Chapter Thirty One

Dick and Morgan Residence

She was about to open the door when Morgan's fingers faltered as she contemplated something else.

Nightwing had opened up to her the night before and allowed himself to show weakness. And he'd been very obvious about the discomfort his own actions had caused him. Morgan had never seen her mentor flee from a situation as blatantly as he'd done when he'd retreated to his room first chance he got.

So Morgan's question was.. How were things going to be between them now? Was he going to clam up again to compensate for his word vomit the night before?

Only one way to find out.. Morgan decided as she unlocked the door and stepped into his bedroom, noticed that the towels had all been picked up and placed neatly back onto their shelf and headed for the living room where she knew her mentor currently was.

"Good morning." She greeted casually. The heavenly smell of fresh coffee hit her nose and she hopped onto a barstool, accepting the cup he offered her.

He looked her over briefly, taking in her less than ideal attire.

He didn't comment on it.

"Good morning." He said instead, sounding vaguely guarded.

"So what now?" Morgan asked some time later, once she'd finished off her coffee and two slices of toast. "What happens to the Team now that our HQ is destroyed?"

Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaning his head on his hands, elbows propped onto the grey surface of the small table. "I'm not sure yet. I've talked with Captain Atom, and the League is going to host a meeting later today. Find out where we'll be stationed from now on. Maybe they'll lend us the Hall of Justice, it's not like they use the place anyway."

Morgan nodded and played around with the butter knife, a thought springing to mind.

"I've been wondering," She began, keeping her eyes on the knife. "The thing is, Beast Boy, Impulse and Blue Beetle are all abducted by the Light. And the only reason I'm not locked up with them is because I got lucky. But why didn't they have any interest in your or Connor? They specifically left you behind. Why were the two of you different?"

"Kaldur mentioned that we weren't of interest because I was an ordinary human and Connor is human-Kryptonian." Dick recalled. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're humans with powers. I'm not sure, Morgan. I wish I knew."

Morgan nodded, frustrated with all the unanswered questions they had.

"So," She continued, trying to avoid any lingering silences. "When's the meeting?"

Dick glanced at the clock on his wall. "In half an hour." His eyes widened as he realized he was about to be late. "Crap. Gotta go!"

He dashed for his bedroom, already in the middle of throwing off his shirt before he even reached the door.

Morgan stood up and started cleaning away the rest of their simple breakfast, trying to tell herself that they were not being totally domestic.

He came out, dressed as Nightwing a moment later sans his mask. "Where'd I put it?!" He frantically asked himself as he searched the room.

Morgan picked the thing off of the kitchen table and walked up to him, handing it over. "So am I supposed to sit around here and wait?" She protested. "I can't go out in this."

"Call Barbara. Get her to borrow you some clothes." He quickly listed off as he pulled his boots on. "My phone is on my nightstand. My wallet is in the left pocket of my leather jacket. Go buy what you need."

He was out the door before Morgan had the chance to either thank him or ask any more questions.

That was quite possibly the first time Morgan had seen her mentor act uncool and uncoordinated, and she had to admit it was almost cute.

The loud slam the door had made when Nightwing hurriedly shut it behind him seemed to ring in her ears long after he'd left. After staring at the door for a moment, Morgan followed his instructions.

"Phone on the nightstand, wallet in left pocket.." She mumbled to herself as she located first the phone and then the jacket. She felt kind of bad that she'd use his money to buy clothes, but she didn't have much of a choice at this point. She squashed the guilt down and reminded herself that he had gotten the Cave blown up so it was totally fair that he'd cover the expenses. Besides, he was, like, really rich. According to Esmeralda.

Barbara picked up after three rings.

"Hey Dick."

"Hi, Barbara, it's Morgan." She answered, only now realizing how it looked at she was calling from his phone, in his apartment, and she'd be using his money to buy herself some new clothes. "I need to ask you a favor.."

March 28th

With all the questions Morgan found she had to dodge on a day-to-day basis, she'd thought she'd gotten pretty good at it.

There were some questions, however, that weren't so easily dodged.

Like why you showed up to school with three bruised ribs, a sprained wrist, and enough bruises and cuts on your face and body to make you look like modern art.

And questions certainly were asked. Both Rachel and Esmeralda seemed incredibly curious.

Morgan dodged for all she was worth. Eventually, she settled for a car crash as her excuse. The two girls showered her in sympathy.

Their little interrogation, however, was nothing compared to the grilling Barbara had subjected her to when the red head had gone shopping with her the day after the Cave had been blown up. She'd first made Morgan relay the entire evening in exquisite detail, claiming that the official report that Nightwing had issued was very brief and to the point.

