Chapter Twenty Eight: Midnight Talks


September 7th.

It was a little past midnight before Morgan got home. Despite the late hour, both her mom and grandma were still up. Waiting for her – worrying for her.

Morgan knew a 'well meaning' conversation was about to unfold. The second she'd stepped into the house and saw the two of them watching her silently from the living room, she'd known.

"Morgan dear," her mom said softly and Morgan felt irritation bubble up in her chest almost immediately. "Can you come sit?"

She knew what they were going to say. And anything they told her were things she already knew – things she had already thought about. They could bring nothing new to the table. Whatever guilt they would try to force on her, she had already laid on herself. Whatever reasoning they'd planned out, she'd already told herself the same things.

Nobody had the ability to make Morgan feel shittier about herself than she did.

She wanted to say no. She wanted to say she was tired. They could talk in the morning. They could talk never. Because she knew. She already knew it was irresponsible. She knew she was tempting fate. But her mom looked so sad and her grandmother was sipping her tear and refusing to meet Morgan's eyes.

Feeling weary to her core, she put down the duffle bag with her costume and shuffled into the living room. Slumping into the armchair furthest from the two women, she instantly regretted it when they both started studying her from across the coffee table. If she'd sat beside her grandmother, she could've at least pretended to not notice her in her peripheral vision.

A minute passed by in which they both continued to look very sad and Morgan was starting to feel very annoyed.

"Can you please just say what you gotta say so I can sleep?" She sighed, leaning back and resigning herself to half an hour of listening. She knew she should just let them say their part, because no amount of reassuring or talking from her would stop them. They'd probably spent all evening practicing this speech of theirs and, by god, she was going to hear it whether she want to or not, even if it wasn't necessary.

"Sweetheart, we're just worried.. We know what you're doing is dangerous and we don't want you to put the baby at risk."

Oh my GOD, so not the right thing to say, Morgan felt all mental shields go up as her mom proceeded to say exactly what Morgan had known she was going to say. She'd resigned herself to just letting them talk, but her mom had managed to say the entirely wrong thing.

"Mom, just.. Please shut up?" She wasn't sure if she felt more angry or frustrated. There was a lump in her throat that wouldn't let up, and it seemed be made of acid she couldn't force back into her stomach. "I know, okay? I know. But I.. I just gotta do something with my life!"

"What do you mean?" Her grandmother, as usual as sharp as a knife, instantly picked up on the deeper meaning of what Morgan was saying.

Feel antsy, Morgan got up from her chair and started pacing. The urge to pull on her hair until it hurt was overwhelming.

"I just.. Urgh!" She paced around twice in a small circle before stopping to face the two elder women. "I'm a twenty one year old, pregnant, unemployed college dropout! What am I doing with my life? I let myself get impregnated on a one night stand with a guy that won't even talk to me, I won't be able to get a job as long as I'm with child – who's gonna hire me? Without a job, I won't be able to pay for college even though I might want to go back and study again. I mean, sure, dad's life insurance and the money I saved from working at Wayne Manor is enough to support me through the pregnancy, but then what? Do I work as a cashier? A waitress? I have no education. How will I ever afford to support both me and a child? I live with my mom for God's sake!" She definitely felt like that lump in her throat was starting to choke her now. Tears were threatening to spill. Morgan was seized by a hopelessness she'd never felt before and she felt trapped, like she had no options in life. Her future seemed dark and without promise. She fell back into her armchair, placing her elbows on her knees. Staring stiffly at her hands, she was silent for a moment as she tried to reign in her runaway emotions. It's just pregnancy hormones, she tried to convince herself. "The only thing I seem to be good for is being Sparrow. If I can't do that.. then what am I? I'm just a burden on society. A burden on you."

