Chapter Thirty Six

No Chance, No Way

April 18th

It had been a long, horribly difficult task to go to school and keep treating Rachel as if nothing was wrong. It was so, so difficult to keep up her mildly grumpy and yet friendly behavior – her standard behavior back when she hadn't known that Rachel was the daughter of her father's former colleague, and the second girl who'd been experimented on – when she now knew the truth about Rachel's past.

The worst part was probably that she wasn't even sure if Rachel knew anything herself. So she couldn't just corner the girl in some deserted part of the school and go all Batman on her, like, 'I know your secrets. Spill, or I'll punch you through this wall.'

So, yeah, Morgan's hands were pretty tied. All she could do was act completely normal while slowly trying to weasel answers out of the girl, without letting her know that she knew.

Complicated. Not easily done.

So, on this fine Monday afternoon, Morgan, Rachel and Esmeralda were sitting in the library, enjoying their free hour. Morgan was trying to subtly change the conversation towards family – specifically mothers – without much success. Esmeralda had been asked on a date by some guy from Ravenclaw – sorry, the second years. The three girls had started referring to the four years to match the Hogwart's houses after which color each year wore – and she'd been squealing more or less constantly about it for the past two hours.

Morgan's problem was that subtlety was one of the things she sucked the worst at. It went against her 'bulldozer' personality in every way. She didn't possess the skills to steer a conversation in the exact direction she wanted it to go without people even noticing it, unlike some of her team mates.

"So." She cleared her throat as the natural pause in the conversation they'd previously been having finally arrived. "I was thinking.. I've met Esmeralda's parents back when we got ready for the winter ball, but I've never seen yours, Rachel? You barely mention them."

The two girls in front of her paused at the incredibly abrupt and obvious change of conversation – seriously, going from how hot Esmeralda's date was to talking about Rachel's parent's was kind of a mood killer – blinking at her as they processed her words.

"Oh, well.." Rachel shrugged with one shoulder. "Not much to tell. A mom and a dad. Two younger brothers. Rich." She shrugged again with the same shoulder. "My mom travels a lot, actually. But she's coming home next weekend."

Esmeralda smiled widely. "She's coming home already? I thought she planned to stay in Argentina for a month?"

Rachel smiled, turning her attention back to her best friend. Morgan really liked the two girls, she did, but sometimes she couldn't help but hate the way they seemed to unconsciously forget her when they were having a conversation. They'd go off in that private way only best friends could, and Morgan could do nothing but simply watch as they went on.

"There's this big get-together that she has to go to. It's fundraiser to cement the company's finances. All the rich people in Gotham are going to be there." Rachel explained. Morgan listened on in rapt attention. Maybe this was a way to finally meet her mom under unsuspicious circumstances.

"And you know my mom," Rachel went on. "The company relies on her to attract all of the donators because she's pretty, charismatic and smart."

She aimed a slightly gloating look at her two friends. "And I'm actually invited." She revealed, obviously pleased with this. "My mom say she wants to introduce me to the people I'll be working with once I graduate. It's a good idea to gain allies and potential business partners early on."

Morgan couldn't help but think that she made the party sound like a battlefield. "When's the fundraiser?"

She needed a date if she wanted to figure out some way to go there – maybe she could sneak in the window or something – and have a talk with this Doctor Fathiya Robbins.

"It's in a two weeks. The first of May."

Dammit.

Morgan hated waiting.

At least this would give her more time to figure out how to sneak into the fundraiser, she decided.

The horn suddenly rang – Morgan swore she'd never get used to that freaky horn instead of a regular bell – signaling the end of their free period.

"Well, gotta go." Morgan quickly stood up and hefted her bag over her shoulder, quite satisfied with her detective work. "Biology."

The two girls waved at her as she slipped from the room, heading for her next class.

Okay, so admitting to herself that she probably had a crush on her mentor had definitely been a stupid thing to do, Morgan decided as she walked into the warehouse that evening. Not that she'd completely admitted it yet, she still liked to very firmly tell herself that she was being silly.

But when she found that she couldn't even concentrate fully during their sparring – something she'd never had problems with before – she was forced to admit that she was, perhaps, in quite a bit deeper than she cared to fully admit.

