Chapter Twenty

An Actual Car Chase

February 14th

Exactly an hour later – Nightwing was impressed with her timing – Nightwing and Morgan were in the gym.

Nightwing 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 Nightwing noted that she'd gotten pretty fast in both her movement and reaction time.

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, but only having one arm to fend herself against his two, combined with his ten years of experience against her three months, the poor girl didn't stand a chance.

Nightwing 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 in an attempt 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 over his chest 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 Nightwing was upon her in an instant.

They went on for some time, Morgan never straying from defense. Nightwing 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 her forearm, 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 backside, wings fluttering in distress.

"I'm sorry!" he quickly exclaimed and practically ran forward, dropping to his knees next to her.

She kept taking 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, 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.."

"Don't worry about it." Nightwing attempted to make her feel better. "I shouldn't have aimed that particular hit."

She nodded slightly, jaw still clenched.

"Can I take a look?" He asked, pointing at her bandaged arm. She nodded and held it out. His gloved hands started slowly unwrapping the gauze, cursing inwardly when a few layers in, fresh blood had stained the fabric. The wound had undoubtedly reopened at the blow it had received.

He removed the last layer and felt his stomach drop slightly with guilt, drawing a surprised breath in between his clenched teeth.

He hadn't seen the actually cut last night, Mal having already wrapped it up somewhat before Nightwing had gotten the chance to. 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 thought, spanning from the left side of her arm right underneath the elbow to the right side of her arm, right above her wrist. A few inches more and the knife could've easily cut through all the veins in her wrist, 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 actually 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 started expertly rewrapping 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."

February 19th

The peace between Morgan and Nightwing had lasted for exactly four days before the two of them seemed to revert to their former bordering-on-hostility relationship. They could hold a conversation without ending up barking at each other, and when they went out on patrol together – which they'd done once since the whole infirmary fiasco, not that Nightwing had let Morgan do anything on that patrol, claiming that her arm still needed 'rest' – they worked together pretty well.

It was when they were out of the professional environment, when they were at the Cave and Morgan had nothing to do that the less than lighthearted bickering occurred.

Morgan took a large bite out of the apple in her hand as she walked into the Cave's main room, spotting Nightwing in front of the huge floating screens, seemingly debriefing a squad on their mission.

Stepping closer, she listened in on the briefing. Nightwing turned and looked at her briefly, identifying who had entered the room.

Turning back to the screen, he started talking. "Investigating the origin of the alien bomb that destroyed the Krolotean invasion force is still a high priority." He informed them. Morgan spotted Miss Martian, Batgirl, Bumble Bee and Wondergirl on the screen, all seated in the Bioship. "We suspect the bomb may have been smuggled to Earth via boom tube. Watchtower sensor scans in Bialya have recorded an uptick in boom tube activity. Alpha squad, your mission is – "

Morgan smirked behind her apple as Cassie eagerly interrupted Nightwing, "Sneak behind enemy lines, recon known boom tube hotspots and find alien tech matching the bomb." She listed. As an afterthought, she added, "Oh, and don't get caught or create an international incident. Right?"

Nightwing paused before he smiled slightly. "That about covers it, yeah." He answered good-naturedly.

He seemed in a friendly mood at the moment.

"Psimon?" Miss Martian asked and Morgan stored the name away for later research. There were still a lot of places, names, people and happenings she had no clue about. She hated when some of the more routined members of the Team offhandedly mentioned something or someone they'd dealt with before and Morgan had no idea what they were talking about.

She contemplated asking Nightwing if there was some sort of database about all of their earlier missions and people they've had dealings with that she could read through to catch up to speed with the others.

"We have confirmation that Bialya's telepathic enforcer's still catatonic in a Quraci hospital." Nightwing answered. "After his last encounter with you." He pressed a few buttons and Morgan bit into her apple again as she saw a picture of a tall, dark woman appear on screen. She was beautiful, but there was something sinister about her that made Morgan weary.

"But Bialya's dictator, Queen Bee, is another story." Nightwing went on, and Morgan realized the woman must've been Queen Bee. "Her ability to control the minds of men is why Alpha is an all-female squad for this mission."

Batgirl immediately latched onto that last part. "Oh really?" She teased, crossing her arms critically over her chest. She was the only one Morgan had met who got to talk to their team leader like that. "And would you have felt the need to justify an all-male squad for a given mission?"

