Chapter 15: The Worst Cup of Coffee

She was back in the burning building. The fire had twisted into evil, grinning faces, lurking at her, illuminating the deep shadows surrounding her. Their black mouths moved with laughter, but it came out as angry hissing.

Images kept flashing in the darkness around her as she ran away from the fire that was chasing her. A Gotham rooftop. Figures were moving across it, talking animatedly. She didn't stop to study any of the images as she kept running. she allowed them all to pass over her, witnessing them only out of the corner of her eyes. Somewhere underwater. Someone was hurt – there was blood everywhere, painting the water red. The bold, red and white stripes of a large tent. The pond, where Wally was sitting, peacefully looking over all of them. A crumbling building swallowed up by trees. A dark cave with a pulsating, pale fog.

A sinister laughter rang through the air, and she sped up her pace. The bundle in her arms was crying.

The black shadows rose and gathered, taking physical form. Black Beetle.

The fire was almost upon her. She had reached the roof, but she couldn't fly away with her broken wing. It was too late.

With that cold, hateful laughter still ringing in her ears, the fire consumed her. Her own scream wasn't able to overpower the laugh – it shook the very ground she stood on. The concrete beneath her feet started crumbling and she fell into dark oblivion.

June 8th

Watchtower

Sparrow

She woke all at once, feeling her chest expand from a big, surprised breath.

Morgan immediately knew where she was – she'd already seen herself lying here.

She was back in her own body again. The thought made her completely forget the horrid nightmare she'd just suffered through, including all the snippets of images she'd been bombarded with, which usually weren't part of her night terrors. She sat up quickly, and instantly regretted it as her heart started racing and her head began pounding from the sudden movement. How long had she been out? From the way her body reacted to moving, it must've been days.

Aside from dizziness as blood rushed from her head, she felt okay. She looked down at her hands, noticing dried blood beneath her fingernails. Grimacing at the sight, she wondered if she'd been bathed while she was out, or if she was still covered in blood and grime from the mission. She wasn't sure which answer she preferred.

"You're awake!" a voice drew her attention, and she looked to the entrance of the infirmary, where Zatanna stood. She approached the bedridden girl with a relieved smile and wrapped her arms around Morgan's shoulders in a careful hug. "I'm so relieved. We were starting to worry something was really wrong!"

Morgan accepted the hug but was still too disoriented to return it. Besides, she had an IV drip in her hand, and she didn't want to pull at the tubes.

"What –" she tried to speak, but her voice came out in a croak and broke the word in half. She started coughing. The air at the Watchtower was dry, and if she'd really been breathing it in for days, it was no wonder her throat felt like sandpaper.

Zatanna jumped off the bed and went in search of a glass of water.

Once her throat had been wetted and her voice restored, she asked, "What happened?"

"How much do you remember?"

"Last thing I remember is fainting after we closed the rift." She frowned, realizing she'd never actually done the thing with that coin, like she'd been asked to. "Or did we?"

"We did." Zatanna assured her. "Since you were holding up the Fortress, I performed your half of the spell. It worked – but I can't say for sure if the fix is stable. Next time, it's better that you do it."

Morgan nodded thoughtfully. "How long was I out?"

"Three days."

Her eyes widened. Three days?

Ugh, she was so behind on schoolwork now. Had she missed an exam?

She looked around the infirmary, finding it empty aside from the two of them. She felt a twinge of disappointment. Why wasn't Dick here? After all, they were okay, right? That's what they'd agreed on. She knew he'd been here earlier, so why wasn't he here now?

She felt silly at the thought – it wasn't like she was disappointed that M'gann or Karen weren't here. Then again, they hadn't been part of the mission.

With a start, she remembered her mom. Had anyone told her where she was? Was she sitting alone at home, worried sick?

It was as if Zatanna could guess some of her thoughts, because she gave her a small, sympathetic smile before getting off the bed again.

"Let me get some of the medical staff so you can, hopefully, get out of here."

