Someone asked how this story fits with Broken Wings and I guess I forgot to make this super clear - This is basically a replacement. It's not something taking place before BW - this is instead of BW. After I discontinued it, I kinda realized how much I just didn't like that story - I didn't like what I had turned Dick, nor Morgan, into. They felt OOC to me, and the story was just kinda dark and I didn't really enjoy it - I like more lighthearted, adventurous stuff, with the occasional angst. And I just truly had no idea how to end the plot so I kept inventing sideplots to distract myself.
I learned a lot from that story and I think that's going to become obvious as we read this one, as the plot and the emotional core feel much more true to tone.
I'm sorry if that makes you upset - despite my own issues with it, I can totally see why some people would enjoy BW, and that they might think it sucks that that story is essentially erased from canon now. I'm still gong to keep it up, so you can revisit it. But for now, this is the 'real' sequel. You can maybe consider BW an alternate timeline? That would be topical, since we've dived into those before!
But for now, here's chapter 2. I don't plan on uploading this frequently, but I figured I would get the introductory chapters up a bit faster so we can get to the meat of the story
Chapter 2: Bottled Up
April 27th
Arkham Asylum
Night was always particularly dark in Gotham, but no place more so than at Arkham Asylum. The very air seemed to suffocate light, leaving only pitch darkness and hopelessness.
Tonight was no different. The halls were cold and dank, sending a chill down the spine of even the most weathered of guards. Every so often, the oppressive silence was broken by the whimper, moan, or even demented laugh of the inmates.
It was a hopeless place, full of nothing but wasted lives and ruined minds. The Asylum housed some of the worst terrors that had ever befallen Gotham, and even speaking the name of the place out loud was believed to be bad luck in the city.
But tonight, the asylum was peaceful. For once, no prisoners were attempting escape or riot and none of the mentally ill patients were having a bad episode. The darkness seemed to oppress calm and silence upon the inhabitants. The guards were hardly keeping an eye on the security cameras, so calm was their shift. They drank coffee and talked about their families, the latest sports game or what they were having for dinner.
If they'd been watching the security cameras, however, they would have noticed something different. The minutes lost to their lack of attentiveness would prove fatal, as, too late, the alarm went off.
"Fire!" someone distantly shouted. The two security guards sprang to life and phoned the fire department.
One of them looked out the window, uttering a "shit!" when he saw a large portion of the west wing going up in flames. The screams of the trapped inmates caught their ears just as the smell of smoke reached their noses.
Arkham Asylum stood in flames.
April 27th
Gotham
Morgan
Morgan woke with a shout wrenched from her throat, jumping up in bed. It took a moment before the visions from her nightmare left her. Ships and aliens and the Warworld - and fire. For a moment, her room seemed to be bathed in the golden light from the flames that had felt so real.
She clawed her way out of her panic, pressing a hand to her chest and willing her heart to calm down. Sucking in a deep breath of air, she released it in a low and steady stream.
"Just a dream.." she mumbled to herself. "Just a dream."
Morgan sat for a moment and listened for movement in the apartment, but her mom didn't seem to have heard her shout and so Abigail slept on. Morgan lay back down for a moment and buried herself under her covers, waiting for her heart to stop pounding loudly in her ears. Sleep was now outside of her grasp, so with a sigh she eventually got up and looked at her bedside clock. It was only just past five in the morning, but she got up anyway.
Forty minutes later she sat in the kitchen with damp hair after a long shower. She felt bleary eyed and weary, but not sleepy. Her awareness seemed piqued, something making her uneasy. Heading for the living room with a sugary snack and a strong cup of coffee, she turned on the tv, waiting for the six AM news to roll around. As she waited, she picked up the book she was currently reading, listening to the tv with half an ear.
The news jingle came and went, but by then she was so pulled in by her reading, she hardly noticed.
"- the fire is now under control, but Arkham Asylum suffered great losses last night. We're now hearing a word from the fire marshal who will tell us more about the origin of the fire –"
Morgan's brain eventually caught up to her ears and she quickly looked up at the tv, her mouth hanging open from the short gasp she'd let out at the visuals on screen.
While the interview with the fire marshal was going on, a video of the burning building was playing. The video was recorded from a helicopter flying around the burning asylum and the carnage was clearly visible. The flames lit up in the dark night, the entire west wing of the building on fire.
