Chapter 19: Red Hood

August 1st

Watchtower

Sparrow

Morgan slipped Black Canary's office door shut and went down the hall. She was honestly impressed they'd managed to find a time to meet up so soon after their last session. But perhaps, because so little time had passed, Morgan hadn't had all that much to talk about.

Dinah had tried to talk about Morgan's nightmares, but she'd admitted she didn't really need to talk about them. It had taken a bit of needling from the older woman, but she'd eventually admitted it was because she'd already been talking about them.. with Dick.

The look Dinah had sent her had sent Morgan stumbling over her words in her hurry to assure her that the two of them had simply decided to rekindle their friendship and that was all.

It was.

Reaching the zetaplatform, she put her mask over her eyes and chose Gotham as her destination.

She thought back to the night two weeks ago when he'd helped her fall back asleep, and how relieved and yet devastatingly disappointed she'd felt when she'd woken up to an empty bed the next morning. When she went to bed at night, she could almost conjure the feeling of his warmth beside her, how good it felt to lie so close to him – however, she was always quick to push the treacherous thoughts away. How would he feel if he knew his kind gesture, his attempt to help her, was being skewed like that in her mind?

She needed to get a grip. And she needed to keep herself busy.

Arriving in Gotham, she quickly took flight. It was early evening, and the city was starting to fill with the less savory percentage of its population. Her eyes roved over the streets, trying to pinpoint anyone in distress.

A patrol was just what she needed to distract herself. How Dinah managed to get her to talk about Dick during every single one of their sessions was beyond her. She'd just seen him earlier that day too. They hadn't seen any big rifts since the trip to Poseidonis, but a few smaller rifts had been cropping up. Almost like sealing the larger ones had resulted in the smaller bursting through instead. They weren't that many yet, so she didn't consider it an issue. It meant no dimension-traveling, as the rifts hadn't gotten big enough to turn into actual portals. The development made her hopeful - did this mean the issue was being fixed? Would they soon have sealed all that needed to be sealed?

"Help! Thief!" A woman's voice below drew her attention, and she saw a man and a woman struggle over a purse. He was wearing a hoodie, drawn closely over his face. He shoved the woman to the ground and ran off with her belongings, leading her to cry out again for help.

Sparrow swooped down, like an eagle looming to catch a mouse. She was above him in seconds, and dropped down, boots first, into his back.

"Oouf!" he cried as all air left his lungs, and he fell to the ground. The timbre of his voice was surprisingly light, and as he got up, his hoodie fell back, and she realized he couldn't have been more than fifteen.

"You're just a kid," she exclaimed, knowing they were probably weird first words. He looked scared and she started to feel bad for kicking him in the back – thief or not.

His fear was mixed with awe as he eyed the large wings on her back, and she wondered if this was his first time seeing anyone from the League, let alone one of them talking to him.

He didn't look like a delinquent. He looked like someone that needed guidance. Was she meant to provide that guidance? He was regarding her like she was. She thought of what Superman or Wonder woman, or even Batman would say to him. Why couldn't it have been one of them that stopped him?

"Don't head down this path – you're still young, it's too early to make life-ruining decisions."

"It's so my sister and I can have dinner," he said with a small voice, that carried a tone of bitterness. "Our mom used all the food money again."

"Oh," she understood. She knew many kids in Gotham shared his fate. Especially this particular part of the city. Every other parent was an abuser of alcohol or drugs, leaving little left for their kids. The rest were overworked and underpaid. Adolescent crime-rates were always climbing in Gotham, as desperate kids were forced into petty thievery or organized crime to survive. Despite growing up just barely scraping the bottom of the middle class, and rarely having any of the nice, new things she had so often wished for, Morgan knew she was way luckier than a sizeable chunk of the kids in this city.

"And your dad?"

"He's only around once or twice a month."

She considered him for a bit. "C'mon. Let's give the lady back her purse and I'll buy you some groceries."

He looked dumbfounded but allowed her to lead him back to the woman. She seemed shocked at the sight of the hero arriving not only with her purse, but the thief as well.

"This seemed like a quick lapse in judgement. No reason to press charges, right?"

"Uh, sure." The woman clutched her purse to her and looked at the hero with confusion. "Thanks. I think."

"Have a nice day!" Sparrow waved at the woman and went on her way, motioning for the teen to follow.

"Where do you usually get groceries from? What do you need?"

