Chapter Twenty Five

Awkward Nudity

Morgan lay on the couch in Nightwing small living room, listening to the tick tock of the clock 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 and he was so tall, meaning he needed big towels, 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-way opened bathroom door and the moon. 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.

Morgan was thankful he 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 that extremely attractive way boys do where they pull at the hem from behind and shrug it over their head, mussing up his hair deliciously.

And then, as he turned and threw the t-shirt into his laundry basket, Morgan was blessed with a full view of his torso in all of its naked, lean, muscle-y 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.

Morgan did everything she could not to stare but oh my god.

Oh.

My.

God.

A rather unwanted memory of Rachel saying that she would 'climb him like a tree' 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, heading straight for her cheeks. Reluctantly, she had to admit that she could totally understand where the other girl was coming from because, damn, he was just too handsome to exist.

The guy looked like 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?

Why did she have such a weakness for well-muscled guys?

Well, not all well-muscled guys. Maybe she just had a weakness for him.

"Uhm," Morgan began, trying to remember what it was she had wanted before the entirely unexpected – but not entirely 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.

What was it she had wanted again?

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, where she had been supposed to pick it up. And where she'd totally forgotten it.

Morgan fully intended to close the small distance and pick the shirt up herself. But she was suddenly inexplicably nailed to the floor, halfway hidden behind the bathroom door. She was all too aware that she was only in a towel herself, wet hair leaving behind small trails of water down her collar bone and the top of her chest, soaking into the hem of the towel.

Before she had the chance to pull herself together, Dick approached the t-shirt and picked it up.

Morgan oogled the way his muscles moved and shifted when he walked over and picked up the t-shirt. 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 glorious torso or his intense, deep blue eyes. Or his seriously well-muscled biceps.

Or just all of him altogether. Not looking. Not looking.

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 muscle-y 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 of that skin.

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.

She considered staying in there 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 slight panic she was experiencing. 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?

Because, this was so completely different than fighting criminals.

She pulled off the towel and used it to dry her hair an extra time – 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 after realizing 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.

Morgan gathered her discarded clothes up off the floor and folded them into a small bunch under her left 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 seemingly already asleep, lying on his stomach with one arm tugged under his pillow, the other lying top of it, fisting a handful of the pillowcase in his long fingers. Half of his face was buried in his pillow, black locks of hair falling in front of his closed eyes, dark lashes framing his lids.

His face was peaceful and relaxed, a look Morgan had rarely seen on her mentor before.

The covers stopped just below his shoulders, giving her a nice look of the taut muscles in his shoulders and arms.

Morgan quickly looked away, feeling like an absolute creep for watching someone else in their sleep.

She flicked the light switch in the bathroom, leaving the room bathed in nothing but the moonlight, and she cursed slightly to herself as she walked slowly out, hoping she didn't trip over anything in the darkness and wake him up.

"Good night, Morgan." Came his voice suddenly from the bed.

Morgan jumped a foot into the air, her nerves absolutely fried at this point.

"Uh," She cast a quick look over her shoulder to find his blue eyes open, looking at her. She smiled slightly, trying to appear casual. "Good night."

And now, here she was, lying on his couch, her heart still beating a little faster than usual, trying to calm herself down enough to fall asleep.

Problem was, every time she closed her eyes, she swore the image of his bare torso popped up without her consent.

Also, as she showered, she'd had to borrow some of his shampoo, which had led to the very distressing side effect of her hair now smelling like him – seriously what sort of weirdo used apple-scented shampoo?

Nice smelling weirdos. That's who used apple-scented shampoo.

Another problem was, every time her eyes were open, she thought of what had brought her here, to his apartment, late at night.

The origin of her wings was no longer a mystery. Her father had done it to her.

A weird sense of closure settled in her stomach, mingling with the betrayal and the grief that her father could've ever done something like this to her.

She grabbed a tight hold of the comforter and pulled it all the way up over her chin, curling in on herself.

She had harbored hateful emotions towards her father for a long time, this wasn't anything new. And knowing about the truth just reinforced those feelings. It didn't matter.

She'd wanted answers, and she'd gotten them.

Now all she had to do was move on. Forget about her failure of a father and move on. Use the wings he'd forced onto her to do good.

Forget where they came from an instead think of where they could take her.

She'd gotten answers about her wings. But, Morgan realized with a flicker of annoyance, she still didn't know where her telekinesis had come from.

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 powers.

Meaning he wasn't responsible for them.

Meaning Morgan had to find answers elsewhere.

Meaning her search wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

March 8th

Dick's alarm clock blared to life, quite 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 automatically.