Vicky Vale went on, her voice betraying her astonishment.
"A few notorious prisoners were caught in the fire, and we have several confirmed deaths. Most noticeably, the Joker was a victim of the event, asylum staff claiming he succumbed to smoke poisoning and burns."
Her jaw dropped.
The Joker!
The Joker was dead? Morgan found herself a skeptic, as she was sure everyone else currently watching the news was. Faking their own death was par for the course for Gotham's rogues. She wouldn't be surprised if the 'dead' clown showed up on the streets of Gotham within the next six months.
Still. It was a big deal if it was true. She wasn't sure what would happen now. It was a gruesome end for anyone , but it was hard to harbor a whole lot of sympathy for a man who had been responsible for so much death and destruction already. She tried to remember the last time news as huge as this had happened and came up short. The death of someone with a reputation as notorious and long-lasting as Joker was a big deal.
She assumed Batman was going to investigate and figure out if he really was dead or not, and the rest of the League would know within the next couple of days.
She turned off the news and tried to redirect her attention onto her book, but despite her best efforts, her mind kept wandering. With a sigh, she decided to go to her room and start her meditation routine an hour early. That way, she would have more time for breakfast with her mom.
In the end, she mostly lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling again, her uneasy mind unable to concentrate. She was halfway tempted to slip into her Sparrow suit and fly by the asylum, to check out the damage for herself, and possibly offer assistance.
The sound of her mom waking up and leaving her bedroom made Morgan decide against it - she wasn't a known hero in Gotham. Batman would surely be there - and maybe his former protegé would be too.
Best to stay clear.
April 27th
Arkham Asylum
Nightwing
The smell was horrible. The still smoldering embers around Nightwing emitted a strong smoke that tickled his nose and made his throat feel dry. He looked around the destruction before training his eyes onto Batman. Robin stood a little way off, eyeing the nearby guards with disfavor.
"Well, this sucks," Nightwing said. He was sure Batman would've raised an eyebrow if the cowl allowed for that kind of movement. Nightwing was almost afraid to ask, but he knew they were both thinking it; "Red Hood?"
It made sense, right? The fire had specifically killed the Joker, after all.
Batman looked across the carnage, the stiff lines of his back betraying the turmoil he was surely in.
"Perhaps. We'll need to find out more, to know for sure."
"What do you need me to do?"
"Meet up with security officer Stanley. He'll give you access to the footage from last night. Robin and I'll stay here and search for physical clues." Robin walked over with a serious face. Then again, when didn't he look serious?
Nightwing nodded. "Alright. I'll keep in touch. Let me know if you find anything."
He walked towards the asylum workers, who had been standing and watching them some twenty feet away, not really looking forward to the task given. Looking through security footage was boring and could quickly turn into an hours-long task, if he didn't find what they were looking for right away.
"Officer Stanley?" he guessed, hoping one of the two men was it.
"That'll be me." The younger looking of the two spoke up. "I'm guessing you want to take a look at the security footage?"
"Exactly."
"Well, you're outta luck. The footage was damaged during the fire." he shrugged. "Unless you got some kinda thing-a-ma-jig hidden in that suit of yours," he gave Nightwing's skintight suit a onceover with a look that read 'doubtful', "you won't be able to view them."
"As a matter of fact," Nightwing began with a challenging note to his voice, "I do have equipment to restore damaged footage. Hand over the tapes and I'll see what I can do."
The officers didn't look particularly pleased with having to hand over their precious footage to the much younger hero, but they were under strict orders by the Warden to help the heroes' investigation in any way they could.
Once they had given him the tapes – Nightwing marveled at them still using such old technology – he traveled to the Batcave so he could work on restoring them there.
The cave was dank, as usual. He suspected Bruce preferred it to be as gloomy as possible to match his personality. Yet, as more and more sidekicks joined his crusade, the place softened. Memorabilia and other personal touches wormed their way into the décor - funny trophies from fights, old suits that had been retired..
Dick remembered when he'd been Robin and it was just Bruce and him. There hadn't been any knick knacks or personal items down there then. At least, in the beginning.
It took a few minutes, but he found the old tape converter, stuffed into the back of a closet. He knew it hadn't been used in many years, but Batman didn't like to throw anything away that may still have use.
He hooked the tapes to the player and asked the computer to save the footage and clean it up so he could look it over.
"Computer, how long will the process take?"
"Estimated time; one hour."