And then, after Morgan had spent several long minutes describing the entire thing as best as she could, Barbara had shifted her attention onto other matters. Batgirl was very much interested in knowing why Morgan was sleeping at Nightwing's place, wearing a shirt that was obviously his, calling from his phone, and buying clothes with his money.

Very interested indeed.

Morgan had answered her questions truthfully. It wasn't like anything incriminating was going on.

"I didn't want my mom to see me so bloody and beaten up, so he offered to let me crash for the night." She had explained, shrugging. "And all my clothes were lost in the explosion so I borrowed a shirt to sleep in."

And then Barbara had leveled her intelligent and calculating eyes at Morgan. "Do you like him?" She had asked.

Morgan had choked on her own spit and stumbled on the sidewalk, her walk hindered by the plastic bags with clothing that she was lugging around. "He's my mentor and my friend." Morgan had casually responded, keeping her eyes peeled on the sidewalk in front of her. "Of course I like him."

"You know what I mean. Do you like like him?"

"What, like, like like?" Morgan had responded, stalling.

"Yes."

"Okay, so, just because I crashed at his place one night, only because my home had exploded, I'm supposed to like him all of a sudden?" She had defended herself, sounding affronted. The truth was, she wasn't a very good actor and Barbara was very intelligent, and Morgan wasn't sure if a denial would convince her.

"I'm just saying," Barbara began. "You two seem awfully chummy. He doesn't just let anyone sleep over."

"He's my mentor. I see him more often than I see myself." Morgan reminded Barbara. "Anyway, I think he felt sorry for me. He was the one that reunited me with my mom so I think he's gotten himself invested or something. He knows I don't want to worry her more than necessary."

"Speaking of which," Barbara changed the subject to Morgan's relief. She'd managed to dodge outright answering Barbara's question. "The explosion is all over the news. You'll probably want to contact your mom and let her know you're still alive and all that."

"Crap." Morgan realized her mother would've found out about the explosion several hours ago and was probably worried sick. "I should probably go do that."

"I'll take these back to Dick's apartment if you want. You can go see her." Barbara offered motioning for the bags of clothes Morgan was carrying.

"Thanks. And thank you so much for helping me with the shopping." Morgan handed her the bags and walked in the opposite direction, thankfully knowing that there was a Zeta tube nearby.

She knocked on her mom's door, fiddling with the orange pendant hanging around her neck. The evening before the explosion, when Morgan had geared up to go on patrol, she'd followed a nagging feeling in the back of her head and put the charmed necklace in one of the pouches on her belt. The choice had proven to be the right one once her room was buried in several tons of rubble. The necklace would've been lost to her.

Visiting her mom had been a pretty short affair as she only wanted to let her know she was okay and then get away fast before Abigail and her nurse-eyes noticed the sprained wrist or the bruised ribs or any of her other injuries.

And now, four days later, on the twenty eighth, Morgan arrived at Nightwing's apartment after school, wondering for how long she was expected to stay at his place. She could've gone to sleep at her mother's apartment instead by now, but Dick hadn't seemed annoyed by her presence yet, so she let it go. He'd promised her that he was looking for new quarters for the people that used to live in the Cave, and Morgan didn't see any point in moving into her mother's apartment and then moving some place new a few days later.

She'd rather just wait it out at his place even though his sofa wasn't actually particularly comfortable.

Morgan wondered where the others were spending their nights. She knew M'gann was using her uncle's apartment. And she was pretty sure she'd heard that Connor was staying with Superman's wife, Georgia, for the time being. But what about Mal?

She figured that, wherever they were, it was better than were Beast Boy, Impulse, Blue Beetle and Lagoon Boy were.

Morgan shuddered whenever she remembered that she could've joined them, happy that things had turned out differently. And then she felt guilty for thinking that.

She wished she could say that if she could switch places with any of them, she would. But Morgan wasn't sure she would. The thought of being abducted scared her a lot. She was terrified of losing her freedom because she'd spent five years of her life worrying about the day she'd end up at a lab where people would poke and prod at her wings. It might've made her selfish and a coward, but she had to be honest.

She didn't tell anyone.

"You realize the only edible thing you have in your kitchen is a glass of pickled garlic?" Morgan pointed out after a quick sweep of Dick's empty cabinets and fridge. She pulled the glass out. "Oh, and it's not even edible, it expired six months ago."

She could practically hear her mentor roll his eyes behind her.

Morgan had offered to make dinner that night because she was honestly growing tired of Chinese take-out.