She remembered how he'd wrapped an arm around her waist as part of his cover when meeting her dad, and how the action had made the butterflies in her stomach erupt. And it had been the same thing ever since. Every time they had any kind of physical contact, her skin would tingle and her heart speed up.

But she'd always managed to stay professional during sparring. As she'd said herself weeks ago, it was simply something else. It was training. It was in a professional setting.

Except now that she'd kind of reached the point where she couldn't ignore that crush anymore, she found that she couldn't stay professional during training. Despite the physical contact stemming from him literally attacking her, the contact still made her skin tingle and turn uncomfortably hot. The close proximity still sent her heart racing and made her breathing labored. She still felt distracted every time she caught a whiff of his scent. Morgan was glad that he at the very least wouldn't know that he was the one to elicit such a reaction from her. For all he knew her face was flushed, her pulse was quickened and her breathing was harsher because of the physical strain the sparring was putting on her.

Even so, despite all of her bodily responses to him, as well as her straying thoughts, Morgan still did her very best to deny that crush, simply because it made things easier.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, the winged girl shuffled towards their small kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, thankful that she at least wouldn't have to look at his face for the rest of the day. Finally resurfacing from her own mind, Morgan noticed her surroundings. The warehouse was mostly empty, save for Connor sulking on his bed and somebody watching television on the second level. Connor was staring straight ahead with a look so intense Morgan was glad he didn't have laser vision. He'd probably have melted a hole straight through the warehouse's wall.

He'd been sulkier than ever since M'gann's kidnapping.

Everyone had, to be honest. M'gann was the 'mother' of the Team. The one to cheer people up, the one to cook them awesome meals, the one to love and to care for the rest of them. And with her suddenly gone, the group was out of balance.

Beast Boy had taking the news the worst. He'd disappeared for two days straight – had come back on the eleventh, dirty, hungry and miserable – and had barely said a word for the first week.

Morgan wished there was something she could do for the boy. He'd been a good friend to her and had offered her advice back when she was the troubled one. She thought he deserved to receive some of the same kindness.

Unfortunately, she wasn't M'gann. Morgan wasn't nurturing and soft. She couldn't cook great meals – maybe she ought to bake the boy a cake or something, she was good at that – or sit and listen quietly for hours or offer kind, helpful advice. She couldn't even offer him a hug without getting all awkward about it.

At best, she could crack some rough joke to make him feel better and then punch his arm good-naturedly.

She was such a boy.

Everyone in the warehouse was miserable because Artemis had died and now M'gann had been captured by the same people.

And Morgan felt absolutely horrible and so incredibly guilty for knowing that things weren't as bleak as the others were led to believe, and yet not telling them anything. She hated having to keep all of Nightwing's stupid secrets.

She was probably the only resident of the Warehouse that wasn't lying sleepless at night with worry over their friends.

Everybody else was freaking out about kidnapped and dead friends, and Morgan was fretting over boy problems. How horrible did that make her?

Morgan realized that she'd been staring at Connor during her musings, and that the boy had also wordlessly redirected his steely gaze towards her. Quickly looking away, blushing at the embarrassing moment, she slowly climbed the staircase to the second level, intent on finding out who were up there.

Both Connor and La'gann had started acting differently around her. Lagoon Boy was more hostile, probably angry that she had known everything and yet not told him. Connor had just gotten quieter and more serious, almost appearing disappointed in her. Like he'd expected her to act differently. Like he'd expected her to go against her mentor's wishes and tell the entire team his hard-kept secret.

Morgan told herself that she shouldn't feel bad for disappointing him. He was the one who'd expected something unfair of her. Her hands had been tied in this situation. Telling anyone could endanger the lives of Artemis and Kaldur. Not telling anyone was hurting her friends. So what was she supposed to do?

She'd chosen to trust her mentor's judgment – a decision she had to remind herself of again and again to squash down the guilt – and stayed quiet.

And it wasn't like Connor wasn't doing the exact same thing anyways. He hadn't told anyone on the Team either, so why should he be disappointed in her?

Morgan shook her head and refocused on the living world, annoyed at her own constant spacing out.