"Uh.. you don't have to, really." He looked embarrassed by the bizarre ordeal, and Sparrow quickly waved his worries away.

"No, it's fine, seriously," she assured him. "I can't just let you and your sister go hungry – what kind of hero would I be? What your name, by the way?"

"Uh," he hesitated. "Benjamin. Ben."

"Let's go buy some groceries, Ben."

Twenty minutes later, she reemerged from a grocery store with a bag filled to the brim with food. The cashier was still gaping at her form as she passed through the doors. She guessed heroes usually didn't show up in full gear to buy microwave dinners.

The teen stood with his hands deep in his pockets, looking incredibly put-upon. She held out the bag and he hesitated for a moment. She shook the bag insistently.

"This is getting heavy."

He gave her a funny look, but finally took the bag. "Don't you have superpowers?"

"I have telekinesis," she laughed. "Not super-strength."

He weighed the bag in his hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Thank you."

She dipped her head in acknowledgement of his gratitude. His voice had been very small and she could tell the help made him uncomfortable.

"You're welcome. Don't do that again."

He bowed his head, looking guilty.

"I'm sure you're a good kid. And looking out for your sister is a noble reason. But thievery isn't the answer. Try applying for help from the Wayne Foundation – they have a program for kids from households with food insecurity. Free meals every day."

"Thank you, Sparrow." He scuffed his worn sneakers against the rough curb, looking torn between gratitude and embarrassment.

She smiled and spread her wings. She suspected it would be easier for him if she left. He was a teen, after all. They would only stand lectures from grown-ups – especially one as young as her – for so long.

"You're welcome. Stay good."

She flew off, heading for a tall building she could sit on for a minute. The night was still young – she had many hours left before she would turn in. Still, she allowed herself to sit with the experience for a minute. Her instincts seemed to have been correct – the kid hadn't been a bad egg. He had seemed desperate. She felt bad for having kicked him but hope the encounter had taught him whatever lesson he needed to not engage with crime again.

Not that she blamed him. She understood his plight. She could only hope what little she had done had been enough to keep his head above water.

Morgan looked out over the city, feeling like she was seeing it with new eyes. Instead of the crime and the wretchedness, she saw all the people in it that were good. Or the ones tethering on the edge, one bad day away from falling.

She remembered that they were the ones she was doing this for – not the criminals. She wasn't going on patrol to give villains and creeps their just desserts, she was doing it to make the streets just a little bit safer for everyone else.

Hours went by. She was kept busy – Gotham rarely had a quiet night. She mostly came upon petty thieves or drug dealers. Unlike Batman, she didn't have access to a police radio, so she mostly just dealt with whatever she stumbled across.

She wondered what would happen if she showed up at the police precinct and asked if she could have a radio? Then again, that would probably result in her and Batman constantly showing up to the same crime scenes. She knew exactly how that would play out. After a few too many run-ins, he'd make her carry one of their earpieces so they could coordinate. Suddenly, she'd be getting called up by Oracle constantly to go places, and before she knew it, she would be indoctrinated into the Bat-empire.

Something she was actively trying to avoid – just because she was a hero based in Gotham didn't mean she was part of their group. She was on her own, and that suited her just fine. If she answered to no one, then she would disappoint no one. She didn't want any of them to find out how often she stumbled her way through a fight - it was best to keep to herself, so no one could judge her efforts.

A single gunshot drew her attention and she headed for a nearby rooftop to spy from. Below her was a small, ill kept park area, surrounded by tall office buildings. In the center of the park was a dead-looking pond, the water dark green with sludge and algae. The trees were old, but many were upturned, and the underbrush was overgrown.

The state of the park wasn't what had initially drawn her eye, however.

By the pond was a group of about ten men, and judging by their aggressive body language, and the agitated voices reaching her ear, they were out for trouble. Some of the men wore masks or helmets, keeping their faces hidden.

The tallest of the group appeared to be the leader. His muscular arms, littered with scars and tattoos, were crossed in front of his barrel of a chest. In front of him stood two of his goons, holding between them another man, whose eyes were widened in fear behind his glasses. He looked pale and sweaty – the entire scene spelled trouble.

With a single, curt nod from their leader, the two goons forced the bespectacled man onto his knees. The leader grabbed the back of his head.

"Take a deep breath," he taunted, and dunked the man's head into the gross pond. He started twitching and kicking, fighting to resurface.