"I don't often have time for grocery shopping." He responded behind the screen of his computer. He was researching Henrik Jørgensen's earlier work, trying to dig up names on his colleagues. Whoever they were, however, didn't seem to want to be found because there was absolutely nothing on the internet about neither Morgan's father nor his work associates.

Morgan sighed and picked up the pamphlet with the Chinese take-out number on it. "I guess its noodles and rolls again tonight then." She muttered. She dialed the number in and waited for the place to answer.

"You know, this whole investigation would be a lot easier if you'd just talk to your dad." Dick pointed out.

Morgan scowled. "There is no way in hell I'm-" She cut herself off when the restaurant answered her call and she quickly placed the usual order before hanging up. "As I was saying: Not a chance. The guy can go screw himself."

"Maybe you're being a bit too harsh," The tall teenager had the audacity to say. "I mean, he's your dad after all."

"And that's supposed to excuse his horrible actions?" Morgan angrily retorted. "If anything, the fact that he's my father only makes it worse."

"I'm just saying.." He looked up from the screen with his blue eyes. "You never know if anything happens and you never get the chance to talk things out. If it was me, I'd want the opportunity to make amends with my dad."

Morgan was suddenly horribly reminded of the fact that both of her mentor's parents were dead.

There was no hidden meaning in his words, or in his eyes, but Morgan could tell he was thinking the same thing as her. Her family situation might've been a bit messed up, but at least she had a family.

Knowing that saying 'sorry' was only going to result in awkward silence or perhaps a smaller argument, Morgan wet her bottom lip and bit into it as she tried to think of something else to say.

"I.." She breathed in deeply and decided that he might've been right. Perhaps swallowing her pride and talking to her father was not only the best course of action but also the only course of action. "I guess talking to him once wouldn't hurt.."

"Do you still have his number?"

Morgan grimaced. "No. I kind of burned it.."

He sent her an exasperated look.

"Hey, even if I hadn't burned it, it still would've been lost because someone," She aimed a look at him, "decided to blow up Mount Justice."

Dick groaned slightly. "Are we really going to have this discussion again?"

"No. I just need to remind you every once in a while that all of my stuff is gone because of you." Morgan answered casually, smirking when he curled his lips in a displeased manner.

She'd forgiven him for all of her lost stuff. Most of the things she had had in the Cave could easily be replaced. Didn't mean she was going to let him off the hook that easily though.

"Most of which I've replaced with my own money, if you recall." He pointed out.

"Your guardian is a billionaire. I'm pretty sure you'll get over buying a few jeans and t-shirts." Morgan reminded him. "So how are we going to find him?" Morgan sat down next to her mentor and watched the work he was doing. "I could ask my mom if she has his number, but I doubt it."

"You should call her just in case." Nightwing decided, handing her his phone without looking up from the screen.

Morgan called Abigail, having thankfully memorized her number long ago. "Hi mom." She launched into her request immediately. "You still have dad's number?"

Abigail didn't answer immediately, as if surprised by Morgan's focused questioning. Normally she'd open up with 'how are you' and 'I'm doing well', but Morgan was not in the mood for pleasantries at the moment.

"Uh," Morgan could hear her shuffle around, pulling open a drawer. "Sorry dear, I don't."

"Oh, well.." She tried to sound casual like it wasn't a big deal. She didn't want her mother getting involved. "That's okay. It wasn't important. I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"I'll look forward to it."

"'Kay. Bye mom. Love you." Morgan put the phone down on the table. "She doesn't have it." She told Dick even though he had heard the conversation. "So I guess asking him in person is – what are you doing?" Morgan frowned and leaned further towards her mentor, looking over his shoulder at the work he was doing on the computer.

"I'm hacking into all the security cameras in the city. If your father walks by one of them, we'll know about it."

Morgan was secretly impressed by his handiwork. "Makes tracking him down easier, I guess."

"My thoughts exactly."

They sat in silence for some time as Morgan watched him systematically hack into the security cameras of every subway station.

At some point, their take-out arrived and Morgan paid the guy, settling the white box in front of her mentor. His eyes were still trained on his screen in deep concentration and he only muttered a small thanks to show he'd even noticed the food.

Morgan wished she could focus so intently on something like that. The only times she could really lose herself was when she read or when she did her homework. Nightwing always seemed so focused on everything he did, like every task was worthy of his absolute full attention.

It was anything to add to her annoyingly growing pile of things she found attractive in her mentor.

Sitting next to him and watching his work, she had to greatly resist the urge to turn slightly so she could stare at him instead. He'd surely notice and then uncomfortable questions would be asked.

Opening her own box, she noticed to her dismay that they'd once again forgotten she had ordered hers without chicken. Not missing a beat, she grabbed Nightwing's box and started dumping the large pieces of meat into his. The same thing had happened the first night they'd eaten the take-out and he'd aimed a confused look at her when she'd complained about the chicken.