She found Robin and Cassie sitting together on the couch, watching a movie. They were sitting at a polite distance from each other, but Morgan didn't miss the way both seemed to graduate towards the other. She raised a slow eyebrow, wondering if she'd missed the beginnings of a budding romance between her younger team-mates.

Great. She thought to herself. Even my younger team mates are handling their feelings better than me. I suck.

She inwardly shook her head. Not thinking about it. Remember you don't have feelings for your mentor at all, okay? No feelings, no feelings, no feelings..

She recognized the movie they were watching and slowly cocked an eyebrow. "Hercules? " She spoke up, gaining the two teenagers attention. "Why Hercules?"

It's not like she had anything against the movie, it had been one of her favorites back when Morgan had been a young girl, she just hadn't expected anyone on the Team to be Disney fans. Robin least of all.

Okay, maybe Nightwing least of all. And then Connor, probably. But then Robin.

"We're watching it so Cassie can point out all the stuff they got wrong from the original mythology." Robin explained, turning his attention back onto the screen.

Cassie scrunched up her nose adorably. "The part that confuses me the most is actually that they chose to stick with the Greek gods but they're using his roman name. In Greek mythology, Hercules would've been called Heracles."

Morgan rolled her eyes fondly at the two of them. "Nerds." She teased.

And then she noticed the scene they'd reached.

The female love interest – Megara, right? – was crooning away on the screen, accompanied by the five muses in a musical number.

"Face it like a grown-up, when' ya gonna own up that ya got, got, got it bad!" The muses declared, ignoring the denial of the woman.

"No chance, no way! I won't say it, no, no!"

Morgan felt her body freeze.

"Give up, give in, check the grin you're in love!" The muses insisted.

"This scene won't play, I won't say I'm in love!"

Her face contorted painfully, her eyes widening dangerously as her brows knit together so furiously there almost wasn't a gap between them.

Before she could stop herself, she'd grasped hold of the TV remote and sent it hurling at the screen. She must've accidentally used her telekinetic powers in the blow because the remote cracked the screen and imbedded itself in the frozen face of the woman. The TV emitted a few static sounds, the colors flickering desperately before it gave up and died, screen turning black. A second later, the flat screen, having wobbled in its spot since her attack, fell backwards and crashed to the floor in a pitiful heap.

Robin and Cassie were sporting wide-eyed, horrified looks at the destruction.

"I hate that song." Morgan mumbled angrily before stalking off, prepared to, despite that fact that she'd just finished sparring and every muscle in her body was aching, go for a very long run and then take a long cold shower. She either didn't realize or didn't care that she'd probably just ruined the 'date' between her two friends.

At the commotion, Connor had gotten off his bed immediately and was now looking up at her as she descended the staircase.

"What's going on?" He grumpily asked.

Morgan shrugged innocently. "I don't know man, it was weird. TV just fell over all by itself."

She slipped out of the room before Tim or Cassie had the chance to inform Connor of what had really transpired, starting a slow jog along the docks.

When she came back some time later, sweaty, exhausted and in a much better mood, she found Wonder Girl and Robin curled up close to each other, watching the rest of the movie on the small holographic screen Robin had installed in his gloves. A small smile quirked at her lips as she shut the bathroom door behind her, towel thrown over her shoulder, small bundle of clothes under tugged under her arm. She might've actually done the probably-soon-to-be-couple a favor by destroying the TV after all.

April 21st

Dick sucked in a deep breath as he studied the familiar front doors of Wayne Manor. He exhaled harshly and closed his eyes, slumping slightly as the air left his lungs.

The teenager was nervous. He was back for the first time in over a month.

His poor, poor Alfred had seen neither hide nor hair of Dick for several weeks now. First, Dick had been too busy to visit the Manor. Then it had been his guilt that had made him stay away. He'd been too miserable to go back, feeling like he didn't deserve Alfred's home cooked meals and fatherly affection.

But now, Dick had decided to pull himself together and face the butler. Somehow apologize for being such a horrible, ungrateful kid.

Maybe he'd fall to his knees and beg Alfred's forgiveness.

The worst part was probably that Alfred wouldn't even want him to apologize. He'd pat Dick on his head – despite Dick being much taller than him by now – and offer him a cup of cocoa or something like that.

And that would make Dick feel even worse because he so didn't deserve it.

