouth and nose, and explained it was a precaution, should he have too much water in his lungs.

He went to her side and pulled down the same mask from the back of the hospital bed she was on, flicking a switch to turn on the flow of oxygen.  

“I know you said you’re fine, but secondar drowning is no joke. Lie for a bit and breathe through this while we wait for the doctor.”

She did as asked, mainly because the prospect of getting to lie down for a bit sounded like heaven.

Then, he studied the readings he got from the machines Nightwing had been hooked up to and Morgan was lying with bated breath as she waited for an update.

“Brain activity is looking good. His breathing is normal, as is heartrate and blood pressure. He should wake up any moment." He picked up her mentor's head and felt along his scalp. "There’s a bump here, probably caused by some of the flying debris. I think he might have a concussion, but that's the only thing wrong with him, as far as I can tell. I can’t say if he has any broken bones – he’ll be able to tell us when he wakes up."

Morgan swallowed dryly and fought against those stupid, stupid tears that kept welling up for no reason at all and nodded robotically, thankful beyond measure that her mentor was okay.

“The only cause for worry is if he’s got water in his lungs. The doctor will be able to tell when he arrives. And he’ll be able to diagnose the concussion for sure.”

The captain looked at her and seemed to take stock of the multitude of visible injuries she had.

“You’re another story entirely, however,” he said as he approached her. “Any pain?”

She winched. It would’ve been a shorter list to highlight any place that wasn’t in pain. As she took a breath, however, she was confronted with her smarting ribs, and as she tried to sit up again, pain shot up her wrist when she put weight on it.

“I think I fucked up my wrist and my ribs,” she admitted, pulling the mask away from her face to speak.

“The doctor will look at them. For now, let me clean your wounds and bandage what needs it.”

The antiseptic stung, but it was pain she was used to by now. He worked around the oxygen mask so she could still use it while he cleaned her scratched-up face. The split eyebrow she’d gotten herself from crashing into a tree a few days ago had reopened, and it was the most painful of her injuries. The captain removed the bandages that were still around her wounded knuckles, but those had fared much better than the injuries on her face.

“Let these get some air and then reapply band aid before you go to bed,” he told her of her knuckles, and then he used little band aids to keep the split in her eyebrow closed.

He’d only just finished applying what felt like a dozen band aids to her face, neck, and hands, when there was a pained groan from the other bed. Nightwing was slowly sitting up, clutching his forehead to ward off what was undoubtedly a pounding headache. He pulled the oxygen mask off and looked around.

“Nightwing!” Morgan cried, not for the first time that night, and she cast aside her own mask and jumped off the bed she was sitting on. The movement jostled her increasingly sore ribs and her exhausted legs, and she could tell she was going to faceplant. “Oh shit.”

Captain Atom caught her by her arm and supported her into an upright position.

“You should really sit down, Sparrow,” he said, but his suggestion fell on deaf ears as she dashed towards her mentor and threw her arms around him.

He must’ve been truly disoriented from the bump on his head because he pulled her tightly to him, his hand digging into the curls at the back of her head so he could bury his face into the crook of her neck.  

"I thought you were dead," she admitted, her voice almost breathless with relief as her eyes welled with tears for the umpteenth time that night. Thank god for masks.

“I thought they’d taken you,” he answered, sounding just as relieved. He beheld her with a look akin to awe that she was here in front of him, when he had thought she’d be miles away by now. “What happened? Where are the others?”

“You’ve been out for four minutes – maybe an hour,” she said, taking a step back once she became aware that the two of them were carrying an emotional conversation, in each other’s arms, in full view of a member of the Justice League. Her confused heart only grew more frantic at the knowledge that Dick hadn’t seemed to care what the captain saw.

“Sphere brought you, Connor and Wolf out into the ocean. Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember dragging the two of them onto the supercycle,” he mumbled, rubbing at his face as if that could help clear his mind. “Not quick enough, apparently. Then what?”

Captain Atom placed a hand on Morgan's shoulder, gently pulling her a few steps away from her mentor.

“I'm not entirely sure about the details on your part, but after we arrived at the site, you were brought to the Hall of Justice, where you are right now. I suspect Connor and Mal already left. They were both unharmed."

The doctor arrived at that moment, and their conversation was put on hold as he listened to the captain explain the extent of their injuries. He was an elder, pudgy man with glasses balanced precariously on the tip of his nose, and a world-weary, no-nonsense look about him as he got to work. He introduced himself as Stuart and that was it.