"Morgan!" her mom sounded aghast and hurried over in her wheelchair. Abigail wrapped her arms around her, and the young hero felt the first tear slip. The rhythmic strokes over her dirty hair made Morgan feel slightly better, but it didn't do much more than take the top off of her misery. Eventually, Abigail pulled back and gave her a stern look before smiling softly. "My sweet, you will never be a burden to me, you hear?" She waited for Morgan to nod slowly before continuing. "You quit your job just to come here and take care of me. If anything, I'm the burden."

"If you two are about to start a guilt off, I'm going to bed." Victoria interrupted what had totally been a 'no, I'm the burden' response from Morgan.

"Sorry." She offered her grandmother a wet smile. "I'd blame the pregnancy hormones if these weren't one hundred percent legit worries of mine. I want to give my child the best chances in life, but I already feel like I'm failing."

"Morgan.. couldn't contacting the father help?" Abigail suggested slowly, seeming very cautious about bringing him up again. Abigail hadn't tried to talk about the unknown father since Victoria had asked Morgan the day she'd arrived. Honestly, Morgan had known it had only been a matter of time before they would ask again. "He's responsible for this too, after all."

Morgan chuckled flatly. "Trust me, that guy has enough on his plate as it is.."

"Well, surely he can't be that busy?" Victoria drew out the question. They were so obviously fishing for a name. Morgan knew they were dying to know who it was.

She couldn't tell them it was Dick Grayson. Her mom knew the guy was involved with both of Morgan's personas. If she mentioned Dick, Abigail might guess he was a superhero too. Morgan couldn't betray him like that. She couldn't hand out his secret to other people.

However, although it probably wouldn't thrill either woman that Morgan had had sex with Batman – probably mostly because they thought Batman was a forty-something man – this information didn't compromise any secret identities. She could tell them that, right? It wouldn't exactly make her look good, but it would protect Dick's identity. And it would give them some sort of answer. It would sate their curiosity.

"It's Nightwing's." She blurted out, because that didn't sound as bad as saying it was Batman's. Everyone knew Nightwing was a young man. Then she immediately backtracked because nobody had seen Nightwing for months, and him getting her pregnant raised more questions than it answered. "No, I'm sorry. I'm lying. Technically, it was Batman."

"What!"

"But he's old!"

..

Morgan wished she'd stuck with Nightwing.

"He's not.. old."

"Not old?" Abigail sounded almost hysterical. "He's been patrolling Gotham for fifteen years, and he was a grown man when he started! He's at least forty years old!"

Forty six actually, if he hadn't died.. Morgan mentally corrected.

"You don't know the whole story." How much could she tell them without passing on information she didn't have the right to hand out? Or was this situation so bizarre that it gave her a free pass on telling them all the classified stuff? Either way, the instinct to defend her actions forced the words out. Somehow, she couldn't keep the debatably classified information to herself if it meant letting her mom think she'd slept with a forty six year old. She couldn't bear to let assumptions like that slander her mom's opinion of her. "The Batman you know.. He isn't around anymore. He hasn't been for months." Morgan's heart was racing. She was sure the entire League was about to burst into her living room and start shouting at her for telling stuff like this to civilians. But the shocked looks on the elder women's faces bade her continue. She couldn't stop now. "I wasn't actually lying when I said it was Nightwing. After Batman.. left, he took over. He's Batman right now."

"Nighwing.. he was your mentor back when you were on the Team, wasn't he?" Her mom recalled.

"Yeah. We got close. Then, when I came back from Denmark, it just.. happened." Morgan attempted to straddle the line between telling them nothing, and yet just enough to make them think this was the whole story. If she managed to phrase it right, she could make it sound like the two of them had just run into each other at the Watchtower, or in Gotham, every now and then, and then things had escalated from there.

Victoria was silent for once. She knew that Morgan was a superhero and she knew some details, but this was something Abigail knew a lot more about than she did. Abigail pursed her lips and nodded silently.

"The Nightwing I remember meeting a few times was such a nice, well-adjusted young man.." she said, "Are you sure he won't help? The boy I met wouldn't think twice about supporting you through all of this."