He took another deep breath and briefly contemplated whether he should knock or just go right in. grasping the handle of the door, he decided that knocking would only alienate him further. Alfred would want him to act like he felt right at home, so that was what he'd do.

Slipping inside, he took a moment to study the grand hall, eyes tracing the huge arcs and expensive paintings.

The place had visually stunning, but Dick hardly took the time to appreciate it anymore. He'd lived in this place for almost ten years, the splendor of the Manor had long since ebbed away, replaced by a sense of homeliness. The elegant rooms and hallways weren't awe inspiring anymore, but rather simply places that contained memories, both good and bad.

Every once in a while, though, he studied the place and was hit with the realization that he'd grown up in such a beautiful and lavish building.

"Alfred?" He called out loud, his voice carrying across the huge room. Wayne Manor was an enormous building and locating the butler could take time.

He slipped the sports bag off his shoulder and left it by the front door, walking further inside to search for either Alfred or Tim.

Ten minutes later, he found Tim in the gym, which was located at the back of the Manor. Bruce had had one of the old rooms redecorated into the gym years before he had taken Dick in, back when he'd first started going out as Batman.

Tim was reading a book as he was hanging upside down on a metal rod, doing a rather strange looking form of pushups.

" Tim." Dick simply greeted, the younger boy looking up from his advanced Algebra textbook.

"Hey Dick." He replied, slipping the book shut before swinging himself off of the rod, landing on his feet on the ground. "Haven't seen you here in ages."

Dick shrugged ruefully. "Thought I was due for a visit home by now." He admitted. "Where's Alfred?"

"Not home at the moment." Tim revealed as he wiped his sweaty brow with a towel. He gulped down half a water bottle, sucking in a deep breath afterwards. "He should be back before dinner. How long are you staying?"

"A few days," Dick replied, not missing the way his younger 'brother' perked up at the prospect of him staying over for longer than a single afternoon for once. "I've been neglecting visiting you guys so I figured I'd make it up to you."

"Alfred will appreciate it." Tim quickly agreed, flashing the older boy a grin. "It's been a bit lonely here since Bruce left."

Dick paused. He hadn't thought a lot about Bruce for the past few weeks. He'd thought of Batman many times, sure, but not Bruce. By now, his adoptive father had been off world for almost three months. Dick hadn't felt his absence too strongly. He rarely saw Bruce when he wasn't in his Batman suit anyway, and Dick had been too focused on dealing with an actual alien invasion to ponder his absence.

But Tim and Alfred usually saw the man on a daily basis. They'd have felt Bruce's absence much more strongly than Dick.

And in that sense, they must've noticed Dick's own lack of showing just as much. He squashed down the guilt before it even had the chance to show its ugly face, smiling reassuringly at Tim.

"I promise to visit more often."

Dick sighed and leaned back in the plush, ornate chair in Bruce's office. The chair was old, heavy and kind of constantly smelled of dust, but it matched the admittedly gothic work desk in front of him. He knew Bruce hadn't replaced the two pieces of furniture with something more modern and more manageable because the desk had been Thomas Wayne's once.

When Dick had decided quite suddenly to pay the Manor a visit, it hadn't simply been a social visit. He had had a small ulterior motive, one he had told neither Tim nor Alfred about.

After dinner, he'd barricaded himself in Bruce's office, going through all of the older man's mail. Alfred always brought the mail up and placed it on Bruce's desk where he'd look through it every evening before going on patrol. Now, with Bruce's months of absence, the pile had grown fairly huge and Dick knew finding the right letter was going to take all night.

He was looking for an invitation.

That very same afternoon, he'd been sparring with Morgan when she'd dropped the news.

"I've got a lead." She had told him. "Rachel's mom is coming home to attend some fundraiser for the company she works at. It's on the first of May. Supposedly, the entire Gotham elite have been invited. I figured I could find a way in and try to talk to her."

"Why do you even want to talk to her?" He'd responded.

Morgan had shrugged her small shoulders. "I figured I could get more answers out of her than my dad. There was a lot of stuff he wasn't telling me, and I thought maybe she would be more willing to elaborate."