Squinting one eye at the clock, he wondered why he'd set it to ring this early – seriously, seven thirty was ridiculous – when he didn't actually have any classes today.

The sound of someone turning over in their sleep, the ruffle of a comforter, reached his ears and he suddenly remembered why.

Morgan had slept over.

She was lying on his sofa, at this very moment, in nothing by her underwear and one of his old t-shirts.

He groaned and tugged his own covers up over his tired head. It was far too early in the morning to be thinking about images like that.

He lay for another ten minutes and then the alarm blared to life again. This time, the teenager forced himself to sit up and shut off the alarm properly. He stood up, stretched like a cat, and, just because he had guests, he shrugged on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants over his boxers.

He walked barefooted into his combined living room and kitchen, careful to not wake Morgan and opened up his fridge. Pulling out a large carton of orange juice, he poured himself a glass and went about searching of something breakfast-y that he could prepare.

If there was one thing Alfred had managed to drill into his head, it was how to be a good host. And serving breakfast after having someone sleep over was at the top of the list of things you were supposed to do to be a good host.

He smirked 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 package of butter, honey and jam.

He was slightly grateful he'd gone shopping just two days ago. Normally, his fridge was pretty empty, as was his cupboards. He was too busy to cook very often, resulting in take-out or instant noodles more often than he was willing to admit.

Dick purposefully scrambled loudly around the kitchen in an attempt to wake Morgan up without having to actually wake her. He got the feeling she was a grumpy waker.

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, hand scraping against the floor. Her left wing was folded neatly against her back, her right dangling limply off the side of the couch and covering most of her upper body from view – a good thing since she had shrugged the covers off of her torso during the night and the shirt she wore had crawled up high on her stomach – also touching the floor.

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, her right hand rising off of the floor to rub at her face.

"Good morning." He greeted her as she opened one grey eye to spot him.

She rose up onto one elbow and pushed her hair out of her face. She opened both eyes and studied him briefly.

Folding her right wings to her back, she turned over onto her back and slung an arm over her face. "Oh, thank god." She groggily said.

"Thank god what?" He asked.

"You just strike me as the type that walks around naked in the morning."

Dick was unwilling to admit for close to the truth she'd actually come with that statement.

"Not when I have guests." He responded, knowing she'd think it was a joke.

It totally wasn't.

"Well, thank you for extending the small courtesy of wearing clothes, at least." She quipped as she sat up, red t-shirt pooling around her small frame.

She stood and stretched her body as far as it could go, probably not realizing that by doing so, she was giving Dick a very clear look of her underwear.

He redirected his eyes back onto the eggs.

"Breakfast is almost ready." He informed her.

"Awesome." She sat down again on the sofa, 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 shrugged her jeans on and stood up again.

Morgan stretched her wings, shaking them a bit, and with a vague – very, very vague, like, barely even there, you-need-a-microscope-to-spot-it vague – sense of attraction – again, very vague because he was not attracted to Morgan like that at all – and quite a lot of amusement, Dick noticed that, not only did Morgan sport the wildest bed head he'd ever seen, she also had bed wings, the feathers ruffled and messy.

Seriously, that was adorable. He was willing to admit that.

Morgan approach the kitchen, dragging her steps as she yawned widely again, obviously still exhausted.

"Man, I'm beat." She complained.

"When did you fall asleep?"

"I dunno." She shrugged as she settled onto the same barstool she'd sat on the night before. "I think it was 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 put a plate of eggs and toast in front of her, serving the same thing on his own as he settled down at the other side of the small counter. "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 her knife loosely in her hand as she contemplated his question. So, apparently she didn't like eggs. He made a mental note of this.

"I'm going to do what I've been already been doing, I guess. Train. Fight evil. Become a hero." She shrugged. Her intense tone betrayed her casual body language. "Just because I got my wings through an insane scientist father doesn't mean I'm not gonna use them to do good. 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."

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.

"What are you going to tell your mother?" Dick asked, realizing that this was actually a pretty big deal. 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 literally used their daughter as a lab-rat and she 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. And, in a way, he could understand her desire to spare her mother, even though he wasn't sure he agreed that it was the best thing to do.

"There's a new problem too." Morgan spoke up when Dick hadn't answered.

"Which is?"

Honestly, they had so many problems, he wasn't sure which one she was referring to.

"There's another one out there. My father 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. "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."

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."

Dick nodded. "I can respect that."

Morgan smiled gratefully at him, spreading jam onto a piece of toast. "Thanks."

