Chapter Forty Seven

Devastation

As the two women eventually parted ways, Morgan found herself feeling much better than when they'd met up.

That lasted only for a moment, though, because then her phone suddenly went off.

She immediately pulled it out, her heart climbing into her throat when she saw it was Rachel's number.

With worry and anticipation – Morgan had no way of knowing what sort of news would await her – she answered the call.

"H-hello?" She wet her bottom lip, throat suddenly dry.

"Morgan?"

Morgan froze in her steps when her father's voice reached her ears. "Dad!" She answered before she could even think. She'd sworn to never call him that again. But her anger had faded at some point in the last twenty four hours. Now she was just relieved to hear his voice again. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm fine, Skat. I was.. taken by the Light, but I'm fine now. They know about you. I'm sorry.,"

This wasn't unexpected. She'd figured the Light would know soon enough. What surprised her, however, was the worried tone in his voice. Somewhere along the way of discovering the truth, Morgan had convinced herself that her father didn't care much about her. He'd left for ten years without a word. And when he came back, he hadn't exactly acted as the loving father.

Well, now, with the way he'd said her name and the worried tone of voice, Morgan was forced to face the truth. He did care.

It made tears well up in her eyes.

"It's fine. It's fine." She breathed out the words, perhaps more to reassure herself than him.

"Morgan, you listen to me right now, okay?" He urgently said nect, adopting the 'father' voice he'd always used when she was younger. It was the same voice he used whenever he'd told her something important, or he'd reprimanded her for doing something bad.

She nodded, and then, remembering that he couldn't see her, she forced out a yes, praying her voice wouldn't crack.

"I've already warned your mother to lay low. And you need to do the same, Skat. I'm going to deal with this. Everything will be okay, I promise."

"What – what are you going to do?" She asked, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Don't worry about that." He didn't answer her question, but Morgan didn't push the issue as she usually would. She felt like a little girl again, completely dependent on her parents. She was so sorely tempted to fall back into that old mindset of her younger days, back when her father knew everything. Back when he was always right, and always succeeded in everything he did.

But she couldn't afford herself that luxury. She was older now. She knew the world didn't work that way.

Still, when he asked, "Do you trust me?" she didn't hesitate to answer.

"Yes." She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "I trust you."

Her dad had screwed up, and some of the things he'd done made Morgan want to hate him. But she couldn't ignore how he was now working to make sure she and her mom was safe. He'd been her dad – a good, kind and loving dad – for the first ten years of her life. And she'd spent the next eight years wanting him to be that again. Her few months of anger faded in the light of a lifetime of loving him and wishing for his approval. she'd missed him so much. And the way he'd just spoken to her made her feel that hope that he could be her dad again. That he could redeem himself.

She was still mad at him – but she hoped that once this was all over, they could work on that. She'd give him a chance, if he wanted to try to be her dad again.

Morgan pulled the Warehouse's openingup a few minutes later. She'd waited outside for a moment to make sure her eyes weren't wet or her throat tight. Nobody was allowed to see the turmoil she was experiencing internally.

Once she entered the Warehouse, she was really glad she's spent those minutes regaining her cool composure.

Nightwing was there.

Before she could stop herself, she drew in a sharp breath at the sight of his broad back and his dark hair, which she now knew from personal experience was really soft and wonderful to run her fingers through.

He was in the middle of briefing a small squad, so while he was standing with his back to her, Superboy, Impulse and Wonder Girl were all facing her.

Upon her entry and then unusual intake of breath, the three heroes all switched their attention onto her.

Their Team leader must've noticed that he no longer had their attention, because he paused mid-sentence and seemed to straighten slightly. He looked behind him almost casually, but then, as if he'd been hit with an electric current, a jolt went through him and his eyes widened behind his mask.

Morgan stiffly forced herself to meet the covered gaze, her own face a carefully blank mask. The blank mask was a fragile and calm cover, hiding the storm going on inside of her. Her heart was pounding harder and faster than it had ever pounded before and her stomach was twisting into several knots.

She swore it was unconsciously done, but at the thought of their kiss, her tongue darted out and wet her bottom lip, and she could tell Dick's eyes were following the movement.

Morgan was proud to say her composure held as she held his gaze for a few seconds and then wordlessly walked fully into the Warehouse and behind the curtains that made her room.

Nightwing waited a second before turning back around to face the others. He'd completely forgotten what he'd been telling them and mentally scrambled to remember before things had the chance to turn awkward. Not that things weren't already really awkward and obvious.

He took a few seconds too long to remember, his mouth opened uncertainly, because the others looked utterly confused and suspicious. Clearing his throat, he finally remembered what he'd been about to say and immediately plowed on.