She offered her friend a grateful smile, and watched as Zatanna left the room again.

Her thoughts were whirring. Mainly, they were about Wally. Had she really traveled, basically astral projected, outside of her body?

She had been.. what had he called it..? Some place outside of time?

How had she done it? Was it the spell being a messy bitch as usual?

She sighed and threw herself back down into her pillow, placing an arm across her eyes. She was getting pretty sick and tired of that damn spell dragging her around wherever it pleased. Wasn't the dimension hopping enough? Wasn't the numerous, harrowing nightmares enough? Now, she was also leaving her own body like a spirit out on a stroll?

Dammit.

She moved her arm away from her face and studied her hands again. She still had a cut on her hand from where the crystal had nicked her.

Was she really strong enough to do what she had done at the Fortress? The thought almost scared her. She'd never done something like that before, and she realized that for the first time, she'd truly explored the absolute limit of her powers.

And it had cost her a three-day coma.

Still. Knowing she was capable of something like.. that. It was humbling. Why had she been given the metagene for such power? She was sure other heroes could've put it to far better use.

Instinctually, she clenched and then spread out her fingers, beckoning the glass of water to come to her.

Nothing happened.

Morgan frowned and stared at her open hand. Moving a small object like that should've been as easy as breathing. And yet.. nothing.

She tried focusing on something else, but still she couldn't achieve that mental grasp it took. It was like her telekinesis was still low on juice after her stint at the North Pole.

Her teeth worried at her bottom lip. When would it be back? Right now, the part of her brain where she could usually feel her telekinetic powers felt empty.

She was interrupted by Zatanna coming back with a nurse. Morgan sighed with relief as the IV was removed from her hand, and answered all the nurse's questions patiently, knowing she'd be out of there quicker if she did. She wanted to go home. The sooner she could get back, the better. She had schoolwork, and if today really was June eighth, she had a shift at the women's shelter tonight.

Half an hour later, once the nurse had finished observing her and determined she was fit as a fiddle, she was allowed to leave.

She got up quickly and changed into civics, putting on a pair of sunglasses to still hide her face.

It must've been late morning, because the Watchtower was mostly empty, though not abandoned like it was at night. On her way towards the zeta platform, she ran into Guy.

"Hey!" he greeted. "Good to see you up and about again."

"Hope I didn't worry you too much," she said, offering him a small, teasing smile.

He placed a hand over his heart dramatically.

"I've been worried sick, haven't slept a wink since I heard."

She let out a short laugh, but sucked it back in when he suddenly appeared quite serious.

"But for real, we're a lot of people who've been worried. We all heard what happened. The League's been holding their breath since you guys came back."

Morgan hooked a finger into her curls and tugged at a tuft of hair, resisting the urge to shuffle with her feet. The thought of the entire League knowing, talking, and worrying about her being in a coma.. well, she wasn't sure if it was mortifying or touching.

"Thanks, Guy," she said, sounding a bit more sincere than before. "That means a lot."

He gave her a firm pat on her shoulder and then he was off. She looked at his retreating back. That had been.. surprisingly sincere for him.

Once he rounded a corner and was out of view, she resumed her march towards the zeta platform. On her way there, several more Leaguers halted and expressed their happiness at her recovery, and her trek towards the zeta platforms ended up taking at least twice as long as it should've. By the time she'd reached her destination, she was beet red from all the attention she was getting, but also deeply touched.

She hurriedly traveled to Earth, wanting to get away from the outpouring of well wishes.

It wasn't exactly fresh air since she'd zeta'd to Gotham, but she relished getting back on Earth and breathing in air that hadn't been through a filter. The air at the Watchtower was always a little too cold, and very dry.

The streets were bustling with morning traffic, full of Gothamites on their daily migration to work. She was still tired from the physical strain she'd been under, and her legs felt wobbly from the lack of use, so Morgan took the subway. The subway car rumbled along beneath her feet, sounding like it needed to be retired already. The interior was grimy and full of lewd graffiti. As usual this time of day, the cabin was filled to the brim, and the smell of body odor and cigarettes lay like a blanket upon the busy travelers. A woman with a large backpack bumped into Morgan, and the bag squished her all the way up against the sliding doors for the duration of her ride.