Morgan was sure her mom didn't know how much her words stung at her insides. Yes, the Nightwing she had known would've absolutely supported her. "That was two years ago.. he's.. he's changed a lot. I don't know how he'll react. I.. know I need to tell him. But I find it nearly impossible to muster up the courage."

"We won't pressure you to do it, then." Abigail looked at Victoria, who quickly nodded. "You should do it in your own time. But trust me when I say that, the longer you keep it from him.. Well, it'll be that much harder to explain, right? If you suddenly arrive with a huge stomach, he'll know you've kept it from him for months."

Morgan was tempted to mention the charm that was currently keeping her stomach flat, but she knew both women would be wildly disapproving of that little tidbit.

"I will tell him soon. I promise." And she meant it.

Abigail gave her a proud smile that she did her best to return. Her insides were twisting and knotting. She felt nauseous.

"Morgan, I can understand feeling frustrated with not really doing anything." Victoria looked calculatingly at her. "But risking yours and your child's safety for the sake of feeling productive isn't the right way to go about it." There was no hint of a smile on her grandmother's face. Victoria was not impressed. The usually carefree and smiling woman looked dead serious and it unsettled Morgan.

"I know." She almost came across as meek in her answer. "And I promise, unless a huge crisis of some kind – the world domination, alien invasion kind of crisis – comes up, I will not touch my Sparrow suit."

"Good." Victoria daintily sipped from her tea. "Now, about feeling useful – you mentioned wanting a job. Perhaps I can help."

Morgan snorted without humor. "Yeah, good luck. Nobody is gonna hire someone that's two months pregnant."

"One of my old friends – we went to school together decades ago – she owns a small bakery." Victoria went on as if she hadn't heard Morgan's negative response. "I had coffee with her recently and she mentioned needing an extra cashier because her one of her usual ones is travelling for the next six months."

Morgan perked up slightly. "So it would be a short term thing? And it wouldn't matter than I'm pregnant?"

"If you want, I can call her tomorrow and ask if she's interested? Marjorie is a very sweet woman, I don't think she'd turn away a pregnant girl in need."

A small glimmer of hope warmed Morgan's insides. If this was a thing that could really happen, it would be so ideal. She'd have something to do besides moping and angsting. Working as a cashier didn't have to be physically hard. And if she could cheat a bit by using her telekinesis, there would be no trouble at all. And she could earn money for her savings too. "Yeah – Grandma, that would be perfect!"

"Good. That's decided then." Finishing off her tea, Victoria smacked her lips and got up. "Now, I'm off to bed. I haven't been up this late for months."

"Me too," Abigail agreed, wheeling herself towards the hall. "Morgan, you should get a shower first. You've got sand all over, and you smell of smoke."

"Of course." She followed in the wake of the two elder women. Knowing she'd have to wait for them to finish their nightly routines before the bathroom was free, she headed for her room. Once Morgan closed the door behind her, she leaned against it, holding in a groan.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..

She had overstepped a line by telling them about the current Batman. She should've just let her mom assume she'd been with the old Batman. It would've been better. Right? She ran her hands over her face and into her hair, clenching fists around her curls

"Crap." She sighed, thumping the back of her head against the door. Her heart was pounding again and she really needed to puke, not sure if it was morning sickness or disgust with herself for divulging forbidden information. She'd never done anything like this, ever. She'd always completely respected the boundaries that came with secret identities. Nobody was supposed to know that Batman had died. And though she hadn't explicitly said he was dead – well, 'not around' wasn't difficult to interpret.

She heard her grandmother shuffle to her own room, the door closing behind her. Knowing the bathroom was free, Morgan got out and darted to it, making sure to lock the door behind her before she found the toilet and bent over it.

Puking was a difficult thing to do silently, but she managed by sheer force of will because she didn't want anyone to hear. She didn't need either of the other women to come help her. She needed to be alone right now.