An hour? Well, he supposed tapes were old and slow, he should be grateful the upload and cleanup was only going to take an hour.
He went to the coffee machine on the uppermost plateau and got himself a steaming cup. The chill of the cave was getting to him. He'd recently switched to his summer suit, which was made of a far lighter and more breathable material. It was great most of the time, but when he had to sit in the damp, chilly cave, it got cold. The coffee machine was by far the best thing Tim had convinced Bruce to add to the Batcave.
He sat in front of the computer, cold fingers wrapped around the warm mug, watching the upload bar slowly inch towards the finish line. He sniffled once, hoping he wasn't getting sick from prematurely switching suits. The silence around him felt oppressive.
He hated silences like this. When he had nothing to occupy his mind. It made it difficult to keep his thoughts busy.
He couldn't believe the way he had treated Morgan when he'd seen her in Happy Harbor. He kept thinking about the hurt in her voice, the way she'd clearly been doing everything she could to keep calm and stay civil, and he'd goaded her into a fight. One thing he'd never tolerated was someone endangering his Team, and her carelessness with the aircraft had triggered that temper. Dick had never considered himself the type of guy who couldn't stay civil with his exes, but he and Morgan had never been very good at not fighting – even when they had been together. He didn't want to be angry with her, but it felt so much more cathartic to be angry, to lean into that ugly emotion, when the alternative would be feeling how hurt he really was.
Wait, this was the exact thing he'd been doing his best to not think about.
He took a long sip of his coffee.
He supposed the anger stemmed from the love he still felt, which had become homeless. It hurt, it sucked, and it was her fault. Sometimes it felt like part of him had gone with her and it left him feeling like he was missing pieces of his whole.
He knew the feeling well – his parents had taken pieces of him with them too. He had spent many long years working on putting himself together without those pieces. The process had felt like trying to sow together a coat without enough fabric, but he had managed it eventually. Now, it was like Morgan had ripped off a sleeve from that same coat and taken it with her.
He felt like this metaphor was running away from him.
"Upload complete." The computer shook him out of his thoughts. "Restoration complete."
Good. He could stop being alone with his thoughts now.
He sat for an hour or two observing the tapes, watching them one at a time starting from the timestamp half an hour before the fire had begun. So far, nothing had turned up and he was getting bored. His thoughts were starting to wander once again.
No. Focus! He told himself firmly. This reel was another bust. He switched to the next and went to get another cup of coffee, the dull task getting to him.
It was obvious, of course, that the second he tore his eyes away from the screen, something finally happened.
"What the-?" he hastily put down the fresh coffee and rewound the tape.
The tape showed an office, walls filled to the brink with bookcases carrying boxes containing what he assumed were patient files. The room started flickering, like the recording was glitchy. Things seemed to blink in and out of reality, furniture changing position, design, or even just getting switched out for something new entirely.
"Computer, percentage of corrupted footage?" he asked, wanting to make sure what he was watching wasn't simply the result of the damage the tapes had sustained.
"Footage is 3% corrupted."
He frowned at what he was looking at. If the Batcomputer was right – and it always was – then the flickering of the image wasn't due to corrupted files, but a true recording of what had been going on in the room. Somehow, the room had behaved like several different versions of it had been glitching in and out of each other.
The phenomenon lasted for about 30 seconds when, in the blink of an eye, a figure stood there. It was a tall, beautiful woman. The footage was dark and not of the best quality, but he could see her tall, slender figure draped in a garment of flowing, deep blue fabric. Her hair was pulled up in a complicated updo, golden jewelry weaved into it. However, most noticeably were the many threads of golden yarn surrounding her body. They moved as if underwater, lazily twisting and turning along her arms, floating in and out of her hair, and around her body like a hundred snakes.
He watched apprehensively as she stood silently in the room for several minutes. Behind her, a white fog started manifesting. It twisted in and out of itself, steadily growing in mass and speed.
He sat straight up in surprise when the bookshelves across from the woman burst into flame. She watched it unbothered, and then she stepped backwards into the fog. It had grown in size so much that it consumed her, and she was obscured from the view of the camera. As the fire grew, the fog started to dissipate until it, and the woman, were both gone.