It was good to be back.

She got out at her stop and sighed with relief, shaking out her wings. In tight spaces like subway cars, she felt the size of her wings all the more. Weaving in and out of people waiting for their trains, she left the subway and finally reached her home street.

Her pace quickened. She was so close to being home. With a smile, she pushed open the front doors of the building – she was going to give her mom the biggest hug when she arrived.

Her key jangled in her hand as she took the stairs slowly, feeling her pulse quicken at the exercise. Still weak. She probably needed to eat something. At the thought, it was almost like she could smell her mom's pancakes, wafting tantalizingly through the hallway and down the staircase. She reached the last few steps, and their front door came into view.

"Finally home," she sighed, already feeling her shoulders sag with relief. Despite having slept for three days, she felt like she needed to lie down and take a nap. After she'd had something to eat.

Unlocking the front door, she realized the smell of pancakes hadn't been a figment of her imagination. The smell was unmistakable. She could hear someone puttering about in the kitchen. There was music coming from the bathroom, loud enough that her mom hadn't heard her enter. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

She went to the kitchen first, drawn by the sound of someone doing the dishes, and the smell of pancakes.

She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her mom clean a couple of bowls and a pan. On the table was a stack of breakfast pancakes, a pot of black coffee, and a plate of eggs and bacon. Two mugs and two used plates were left out.

Did her mom have company?

"Mom?" she called, to get her attention. Abigail immediately dropped the pan into the sink and sudsy water splashed everywhere. She turned and her eyes were already welling up with tears at the sight of her daughter, looking relatively unscathed, standing before her.

"Oh, my baby!" she cried, and pulled Morgan to her once she'd crossed the kitchen. Morgan returned the hug fiercely, hands grabbing fistfuls of Abigail's knitted cardigan. "You're alright." She whispered to herself, like a prayer had been answered.

Morgan registered the sound of someone shuffling about in the bathroom and let go of her mom. The music was still playing, and still familiar. It sounded like.. Frank Sinatra?

"Who's here?"

"Uuuh," Abigail looked sheepish all of a sudden, and Morgan drew back further to narrow her eyes at her mom. "Now, don't be mad.. He came last night and he was very distraught. He was blaming himself for you getting hurt. He hadn't slept in two days, so I forced him to stay and sleep on the couch."

"Moooom, what did you do?" she asked in a sing-song-y voice, starting to guess what her mom was getting at.

"Morgan." His voice came out no louder than a breath, but she would've recognized it anywhere. She probably could've recognized him from the rhythm of his breath alone.

There Dick stood, one foot still in their tiny bathroom. His hair was damp and curled charmingly, framing his face. There was stubble along his jaw that looked to be several days old. His t-shirt-sleeves had been rolled up so they rested almost on his shoulders, showing off his powerful arms.

The sight of him unfurled some emotion in her stomach that she was afraid to place, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't elated to see him so soon after waking up.

He didn't wait for her to react to his presence – he was already scooping her up into his arms and holding her tight. She suddenly found herself with her face pressed firmly into his chest and she froze, blinking with confusion. Her tired brain was refusing to catch up to current events. She could smell his signature deodorant and the brand of detergent he used. His heart was beating its steady rhythm beneath her ear. Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump..

She still hadn't moved. Then, when she could feel him begin to let go – perhaps due to her lack of reaction – she quickly wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. She felt him tighten his grip around her, then, and he rested his cheek on top of her head. Impulsively, she reached out a hand towards her mom, and pulled her into the hug as well.

She supposed it should've felt awkward. The three of them standing there in their tiny hallway, wordlessly hugging. And yet it felt.. right.