Sparrow let out a gasp and immediately launched herself off the building she was on, flying towards the group. She barely had time to register that several of the men were heavily armed, as she dove, feet first, straight for the leader's face. With a resounding crunch, she hit her target, crushing his nose.

He fell to the ground with a howl at the impact, and the bespectacled man emerged from the water, spluttering and coughing.

Morgan landed in a crouch in the middle of the gaggle of men, her gaze thunderous. Her heart was beating loudly with nerves as she took stock of her foes. They were all heavily muscled, wearing body armor and every single one of them carried a firearm.

Oh, how she would've loved a smoke bomb right about now. Maybe simping for Batman inc. wasn't such a bad idea after all?

"Get her!" Cried the leader from the ground, his bleeding face making him look wild.

Several of the men grabbed at her, and she quickly jumped up, kicking one of them away, before launching the one behind her over her shoulder. The man they had been dunking in the pond immediately ran off, disappearing through the trees. Guess she wasn't going to find out why they'd been antagonizing him.

Her world became a mess of arms and legs, punching, grabbing, scratching. None of them dared to draw their guns while the others were close, or perhaps her sudden appearance had dumbfounded them all to the point they forgot they even had guns.

It wasn't to last, however. The loud sound of an assault rifle being cocked drew her attention and she saw the leader staring at her down the barrel of his weapon.

"Don't move," he growled.

Two men were immediately upon her, holding her arms behind her back, their grip like iron. She knew she could've gotten out of it, if there hadn't been a gun pointed at her. She eyed the weapon – it was too powerful for her suit to stop the bullet. It could withstand the force from smaller handguns, but not weapons of this caliber.

Sparrow knew her best option was seeing how this played out. Perhaps, she could even get some information out of them if she allowed herself to stay captive. Eventually, his guard would fall, and she would make short work of his assault rifle.

"Why were you attacking that man?" she demanded, voice as authoritative as she could make it.

The leader chuckled. "I'm the one asking questions here, brat."

"The lady asked you a question," a new voice joined the conversation, and out of the shadows emerged none other than Red Hood, pointing his two guns at the back of the leader's head.

"You again!" Sparrow exclaimed. "Are you following me?"

Red Hood scoffed. "You wish. Now, shut up while I save you."

"No need, I've got this handled." With that, she twisted her arms how Nightwing had taught her and slipped out of the tight grasp her captors had on her. With one hand free, she tapped into her telekinesis and aimed it at the leader. The gun flew from his hands, landing in a nearby tree.

Chaos erupted once more. A brawl broke out, and this time Red Hood jumped in to fight beside her. With the two of them against the men, the fight was over within minutes. Ten men lay on the grassy ground, groaning in various stages of pain.

Sparrow dusted off her hands and looked at Red Hood. He stood tall and imposing, surveying their handiwork from behind his blank helmet. He'd fought without firing a single shot, and she had to admit his style was solid. He was like a mountain, immovable and strong – he barely reacted to any punch that landed, and a single hit from him sent the men crashing to the ground.

"Thanks for the help," she said, a show of gratitude. "I've called the police."

"My pleasure," he grunted, kicking at one of the guns on the ground. "Didn't your dear mentor ever teach you to risk-assess before jumping into a fight?" he sneered the words, sounding frustrated that she'd put herself in danger. "One girl against ten armed gang-members?"

"He taught me to risk-assess alright," she shrugged. Red Hood was allowed to think she'd been in danger, even though she knew she'd had it handled. Somewhat. She was used to people underestimating her based on her size. "Assess the risk and then do it anyway."

Red Hood scoffed.

"How do you know they're gang-members, anyway?" she asked, tilting her head, and trying to read his body language for any signs of dishonesty. He might've just come to her aid, but she didn't necessarily trust him.

He picked up the rifle he'd kicked and threw it at her. She caught it in her arms, nearly stumbling with the force. Turning it over, she saw the insignia spray painted onto the handle. A red skull with a gun covering its lower half.

"That's the tag of the Militia."

"Yikes," she said, leaning the rifle against a tree. "Good thing the police are going to pick them up any minute now."

At the mention of the police again, Red Hood started walking away without a word. She stared at his retreating back, and then back at the pile of gang members. None of them looked like they were about to get up within the next couple of minutes, so she jogged after the helmeted menace.

"Hey!" she called, which went ignored. Red Hood was silent, and as she caught up to him, she decided to press her luck and ask him another question.