She stood in the shower for a long time, partly because she really was dirty and it took forever to get the sand out of her hair, and partly because the hot water pounding on her skin was like a balm. The water wasn't just wiping away the grime and sweat, but also her worries and anxieties – at least for the night. It had a calming effect she knew she'd need if she was going to fall asleep tonight.

The clock on her nightstand was pushing one AM when she returned to her room. Shrugging out of her towel to wrap it around her damp hair, Morgan was about to pull on the extremely fluffy bathrobe she'd gotten from her Farmor on her twentieth birthday, when her reflection in the floor length mirror made her pause.

Straightening to her full height, she placed a hesitant hand on her stomach. She took care to use the hand that hadn't gotten injured. She'd gotten it bandaged at the Watchtower, but she hadn't bothered to keep it dry during her shower and it was now damp and tinted red from small spots of blood mingled with water. Her hand was sore and throbbed every now and then, and she knew she'd have to change the gauze before going to bed. However, right now, her injured hand was the furthest thing from her mind.

She was starting to show.

It wasn't much yet, but her stomach was definitely bulging in a way it hadn't been a month ago. She flattened her palm completely against the bump, surprised at how firm it felt. She'd almost expected it to feel like it was just a fat roll, but this wasn't nearly as soft.

God dammit, are you crying again?

She groaned to herself and walked away from the mirror in protest, pulling on her robe and tying the sash tighter than it needed to be. She sat so heavily on her bed, the springs bounced. Staring into space for a moment, she was just about to make the decision to go to bed, when there was a small knock on her window.

Morgan dismissed it at a branch knocking against her window because of the swift autumn wind that had been blowing through Gotham all day. Or maybe it was just the rain pattering against the glass.

But then it sounded again.

Turning in her seat, Morgan felt her anxiety levels spike by about a thousand percent.

Batman was standing outside her window.

Holy Fuck.

Had he seen anything? Had he seen her study her stomach in the mirror in a distinctly 'I'm pregnant!' kind of way?

Was he here to tell her he'd had the house under surveillance this whole time, and, frankly, he wasn't impressed with her blathering his secrets to her elder relatives?

Shit, shit, shitty shit shit –

Ok, keep calm, Morgan.

Houston, we have a problem.

At seeing him, her brain had shut down for about ten seconds, and she'd stared at him – perhaps open mouthed? Her face had gone numb so she wasn't entirely sure – for all of that time. Her eyes were starting to hurt from being so wide.

He was looking less and less impressed by the second.

She leapt off her bed and all but flew to the window, opening the latch. He opened the window fully by himself and slipped inside. It would've almost been comical to see his large form trying to squeeze through her small window, but there wasn't anything remotely funny about this situation.

"Wha-?" was all her mouth could muster up. She supposed it was better than intelligible noises.

Wait.. She was in her bathrobe!

And she wasn't wearing her charm!

No! no no no noooooooo-

Alright, she sternly thought at herself. Keep calm. You're barely showing, and the bathrobe is hiding it. You'll be fine. Just. Just chill. Be cool.

"Why are you here?" Was that aggression in her voice? She sure hoped not. Her heart was racing and she beyond stressed out, but she wasn't angry. Dick had gotten so good at being angry, she felt it was unnecessary for her to be so as well.

He looked as close to uncomfortable as Morgan had seen him since coming to back America. She suspected he would've shuffled his feet if he hadn't mastered such a steely grip on his composure.

"I.." He took a step further into the room and Morgan instinctively jumped back to give him space. She feared him getting too close now that she wasn't wearing her charm. She wished she could've sneaked across the room to put it on, but he'd notice, and he'd know she wasn't putting on jewelry for the sake of aesthetics. "I didn't get to talk to you after the mission today."

Uh?

"I mean, I have a specific thing I need to talk to you about – not just talking in general." He was very tense, but not in the way he'd been for months. This was different, like he was tense because he was trying to not be mean instead of being tense because of anger. Morgan wondered what was going on – what had happened within the last few hours for him to behave so differently?