The hug only lasted for a moment, and then they pulled apart. Yet, Morgan felt much lighter. She told herself this was fine and normal – after all, she wouldn't have felt weird if M'gann or Karen, or even Connor, hugged her so why should it be weird if Dick did it, now that they were friends?

"What are you doing here?" She voiced her confusion, eyeing the wrench in his hand, before taking him in fully. Only a few times had Morgan seen him wear days-long stubble. His eyes were bloodshot. Had he really not been sleeping?

"I'm fixing your bathroom sink."

His answer didn't make her any less confused.

"Uh-huh."

"Come eat, Morgan." Her mom pushed her into the kitchen, and Morgan looked at Dick over her shoulder as she let Abigail guide her into a chair. Her mom started piling pancakes and bacon onto her plate and pouring her a big glass of juice.

"How's the sink coming?" Abigail asked their guest, who still stood in the hallway, looking at Morgan digging into her breakfast.

"I'm almost done. I'll go finish up."

Morgan watched him disappear back into the bathroom, the music still playing, the singer crooning soulfully into the empty hallway. She realized with a start why she recognized the music – this was the same playlist that Dick listened to often, and which had been playing in the background the first time they.. well.

Morgan could barely allow the thought to enter her mind, and she bowed her head over her plate to hide the fierce blush that was creeping up her face.

She wondered again, what exactly he was doing here. But she would wait for him to leave before asking her mom what the hell was going on. Did the two of them regularly hang out while she was gone?

Her sarcastic thoughts made her feel bad. She'd been in a coma – perhaps, it made sense that Dick had thought to come and inform her mom, and it wasn't so unreasonable that they'd comfort each other in a moment of worry.

Still. Why was he sleeping over and using their shower?

Her mom really had just decided to ignore that the two of them were broken up.

Morgan had just about finished her food when Dick came back into the kitchen, looking way too at home in their apartment. He accepted the glass of juice Abigail was pressing into his hand with thanks, downing half of it in a single gulp.

"I'm heading out," he said. "Thank you, Abigail, for everything."

Everything what? What had the two of them been doing? Since when were they best friends?

Abigail's soft smile almost made her groan. Her mom was for sure going to pester Morgan about the two of them after this. She was way too fond of Dick.

"Thank you so much for fixing our sink!" she praised him.

"Just keeping my promise." He smiled at her, and Morgan remembered that he'd indeed promised to fix it a year ago. She'd just assumed that promise had been annulled with their relationship.

She was starting to wonder if the two other people in the room had forgotten about her.

Then Dick turned to her and she suddenly wished to be invisible.

"Make sure to get some rest," he told her sternly. "You've been through a lot."

"I'll take a nap, but I have volunteer work tonight," she shrugged him off, getting up from the table and stretching her arms over her head. She yawned. A nap was certainly her next plan of action.

"No way," two voices came as one.

She regarded them with narrowed eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You should be resting," her mom insisted.

"Can't you reschedule?" Dick chimed in.

She groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes.

"Can't a girl indulge in a little coma without getting a couple of worry-warts on her ass?"

"You almost died three days ago and now you're on your way to work?" Dick shot back. He crossed his arms over his chest and Morgan thought it was entirely unfair; how was she supposed to focus on their argument when her eyes kept slipping down to study his biceps?

"Hypocrite! You almost died three days ago too!" Morgan pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Dick shook his head. "I was never actually physically hurt."

"Because of moi," Morgan reminded him, pressing a proud hand against her collarbone.

"Go take your nap and when you wake up, we can talk about you going to the women's shelter," Abigail said to placate her daughter.

Morgan looked at the two of them with exasperation as they stood, a united front across from her. She realized the only way she would get to go to work would be if she snuck out of her window.

Which was exactly what she intended to do, she resolved.

"I so haven't missed getting ganged up on and babied by you two," she grumbled, leaving the kitchen with a huff and heading for her bedroom. She snapped the door shut loudly behind her, aware that it was childish. Not that she cared. If Dick had wanted a goodbye, he should've been less annoying.