"Why did you help me?"

He stopped walking quite abruptly and turned towards her. Intimidation oozed off him in waves and she did her best to pretend it wasn't working on her. Her eyes quickly flickered around their surroundings, and she realized they were isolated from the world behind thick, overgrown trees.

She squared her shoulders and looked at him with no fear visible on her face.

His hands were clenched at his sides, and he seemed to be weighing his thoughts, debating whether he should say them out loud.

"Fuck," he mumbled, as if surprised that he was about to admit what he was admitting. "What you said about making your mentor proud.." his voice was gruff and his body language betrayed how uncomfortable he was. He trailed off and seemed unable or unwilling to continue.

She understood perfectly what he meant though.

"That's good," she assured him.

He stood for a while longer, stiff as a board, and she didn't say anything else, worried that she'd scare him off again.

"I've been tracking down the Militia. I figured," he halted again and cleared his throat. "If I took them down as a show of good faith.."

"I'll help you!" she immediately offered before she realized herself. She didn't take the time to consider if it was a good idea, or even if she could trust him. Her sympathy for his plight overruled. If the two of them managed to disband the Militia, they would've done a great deed for Gotham, and she was sure they'd earn the respect and gratitude of Batman. Perhaps, if she vouched for Jason after this, he could come home.

He was silent for a while, and she got the distinct feeling he was sizing her up.

"I guess two people are better than one."

She nodded eagerly. He crossed his arms over his chest with a stern air about him.

"As long as you don't get in my way."

She rolled her eyes. "Let's just see who gets in whose way."

"If you really mean it.. I've been tracking their movements. There's going to be a weapon shipment delivered next week. At the docks." His rumbling voice sounded cautious, but he didn't seem to reject her help. "I could use backup."

"I'll be there. When and where?"

"The tenth. That's next Friday. Midnight. Meet me at the rooftop we met on last time."

She held out her hand. "It's a deal. Partner."

He regarded her hand, but eventually grabbed it. His was just about twice the size of hers, and completely engulfed it. He gave it a firm shake.

"Don't call me that," He grouched as he started walking away. "Be there on time or I'm doing this without you."

She watched him disappear between the trees once more. A small smile flitted across her lips.

Her night had certainly taken an interesting turn.

August 10th.

Gotham

Sparrow

Morgan made sure to show up twenty minutes before midnight. Partly because she clearly remembered his warning that he would leave without her if she was late, and partly because she wasn't so sure she trusted him enough to not suspect a trap. Landing on the rooftop, her boots touched the rough concrete soundlessly. She crouched on the railing and studied the rooftop cautiously. No trap made itself immediately visible, and she relaxed, sliding off the railing and onto the roof.

Not for the first time, she wondered what the hell she was doing. She thought about what Dick or Batman, or even Tim, would say if they knew who she was working with. They would tell her not to trust him. They would tell her she was being stupid for meeting with him without any backup.

She told herself they were too close emotionally to think clearly – Jason deserved the chance to prove he could change. Or did he? The guy wasn't even out of his teen years yet, and he already had a kill count in the double digits. Didn't he, really, deserve to sit behind bars?

"Looking for boobytraps?"

She was proud to say she barely showed a reaction to his sudden presence. How was it that every bat was so good at melting into the shadows? She was sure Dick had never tutored her on that specific artform.

"Wouldn't you?" she retorted. Red Hood was still mostly obscured by shadows, but she could see his slow nod.

"Maybe you're not as dumb as you look, blondie."

"There's still time for me to back out and leave you without any backup," she reminded him sourly.

"Fair point. Let's go." He fired his grapple hook at the adjacent building and went over the edge with little fanfare. Sparrow jumped after him, floating along with minimal effort. With her wings, it was easy to keep pace with all the grapple hook users.

Five minutes later, they sat camped out on top of another roof, this one overlooking the docks. The scenario was one very familiar to her – she'd done countless stakeouts with Dick in Blüdhaven. For some reason, stuff always seemed to go down at the docks.

Red Hood sat completely still, like a tiger stalking its prey. By counting back, Sparrow assumed he must've been eighteen, maybe nineteen years old. He looked much older – his build was bulky with thick muscles, and he towered over her, even more than Dick. He oozed danger in a way that intrigued her just as it made her weary of him.

He shifted in his spot, and she quickly turned her eyes back onto the docks, hoping he hadn't noticed her studying him.