Dick sat for a long moment with narrowed eyes. His thoughts were whirring, trying to figure out his next move. He hadn't exactly spent very long looking into the wild claim Morgan had made about women dressed in Grecian clothes, and otherworldly fogs disappearing in the blink of an eye. And yet, here he was, watching the same phenomenon happen on his screen. Certainly, two different people seeing the same strange thing, tied to a violent happening, wasn't a coincidence. It was officially a pattern.
He saved the video file on the computer for Batman to find, knowing Bruce would want to take a look himself. Nightwing knew his former mentor would want an explanation for what was happening on screen. So far, he hadn't told anyone besides Zatanna about what Morgan had encountered, preferring to keep it to himself until he was sure that there was even something going on.
He was going to talk with Batman about it now, though. He just had something he needed to do first.
Nightwing got up from the computer and headed for the zeta tube.
He needed to talk to Wonder Woman about the Greek Fates.
April 27th
Watchtower
Morgan
"How has meditation been going? You told me last time it was helping your telekinesis stay under control, but I'm more interested in hearing about the mental and psychological benefits."
Morgan tore her eyes away from the stunning view of space outside the window.
"It's good. It helps me stay on top of things." She fidgeted with a curl resting loosely on her collarbone. Not because she was nervous, but because talking so openly about her vulnerabilities was still difficult for her. "I don't get stressed because I start every day by grounding myself. It helps with keeping unwanted memories at bay too because my mind is more at peace. And I feel more in control of it."
She redirected her eyes onto Earth, watching a storm gather in the ocean just outside of the Chilean coastline. She wondered if the League was going to be deployed to help if the weather got too dangerous.
Dinah cleared her throat, forcing Morgan to refocus.
"You're distracted." Her sharp eyes pinned Morgan down and she found she couldn't lie.
"Sorry, I don't mean to. I'm just tired. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I had a.. nightmare." She coughed awkwardly once and gnawed on her lower lip.
"A nightmare?" Dinah prodded.
"It was about, you know, the Reach and Warworld. And fire."
"Tell me a bit about it, if you want to."
She didn't, but Morgan knew these sessions were good for her – sharing – was good for her. Dinah had already helped her sort through a lot of stuff and Morgan trusted her enough at this point to talk about it.
"I'm not really sure I remember it. It was a mess of aliens and fighting and I was running around the Warworld. There was fire. I think I was trying to escape it, but I was trapped. I-I think maybe there was some dark figure chasing me?" She fidgeted in her chair again. "It must've been bad because I woke up screaming. Then, after I woke up, I turned on the news and heard about Arkham. Almost like my subconscious knew the fire was happening."
She chanced a glance at Dinah, who was wearing a serious but not unsympathetic look.
"That sounds intense."
"It was!" Morgan kept going, feeling a strange sort of relief to have finally told someone about her nightmare. "I've been feeling off all day."
"And how did you deal with it?"
Morgan shrugged.
"I just got up. There's no point in going back to sleep – you know I tried that back when I had nightmares after the invasion. I just end up lying awake for hours. So now I get up instead, I meditate, shower, go to the gym.. whatever I need to distract myself."
Dinah nodded in approval. "Do you have any idea why you're having this nightmare now? You told me they stopped a year after the invasion."
Morgan shook her head.
"No clue. I mean I guess I did fight an alien spacecraft not that long ago.. There were explosions?"
"When you first came to me, you told me you used to have nightmares about your father's death. That you were constantly dreaming about explosions and fire. Do you think this could be the same thing?"
"I – well, I guess?" Morgan frowned. She hadn't considered that. "I suppose the explosions at the fight might have triggered some kind of – some kind of relapse?"
Dinah nodded.
"It's possible. Do you think you still have unresolved feelings related to the incident?"
"What, my father's death?" She tried to sound casual, but her voice still got thick and she subtly cleared her throat. "I lost a parent. And sure, he was an absent asshole, but he was still a parent. I don't think I'll ever fully resolve that. But I think as long as I admit that and don't try to squash down those feelings, they aren't unhealthy."
Dinah gave her a proud smile.
"That's very insightful." She cocked her head slightly to the side and studied the girl briefly. "You've come a long way since you first approached me and asked for these sessions."
Morgan fought down a pleased smile at the praise, but she couldn't stop her wings from fluttering with delight.
"I think I just realized how much energy I was wasting every day keeping my shields up, and that I was lashing out at people close to me."
Just her being able to talk so openly and vulnerably was a testament to the therapy. She hadn't been able to do that six months ago. Still, it was a steep learning curve, and it wasn't without some tough battles.