"I don't eat bird." She'd explained. "Makes me feel like a cannibal."

Having finished dumping her chicken on her mentor, Morgan felt a small crooked smile slip onto her features as she chewed on a mouthful of noodles. She'd found him so annoying and stuck up when they first met. She'd done everything and anything she could to fight him constantly, simply because she was unnecessarily spiteful.

And somehow, over the months, they'd developed a comfortable friendship. Comfortable enough that they could sit in absolute silence, all alone at his apartment, swapping food, without it seeming awkward.

She didn't think of him as her stuck up mentor anymore. She thought of him as a friend.

And now she actually liked him.

Wait.

No she didn't.

She'd already gone through this, Morgan mentally reminded herself firmly. And she'd agreed with herself that she didn't like her mentor.

She'd agreed with herself that liking him would only end up painful and would probably ruin the friendship they'd worked so hard on developing.

Feelings were completely off the table.

Dick seemed to have finished his hacking because he closed the laptop and pushed it away, stretching his back. He'd been sitting in a bent position as he'd worked on the computer and sighed with pleasure as the cricks in his back were dealt with.

Grabbing the white box of Chinese, he dug into it like a starved man.

Morgan had already finished her own serving by then and threw the box into the trash.

"I'm going to bed." She announced. "I've got school early tomorrow."

He nodded and pulled his computer off the counter, walking to his bedroom. "Sleep tight." He answered.

Morgan pulled out a set of purple pajama – she didn't usually sleep in pajamas, but she'd bought a few pairs once she learned that she'd be sleeping at his place for the foreseeable future. A t-shirt and underwear simply didn't cut it anymore. Too much skin showing.

He'd left his bedroom door open, knowing she'd have to use the bathroom to brush her teeth before going to bed, and Morgan walked in without knocking.

"I was wondering," She mumbled out with a mouth full of toothpaste. "When are you going to use the provided intel to save the abducted members of the Team?"

He was sitting on his bed, finish off his food. "In two days, a new shipment of abducted humans will be brought to the Light's partner. We'll use that shipment to infiltrate the unknown partner's base and rescue them from there."

"Sounds like a good plan." Morgan answered after spitting in the sink and rinsing her mouth. "It'll be good to have them back. Never thought I'd say this, but I miss Bart's hyperactive presence and La'gann's grumpy face." She smiled crookedly as she leaned against the door in her purple pajama. "So, who's going? On the mission?"

Dick stood up and walked into the kitchen, throwing out the empty box his food had been in. She'd honestly never met someone who could empty a box of Chinese that fast. Morgan followed after him, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom door instead.

"Everyone is going." He admitted. "You too. We know too little about this partner, added with the loss of four of our heroes to let anyone stay behind on this. We'll need everyone."

Morgan resisted the urge to jump with joy at the prospect of going on a mission.

There was one small detail, though. "But I'm injured. Captain Atom said no training – which definitely also means no missions – for three weeks." She disappointedly reminded him.

He nodded. "I know. But you won't be there to do much fighting. Somebody's gotta stay with the rescued abductees once we've rescued them and make sure they feel safe. We're loading them onto the Bio ship, where you and I'll be waiting to take care of them." He explained. "Besides," Dick aimed a small smirk at her. "I think it's about time you started joining the team on missions more often. You've gotten good enough."

This time Morgan did smile brightly and let out a small squeal of happiness. "So I'm finally going to be a proper member of the Team?"

He frowned as if he didn't understand. "You've been a proper member for months. Just because you haven't been on any missions doesn't change that."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "You know what I mean. I was on the Team yes, but I wasn't really part of the Team because I wasn't actually doing anything."

"Mal never goes on any missions." Dick pointed out. "Do you think of him as not part of the Team?"

Morgan wanted to retort, but her mentor had a very good point. "True." She admitted. "But Mal has other functions. He's not supposed to go on missions, he's supposed to monitor them."

"The point is," He looked exasperated at the way she seemed to fight him on everything, even though this was very light hearted. "The amount of missions you go on doesn't make you any more of less a part of the Team. Nobody sees you as anything but a true member, you know that, right?"

Morgan nodded, still smiling goofily. "I know. Doesn't mean I can't get excited though."

He looked almost fondly at her as he approached the doorway she was stood in. "I remember a girl hesitant to join the Team a few months ago because she didn't want to fight crime."

"She'd obviously never experienced the satisfaction of knocking out an attempted mugger." Morgan responded easily, pushing herself off of the wooden frame and approached the couch that doubled as her bed.