Not that she was complaining. Yet. However, she still wasn't sure exactly what was going on, so she'd hold back the verdict.

"Right. What's up?" Whatever he needed to talk to her about was important enough for him to seek her out at her mom's house in the middle of the night – and the thought worried her.

Dick was silently staring at the floor between them, his jaw working and his eyes filled with lightning. They seemed to flash as he looked up at her and then at her bandaged hand. "Give me your hand," he demanded, holding out his own.

Morgan cast an eye on the damp, stained bandage, flexing her fingers on reflex. Slowly, she placed her hand in his palm, her fingertips brushing against his pulse. His own digits seemed to spasm automatically at the sudden contact, but he quickly cleared his throat and stepped forward, bending closer to the injured hand. Nimble fingers quickly undid the clasp holding the gauze in place and he started unwrapping it.

Morgan swallowed down the urge to pull her hand back and demand to know why he was really here – because, obviously, he hadn't come all the way just to check on a small injury. She knew there was something else, but she also knew he must've been leading up to it. She doubted he was stalling because he needed to pluck up the courage; cowardice had never been one of his traits. Rather, he seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

"If you're going to check on my injury," she was surprised at how breathless she sounded, "I'd like to sit. I'm exhausted."

He looked at her face briefly before nodding and dropping her hand. Heading for her bed, Morgan watched as he closed the curtains behind them. He headed for her door and made sure it was locked. Morgan's heart seemed to stutter at the action. Unconsciously, she pulled her bathrobe tighter around herself. He hovered by the door for a moment, angling away from her. The room felt heavy with an atmosphere Morgan couldn't discern. She studied his profile as he slowly pulled back the cowl, rain water dribbling from his form onto the floor. No lights were on and the lamppost outside was hindered by the drawn curtain. The room was bathed in shadows, and they seemed thickest around Batman, as if darkness itself sprang from his form. For a moment, she could truly see why criminals and civilians alike shrunk away from him.

Morgan's fingers fumbled with the light switch, and then a second later, her bed lamp turned on, driving some of the shadows at bay. The room was tinted orange from the ugly lampshade, Dick's revealed face turning golden in the light. He turned from the door and came towards her, pausing by her small desk to grab the chair beside it.

Good. She wasn't going to let him sit on her bed next to her.

As he sat down, he drew a deep breath that Morgan was almost tempted to call a sigh. This time, when he wordlessly held out his hand, she didn't hesitate in handing him hers. He finished unwrapping the used gauze and inspected the dozen shallow cuts on both sides. The movement made her hand start pounding with dull pain again. His thumb ran over a particularly tender cut and pressed down on it lightly. A hiss escaped her mouth before she had the chance to stop it. Dick looked briefly at her face before gingerly continuing his scrutiny.

He wasn't wearing any gloves.

She wasn't sure how she'd failed to notice it before now, but the sensation of his calloused fingers on her skin was so familiar that the detail demanded her attention. She felt like she was burning with anticipation. Confusion from his behavior, coupled with the knowledge that he was leading up to some sort of speech made her fight against fidgeting in her seat.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

Morgan shrugged, allowing a small dark-humored smile to break through. "I punched a window."

He looked at her with something that almost resembled fond exasperation. Then, without a word, he pulled clean gauze from a pouch in his belt and started wrapping up her hand again.

"Dick," Morgan finally plucked up the courage – or perhaps she just couldn't bear to drag this out anymore. "why are you here?"

His attention didn't waver from the work he was doing and Morgan was almost sure he'd ignore her question, no matter how direct it had been.

"Look," he finally spoke up, but stopped after that one word again, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked away. Closing his eyes, Dick drew a deep breath and then squarely met her gaze. "We're still working together on tracking the Riddler's clues, right? Just because you don't live at the manor anymore doesn't necessarily mean that deal is out too."