"Now, tell me about the dark figure. Why do you think you're being chased by it?"
Morgan gnawed on her lower lip again. After four months of these therapy sessions with Dinah, she'd gotten better at this introspection, but sometimes she still felt like she was at an exam she hadn't been allowed to study for.
"I suppose maybe the figure represents something I'm running from?"
Dinah made a thoughtful noise. "Do you have anything you're running from, currently?"
Morgan shrugged, slumping further down into the comfy chair. "Not to my own recollection."
"How was the mission with the Team?"
Morgan blinked at this sudden change of topic.
"It was good? I mean, we dealt with the threat? Didn't Kaldur tell you about it?" she pointed out, knowing some of the senior members had been on a world-wide search for Reach.
"He did. But Kaldur might have focused on different details than what you could tell me."
Morgan raised a challenging eyebrow at Dinah, feeling her internal shields twitch. What was Black Canary getting at?
Mind open, Morgan.
"How is Nightwing doing?"
Her shields slammed into place immediately.
Mind closed.
"I'm not talking about this." She quickly shut the conversation down before it had a chance to begin. She almost got out of her chair to leave.
Dinah held up her hands in a placating way.
"You said you thought the black figure represented something you were running from." Her eyes nailed Morgan to her seat. "Morgan, you reached out to me a week after your breakup with Dick, and you've refused to talk about it since. I assume it's what must've gotten you to realize you needed therapy and yet it's the one thing you won't look into."
Morgan opened her mouth to protest but Dinah had already launched her attack, and she wasn't about to lose her footing.
"Now, we've been talking a whole lot about things from your past and you've worked through stuff related to your father's death, and the shock of being thrust into an alien invasion during your first year as a superhero. All those events, Nightwing was heavily implicated in. I'm just worried we're missing a big piece of the puzzle here because you refuse to even speak his name."
This time Morgan did interject, "I can say his name," she said with a petulant tone, crossing her arms over her chest in defense and slumping further into her chair. She looked at her feet to avoid Dinah's eyes, feeling like she'd been led into an ambush.
"Do it then." Dinah challenged.
Morgan huffed. "This is stupid. And pointless."
The older hero didn't move.
She looked around the room, still searching for anything to focus on but Dinah's unrelenting gaze. The longer she tried to look away, the more energy she spent avoiding this, the more she began to realize maybe Dinah had a point.
"Nightwing," she sullenly mumbled, hating that her heart did a small jump. She tried to appear casual and unbothered. "See? I'll even do it again: Nightwing! Or Dick, if you prefer." her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Dinah raised a singular eyebrow. Morgan felt defiance flare up and she looked back, the challenge clear on her face. They sat like that for an extended moment. Eventually, the older hero sighed, probably realizing she was getting nowhere with the stubborn girl. She looked at the watch on her desk.
Morgan certainly wasn't getting a good grade at therapy today.
"It looks like the hour is up."
Morgan got up as quickly as she could without seeming rude. Talk about great timing.
"Cool. I'll see you in two weeks? Same time, same place?"
"Unless something comes up," Dinah relented. They both knew the probability of one or both of them getting held up by superhero work was high.
Morgan was halfway out the door when Dinah spoke up again.
"Morgan?" her voice allowed for no shenanigans. Morgan halted in her escape and looked at the other hero over her shoulder. Sometimes, it was scary how much Dinah sounded like her mom.
"You have to talk about it at some point. Nothing stays bottled up for long."
Morgan met her gaze, but found she had nothing to say in response. She thought about the fight she'd had with Dick after she'd taken out that Reach ship, how devastated she'd been when she got home. Devastated to see him. That he'd reacted like he had. That she'd reacted like she had. That he already seemed to be over her – clearly a result of being more experienced in breakups – while to her it still felt so raw and unresolved. And she felt guilty. Oh, so guilty.
But she wasn't ready to talk about any of that yet. She wasn't ready to admit every day felt like a punishment, like leaving him had been the biggest mistake of her life. How, every day, she wondered if she should've tried harder, should've done more to get through to him before giving up.
No, she wasn't ready to admit any of that. Not to Dinah – not even to herself.
And so, she left.
Bottle; closed.