This was how it always went. She could excuse her mom, because this was normal mom-behavior, but would it kill Dick to have a little more faith in her? As if he hadn't gotten injuries from fighting and then immediately gone out and kept going when he probably should've stayed at home? She distinctly remembered a mission he'd gone on while sporting cracked ribs. Were only the bats allowed to sacrifice for the mission?

She hoped he would be gone by the time she woke up. If he was still here, he'd hear her sneak out.

Morgan grabbed her phone and set an alarm for that afternoon. She was already asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. She dreamt of pancakes and bathroom sinks.

"Have a good evening, Morgan," Julie greeted her from behind the front desk of the center, as the younger woman passed her, heading for the door. Morgan smiled at Julie, hoping her exhaustion wasn't evident.

She was tired – exhausted to the bone – but she was happy she'd gone to the shelter anyway. It had been a good day. She and Maggie, another volunteer, had baked pancakes with the kids to allow all the moms an hour of peace while they'd indulged in a bit of wellness with facemasks and foot scrubs. It was rare that the shelter could afford to splash out on actual, expensive activities, but a couple of facemasks weren't going to break the budget.

Once she got outside, she checked her phone, her heart plummeting when she found several texts from her mom.

I can't BELIEVE you snuck out!

Morgan, please, you need to be resting. You don't understand how worried I was.

I admire your work, but you need to remember to take care of yourself too.

Morgan shoved the phone back into her pocket, not reading the rest of the texts. She really didn't want to head home now. She was so over the lectures and the worrying.

After stopping by a street vendor to buy a greasy, delicious kebab, and a cheap cup of coffee from a shop across the street, she headed into a dimly lit alley. The sun had already set, and in the twilight she quickly slipped into her Sparrow suit. She wasn't going to do any crime fighting, but she wanted to go for a quick fly – find a nice rooftop to indulge in her greasy, spicy treat, and the steaming cup of what she assumed was mediocre coffee.

Minutes later, she had found one such rooftop. She had a beautiful view out over the water. The sun had dipped below the horizon at her back, and she could see the blackness of night seep into the sky from where she sat. She knew she'd see no stars – nobody in Gotham ever did. But the pale, light sky giving way to a deep, endless blue was a view all on its own.

The food was just as delicious as she'd anticipated, and exactly what she needed to give her a boost of energy.

With her feet dangling over the side of the building, she took a sip of the coffee. She scrunched up her nose. It wasn't mediocre – it was just downright bad. It tasted like it had been tapped directly from the oil tank of the oldest pickup-truck in the city. And yet, it hit the spot. She let out a small, content groan and smacked her lips, trying to convince herself the drink definitely wasn't poisoned. Maybe it had been lazed with a bit of joker venom? Certainly wouldn't have been the first time.

"Right, Joker's dead," she mumbled to herself, remembering that was one thing she didn't have to worry about anymore.

She had other things to worry about. With a sigh, Morgan pulled the phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her mom's texts.

Something about them bothered her way more than just the attitude of a daughter being annoyed that she'd been caught sneaking out.

Fact of the matter was that Morgan was legally an adult. And just because she lived at home, didn't mean she appreciated her mom treating her like a naughty teenager.

She also understood where her mom was coming from – Morgan knew Abigail worried about her every single day. She could see it on her mother's face, the way that her wrinkles deepened every day, and her eyes became more and more tired. She looked.. stretched thin. If Morgan had to be honest, she was sure her mom rued the day Morgan had decided to pursue the hero life. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it was the truth.

Or maybe the bitterness in her mouth was just from the terrible coffee.

Morgan was loath to admit it, but the apartment was becoming too small for the two of them. It wasn't doing either of them any good, that she was still living there. Her mom needed some kind of distance from the work Morgan did, if she was ever to have a moment of peace. And Morgan needed a place that was her own. Where nobody would angrily text her for sneaking out. Where she didn't have to feel bad for coming home late, or for forgetting to do the dishes, or for being a financial burden.