Morgan snickered slightly to herself. Batgirl had a point.

When Bumble Bee crossed her arms critically over her chest, Nightwing's eyes widened slightly, realizing that he'd probably deserved that jab. "Uh, there's no right answer for that, is there?" He sounded uncharacteristically sheepish. "So.. Nightwing out." He cut short their line.

Morgan noisily took another bite of her apple and she saw Nightwing flinch slightly, his back to her, undoubtedly knowing that she was about to unleash some smart-ass comment on his expense.

It wasn't often her mentor made an ass of himself, and Morgan liked to exploit the opportunity when he did.

"Well," Morgan drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. "That went well."

He sighed and turned to face her.

"All female mission, huh?" She causally added, arching an eyebrow. "Wish I could've joined." She smirked slightly when she saw him tense, obviously annoyed that she'd brought that topic to the table once again.

"You know why you can't." He tiredly reminded her.

"Oh?" She cocked her head to the side. "Please remind me. My memory's a little shot."

She let out a yelp when he unexpectedly and quickly shot a hand out and closed it around her wounded arm, squeezing just enough to make the cut sting.

"That is why you're not going." He sternly uttered before he let go. Morgan knew he didn't just mean because she was injured, he also used the cut to remind her of her disobedience. Her ears burned every time he reminded her of that.

Now, a few days later, she really was embarrassed by her own behavior. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to do it.

"Relax, Robin Senior, I was kidding." Morgan rolled her eyes. "I promised to not push the matter, and I'm not."

"Good." He responded shortly before leaving the room.

Morgan rolled her eyes and tugged her left hand into the front pocket of her large, red hoodie.

The day after her trip to the infirmary, she'd walked down to the city with a handful of nails and a hammer. She'd reached the old office building she had been using as hide out for her stuff when she went on patrol, and, after retrieving her bag, she'd nailed the board shut over the window, preventing her from every using it again.

She'd had to wear her biggest shirts, jackets and scarves, as well as tie her wings tightly to her back with belts before she'd gone out. Her charmed necklace was in the bag she had left behind when she'd gotten injured. Her wings had ached at being so restricted, not just by the belts but also because they were buried underneath too many layers of clothing, and Morgan wondered how she'd ever been able to walk around like that all day for several years.

Anyway, she'd gotten her items back and slipped the necklace on, hurrying home so she could free her feathered body parts as soon as possible.

When she'd gotten home, she had given them a bit of extra attention, cleaning them and given her feathers a check-up to make sure they were all whole and positioned correctly.

Then she'd sat on her bed for half an hour, marveling at how much her opinion of her own wings had changed in the past few months. Back then, having them on display made her uncomfortable. Now, having to hide them made her uncomfortable. They were her defining trait as a superhero, and hiding them away seemed disrespectful, like she was ashamed of the work she'd done with their assistance.

Hiding her wings felt like forsaking her future as a superhero.

Morgan took a final bite of her apple and threw it into the nearest trash can, leaving the empty room behind.

She remembered a quote her dad used to tell her. "Den, der kun tager spøg for spøg, og alvor kun alvorligt, han og hun har faktisk fattet begge dele lige dårligt." She mumbled to herself.

In essence, the quote basically meant that someone who considered a joke to simply be a joke and a serious matter to be only serious, they had misunderstood both things.

He'd told her that a joke always held an ounce of seriousness to it, and a serious matter always had a bit of a joke hidden in it somewhere.

The saying applied very well to her current situation. She joked about wishing she could go on missions to cover up for the fact that there was nothing she wanted more.

During a typical week, the only times she had an excuse to leave Mount Justice was when she had to go to school. And she kind of hated her school, so she always rued leaving the Cave. She wanted, needed to go out and do something soon, or she'd simply explode. Going out on patrols alone behind the others' backs had been a stupid thing to do, but at the time it felt like it was the only thing that kept her from going insane.

It was even worse when she got to watch the others leave to and from missions in a steady stream. She was envious of them.

And when she found herself mostly alone in the Cave because the others were out fighting crime, she missed her mother all the more.

February 26th

It was a month and a week ago that Nightwing had first spotted the posters about Morgan going missing and guilt was eating at his insides.