May 6th
Watchtower
Morgan
The main hall of the Watchtower was strangely quiet for the middle of the day. Morgan sat off to the side, waiting for Bumblebee to finish helping a Smallville farm relocate a hive of honeybees. She hadn't known the girl possessed any powers actually related to bees – she'd just assumed the alias came from her being able to shrink to the size of a bee and then "sting".
The two of them were going on their monthly coffee date. It was a thing they'd started doing since they had joined the League back in October. They used the opportunity to talk about the stress of the hero gig, how they felt they were doing in the League, various League gossip and so on. It was a good way to decompress and gain some perspective on their crazy lives.
The zeta platform in the middle of the large room sprang to life, announcing the arrival of Batman and Robin.
Morgan shrunk a little further against the wall she sat against, and eyed them with curiosity. She didn't know a whole lot about the new Robin, only that he was young, like really young, and kind of haughty. Dick, back when they'd still been together, had been tightlipped about who exactly this new addition to the seemingly endless Batfamily was. The young boy looked comically short next to his tall mentor, but he carried himself in such a way you wouldn't think he was such a tiny squirt. He held himself exactly like the dark knight.
Morgan cast a brief look onto Batman next, part of her wanting to ask him about the fire at Arkham. She hadn't heard any news yet and was curious to know if the Joker truly was dead. She held her tongue, however. Although they were technically working on the same team, Batman was Dick's former mentor and probably something close to a father figure. She was sure he didn't care for the girl that dumped his former protégée.
Then again, maybe he was the sort of guy that was above caring about such things. She couldn't help but feel he'd acted cold towards her since the breakup, but since Batman was often cold and standoffish, it was hard to tell if anything was actually different, or if she had just convinced herself it was.
She was broken out of her pondering by the zeta tube lighting up a second time, this time announcing the arrival of Bumblebee.
"Morgan," she greeted, already walking off to go change, "give me two minutes and I'll be ready."
Morgan smiled. "No need to rush, take your time."
Bumblebee rounded a corner just as Wonder Woman and, to Morgan's dismay, Nightwing entered the main room from the other side.
They appeared to be deep in conversation and Morgan hoped they just wouldn't notice her. She pressed herself even further back into the shadows of the room. Just as her silent wish had been sent out into the universe, Wonder Woman looked up and right at her.
Great.
"Sparrow, a word?" She gestured for her to come over. Morgan scrambled into a standing position, fighting the urge to run away.
Oh, hell no.
Nightwing trained his masked eyes onto her next, his body rigid. He didn't protest, however.
"Err," she grimaced, unable to keep it in, "I have a thing with Karen in, like, two minutes." She pointed behind her like she was trying to convince them she was heading off any second.
Wonder Woman was undeterred. "This will only take a minute, then."
Morgan sighed deeply but complied. As she sidled over to the two heroes; she kept her eyes trained on the floor. She was sure she looked like a dog with its tail between its legs. She would've liked to handle the situation better, only she hadn't been prepared to see him. She'd only been at the Watchtower for a few minutes, how did she have such unlucky odds?
Once reaching them, she kept her eyes resolutely on Wonder Woman.
"Nightwing told me about the women you have encountered, as well as the 'fog' phenomenon that follows them."
Morgan felt her eyes bug out and she looked at Nightwing, awkwardness momentarily forgotten.
"There's been another?"
He nodded stiffly.
"Arkham." He said by way of explanation.
"Oh."
"He has described the young woman to me in detail, but since you are the one who saw the old woman, I would have you tell me about her."
"Oh! Sure," Morgan could certainly do that. She wondered why Nightwing had gotten Wonder Woman involved, but she quickly launched into a description of the woman. Once done, the Amazon looked thoughtful, crossing her muscular arms.
"What you have described to me, both of you," she looked between the two younger people, who were angling subtly away from one another, both looking at her as if the other were not present. "It sounds remarkably like two of the Moirai, the Fates, Lachesis and Atropos."
Morgan's mouth dropped open. "Like the actual Greek deities?"
Wonder Woman nodded solemnly. "There is one problem, however. As far as we Amazons know, the Moirai have not been seen for many centuries. That does not mean they could not have returned, however." She looked thoughtful for a moment and Morgan hung onto her every word. Then, her mind made up, Diana spoke again. "I will travel to Themyscira and ask my people what they know. If these are indeed the Moirai returned, we cannot know what lies in store. As long as we do not understand their motive, nothing is certain."