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. Once they had polished off two eggs, half a carton of orange juice and six slices of toast, Dick got up and started cleaning their meal away.

"He didn't know about my other power." She suddenly added.

Dick knew. He'd seen the look on Henrik's face. Her father hadn't expected her to be able to do anything but fly. "I know."

"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 want to mention. 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.

March 19th

"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 man's constant yammering.

Connor, standing behind the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, answered. "Some people are always reserved when it comes to foreign things. Unfortunately, this one 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. "He's a total douche-muffin. Like, he doesn't even know any aliens, why does he automatically think they're all bad?"

Turning over so her feet came into contact with the floor, she stood up quickly, blinking when blood suddenly rushed from her head and spots danced in front of her eyes "Woah." She took a hand to her head as she waited for the spots and dizziness to disappear, swaying slightly on the spot.

How long had she been lying on that couch?

"For the record," She continued once her head had cleared. "I think you guys are awesome. But maybe that's just because I'm not entirely human myself. I guess." Morgan shrugged.

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 human/bird transmutation experiments. Morgan wondered if it made her a certain percent bird. Like, ninety percent human, ten percent bird. Or something like that.

Connor, face usually drawn into a vaguely pissed of expression, softened somewhat and offered her a small quirk that almost resembled a smile.

"Connor."

At the new voice, the two heroes looked at the doorway, spotting Nightwing.

"Briefing's any moment now." He informed.

Connor nodded and headed for the briefing room.

Morgan leaned against the head rest of the couch, watching the tall man 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. And she trusted his judgment.

Connor left the room, but Nightwing didn't. "You too, Morgan." He suddenly said.

Morgan's eyes snapped back up and pinned her mentor immediately. 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 smiled a small 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 probably be considered immature behavior and might change his mind about letting her go.

"Suit up." He ordered. "Meet in the main room in ten."

"Yes sir!" Morgan yelled enthusiastically and practically 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 (She wasn't sure what she needed it for but Nightwing had assured her that it would come in handy at some point), 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.

Marching out of her room, she found herself in the main room after only five minutes.

Morgan made sure to walk casually towards the place as she braided her hair back. She didn't want to appear unprofessional.

The echo of Mal's deep voice met her right before she entered the briefing room, subject intriguing her immediately.

"They're both gonna wind up our responsibility, aren't they?" He asked in a sort of resigned way.

"Not necessarily." Nightwing answered just as Morgan rounded a corner, the three men coming into view.

She studied the screens in front of the others to figure the subject out. A picture of Impulse as well as some other guy she was pretty sure was named Roy – hadn't M'gann explained something about a Roy being a clone and looking for the original him? And finally finding him a few weeks ago? – was displayed in the middle of the four screens, and Morgan understood what Mal had meant.

It seemed like the Team attracted all the people with powers, that were too young to join the League.

She wondered if Mal had asked Nightwing the same thing, with the same tired voice, back when she'd first joined.

"Bart, Impulse, is staying with Jay and Joan Garrick in Central City." Nightwing explained. "Roy, the original Speedy, is recuperating at Royal Memorial Hospital in Star City. Arrows, both Green and Red are watching over him."

Nightwing almost sounded like he expected the two heroes to not end up on the Team's list of responsibilities.

"Huh-uh." Mal skeptically said. "They're both gonna wind up our responsibility."

The three men looked in her direction briefly to acknowledge her presence when she came up to stand next to Mal on the opposite site of Connor, the two of them only looking mildly surprised when they saw she was in her suit.

"Doesn't everything?" Connor grouched, getting back on track. "I mean, where are we on identifying the Light's new partner?"

Morgan slipped on her mask as her mentor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No progress.." he admitted, sounding tired and frustrated.

"We'll get 'em." Morgan simply said, shrugging. "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."

Knowing he had a point, she bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from calling him a pessimist.

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.

"La'gaan," M'gann chastised between giggles, "Don't eat so fast!"

La'gaan went on, talking about cakes with crabs in them or something – Morgan's wasn't paying much attention to their conversation, she was too busy trying to figure out exactly what their relationship even was.

She really did try to believe that the two of them were ridiculously in love. But somehow, the whole thing just seemed.. too mushy to be genuine. She had no doubt that the two really did have feelings for each other, but she also couldn't help but think that all of the kissing and the mushy stuff was an attempt to cover up the fact that their feelings weren't actually that strong.

Not that Morgan was an expert on relationships, seeing as she had absolutely zero experience. And maybe she just thought they were weird because she couldn't imagine herself being that mushy. But that didn't mean other people couldn't be. Personal preference and all that.