The briefing was blessedly short and the three heroes disappeared through the Zeta tube.

Leaving Nightwing all alone. With Morgan.

He wasn't even in the same room as her – well, it the blue curtains could count as walls – and yet the tension was very, very easily noticed. It was like the silence, and not being able to see her, but at the same time very much knowing that she was right there made things all the more tense.

He needed to talk to her. Holy crap how he needed to talk to her.

This whole thing was a disaster.

Nightwing breathed in deeply and leaned his head back, stretching his neck. Releasing his breath in a loud sigh, he slumped his shoulders slightly and looked straight at the flimsy blue material separating him from his kind-of-former-but-still-kind-of-trainee trainee.

He took several resolute steps towards the curtain, close enough so that he could touch the material if he wanted.

Reaching a hand out, he made to pull the curtain aside, when something suddenly stopped him. For all of his pep-talking and the need to talk to Morgan, he couldn't make himself pull aside the fabric.

They were all alone and wouldn't get disturbed. It was the perfect moment to talk things out.

But he couldn't.

Nightwing was an absolute coward.

He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, admitting defeat. His hand fell limply to his side again, and he glared hard at the floor when he realized that he wasn't going to pull aside that curtain. Not yet.

Instead, he turned on his heel and left the Warehouse, cursing himself all the way. He told himself that he just needed a bit of time. Everything would be fine, he just needed a moment to truly figure out how he felt and what he wanted.

It was just a kiss. A small, innocent – okay, so it hadn't been particularly innocent – kiss! So why did everything feel so complicated?

June 3rd

So, this was awkward.

Morgan chewed on her bottom lip as she attempted to keep her attention very firmly on the book in front of her.

Only ten feet away, Nightwing was standing silently by the computer, working through some team stuff.

They were alone. Well, she was pretty sure Connor was in the bathroom – she could hear the shower going – but other than him, they were all alone in the Warehouse.

She reached her hand out tentatively, and closed her fingers around the glass of juice she'd poured half an hour ago. Gulping down a large mouthful of the orange liquid, she set the glass back down as silently at possible.

It was like she was afraid any sudden movements or noises would alert him to her presence – which was ridiculous because he very much already knew she was there – so she opted to move as little as possible. Which meant that, despite her legs kind of falling asleep from the lotus-style position she was sitting in, she didn't pull them out from underneath her. It had reached the point where she had to mentally prepare herself to turn the page of her book because this would involve both noise and movement.

Good lord, she was pathetic.

The tension in the room was so unbelievably thick that she was surprised she could still breathe. There shouldn't have been any space left for oxygen, that's how much tension was in the air.

Five minutes later, she reached for her glass of orange juice again, taking a cautious sip. To her own horror, the minimal amount of juice she'd actually drunk managed to land itself in the wrong place – as in, her wind pipe – making her cough and splutter loudly.

She tried to contain the coughing, but since that almost made her choke, she had no choice. Her eyes watered and her throat burned uncomfortably as she kept on spluttering and coughing and wishing the floor would just swallow her up.

She couldn't even clear her throat by drinking something because it was liquid that was the problem.

Breathing was difficult as it was with acidic orange juice lodged in her wind pipe. It became downright impossible when a hand was suddenly patting her firmly on the back to assist her in regaining her composure. You see, it didn't take her long to realize that the hand could only belong to one of two people.

And she very much doubted Connor had sprung out of the shower in nothing but his Adam suit just to help her survive an attempt on her life by a glass of juice.

So, really, she could only assume the hand currently patting her on her back belonged to Nightwing.

She wasn't sure if it was the actual clap on her back or just her bodily response to his sudden presence that made the juice go away, but she found her wind pipe free again, and she drew in a deep gulp of sweet, blessed, sorely needed air.

Morgan wiped away tears from her cheeks, surprised that the choking had made her tear up that much.

Gross.

And the hand was still on her back.

Shiiiiiii –

Involuntarily, her entire body froze up, very much aware that he was right there.

She had a mental melt down when she realized the last time they'd been standing this close, they'd been connected at the lips.

A small voice in the back of her mind wondered why he'd willingly pat her on the back when he was, if her deductions were right, appalled by her wings and their origin.

It must've been kind of obvious that she was frozen on the spot – maybe that was because she'd been staring straight ahead with wide eyes, not moving a muscle, for at least ten seconds by now – because Nightwing sighed and finally, oh my god finally, removed his hand as he stepped around the table so he was facing her instead of standing behind her.

To her horror, he pulled out his own chair and sat down across from her. He placed his elbows against the table in front of him and bent over the table so he could lean his chin on his clasped hands.