"Morgan!" Karen suddenly called, and Morgan jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around. "You ready, girl?"
"Coming!" She called quickly, turning briefly back towards the two heroes before her. "Ehm, I'm assuming there's nothing more you need me-"
"There isn't," Nightwing quickly said. Then, as if realizing himself, he followed up with, "Thanks for sharing what you saw. You can go with Karen."
She'd been avoiding his gaze altogether so far, but as he spoke directly to her, she couldn't help herself, and their eyes met. They maintained a loaded eye contact, briefly forgetting their audience. Then, Nightwing looked to the ground for a split second. It was enough to break Morgan out of the trance he had put her in, and she took a startled step back.
Morgan looked at Diana quickly, but the older woman did not protest at her leaving, and so she hastily retreated, happy to be out of there.
May 6th
Happy Harbor
Morgan
"Do you still feel like we're being relegated to minor missions and tasks?" Morgan asked, sullenly sticking her spoon into her half-eaten banana split. The two girls were sitting at a café, enjoying the first truly hot spring day. Karen was soaking up the sun, but Morgan chose to keep her jacket on so she didn't burn. She'd enjoyed a bit of sun for the first ten minutes, but her pale skin needed to ease into sitting in the sun bit by bit.
"Absolutely." Karen agreed. She paused, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "Take that mess at Happy Harbor back in March. That was a Team mission. But the second Nightwing called for backup, we're the two people Kaldur calls. Why is that?"
"It's like he feels we're still part of the Team and only sorta in the League." Morgan rested her chin in her hand, eating a spoonful of her dessert. "We've been part of the League for seven months now and we still get assigned small emergencies and we keep getting put on Team missions as backup. It sucks."
"I guess with people as powerful as Superman or as clever as Batman, we aren't needed for the important stuff." Karen shrugged. "Take the mission I was on today. Redirecting a swarming beehive?"
"Yeah, what was that?" Morgan frowned. "I had no idea you actually had anything to do with bees, I thought your name was inspired by your powers."
"Oh, it is. I have no connection with bees." Karen shrugged, absentmindedly rearranging the cake crumbs on her plate into a triangle. "It was a personal favor to Superman. Apparently, he knows the owners of the farm. I just used some of the pheromones from their new queen to guide the swarm away."
"Not exactly world-saving stuff," Morgan said. Karen aimed a humorous smile at her. "Though, I'm sure the farmer was grateful."
"Maybe we should be grateful they're easing us into the bigger stuff?" Karen suggested.
"Yeah, that's probably it." Morgan fiddled with her spoon. "Is that necessary, though? We helped stop an alien invasion two years ago. I think we could handle more."
"Should we, I don't know.. talk to him about it?"
Morgan contemplated it. On the one hand, she respected Kaldur a lot, and trusted his judgment pretty much all the time. On the other hand, maybe he needed some kind of reassurance from them that they were ready for bigger stuff. It sucked feeling like, although they were technically members of the League, they weren't really 'in' yet.
"Do you think it would make him doubt that we're actually ready? Like, maybe this is us paying our dues before he trusts us with the bigger stuff," she wondered.
"Kaldur is reasonable. I think he would hear us out. Especially if there's two of us."
She nodded. Maybe Karen was right. "No harm in trying, right?"
She contemplated getting some bigger missions. Currently, she was a lot less busy than when she'd been on the Team. Back then, she'd been on missions often and she'd patrolled several times a week.
Now, since she was no longer spending a lot of her time in Blüdhaven, she wasn't patrolling anymore – often, a patrol had been the only way to get Dick to spend a few semi-focused hours with her.
But Gotham was different. Even though she itched to get back out every night, she felt like she'd be overstepping if she started patrolling in Gotham. That was Batman's turf.
Thinking of Batman reminded her of something.
"Did you ever hear any news about the fire in Arkham?"
Karen nodded. "Apparently it's basically confirmed that Joker did die." she said. "I asked Red Robin."
"That's crazy. I've been wondering if it was true or not."
"You weren't told?" Karen sounded surprised that Morgan was still in the dark about the whole ordeal.
Morgan grimaced. "I'm not exactly on speaking foot with the Bats, currently."
Karen gave her a sympathetic look.
"I'm sure Red Robin wouldn't mind telling you about it. He doesn't seem like the type to freeze people out for stuff unrelated to him," she delicately suggested.