“Let me test your oxygen levels to make sure no water remains in your lungs.” He had Nightwing take off a glove and a boot so he could place probes on his fingers and toes.

Captain Atom seemed to remember then that Morgan was still injured, and still standing up despite this.

“Sparrow, you need to sit down,” he said firmly, and placed an insistent hand on her shoulder to guide her towards her bed.

“I’m fine!” she insisted, though she sat down.

The doctor looked up from where he’d been clipping a probe onto Nightwing’s toe.

“I need to test your levels too, young lady. Boots off.”

“Uh,” she was honestly unsure how she was supposed to reach down to take off her boots, when her ribs hurt as much as they did.

“I’ve got it,” the captain said, and undid the laces quickly, before she could move around and agitate her injuries even more.

As the probes measured their oxygen levels, Stuart shone into Nightwing’s eyes and looked over the readings of his brain activity. He dutifully answered all questions as the doctor checked the severity of his head injury.

“Mild concussion,” he concluded. “It’s not a big issue – no strenuous activity for the next two weeks. Let your mind and body rest – that means no schoolwork or other mind twisters. And yes, that includes your work as a hero. Doctor’s orders.”

Nightwing looked like he planned to disregard that order entirely.

“As for your lungs, they’re fine. Your oxygen levels are normal. Keep an eye out for unexplained levels of fatigue and shortness of breath in the coming days and contact me if you experience those.”

“Your turn,” he turned to Morgan suddenly, and she snapped to attention as Stuart approached her to look over her injuries with sharp eyes.

Oh, this was going to hurt, wasn’t it?

March 23rd

Hall of Justice

Nightwing

Dick’s head was throbbing, but he hardly concentrated on that as he sat on the hospital bed, watching the doctor check Morgan’s oxygen levels.

“Levels are fine,” the doctor told her. “Though the same goes for you as this fella over here. Look out for shortness of breath and fatigue.”

Only then did Nightwing truly take stock of her condition. Blood and soot peppered her face, which was scratched up and bruised. From what he could see, the rest of her hadn’t fared much better.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he looked over her many scratches and bruises. To start with, he’d been so relieved that she was here that he’d hardly noticed how banged up she looked.

“I’m-“ she had begun to answer, but hissed out a pained breath when the doctor – Stuart – bent her injured wrist to check on its condition. “Hallo, det der gør ondt!"

The doctor looked over at Nightwing with a raised eyebrow, and he shrugged.

“She does that.”

“She’s right here!” Morgan reminded them sourly.

“Miss, I need you to remove the upper part of your suit so I can bandage your sprained wrist and look at your ribs,” the doctor told her.

“Do you need something to cover yourself with?” Captain Atom asked.

"I'm wearing a sports bra underneath, it's fine," she responded before slowly unzipping her suit and shrugging out of it.

Nightwing swallowed dryly when she was suddenly sitting in nothing but a simple, black sports bra right in front of him. However, the, uh, view, was greatly ruined by the fact that she had large, dark bruises covering most of her upper body.

"Jesus, Morgan, what did you do?" he asked with sympathy.

The doctor set to wrapping her wrist in thick gauze as she answered.  

“I was in the air when the explosion happened. Was probably a bit too close because the shockwave knocked me out,” she explained.

“Let this hand rest for a couple of weeks, and it should be fine.” He moved on to her ribs and Dick could see her wince as he prodded carefully at them. She dug her fingers into the bed to keep from crying out as he felt along her ribcage to determine the extent of her injuries.

She continued her explanation, clearly doing her best to ignore the doctor.

"When I regained consciousness, it was too late, and I crashed into the wood. I kind of fell through a bunch of trees and I think that might've messed my ribs up a bi – Son of a bitch!”

The doctor finished his examination and sighed.

“Only bruised, thankfully. They’ll heal on their own. But they need rest, which means no physical activity for at least three weeks.”

Morgan groaned as she pulled her suit back on. "Three weeks? That’s such a long time!"

"Three weeks,” the doctor said sternly, and then he got up.

“We’ll figure it out,” Dick assured her. There were other ways to train other than sparring. “I’ve got other stuff you can do that’s not so physically taxing.”

The doctor barked out a laugh. “Kids these days. Fine, you’ll just have to get creative, if you can’t keep your hands to yourself for three weeks.”   