Morgan couldn't have been more surprised if he'd gotten up and started breakdancing. Her brain hummed with a myriad of thoughts and the emotions that came with. Her first instinct was to get angry – he had treated her crap for weeks and now after she'd left, he suddenly wanted to make it right again?

And then she realized this was basically exactly what she'd been working towards for all those weeks. This was Dick showing progress, showing a willingness to cooperate. A cautious happiness swelled in her stomach. She couldn't be sure what had caused this new development, but she was willing to accept it. She'd latch onto it like an octopus and never let go.

And then dread reared its ugly head as she recalled the baby bump she'd been cradling ten minutes ago. She'd sworn she wouldn't unnecessarily endanger her or the child. She'd promised her mother and grandmother only an hour ago. She'd sworn she wouldn't go near the suit unless a true crisis came up.

Steely resolve took over next. If she went through with this – would it make it easier to cement Dick's influence in their child's life? If she worked with him now, would it mean he was involved once the kid was born?

Honestly, did she get the luxury of not at least trying? So far, the stuff they'd been doing with the Riddler hadn't been that dangerous. If she was extra careful and let Dick take care of the most dangerous guys, it could work out. Right?

God, I'm such an idiot.

"If you don't want me to stop joining, then I won't mind still tagging along." She answered as neutrally as possible.

He nodded hesitantly at first and then with more conviction. "Good. I'll contact you whenever I hear anything from him."

"Okay."

Dick gave her one last nod and then got up, heading for the window. Their little midnight rendezvous was apparently over.

"Dick?" she called. He paused with his hands on the cowl, turning towards her.

She met his eyes and they looked very blue in contrast to his golden tinged skin. For a moment, she was tempted more than ever to let him know what was going on. What was currently happening inside her body. She imagined how easy it would be to just blurt it out. Right now. Now that they were alone and not angry with each other. Just get it over with. The sight of him standing here, looking expectantly at her, made it nearly impossible to keep her tongue from running loose. He deserved to know. He had no idea of what was truly going on, but he deserved to know.

But she took the urge and locked it inside a deep part of her subconscious. Now, after so many weeks of no progress, Dick finally looked like he was getting better. If she told him now, it would.. ruin all of that.

So instead, she sighed and shook her head. "Just because I don't live at the manor anymore doesn't mean I don't care." She wasn't sure if that had been a stupid thing to say, but his face revealed nothing. "Promise you'll contact me the moment anything happens on the case. Even a small thing. I want to be involved."

He only gave her a short nod for an answer and then pulled the cowl back in place.

A moment later, he was gone. Morgan slumped on her bed, feeling like she'd just run a marathon. Getting up again, she shuffled towards the window and closed it after him. Unable to stop herself, she peeked out at the street, hoping against hope to catch a short glimpse of him.

As she'd already known, he was long gone. Morgan was questioning why she'd even bothered to look for him when another thing caught her attention. There was a small alley across the street from her window. It lead into a small courtyard, the result of a failed attempt at making a patch of nature for the benefit of the surrounding apartment buildings. The streetlamp was broken, the light flickering on and off every few seconds.

As she watched, the light switched off and a dark shadow passed under it, turning the corner right as the light blinked to life once again. The sole of a shoe let her know it hadn't been Batman, but someone else entirely. Feeling an unexpected spike in her heartrate, Morgan cursed her paranoia. Angrily, she yanked the curtains shut again and marched towards her bed with a huff.

It took her at least another hour before she fell asleep. When she did, uneasy, anxiety filled dreams plagued her mind.


Hey! I know, an update so soon? What magic is this?

So not a lot of action, but a lot of TALKING and STUFF THAT WILL BUILD TOWARDS ACTION and also DEVELOPMENT. Yay!

Finally a somewhat genuine moment between the two of them huh?

If some of this stuff seems off, I should say part of the second half was written under the influence of having watched The Exorcist right before.