He still had no idea what he was supposed to do about it. Uncertainty had stopped him from doing anything, but he knew that something had to be done soon. Morgan needed to know that her mother was looking for her.

He was just unsure of how he should go about telling her.

The last month had been ridiculously busy for Nightwing, 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 just 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'.

Nightwing 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 tell 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 in 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, only 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 those weeks ago – but at the mention of going on a patrol, she'd forgotten all about the low budget action movie and instead leapt out of the couch faster than he'd through her capable off and practically flown – which, you know, was actually a possibility but this was in the metaphorical sense – to her room to change into her Sparrow gear.

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?

Nightwing had realized that once she found the posters, she'd probably want to see her mother as soon as possible. And he didn't want her to arrive home looking like she'd been in a fight.

This whole situation needed to be executed as carefully as possible because so many things could go wrong.

Morgan could refuse to see her mother and then Nightwing would have a crappy Morgan on his hands for weeks. Her mother could behave less than graciously towards her daughter once she arrived, if she did.

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.

Her mother would know about the superhero business the moment she saw her daughter in the costume, being escorted by Nightwing of all people, and Nightwing 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 mother 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 Nightwing-bike.

It wasn't really a Nightwing bike, per say, it was really just a huge, black, motorcycle with a shit-load 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 revealed as he approached the dark corner he'd parked the bike in, right next to the Zeta tube exit they'd just walked out of.

"Really? How?" Morgan sounded curious, in an altogether agreeable mood. It seemed they only really got along when they beat up people together.

That had to be unhealthy on some many levels.

"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.

Nightwing had gotten his dramatic flair from Batman, he mentally decided.

The girl let out a gleeful gasp as she approached the beast of a motor cycle. "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 chest 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 gun-shots and tires squealing along the pavement reached their ears, and Morgan's head shot up in the direction she'd heard it.

"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 side street they could hear the commotion coming from. Somebody just had to choose tonight to engage in an armed car chase.

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 they attempted to flee the crime scene they'd left behind. It looked like a normal late-night robbery at a normal bank, which didn't quite explain why one of the vehicles were being chased by the other two, the two sides exchanging bullets every once in a while.

"That bank is primarily used by the mob. The owner is involved in some seedy business at the side. 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 the other two. The two vehicles chasing the first one looked like military jeeps and Morgan figured they'd been 'acquired' without the military's consent.

Nightwing sped up and Morgan immediately 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 to her knees, her left arm clinging to his shoulder and collar bone for balance, she kept her wings firmly folded against her back to avoid the added wind resistance. If she spread her wings now, she'd get thrown off the bike immediately because of the wind.

She studied the jeep and tried to pinpoint its 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 strands tickling her cheek.

"At the speed they're going, you'll risk making the truck topple and endanger the people around us." Nightwing pointed out. "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 herself 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, the wind drying it up. "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 this wasn't just some idiots with a bike and a death wish, it was two superheroes.

One of them stuck his entire upper body out of the jeep and started firing at them with a semi-automatic.

Nightwing bit out a curse and leaned forward to make himself less of a target, telling Morgan to do the same. Morgan clung even tighter to him and closed her eyes in fear when Nightwing started swerving from side to side to make hitting them harder.

"We need to put that jeep out of commission before they put us out of commission!" Nightwing 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 answered. Morgan leaned closer when she hadn't heard what he'd said. "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 awesome 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 than objects that moved.

"We're headed straight for a bridge, Morgan." Nightwing informed her. "If you're doing this, you'll have to do it now!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" She barked, gritting her teeth together in frustration as she kept spreading out her fingers, 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!" Nightwing 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.

So I guess that could be concidered a cliff hanger. Haven't really made a lot of those so far in this story.

I won't bother with any translations for the danish because I already explained what she said. You guys haven't missed anything, promise.

Fun fact: The probability of me deciding to write a story basically depends on how many songs I can relate to said story. You see, I listen to music A LOT, so if I find that a lot of the music I'm listening to makes me think of a specific story, that also means that I'll be thinking about that story a lot more than I usually would, until I simply can't help but write it. Feathers is a story that I have SO MANY songs for. Seriously, the story has an entire playlist to itself in my Itunes library, for when I simply need to soak in my ideas. (A lot of that music is disney, actually.)