Where nobody could invite her ex over without her permission.

She looked at her hands, flexing and unflexing. A soft wind played with the curls framing her face, and they tickled her cheeks.

Dick was a whole other can of worms. She wondered if he'd ever let that mentor-mentality go. Maybe becoming friends again was a mistake if it meant he'd start trying to boss her around.

"Need to nip that one in the bud sooner rather than later," she sighed, crumbling up the wrapping from her roll and stuffing it into her bag.

"Aw, she's even too pure to litter."

Morgan jumped about a foot in the air and almost fell over the side of the building. She whipped around at the familiar sound of the voice, distorted by a modulator, and found none other than Red Hood leaning against a chimney. He looked completely at ease, like he owned the place.

She felt her heart rate spike. She still didn't have her telekinesis – her one advantage, should he try to fight her.

Play it cool, Morgan, play it cool, she thought to herself. He can probably smell fear.

"Would you rather I left it up here?" she pulled the wrapper out of her bag again and held it up in question.

He shook his red helmet from side to side and uncrossed his arms.

"I read up on you," he said nonchalantly, though his voice carried an undertone of something dark. "You've only been in the business for a few years. You were trained by the golden boy. And then, rumor has it, you dated him."

Morgan frowned at him. "How on earth do you know that? That wasn't exactly public knowledge."

"I have my sources."

"Spoken like a true bat," she whispered to herself, turning her eyes back towards the blackening horizon. It might've been stupid, turning her back on a guy currently carrying two guns and no reservations on killing. But from his relaxed body-language, she figured he wasn't there to shoot her.

"That's kinda gross, don't you think?" he plowed on in a nasty voice. He seemed to derive gleeful satisfaction from having dirt on her, and he was actively trying to get under her skin. She was ashamed to admit it was working. "I've never heard of a mentor-mentee relationship like that."

"Well, you'll be happy to know we broke up then," she shot back, feeling her mood take a nosedive. Why on earth was Red Hood, of all people, digging into her painful break up? She looked to the heavens with an air of suffering. Why was she being punished so? An ugly emotion reared its head and she turned to him with a glare. "I guess we both have complicated relationships with our former mentors, don't we, Jason?"

He froze. If she could bite her tongue off, she would've. She instantly knew she'd screwed up. She didn't have her telekinesis to save her if she pushed him too far. Yet, Morgan didn't care. She was too annoyed.

"How the fuck do you know my name?" he growled, fingering the gun at his side in a show of intimidation.

"How the fuck do you think?" she challenged him. "You just talked about who I used to date."

Jason stood stiff as a statue still, the red helmet amplifying his stony silence. She could imagine what he looked like beneath it; jaw clenched, the eyes of his red domino mask two angry slits.

Morgan sighed and looked away from him once again.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," she said, trying to make peace. Why was she trying to make peace? She had no idea. Perhaps the guns and his volatile nature. "Out of all people, I can relate to having a complicated relationship with a former mentor. I know our situations aren't exactly the same.." she grimaced, remembering that Jason had died and was blaming Batman for his fate. Compared to that, her situation was much less complicated.

To her surprise, Red Hood plopped down onto the railing next to her, a good two feet between them, and took off his helmet. Before she could protest, he stole her cup and downed the rest of the lukewarm coffee.

He started choking on it. "Jesus Fucking Christ that's the worst cup of coffee I've ever tasted."

"Buy your own next time then!" she said, startled.

"With what money? I'm legally dead, as you know." He was trying to sound relaxed, but the words came out like they tasted worse than the coffee.

Morgan grimaced again, unsure how to react to that. "I'm sorry that happened. It must've sucked."

"It must've sucked?" He gave her a weird look from behind his domino mask. "I think Golden Boy forgot to mentor you on being fucking normal."

She swallowed a smile. "He tried. I wasn't a very good student."

"Cheers to that. Finally, something we have in common."