Dick had almost told her that the reason her father hadn't told her everything was that she hadn't really given him much time to say anything. But he'd held his tongue, understanding what Morgan wasn't telling him. Talking with her father made her feel that much worse. She could more easily distance herself emotionally when she was hearing the explanation from a foreign woman than her own flesh and blood.

So he'd told her that he'd look into the fundraiser as well.

She had told him that everyone in the Gotham elite was invited. Which meant Bruce must've gotten an invitation at some point too.

Maybe Dick could use that invitation as their ticket inside.

After all, he was Bruce's adopted son, so going to a party in his stead was a totally acceptable thing. He'd just have to hope the invitation had a plus one. And given Bruce's cover as a billionaire playboy, Dick very strongly believed the invitation would have a plus one. The people responsible of the fundraiser would have realized that the playboy was much more likely to come if he could bring some hot supermodel with him.

Well, Dick wouldn't be taking any supermodels. But, honestly, he'd much rather spend his evening with Morgan, so it was a win-win situation either way.

He sat up straight in the chair again and told himself to focus. He'd been at it for hours and still hadn't found the right letter. But he knew he'd have to plow on. Getting to talk to the woman would be so much easier if they could just walk in invited, instead of Morgan having to figure out some way to sneak inside.

He hunched over the table again, placing his elbows on the dark, wooden surface, shuffling through a dozen extra envelopes.

As the minutes ticked by, he found himself uncharacteristically frustrated and impatient again. With a huff, he leaned back in the chair again, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling. The room was cast in long shadows, the only source of light the small lamp on the work desk. Unlike the desk and chair, the lamp was quite new, all sleek and steel.

Next to the lamp stood a small, unassuming photo frame. Dick's would've-been adoptive grandparents, Thomas and Martha Wayne, smiled at him from the photo. He hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and gingerly picking up the frame, taking care to not smudge the glass with his fingers. He'd been indulging a smaller batch of Alfred's cookies an hour earlier and his hands were still greasy from it.

The teenager studied the photo silently, trying to gauge their personalities from that single, frozen moment. He'd seen the picture many times before, it had always been a permanent part of the office's furnishing. The two of them were smiling pleasantly, Thomas Wayne having an affectionate arm wrapped around his wife's shoulder. Martha Wayne's eyes were twinkling with a laugh about to erupt from her mouth, resulting in a beautiful and genuine smile on her red lips.

He wondered, not for the first time, what they'd been like. If they would have approved of Bruce's life choices.

If they would have approved of Dick.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts before placing the picture frame back in its original spot, reassuming his work.

Ten minutes later, an envelope finally caught his eye. Unlike all the pure white, work-related letters cluttering the desk, this one was a light crème.

Turning the envelope over, inspecting it from all sides, he decided to open it.

"Jackpot." He smirked to himself after a few seconds of reading. It was an invitation – with a plus one, thank god – for the exact fundraiser he knew Morgan had been talking about. He noted that the fundraiser was being held at one of Gotham's most expensive hotels – The Crown Hotel – which made sense as he knew the Gotham elite preferred only the most prestigious surroundings when they went out.

He also noted that the company they were raising money for was a small Lexcorp side project. Which meant Fathiya Robbins was working for Lex Luthor.

Which so couldn't be good news.

Dick breathed out harshly through his nose and resisted the urge to bang his head against the sturdy surface of the desk as he assessed how this could affect their small investigation. In the end, he decided that it didn't matter. Lex Luthor or not, they'd attend that stupid party and find Fathiya Robbins.

He asked himself why he was even feeling so strongly about this. He couldn't even be sure talking to the woman would bring any results. They were simply following Morgan's gut feeling.

He also wondered why he even insisted on helping his team mate with this. Why he'd even been helping her with any of her very messed-up family issues.

Dick got up and stuffed the invitation into his pocket, quickly turning off the lamp and leaving the room.

He forced himself to stop thinking about these questions.

Because he wasn't sure he liked the answer.

April 22nd

You're going on patrol tonight with Nightwing, right?" Impulse asked Morgan out of the blue. They'd been watching the news in relative silence for at least ten minutes when he'd suddenly voiced his question.

Morgan kept her eyes on the screen as she casually answered. "Yup. Gotham. Apparently, Scarecrow is out and about."

"Oh." Impulse simply responded.