"You're gonna choke, silly." M'gann warned him in between giggles when La'gaan stuffed his face with another cake.

Morgan resisted the urge to snicker when she heard Connor mutter "If only."

As Superboy tended to do whenever the happy couple arrived on the 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 – Wait, the archery girl? Wasn't she retired? – had arrived.

A tall, gorgeous blonde in a green costume, with tan skin and big, dark eyes, emerged from the tube. Morgan had met her once before, when she and Wally had visited the Cave during Christmas, but it had been a brief meeting and Morgan wasn't sure if the other girl remembered her.

"Time for the briefing." Nightwing announced, smiling.

"Artemis!" M'gann exclaimed excitedly, leaving a – after having to catch the tray of crab-cakes when his girlfriend ceased to levitate it – disgruntled La'gaan in the dust.

"Hi, M'gann!" Artemis responded with just as much eagerness as the other girl fiercely embraced her.

"How's Wally?" M'gann questioned when she'd pulled back.

"He's," Artemis paused, searching for the right word. "You know, he's Wally."

The two girls laughed as the remaining heroes approached them and Morgan knew there was some inside joke she wasn't getting. As usual.

"Welcome back, girl." Mal greeted the blonde, placing a large hand on her slim shoulder.

"Hey Mal!"

Connor reached the small group, an actual smile on his lips. "We have so missed you around here." He sounded genuinely happy, something Morgan rarely experienced from the stoic alien.

"Connor!" Artemis also sounded very much pleased to see her old team mate.

Morgan hovered halfway between the small group and Nightwing, not entirely sure what she was supposed to do. She didn't know Artemis so she couldn't really join in on their little happy reunion. But not greeting her either would be kind of awkward too.

Morgan needed to take a few classes on how to act in a social setting, she decided. Five years of isolation didn't help much in that aspect.

"I relish this opportunity to finally fight beside you archer." Lagoon Boy said, having caught up the group and now standing beside M'gann like an obedient little boyfriend.

"Um, thanks, La'gaan." Artemis haltingly answered, perhaps not sure how to react to the, admittedly, strange choice of words.

At least, Morgan thought, she wasn't the only awkward duckling in the room.

And if Lagoon Boy got to go and say something awkward without being embarrassed, so did she, Morgan decided. She took in a deep breath and stepped up to the group, ending up beside Connor.

"Hi, Artemis." She greeted with a small hand wave – and then immediately wondering why on earth she'd done a small hand wave oh my goodness you freaking disaster what is wrong with you – "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."

Morgan smiled gratefully, glad the other girl had responded so positively to her approach.

"Okay, Gamma squad, listen up." Nightwing spoke up, taking control of the briefing once again.

The small group walked up to their leader as he explained their task.

"The mission is in Cape Canaveral. Covert operation to safeguard the first Earth-Mars communication-satellite. There are people out there who don't even like the idea of aliens and will do anything to scrub this launch."

"But, that's why I came back." Artemis whispered, and Morgan turned her head to spot the archer placing a reassuring hand on a crestfallen M'gann's shoulder. "Because not all of us feel that way."

Morgan was reminded of herself saying something along those lines to Connor earlier when they'd been watching the news with G. Godfrey.

"So why are you going?" Mal asked Nightwing.

Morgan suddenly found herself wondering the same thing. In the now five months she'd been on the team, she'd only seen her mentor go on a mission a small handful of times, and only ever when the team had been stretched thin or the mission was a highly dangerous one. Why was he going now? The mission seemed simple enough; there wasn't even any guarantee of a threat. They were really only acting as a safety-precaution. Hardly highly dangerous, and the team wasn't stretched thin at all.

"Let's just say that after running this team for a year.." He started, a small mischievous smile on his face as he readjusted his glove in a 'let's get shit done' fashion, "I'm peckish for a little action."

And if Morgan thought that sounded kinda sexual, she did not show it.

And neither was she attracted by it.

So, yeah. That happened. I hope I didn't break any of you.

Seriously, when I see how much you guys freak out over a simple kiss on the cheek, I can't help but wonder what's going to happen when we get to the actual stuff. And then I feel bad because you probably freak out over it because I'm a horrible author that severely deprives you of any romantic goodness. We will get there!

So, those of you who know the series well probably know what's gonna happen now. We've reached that chapter.

I posted early because you gave me an aboslutely overwhelming amount of reviews. We've skipped the three hundred mark! Thank you all so much!

Fun fact: Morgan's absolute favourite movie is the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice. It is the one movie she will literally never get tired of watching.