It occurred to her that this whole situation didn't make any sense. Why was he being friendly – or his version of it? He had tried to explode her with a bomb last time they met, and then got angry because the bomb hadn't even been for her. Something was off.. Right?

Or maybe he was just lonely and trying to find someone with shared experience? Maybe, this was his clunky way of trying to connect?

"Having a mentor is hard. Especially a Bat," she said, trying to play the field. How would he react? If he seemed open to what she was saying, maybe he really was trying to make a genuine connection. Her head started whirring with possibilities. Perhaps, if she could befriend him, she might be able to help him. Make him come back to the right side? She could only imagine how grateful the other bats would be if she managed to get this particular problem off their backs.

He frowned deeply.

"I assume Dickiewing copied his teaching style from Batman."

"Sort of," she shrugged. "At least, he seemed to beat himself up a lot over all the ways their teaching styles differed."

Jason snorted. "As if having anything in common with Batman is something to be proud of."

"Isn't that your goal, though? To replace him?"

"Yeah, but I'm going to be better."

"I guess we're just cursed by that one desire," Morgan cryptically said with a wistful sigh.

"What desire?"

"Trying to make our mentors proud."

He jumped up as if burned. "That's not what this is about!"

"What's it about, then?" she asked, piercing him with a look.

"It's about making him obsolete! It's about proving I was, and always will be, better than him!" he started ranting. He turned away from her, his next words coming out like they were the low cries of a wounded animal. "It's about revenge for all the times he failed me."

She held her tongue, truly unsure what to say. In a way, she understood. She sympathized. Not with his methods – she could never excuse indiscriminate killing. But she could recognize the wounded feelings behind all of it.

"I think.. if you wanted Batman to take you back.. He would." She cautiously said, her tone soft – to her own surprise. Something in her tried to convince her that she felt a kinship with him. They both understood how hard it was to train under a mentor that appeared to be perfect. How that mentor never seemed to regard them as an equal. They both seemed haunted by that drive to prove themselves. However unwilling Jason was to admit it.

Her words seemed to have made him deeply uncomfortable. He hovered above her with clenched hands for a moment. Then he started walking away swiftly. Morgan wasn't sure if it was to hide how much her words affected him, or if it was because what she'd said had made him furious.

Suddenly, without any sort of goodbye, she was alone again.

"Hey?" she said into the empty air. The entire conversation left her reeling. He was like a fire bursting to get out of control, his temper ready to blaze up without warning.

She sat for a long while and looked at the corner of the roof he'd disappeared off, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Running a hand through her hair, she looked back out over the pitch-black water, trying to gather her thoughts. Something told her this wouldn't be the last she saw of him. For whatever reason, he had decided to engage her in conversation. He had let her words get under his skin as much as his had gotten under hers. She supposed maybe he was as curious about her as she was him. They were like two wild animals eyeing each other up in the darkness, seeing something familiar in the other.

Gathering her paper cup and the crumpled-up wrapper from her food, she jumped off the building and flew home.

Weird conversation with Red Hood aside, she had gained some clarity.

Her mind was made up – she needed to start looking for her own apartment.

I desperately tried to not make Morgan's internal monologue come across like Dick and Abigail might have a thing LMAO. I hope it wasn't the vibe anyone got from that scene?

Anyway, Morgan's awake! And she's making changes! Originally, I hadn't made any plans for her to move out, but as I wrote on, I realized her growth needs it. I also realized I'd created tension there, between her and Abigail, and it needed to be resolved. I had written a girl that needed to move out, so move out she does!

And we got to meet Jason again!

I'd love to know what you guys took from that encounter. To me, I hoped to bring across doubt as to whether Morgan is totally misreading him because she's seeing what she wants to see. She's focusing on how she feels similar to him, and it makes her say to him the things that she wish she could say to herself? Because she assumes he must feel the same? Whether he actually does feel similarly to her, well, we'll have to wait and see!

As always, let me know what you think! Reviews are always super appreciated 3