Dick and Morgan started spluttering and gaping at him like a pair of fish.

“We’re not-“

“I meant sparring!”

“he’s my mentor-“

“It’s not what you think-“

“Alright, alright!” the doctor held up his hands and went to a nearby table to scribble down his notes so they could be put into the League’s medical records.

The two teenagers huffed and hemmed, and Captain Atom stood off the side looking like someone that wished to make a quick exit.

“I’ll leave you to, uh, rest,” he said. “Sparrow, do you have a place to stay now that the Cave is gone?”

Morgan's eyes widened as she realized she didn’t.

“No,” she said with regret. “I mean, I could go to my mom’s place, but she can’t see me like this! It would kill her!” She started pulling at a damp curl, a telltale sign she was distressed.

“She’ll stay with me,” Dick spoke up, unsure why he was offering, other than the fact that he didn’t want her to spend the night at the Hall of Justice, when he had a perfectly fine couch at his apartment. “Uh, at my place.”

Morgan blinked. "I will?"

"Yes."

"Oh.” She paused. "Okay then. Thanks."

Stuart, the very annoying doctor, let out another hoarse laugh. “It’s not what I think, yeah right.”

Morgan and Dick glared at him simultaneously.

The captain looked at the two of them carefully for a moment.

"It's decided then. Rest for a bit and then go home."

The Leaguer walked out of the room, the doors sliding shut with a hiss behind him. Shortly afterwards, doctor finished his notes and left.

Nightwing slowly slid off the sickbed, winching as every muscle in his body seemed to ache.

"Where are you going?" Morgan asked as she slowly moved herself further onto the bed, settling against the large, white pillow behind her. She winched with every movement.

"I'm getting painkillers," he said. "Want any?"

"Yes please."

Nightwing paused as he spotted the thing around her neck, not understanding how he hadn't seen it before.

She still had a collar on.

"Want me to remove that?" he asked, motioning for it.

Morgan reached up and touched the collar as if she only remembered then that she still wore one.  

"Oh. Sure," she said as he sat next to her and pulled out a small screwdriver to dismantle the collar.

"Why didn't you remove this earlier?" he asked while he worked. Morgan sat with her side to him, and she had bent her neck to the side and pulled her hair away to allow him access.

"I had the remote. That’s how I escaped, when the others didn’t. But I lost it in the explosion and then I kind of forgot the it was there. There was a lot else going on."

The collar finally shut down and opened with a small 'pop' and Nightwing moved it from around her neck.

"There you go."

"Thanks," she sighed and sat up straight, massaging her neck.

"Now I'm getting painkillers."

He found a bottle of aspirin and swallowed two before throwing the bottle at Morgan.

Settling back down on his bed, he bade her explain everything that had happened since they’d been separated. He gave her his side of the story too, though he obviously omitted some key points that he couldn’t share.

As soon as the pounding in his head subsided even slightly, Nightwing slipped out of the room.

He had a flash drive he needed to take a close look at.

Chapter Text

March 24th

Hall of Justice

Morgan 

The painkillers had greatly dulled the aching in her entire body, and at some point, Morgan began to doze off. She was unsure how long she lay there, stuck in a state between awareness and sleeping, but the moment her mind’s eye became flooded with fire and water, she bolted upright.

Her ribs gave a painful throb as she sat up and looked around. With a sigh of relief, she realized she was still at the Hall of Justice. She was okay.

Looking to the empty bed beside hers, she realized Dick was still off somewhere.

Had he maybe regretted his offer to let her stay at his place, and left while she was asleep?

She slipped out of bed at the thought and decided to go looking for him. Part of her almost expected Captain Atom to materialize out of nowhere and lecture her for getting up already.

If he had truly done so, she’d simply direct him towards her mentor who had only allowed himself half an hour of rest before claiming he needed to go file a report of the incident. That had probably been well over an hour ago by now. So, why wasn’t he back?

As she walked silently down the dark halls, she tried to keep her whirring thoughts at bay.

Thoughts about her own reaction to Nightwing getting hurt.

She had thought she’d managed to suppress the feelings that had bloomed for him over the past couple of weeks, but the way she’d been acting all evening told her that wasn’t so.

She couldn’t very well ignore the fact that she’d never been more scared in her life than she’d thought he was dead. The relief when he’d been fine had been overwhelming. She couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d nearly drowned because she’d cared more about saving him than saving herself.