Neither had said anything yet. Morgan watched him with a slightly scared, wide eyed look, like she was genuinely afraid of whatever he was planning to do and say.

She didn't personally think of herself as a timid or cowardly person. But this was such an entirely new playing field for her. She literally had no clue. Everything about the situation was uncomfortable and terrifying.

To her utter shock, he sighed again and peeled his mask off.

This just became so much harder. He was about a hundred times easier to talk to – and to argue with – when those deep blues weren't staring at her.

Because, when he wore the mask, it was so much easier to pretend he didn't have any emotions, as they were much harder to spot then. And then it was easier to talk. It was easier to pour out her own emotions without feeling silly. But his eyes were just full of emotion and uugh .

He was driving her insane.

He sighed deeply again as he fixed her with that expressive stare of his.

All she could do was silently look back, hoping he'd have the guts to start out. Because she certainly didn't. Not in a million years.

"So.. I guess we need to talk." He eventually got out.

Somehow, the simple and yet ridiculously true sentence made her feel better. She thought that it didn't matter what sort of verdict they reached by the end of this conversation. She firmly believed that no matter what, the bizarre friendship they had was going to be alright.

Sure, she'd have to go on with a somewhat broken heart, but she could learn to live with it. Because – and this was something she'd learned from his absence in the past few days – her life was much better when he was in it, and it didn't matter if this was as a friend or something more.

She would accept what she could get.

And she really wanted her mentor back. Black Canary was awesome, but training with her just wasn't the same. It felt.. wrong, somehow.

She nodded silently at what he'd said. "Yeah.. that's probably a good idea."

Suddenly – A perfect example of how utterly unfair, annoying and bad the universe's timing was – her pocket started vibrating loudly. It took Morgan a moment to actually realize that it was her phone going off.

Someone was calling her.

It was a habit, so before she even registered it, Morgan had pulled the phone out and checked the screen.

She wet her bottom lip as her heart started beating even faster – it had already been going at a pretty hurried pace to begin with – when she realized that this was a call she'd have to take. It was Rachel's number. For the third time in four days. Which meant either her dad or Fathiya needed to talk to her.

"I.. I'm sorry – this is a call I have to take." She lowly and regretfully managed, sending him an apologetic look.

Nightwing personally looked like he thought her phone could go screw itself, but he just nodded silently and watched her as she stood up.

"Hello?" She hesitantly spoke into her phone once she pressed the answer button. The first time someone had called her on this number, it had been bad news. The second time, it had been somewhat good news.

She wondered what kind of news it would be this time.

"Morgan?"

Her eyebrows climbed towards her hairline when Morgan realized that it was neither Fathiya nor her father calling her, but Rachel herself. And she sounded really worried. In fact, she sounded close to tears.

"Rachel? What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what else to do!" The girl started rambling. "My mom didn't want me to tell you, but you're his only hope!"

Dread welled up in her stomach and Morgan found herself pacing, tugging worriedly at a curl. "Slow down, Rachel. I don't understand what you're saying."

The other girl drew in a shaky breath. "Your dad. The-the Light has him."

Morgan's knees involuntarily buckled underneath her, and she help up a hand to stop her mentor, who'd been halfway out of his seat in a second to stop her from falling to the floor. Shakily, she regained her balance and took in a somewhat steady breath.

"He-he said he was going to confront them. Make sure they'd leave you and my family alone. B-but they obviously didn't like being threatened."

How could he be so stupid?

"Why-why would he do that?" Morgan shakily asked. She anxiously ran a hand over her forehead and through her curls.

"I don't have time to explain." Rachel quickly responded, sounding tearful. "Morgan, I know you're Sparrow, and right now, you're the only one that can help him. They're keeping him in the lab our parents used to work at.. You have to get him out! My mom thinks they're going to kill him!"

The way Rachel's voice rose several pitches and then cracked tearfully at the end let Morgan know she was telling the truth, horrible as it might be.

Morgan would've freaked slightly out about her school friend knowing about her superhero identity, but all of her mind and emotion was focused on her father and the danger he was in.

Before even realizing that her grip was slackening, her phone had slipped from her hands and crashed against the floor.

She drew in a shaky breath as she immediately ran for the Zeta tube. All thoughts of talking with Nightwing were gone from her mind. She didn't even register when he called out her name as she disappeared in the white light of the tube.

The body-less, female voice hadn't even finished announcing her name when Morgan's feet hit the pavement beneath her and she ran from the Zeta location, charging in the direction she knew the lab was in.

It was the same place he'd taken her when they'd talked those months ago.