Her eyes trailed up and down the long stretch of water. They were at the industrial part, with the shipyard to their right, and the large docking spaces for containerships to their left. As she watched, a man emerged onto the deck of one such ship. It was a smaller one, though still much larger than the average fishing boat. As she followed his movements, she noticed several armed guards crowding the railing all along the boat. Many crates were stacked in neat piles on the far end of the deck. The men were clearly guarding the precious cargo. The man she had first noticed approached the crates and dragged one away from the others, placing in the middle of the deck like he was preparing for a demonstration.

Another man in a suit entered the deck, talking animatedly to someone following him up the stairs from below. She couldn't hear them as the wind carried their voices the wrong way, but she didn't need to hear them, to know what they were talking about.

The large, semi-automatic machine gun the first man had pulled from the crate spoke with unmistakable intention.

"There," she said, leaning over to nudge Red Hood and point at the men on the ship. He stiffened at her nudge but focused on where she was pointing.

"Looks like our guys." He got up and cocked his guns. "Try to keep up."

"Do you have to use those?" she asked with distaste.

"You fight your way, and I do mine," he snapped. "Stay if you want, I don't care."

He fired his grapple hook at the the much taller ship docked next to their target and left her on the rooftop.

Morgan bit into her bottom lip, doubt gnawing at her. She didn't feel comfortable fighting alongside him if he planned on using his guns. But if she backed out now, she would forsake any chance of helping him reform his ways.

To help or to leave? She had only seconds to decide.

"Fuck it," she breathed, and spread her wings, flying after him.

She landed unceremoniously on the ship just as he made ready to attack.

"What's the game plan?" she asked.

He turned towards her, but the helmet hid his face from her, and she had no idea what he was thinking.

"Just beat them up?"

"Right, of course. It's just usually, some kind of approach is.. agreed upon."

"I'm not the Golden Boy," he sneered. "Just knock 'em out and call the police."

"Fine, geez."

He jumped off the railing, launching into a barrel roll on the deck of the other ship. Landing in a crouch, he immediately had his guns up and pointed at his targets. A commotion broke out, as the guards stationed across the ship all scrambled to reach the deck. Red Hood knocked out the man who had been pulling weapons from the crate.

He says he's not Dick but he's sure acting exactly like he used to when we were on patrol together, she thought grumpily as she flew after him.

Sparrow landed on the back of a guard trying to flank Red Hood. Agitated shouts erupted from the ship at the reveal of a Justice League member.

"It's the bat!" someone out of sight cried, their voice shaking with fear.

"No, you idiot, it's Sparrow!" someone answered with annoyance, and it made her crack a smile before she remembered herself.

"It doesn't matter either way boys, you'restill going to jail," she assured them with confidence, using her telekinesis to push three guards into the side of the wheel room. They dropped their guns, and she telekinetically pushed the weapons into the water below.

She engaged the three men in combat, knocking them out one after the other. On the main deck, Red Hood was making short work of a score of men. He moved with a brutal precision that reminded her a lot of Batman. His style was a lot less flashy than Nightwing's, who was always bouncing around, performing beautiful acrobatic moves that kept his enemy constantly on their toes. Red Hood simply barged through them like a tank.

Moments later, she met up with him on the deck, using her telekinesis to drag six unconscious men behind her.

"Work well done," she said, offering him a small smile.

Red Hood was rifling through the crate, studying the artillery.

"Was it for the Militia?" She tried to spy any insignia on the guns but saw none. Not that that proved anything – they probably tagged them after purchase.

"If my sources were correct, then yes." Red Hood responded, his focus on the shotgun he had just pulled up.

The ruffle of clothes drew Sparrow's attention and she looked around. Over by the railing, one of the men Red Hood had beat down was back on his feet. He looked disoriented, with a large bruise quickly forming on his temple. As he came to more, he saw the two of them watching him get on his feet, and he jumped. He started running, heading for the exit ladder, which was only a few feet away.

Everything happened all at once. One second, she was watching the man throw one leg over the railing, preparing to go after him and drag him back onto the ship, so he could face justice for being part of a dangerous gang.

The next, she heard someone cocking a gun, and looked at Red Hood with horror. He was casually aiming the shotgun at the man, who had halted halfway over the railing. All color immediately drained from his face, and he held out a helpless, pleading hand. His wordless plea fell on deaf ears.