And she couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d wanted to not only hug him when he’d woken up – she’d been a split-second away from just straight up kissing him right on the mouth, audience be damned.

I'm so screwed, she thought to herself, reaching up to rake her fingers through her hair, which was stiff from saltwater. What the hell do I do now?

She continued her aimless walk down the dark hallway, wishing she knew where the light switch was. She could barely see her own two feet in front of her.

How could she have allowed this to happen? She'd guarded her feelings near constantly since she joined the Team. For the first month, she had refused to get attached to anyone on the Team. Then, after befriending them, she’d still taken care to guard her heart and not get too attached in case all of this would get ripped out of her hands one day.

Developing feelings of any kind should’ve been out of the question.

But then, right under her own nose, she'd apparently still managed to do so.

And it just had to be Nightwing of all people.

Of all the people on the Team, she'd chosen to develop feelings for the one that was unreachable. The one that was surely off limits.

Yet, how could she not have fallen for him? He was only nineteen, but already now he was awe-inspiring. His loyalty and ethical code seemed unbreakable. His care for the Team – for her – was touching. He kept quiet with it, but at some point, she’d realized he was by far the most intelligent person in the room most of the time. And he was Robin – the first sidekick. None of the others would’ve been here if not for him. He had started all of this, simply by being so talented at what he did.

He was simply.. good. Good at heart. Good at what he did.

How could she meet someone like that and not feel inspired? Not feel drawn? Not feel awestruck and terrified all at once?

No, she should’ve realized quickly that falling for him was inevitable.

The question was.. what was she going to do about it?

She had thought she was alone, but she halted when she heard a door slide open and someone walk through it. Whoever they were, they were just out of her eyesight, hidden behind a bend in the hall.

“What. Happened?” It took her a moment to place the voice, but she realized it was an agitated Wally West.

Her stomach sank. He sounded angry – and she could understand why. His girlfriend had died only days ago, and now the Cave had been blown up and half of the Team was gone.

“What happened was necessary,” Dick responded, and he sounded exhausted, but his voice was calm and uncompromising.

 A foreboding feeling pooled into Morgan's stomach. What did that mean?

"It better have been," Wally growled. "Spill!"

There was a brief pause and Morgan pressed herself against the wall. Should she leave? This was clearly a private conversation, and she didn’t want to get involved when Wally sounded so angry. Not her circus and all that.

Yet, they were obviously talking about the fall of Mount Justice, and that had been her home. Anything they had to say about it, she was interested in hearing.

“Kaldur needed to give us a way to rescue Lagoon Boy,” Nightwing started. “He’s injected a microscopic tag into La’gaan’s bloodstream, and he used the raid to pass essential intel.”

What?

Morgan had to stuff a hand over her mouth to keep in the gasp she’d been about to release. She was starting to catch up to what was going on, and the realization left her lightheaded.

“He passed this on to me during our fight.” Morgan could hear the soft clink of something light and metallic being placed onto a glass table. “The flash drive has the tracking-software needed to locate La’gaan.. Among other things.”

“But he didn’t just pass on a flash drive, did he?” Wally shot back, and it seemed the calmer Nightwing was, the angrier he got.

“Wally, c’mon, you know he has the play the part for this to work. If he breaks character for even a moment, months of hard work is ruined, and he risks his life.” Morgan heard a chair scrape against the steel floor and knew Nightwing had gotten up to face his friend. "He knew I could get us out of those inhibitor collars, and now we have some of them so we can study the tech and make sure they won’t work next time!”

“He took three more hostages! Those are members of your team and they’re all gone now! And from what I hear, your own protegee was almost killed in the explosion because she escaped right before the bomb went off!”

Hey – yeah, that was true! She had almost died in that explosion. Had he really been planning this from the beginning? Had she almost died trying to save him when he had been the one to cause the explosion?

"We’ll rescue all of them when we rescue Lagoon Boy! He’d even provided me with the location he was supposed to bring Morgan to, if he caught her! What happened with her was.. not part of the plan. But she’s fine – she’s asleep in the infirmary right now."

All this time..

Nightwing had been playing them all this time. Lying and deceiving.

Morgan felt like acid was climbing up her throat, burning with her fury. She wasn’t sure if she felt nauseous or if the roiling in her stomach was pure anger.

"Dick, he blew up the Cave! You guys almost died!" Wally exclaimed, sounding truly furious.