Back then, she'd wanted to hurt him in her anger – heck, she actually had hurt him, kicking him square in the face.

Now..

Now her feet pounded furiously against the ground as she ran faster than ever before, driven solely by her desperate need to make sure he wasn't hurt.

He needed to be okay.

She needed him to be okay.

Within five minutes, she'd reached the street the building was on.

As she rounded the corner and ran up the street, eyes fixed firmly onto the building, her heart swelled in hope and relief. On the outside, the place looked perfectly peaceful. Maybe she could still make it. Maybe nothing had happened yet.

She was a hundred feet way when the building suddenly imploded on itself, collapsing in a wall of brick and fire and death.

All air left her lungs as Morgan was thrown into the air and backwards, landing harshly on her back.

"NO!"

The single, shrieked word that left her was higher pitched and louder than any sound she'd ever thought she was capable of producing. Her voice cracked halfway through, her throat stinging from the scream.

She was on her knees in an instant, not caring about her bleeding elbows, which had taken most of the brunt of her fall.

Her entire body was shaking, and she was unable to get up as all she could do was watch the building collapse fully, becoming nothing more than a huge, burning pile of rubble. The heat was unbearable, and her ears were ringing from the roar of the explosion and from when she'd smacked the back of her head against the pavement. She saw spots dance in front of her eyes, and combined with the fire it might've been pretty, if it hadn't been utterly heart breaking.

Her dad..

She was wheezing in deep gulps of air and had to lean forward on her hands to avoid simply collapsing.

There was movement by her side suddenly, but the spots in front of her eyes, the ringing in her ears that drowned out all noise, and then the pain that wracked through her entire body made it impossible to identify who it was. Her mind was sluggish and yet sharp as a knife as the world seemed to slow down for five horrible seconds.

Then it kicked back into gear and her mind cleared somewhat, the ringing mostly disappearing. She found that tears were already trickling down her cheeks in fat, salty trails. She was sobbing loudly and breathing heavily.

"Morgan! Morgan, look at me!"

She forced her mind to focus on Nightwing as he frantically spoke, calling her name over and over. One of his hands were holding firmly onto her shoulder, the other hovering by the right side of her face as if unsure where he should place it.

Her wide, wet eyes met his and she opened and closed her mouth like a guppy as she attempted to force out words. Her ragged and fast-paced breathing was bordering on hyperventilation, but she was unable to slow it down. Not even to talk. Not even to tell her mentor that her dad was –

Instead, she just shook her head and started crying harder, looking back down at the pavement.

"Hey! Hey, hey – look at me." He finally placed that hovering hand along her cheek and jaw, forcing her face back up to look at his. "Morgan, look at me, you're fine, okay? You're okay. Just breathe. Breathe, Morgan."

He was speaking frantically, as if he knew his trainee was coming apart at the seams but wasn't entirely sure why.

But she wasn't okay. She needed him to know why. She needed him to know.

She shook her head again and forced her eyes to stay on his. She noticed that he'd put his mask back on.

That hyperventilation wasn't far off now, but she somehow managed to suck in a relatively calm breath and swallow dryly, finding her voice.

"My.. my dad. He was.. in there." She managed to get out in between her breaths.

His eyes widened in horror and his eyes flickered back to the burning building behind them before refocusing on her.

"Oh god.." She shakily breathed out and reached a hand up to clench forcefully into her bangs, her fingers shaking so badly she could barely close them around her blonde curls. She closed her eyes again and starting crying even harder, her breathing spiraling out of control.

"No, no, no – Morgan, look at me. Morgan." He was all frantic again, forcing her face up. "Morgan, you have to look at me."

She forced her eyes open again, his outline blurry as tears kept their steady stream down her grimy cheeks.

"You have to breathe deeply, Morgan." Nightwing's thumb was caressing her cheek like he'd done when he'd kissed her. "You're okay." He lied, plucking her shaking hand from her hair. "Follow my breathing."

She didn't think he was even aware of his own actions as he clenched her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. "You're okay." He kept repeating. "Follow my breathing, Morgan. Can you do that?" He spoke to her as if she was a toddler, but it was somehow the only thing that got through to her.

Morgan nodded once, trying to hold her breath in for a least a small second before breathing out again.

He took large, exaggerated and slow breaths, looking at her with wide eyes, and Morgan did her very best to mimic.

Minutes passed as they sat, crouched in front of the burning building, breathing slowly in unison.

When she was no longer in danger of hyperventilating, Nightwing relaxed a tiny bit.

With her breathing back to normal, Morgan's head cleared, making the reality of her situation much starker.

"Oh god. Oh no." She gulped out between sobs. "Nononono, no, no.."