Morgan looked down at the quickly melting mess on her plate. She'd been stabbing it into oblivion with her spoon. She supposed Tim wasn't the type who'd hold a grudge against her, but she had no idea; she'd been too much of a coward to talk to him, and he hadn't tried to talk to her either.
"Maybe. But now I know what happened."
Karen shot her a piercing look and repeated her sentiment. "I'm sure he would've told you, had you asked." She quickly changed the subject, something Morgan was thankful for. "How is your mom doing? I imagine she enjoys having you home more."
Morgan shrugged. "She's fine. It took a little getting used to only being in Gotham again. I miss patrolling. I used to do it all the time in Blüdhaven."
Karen laughed. "I don't understand you Bats' obsession with patrolling. Few of the other heroes do it."
"I'm not a Bat," she pointed out. "Though I guess, since I was trained by one, I adopted their habits. Gotham's the kind of city that needs constant patrolling to stay somewhat functional."
"You're practically a Bat. Batman is like your superhero grandfather if we go by who trained who."
Morgan spluttered out a laugh. "Would that make Nightwing my dad?"
Karen pulled a face. "Yikes. I guess that was the wrong way to phrase it." She took another sip of her beverage. "But if you miss patrolling so much, just patrol, right?"
Morgan looked uncertain, taking a long sip from her cup as she contemplated how to answer.
"I know I live in Gotham, but the city feels so.. I don't know, like it belongs to Batman? I would feel like I was overstepping. Besides he's got a lot to deal with as it is currently, what with that new Red Hood guy roaming around. I heard he's got some kind of personal vendetta against Batman. I don't want to butt into his things and make stuff more complicated."
"Well, it's your city too." Karen insisted. "I know Gotham and Batman are connected in a special way, but he doesn't get to claim an entire city. Besides, if he's really that busy, maybe he'd actually appreciate the help."
Morgan thought about it, knowing Karen made perfect sense. "Maybe you're right. Though, I'm not sure he's all that partial to me, since.. you know." She swallowed thickly. Since she'd become his former protégée's ex.
Karen shot her an unimpressed look. "I'm pretty sure Batman is above petty stuff like that. Right now, you're just looking for excuses."
She'd hit the nail on the head. "You're right." She let out a little laugh. "Maybe I should try patrolling. Yeah – maybe I will!"
Karen nodded with approval. "Good. Us women need to stake our claim too, even though it can be intimidating."
Morgan held up her beverage. "I'll drink to that. Cheers"
Karen clinked her mug together with Morgan's. "To staking our claim!"
The two women drank deeply from their, by now, lukewarm drinks.
"So, how are things with you and Mal?" Morgan asked once she'd put her drink back down.
"Oh, things are great!" Karen started gushing about her boyfriend and the new apartment they'd moved into together.
They sat for another hour, enjoying the peaceful day and the warm weather. On days like this, Morgan's heart felt lighter, and she became hopeful for the future. She was sure good things were in store for her. She was sure the darkness would pass.
Just a heads up, I reuploaded the first chapter because I realized i uploaded the unedited version, that was also missing a scene at the end. I guess I'm rusty after all these years!
Also I hate having those full lines between scene changes, but for some reason the document keeps removing the small lines i add so I guess we're going with the big ones. This is the first time I'm uploading this chapter lmao I'M SO RUSTY.
Originally the last scene from the prologue/chapter 1 was part of this chapter, and then the last scene of this chapter was part of chapter 3, but I shuffled some stuff around to better the pacing of chapter 2 and 3, while perhaps sacrificing the pacing of chapter 1 a little bit? I realized I didn't want two and a half chapters of mostly short, expository scenes because it would get tedious. So instead, have one chapter that compiles most of those!
I worry that this chapter is a bit boring, but I was just trying to set up the plot as fast as possible so we could get to the good stuff. And I PROMISE you, the next chapter is a straight banger. And the next many chapters after that.
Anyway, with this story, I'd like to take you guys a bit more behind the scenes and allow me to yap a bit in the authors notes about my writing process since I've been on this writing journey for so long and I have a lot of thoughts I want to share!
On that note, I've actually been continuously blogging on that old tumblr named feathers-in-the-night, so if anyone is curious about more of this behind the scenes stuff, you can check it out! It's mostly a lot silly thoughts and celebrating word-count milestones, but occasionally there are going to be meta insights and even a few small sneak peeks from the story.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!