"No!" Nightwing protested, though he sounded less calm and more defensive as Wally kept lobbing accusations at him. "It's all on the flash drive. He knew I'd have to pursue to make it look legit and what's exactly what happened. He gave us time to get out. We just.. We got caught in the debris field in the explosion."

How could she have been so blind? How could she not have seen that everything she thought she knew, was a lie? She felt like a fool, and her face grew hot from a combination or anger and embarrassment that she’d allowed herself to get played like that.

“Dick, do you hear yourself? How can you justify all that destruction? What if even one person had been killed – why go to such extreme measures? How can you be willing to risk so much?”

“Do you think I chose for the Cave to get blown up? It’s not like Kaldur and I get to sit down and plan these things out! All I know is what the drive explains – he still needed to cement his position with the Light and their partner. Not everyone was convinced by him killing Artemis.”

“So, my girlfriend faked her death for no reason?”

No fucking way.

Morgan was a split second away from pushing off the wall she stood against and march in there to punch the shit out of her so-called mentor. How could he have lied about something as serious as a death? She felt sick to her stomach. The only thing keeping her rooted to her spot was her desire for answers – something told her this was the most candid conversation she would ever get out of him. It stung to realize that the only reason she was privy to it was because he didn’t even know she was here.

"I guess," Nightwing admitted with a defeated voice.

"You guess?" Wally exploded, sounding beyond anger at that point.

“I don’t care about the Cave!” Dick shot back. “It was just a place. I’d sacrifice it a million times over if that’s would it takes to stop this invasion! Don’t you get it? I’m trying to save the entire planet, and if I’m the only one willing to make the hard choices to win this war, then fine.”

She hated the sick logic to his words, but she also felt deeply betrayed. He said it was just a place, but to her and several others, it had been a home. He’d willingly blown up her home without so much as a warning.

“You think I care about the Cave?” Wally let out a scornful laugh. “I care about Artemis! Don’t you get it? You got my girlfriend to un-retire and then you placed her right into the lion’s den!”

"Wally, we're talking about Kaldur here!" Nightwing said, defending who Morgan had thought was their enemy only minutes ago. She was still trying to wrap her head around it. She’d spent days festering in her hate for him. How could she accept that he was one of the good guys?

Kaldur wasn’t evil. Kaldur was working for the Team behind enemy lines. Kaldur was a double agent. Kaldur was consorting with Nightwing behind everyone’s back.

“Kaldur.. our friend..” Wally’s voice was chilling. “Kaldur who lost the love of his life and then immediately afterwards found out that Black Manta was his dad. Are you absolutely sure that he’s not playing you? That he’s not a triple agent? That he’s not just pretending to be a traitor?”

Nightwing didn't respond for a long while.

Morgan held her breath, wanting him, needing him to tell Wally that of course Kaldur was working for them. She needed that reassurance, because if it was true that Kaldur was playing Dick for a fool, then all hope was lost.

But he didn't.

Instead, he sighed and said, "It’s too late now, Wally. We need to trust him. That's all we can do."

Wally was silent for a while too. When he spoke, his voice was dark.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

“So do I,” Dick answered.

Morgan pushed off the wall and rushed back to the infirmary, taking care to not make a sound as she moved.

She’d heard enough.

Blood pumped furiously in her ears, putting her off-kilter as she hurried to the bed. She had to calm down. She was getting too worked up.

It felt like her entire world was going off-kilter as everything she thought she knew turned out to be a lie.

Above all, she felt so stupid.

She had thought she knew him. That she could trust him.

God, he must’ve thought she was such a fool.

How could she, even for a short, disillusioned moment, think that she had feelings for her mentor? She barely knew him, as it turned out. She’d been stupid and immature.

Forget about it, she cautioned herself. Whatever feelings she thought she had harbored; they were clearly for a version of him that didn’t truly exist, except for in her heart. If he’d been lying so convincingly about this one thing, how could she be sure he hadn’t been acting in everything else? How could she know that he hadn't played up to her exactly right to make her trust him? To gain her loyalty? How many of their talks had been disingenuous?

She had thought him loyal, but he had apparently done nothing but lie and manipulate since the moment she’d met him. She’d been singing his praised a few moments ago, and now she could only think of him as a loathsome, miserable person.

How many of the others knew about his lies? Had they all laughed at her for being so affected by Artemis’ death, when it wasn’t real?

And what about Kaldur? Did they all think she was an idiot for not catching on earlier? Was she not allowed to know because she was still just a rookie?