She was blubbering and crying and sobbing all over the place, her chest aching with the pain she was in. It felt like a literal gaping wound.

"You're okay." Nightwing breathed as the hand resting against the right side of her face crawled into her hair and pulled her to him. She rested her forehead against his shoulder and collarbone, and his other arm snaked around her shoulders. "You're okay."

Morgan breathed in deeply, finding a tiny comfort in his familiar scent. Her hand reached up and held tightly onto the shoulder pad of his suit. She felt like the only thing that kept her grounded was his solid form holding onto her, the hand running through her hair in calming movements. She was practically clinging to him.

As the minutes went by and she kept crying, Morgan became vaguely aware of a crowed gathering, Gotham residents drawn to the location by the large, black smoke cloud rising to the sky. The blare of a fire-truck siren was loud in her ears, as was the roar of fire and destruction.

"I'm going to get us out of here now, okay? There're too many people." Nightwing told her softly, his words leaving puffs of warm breath down her neck.

She nodded once, not finding the will or energy to answer in any other way.

Nightwing's arms wrapped around her back and behind her knees and he cradled her smaller form against his chest as if she were a wounded animal.

In a way, she was.

He lifted her effortlessly off the ground and walked slowly down the street, making sure to not jostle her as they went.

She hid behind her mane of curls, concealing her tearstained and grimy face from the world.

Normally, she'd be embarrassed at being carried around in such a fashion, but she couldn't even bring herself to think about caring.

She was utterly exhausted and utterly broken. She was afraid she'd literally break into a thousand pieces if he let go. She didn't even care who it was from, she just needed bodily contact. She needed some sort of reminder that she was still alive.

At the moment, with the bleeding wound of grief, she wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing.

The thought made her breathing turn slightly erratic again.

"Hey-hey, don't start again," Nightwing immediately spoke up, tightening his grip on her small body. "You're okay, Morgan. You'll be okay."

She wanted to hit him, shout and scream that she wasn't okay. But the fight had left her body entirely. She was numb and raw and in shock, only capable of feeling the grief of her own loss.

Part of her also realized that he was saying it just as much for his own benefit as hers.

As they reentered the Zeta tube, Morgan had become completely unaware of the outside world. All she could feel were his arms carrying her, and the turmoil that took up her entire form. It was as if somebody had emptied her body completely and then refilled it with red-hot lava that stung and hurt and burned but didn't kill her.

She didn't notice the worried voices of several of her team mates as Nightwing reentered the Warehouse with her in his arms. She could feel his chest rumble as he responded to their words, but she couldn't hear what he was saying.

She could barely even feel the soft bed underneath her as he put her down.

She could, however, feel the absence of his arms around her as he left her on the bed.

For the past several minutes, her entire world how consisted of her pain and his arms. And now that his arms were gone, all that was left was her pain.

She gasped in and out like a fish on land as her hands instinctively clenched tightly around the comforter she laid on, wishing for some sort of oblivion to swallow her up.

Her world of pure pain and darkness only existed for some seconds before a small light returned in the form of a hand gently stroking her hair in a steady pattern. She didn't even know whose hand it was.

Unconsciously, she synchronized her breathing with the stroking hand. She found that the pain wasn't as unbearable if she focused her entire being on matching her breathing with the strokes. She closed her eyes as the tears slipping from them made them sting.

The oblivion she'd been wishing for found her after what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only about twenty minutes. Her breathing slowed down even more as her mind slipped from reality and into the world of dreams.

A place where her dad was still alive.

Yup. I'll just.. Be over here, doing my best to not emotionally destroy my OC more than necessary. Sorry about that.

fun fact: Her painc attack/hyperventilation is based on one I had this summer. I was a leader on a summercamp for teenagers (13-17 years) where my brother, who's fifteen, was attending, and there was mudwrestling one of the days. Right before the mudwrestling happened, I was sleeping, and when I woke, I got this.. Okay, it was a vision, and clear feeling that my brother was going to get injured in the mudwrestling. Then, later that day, I found out that he was actually anticipating, which I hadn't known before. And I had this extremely horrible feeling that it was going to go wrong, but obviously I didn't act on it because that'd be crazy! Who has visions, right?

Anyway, my brother fell during his match and was knocked unconscious, gaining himself a concussion. And I absolutely freaked because I had somehow known it was going to happen and I was terrified because I thought something serious was going to be wrong with him. One of the other leaders had to sit with me and help me breathe for, like, ten minutes because I was about to hyperventilate whenever she stopped. I was a right mess for two days.

(I swear I'm not lying to you guys, this is something that literally happened.)