"Good night, Dick." She smiled briefly at her mentor before lying down, closing her eyes as he shut off the lights in the room, already knowing she liked to sleep in complete darkness.

"Good night, Morgan." He responded before closing his bedroom door behind him.

March 29th

Living with another person was hard.

Dick so wasn't used to it. It required constant thinking. Like, if he'd taken a shower, he had to put on clothes immediately or risk Morgan accidentally walking in on him in nothing but a towel. And he had to constantly make sure the place was clean and didn't smell like old socks. And he had to make sure they didn't run out of food. He'd had to clear out several of his shelves so she had somewhere to keep her clothes. His bathroom was cluttered with women's shampoos and hair products and makeup.

And he was pretty sure he'd seen a bra or two lying around too.

Oh, and his alone-time had been greatly reduced.

Too much effort.

Not to mention that he'd had to literally make his home shorty-friendly. After that first incident with Morgan making his shelf explode towels all over the place, he'd had to move the towels to a lower shelf just to avoid another mess like that.

And he'd had to move his bread down from the cupboard he usually kept it in. In the beginning, Morgan had had to actually climb onto the counter in his kitchen just to reach it.

It had been hilarious to watch her flail about as she jumped up to reach the cupboard. And she'd looked kind of cute with the scowl on her face with her cheeks red from embarrassment. She was lucky she looked cute when she was angry because the girl really was angry quite often.

But after she'd tried once to just get the bread down with her powers, and the bag had flown out of the cupboard with the speed and force of a projectile, giving him a black eye in the process, he'd moved the bread to a lower location. It simply wasn't safe.

Watching the tiny girl fail utterly at reaching the food just wasn't worth having to explain to people that the bruise on his face was from a bag of bread.

He hadn't really expected that living with someone that much shorter than him would even be such a problem.

But apparently, it was.

"I swear to god, you're doing this on purpose." Morgan accused as she frowned up at the box of corn flakes, hands on her hips.

The cereal was sitting neatly and innocently on top of the upper cupboards that lined his kitchen wall.

He didn't have space for the large cereal box anywhere else, so what?

"It's not that far up.." He weakly defended himself. To be honest, he was fighting a smile from appearing on his face. She'd undoubtedly not appreciate that he found her situation funny.

She aimed a halfhearted glare at him over her shoulder before looking back up at the box. "Personally, I think it looks like it's pretty freaking far up."

"Look, don't blame your tiny body on me." He returned, finally giving in to the urge to smile.

"Maybe I should just fly up there. That'd probably mess up you little kitchen nicely." Morgan wryly pondered. She spread her wings like she really intended to do it.

"Don't." He immediately stopped her. "You wreck it, you clean it."

She pouted but folded her wings against her back again. "So maybe I'll just.." She squinted up at the box, holding a hand, palm up, toward it.

Dick's eyes widened and he felt his right one give an involuntary twitch as he remembered the only-just healed black eye she'd given him the last time she'd tried that trick. In his mind's eye, he could also perfectly picture a cloud of orange flakes descending upon the kitchen, all over the kitchen, when the box undoubtedly exploded from her rough tug.

"No!" He sat up taller in his seat and held a halting hand out.

Morgan sighed but dropped her hand to her side again.

"So I guess we're going hiking." She muttered. She pulled out the bar stool she'd been sitting on before and scrambled on top of it – a feat that already appeared be giving her trouble because the bar stools were quite tall – sitting on her knees on the small, round seat.

Her tongue pocked out at the side of her mouth in concentration as she attempted to go from sitting on her knees, to standing up on the tall chair.

As the stool wobbled dangerously underneath her, Dick decided to put her out of her misery.

"Jesus Christ, Morgan, get down before you injure yourself." He stood and took two steps around the small table, immediately seizing her around the waist to place her on the floor again.

Next, he reached up and effortlessly pulled the cereal box down.

"See?" He said with an absolutely unnecessarily thick layer of smugness to his voice. "Not that hard."

Morgan gave him a look that was part unimpressed and part I'm-going-to-punch-you-any-moment-now.

She plucked the offered cereal box from his hands, grumbling out a small thanks.

Just a normal day at the – very temporarily – Dick and Morgan residence.

So not exactly an actionpacked chapter - that's the next chapter - but more of a cute one?

I'm so tired you guys. I've been selling fireworks all christmas. Ten hours a day in a less-than-zero-degrees-celcius tent? Hard. And cold.

Btw, that sequel is definitely happening you guys. I've already written some of it (like, it's only 3000 words, but it's something, which means the sequel is definitely happening)

Funfact: Morgan is a Captain America fan.