She felt her heart turn to ice in her chest. This is what she got out of trusting people. Opening up to people. She should’ve remembered the truth she’d known for years; she was better off on her own. When she didn’t rely on anyone but herself.

Tears threatened to burst forth, and she let out a low growl, resisting the urge to throw something and start wrecking the infirmary in her anger and sorrow.

She couldn’t let him know that she’d found out. Not yet.

She had to put a lid on her anger, at least until they were somewhere more private so she could demand answers.

Like hell was she going to stay at his apartment now. She’d stay only for as long as it took her to tell him that she hated him and never wanted to see his stupid face again. She didn’t care if she had to sleep on the street afterwards, as long as she could preserve her dignity.

What little there was left of it.

She'd settled herself in at the last second, as Nightwing stepped through the doors a moment later. She lay with her back to him and pretended to be asleep. Knowing him, however, he could probably tell she was awake.

He approached the bed and gave her arm a light squeeze, and she sat up with difficulty, making a show out of rubbing at her face as if he’d woken her up. She found herself unable to look him in the face and settled for the hollow of his throat peeking out just over the top of his suit.

"Ready to leave?" he asked, not at all sounding like he'd just been in a huge fight with one of his friends.

He really was a skilled actor.

Unfortunately for her, Morgan wasn't. She could only manage a jerky nod, fearing that she'd start cursing him out the moment she opened her mouth. She hoped he would think she was simply drowsy and moody from being woken up.

With her uninjured hand, she wormed herself to the side of the bed and swung her legs down. He stepped back to give her space, but he reached forward to support her as she went.

“Do you need-“

“I can walk,” she snapped before he could touch her.

He took a step back at her sudden change of attitude and watched her with sharp eyes as she walked past him. She was ready to leave this stupid place. She didn’t relish the confrontation she knew they were headed for either, but she’d rather get it over with than waste any more time. Perhaps, some cool air would do her good as well.

They transported from the Hall of Justice to Blüdhaven in a moment, and Nightwing led the way as they passed down the streets.

Given how late it was, there were very few people out, but they still automatically kept to the shadows to avoid being seen. Neither had a spare change of clothes and could only pray that nobody would notice Nightwing and Sparrow entering an apartment building a few minutes later.

Morgan let him lead the way, if only so she could glare daggers at his back for the entire walk there. There was a thick tension in the air between them, one she knew she'd created and one she knew he was very aware of. Was he confused? Had he guessed that she’d been eavesdropping?

It didn’t matter – she would have her answers no matter what.

Arriving at his place, he unlocked the door and held it open for her to enter first. The gentlemanly action irked her because he was anything but a gentleman, he was a lying, deceiving asshole –

Or maybe, in her eyes, he was incapable of doing anything right at the moment.

She stood in the middle of his living room and waited for him to close the door behind them. They were alone now. She'd promised herself to keep her temper in check until they were alone so she could confront him.

Morgan took the mask off of her face. She wanted him to see the fury in her eyes. She let the mask fall carelessly to the floor.

She turned swiftly on her heel and stalked towards him, lightning flashing in her eyes. Now, she dared to look at his face. The sight of him looking innocently at her as she approached him only fanned the flames of her anger.

"Morgan, what-"

He didn’t get to finish his question. The moment she came within reach, she brought up her hand and aimed to slap him with every ounce of strength she had.

He caught her hand in his grip. Of course he did.

Morgan, never one to learn from experience, brought up her other hand and tried again. His remaining hand shot up and caught that one too.

He looked at her with a hard face, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set.

“Oh my god, let me win for once!” she shouted, and she tried to wrench her hands from his grip. He didn’t budge.

“What’s going on?” he demanded in a low, angry tone.

“I think you know what’s going on you lying, scheming asshole!” She tried to get her hands out of his grip again, but it was like he didn’t even notice her efforts.

His eyes widened behind his mask. God, she wanted to rip that thing from his face so she could read him better.

“You heard that?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, and the surprise finally made him loosen his grip on her, and she wrenched her hands away so she could stumble several steps back and out of his reach. “I heard everything. You should really make sure you’re alone next time you discuss your precious secrets.”

She couldn’t tell what she was most angry about. That he’d been lying to her from the start? That he’d allowed her to think Kaldur’ahm was a bad guy? That he’d allowed her to mourn over the death of Artemis when she wasn’t actually dead?