Morgan froze at his tone and tore her eyes from the TV. "Wait-wait-wait.." She slid down so she was sitting on the actual couch seats instead of balancing on the back. Her tone was sharp. "That wasn't a normal 'oh'. That was a loaded 'oh'. What's up? What's gonna happen?"

Bart rarely looked uncomfortable or fidgety, so when he was suddenly both, Morgan knew she had reason to worry.

"It's just.." He looked seriously at her, the usually hyper youth suddenly gone, replaced by the boy who'd grown up in a destroyed world. "Look after him tonight, okay?"

Morgan frowned, not sure she was following. Impulse wanted her to look after Nightwing? The roles had basically been the exact opposite for as long as the two of them had known each other. Nightwing was the mentor and Morgan was the pupil. Nightwing looked after Morgan. Morgan didn't look after Nightwing. She didn't need to, he was too experienced.

"Why?" She studied him closely as if the expression on his face would tell her all she needed to know. "What's going to happen to him?"

As she said it, Morgan felt worry clench at her insides. Impulse was obviously worried about something. He very rarely spilled any information about the future unless it was something that had strictly to do with the Reach invasion and Blue Beetle. The fact that he was actually warning her about something that would happen tonight made Morgan nervous.

"He's.. going to get hurt. Really bad."

Morgan could literally feel her breath leave her lungs entirely as her heart stopped beating for a second before speeding up. Nightwing was going to get hurt. Really bad.

"Bart," She fixed him with an intense look, trying to ignore the burning sensation in her stomach. "Tell me everything."

He looked uncomfortable, but straightened himself in his seat and muted the TV. Looking over his shoulder as if to make sure they were actually alone at the Warehouse, Bart cleared his throat and finally told her. "Scarecrow injects him with his venom. And then.. Well something happens – I don't know exactly what – that makes him fall into a coma for months. When he wakes up again, the Reach has already won. I think that's partly why they win. Without Nightwing.. Aqualad and Tigress were revealed and killed. The Team couldn't do anything without their leader and their inside source."

Morgan gaped at him for a moment. Partly because Nightwing might end up in a coma and it would ruin all of their chances of surviving, and partly because Impulse knew about Artemis and Kaldur.

"You know about-?"

"Kaldur and Artemis?" Impulse interrupted. "I'm from the future, remember?"

Morgan found the energy to smile slightly. "Beast boy is never going to get his own reality series, is he?" She joked.

Impulse smiled briefly too. "Nah," He said before turning serious again. "I need you to promise me you'll make sure he isn't hurt tonight. If Nightwing falls into that coma, we're going to lose."

Morgan nodded resolutely. "I'll do everything I can." She shrugged and smiled wryly. "Of course, it would've been easier if we simply convinced him to not go on patrol at all, but we both know Nightwing well enough by now to know he won't let the possibility of getting Scarecrow behind bars pass him by."

Impulse rolled his eyes. "Bat-kids are nothing if not stubborn."

Morgan titled her head at him as she realized something else. "You told Beast Boy you weren't the best history student. But that was obviously a lie. You know everything, don't you?"

Sometimes, knowing a person whose mouth was faster than his brain was entertaining. But, as Impulse uttered his next words, Morgan realized this wasn't one of those times. Rather, what he said next terrified her.

"Of course! I had to come prepared didn't I? I studied very thoroughly. If I wanted to, I could tell you how and when you're going to die."

Morgan gaped at him as Impulse froze for a second before flinching. "I shouldn't've said that." He seemed to realize.

Morgan swallowed dryly, grabbing hold of his shoulder and holding him in place as she fixed his eyes with hers.

She absolutely hated herself for her next words.

"Tell me."

Well, when you give a girl 40 reviews in two days, she has no choice but to update, does she? You guys are amazing! Seriously, I'm so grateful and honored and shit.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Some light stuff and some heavy stuff.

I'm kind of caught between wanting to update really fast and then make you guys wait for the sequel longer, or sort of stretch the chapters so the story lasts longer so I can get more of the sequel written so I can post it sooner after Feathers ends.

Fun fact: I listened a lot to 'I won't say I'm in love' when I wrote these scenes about Morgan in her stages of denial. The scene with the tv is one I've had on my mind for the story for a very long time.