That he’d let them blow up her home?

"I mourned for her!" Morgan shouted, picking one of them at random. "I spent days wondering if I could've done something, anything that could've saved her life! I still have nightmares about it!"

She stepped forward again and poked his chest angrily.

"You let the Team mourn over their friend, knowing that she was alive!"

He grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her from poking him, and took a step forward, forcing her backwards.

"I did what I did to stop an invasion,” he replied, his voice low and angry. Angry because she knew or because of her accusations? She wasn't sure. "Secrecy was key. I couldn't let anyone know what was really going on because it would endanger several lives. Kaldur’s and Artemis’ especially."

She stepped away from him again, nearly stumbling over his couch. Instinctually, he reached forward to steady her, and she quickly slapped his hand away and took several large steps into the room so he couldn’t touch her.

"What about the Cave then? Do you even care that we just lost our home? My home? And I know you said it was to save La’gaan, but there must’ve been another way! If you had tried harder to find another solution instead of choosing the easy route-"

"You think that was easy?" he immediately protested. "You think any of this has been easy? I hate that we had to destroy the Cave, but if it helps us rescue La'gaan and bring down the Light and their partner, I won't care about that place. It'll have been worth it."

“You're a robot, you know that?" Morgan said, letting out a small, scornful laugh. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling restless with her fury. "You are such a cold-hearted douche bag. You make these choices that devastate the Team and then you justify them by claiming it’s all for the greater good! We're supposed to be your friends, Dick. None of us asked to be kidnapped to serve your agenda! I didn’t consent to being taken hostage and shipped off to some shadow organization who wants to do god knows what to me!”

Her voice became unsteady when the horror of what had almost happened to her settled in. Dick stood still as a statue as she talked, and she hated his composure because she was rapidly losing hers.

“I thought.. I thought we were friends. I thought you cared about me..” God, were there tears in her eyes? That was not part of the plan! She refused to let him know how deeply hurt she truly was. “How could you have planned for the Light to take me?”

Something in the vulnerability of her voice must’ve gotten to him because a pained look came over his face and he made to approach her, but she hurried a step away and he froze in his spot.

“I did everything I could to give you the chance to escape,” he pointed out, and the anger was gone from his voice, replaced with something more vulnerable. “I told you to go!”

“Yes, but you see, unlike you, I could never leave my friends behind!” she shot back with ugly sarcasm. The care she detected in his voice only made her angry again because she couldn’t believe it.

“If you had been smarter, you’d have seen that there was nothing you could do! The result remained the same, didn’t it? You should’ve just flown out of there when you had the chance!”

She gaped at him.

“Did you forget the part where your dear friend Kaldur’ahm started torturing you to get me to surrender?”

“You think I care about a bit of torture? You think it didn’t hurt more to see them drag you off, not knowing what the Light wants with you?”

She felt her throat close up, and her heart started pounding. What was he saying?

No, she couldn’t believe him – he’d been lying to her since the moment she’d met him. This was just another lie to control her.  

“And what about Garfield? Bart? Jaime? None of them had anything to do with La’gaan’s capture, and yet they’re the ones being sacrificed to bring him back.”

“And you don’t its torture for me to be here now, not knowing if they’re okay? Their safety is my responsibility and if anything happens to them, it’ll be my fault. You don’t think that kills me?”

“Then why would you let it happen!”

"Well, what would you have had me do?" he sounded almost helpless, his steady tone finally breaking, and she was glad to know there was something other than cold stone beneath the surface. “We have to save La’gaan!”

"Tell us the truth!" Morgan yelled. "Don’t take away our choice to sacrifice ourselves for our friends! How many members of the Team know about your lies? Only the seniors? Your friends? Or everyone except for us rookies? Or was I the only one that didn’t make the cut?”

“No one knows!” he protested immediately. “You weren’t singled out. Please, Morgan, believe me. The only people that know are Kaldur, Artemis, Wally and I.”

That, at least, made her feel better. She’d feared that she was the only one that had been left out of the loop, because it would’ve proved her insignificance.

“Why have you kept all this to yourself?”

"Because I can't afford to trust everyone!" Nightwing exclaimed. "When this team was first formed, there was a mole on it that fed our enemies all the information they needed, which almost caused the defeat of the entire Justice League. It's the reason Batman and the others are off world right now. I can't make the same mistake that we did back then. And if I can’t trust everyone, I can't allow myself to trust anyone."