"No!" her voice was ripped from her throat, and she lunged forward. She reached his side right as he pulled the trigger. The blast from the gunshot felt like it could burst her eardrums, and yet the blood rushing to her head seemed to overpower it. Barrelling into the gun, she made him lose his grip on it.

It had been a second too late.

The man was launched off the side of the boat from the force of the blow, and she heard his body hit the dock below with a wet crunch that made bile rise in her throat. Sparrow sprinted to the side, but the sight below was too horrible for her to look at for more than a split second. It was all she needed to confirm without the shadow of a doubt that the man was dead, and there was nothing she could do for him now.

She turned towards Red Hood, feeling hysteria settle in her bones. Her sight flashed red with fury.

"What did you do!" she screeched. She took large steps towards him, but he clearly wasn't intimidated.

His mistake.

"What the hell were you doing!" he cried back at her. "You don't jump at a gun being fired!"

"You don't execute people for trying to run off!"

"He was getting away!" he pointed vaguely at where the man had been with the shotgun still in his hand.

At the sight of his careless gesture with the weapon, impulsive rage made her use her telekinesis to blast the shotgun out of his hand, and it flew from his grasp and into the water. Red Hood was knocked back from the force she had exerted, and he landed on his back.

"If this is how you think you're going to win Batman's respect.." Her voice was low, and venom oozed from it, as she slowly approached, standing over him. Her fists shook from his tightly she clenched them. "Then you're either insane or stupid."

He got on his feet, anger rolling off him in waves. She was sure his eyes would be flashing with fury if he hadn't been hiding his face behind that stupid helmet.

An extended moment passed. Her heart was thundering in her chest and her stomach was churning from the horrible sight of the mangled corpse lying on the dock below. Red Hood stood like an immovable object.

Well, she was an unstoppable force.

Time to see which would win.

Was he really that unbothered that he had just taken a life? Unlike Sparrow, whose body fought back tremors from what had just happened, he stood stock still. She narrowed her eyes further and subtly got on her toes to lessen their height difference. He sighed exaggeratedly and reached up towards his helmet. She got back onto the soles of her feet and took a step back to give him space.

The helmet slid off his face with a small hiss. Sweaty hair fell into his masked eyes, and he pushed it back with an annoyed grunt.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he gruffly said. "I should kick the habit."

Dumbfounded. That was the only word she could use to describe how she was feeling. Just like that?

"I'll- I'll get some rubber bullets to replace the real ones. It'll still hurt, but no one has to die."

The words came out stilted and sour, and she tried her very best to discern how genuine he was being.

"Good." She swallowed, willing her heart to settle into a less anxious rhythm. He was indecipherable. No one had ever given her whiplash like this.

She felt like she was going to throw up. Or start shaking for real. One thing was for sure – she had to get out of here now. Her brain was a tornado of thoughts, and she needed time to dig through them one by one until she knew for sure how to feel.

"You can call the police yourself and have them clear this out," she told him, trying for a stern tone that came out very strangled. With that, she flew off. She needed to put some distance between the dead man below, and the undead one that had caused it.

Ah shit, Dick would kill her if he knew what she was doing. What she had been a part of. Shame pooled into her stomach. Had she somehow encouraged it? She tried to find some way this could've been her fault, but drew up short. The rational part of her knew there was no good reason for her to blame this on herself – it would only make things worse.

One thing was for sure, though. She absolutely couldn't tell Dick about this.

She had other options, however. Alarm bells were going off in her head. Whether or not Jason genuinely meant that he wanted to get better, she wasn't sure. Her instincts told her something was off – she'd been eager to trust him, to help him get back onto the path of the light. She was beginning to realize that might've just been her own wishful thinking – maybe even her ego.

As Gotham sped past her below, she felt a decision form. If Jason was just manipulating her, plotting against her, well, she would manipulate and plot right back.

And there was someone she knew could help her.

"Welcome," Tim threw his arms out dramatically, "to my safehouse!"

Morgan stood by the entrance and looked around his.. well, she could only describe it as an evil lair, really. Machinery lay scattered on any available surface. There was a bed, but it looked like it had never been used. A large setup with several screens had been shoved against one wall. He had a small fridge next to the bed, and a cupboard overflowing with snacks. Tim was in his Red Robin suit, sans the mask. His hair was greasy, sticking in every direction, she assumed from him raking his hands through it.

"I thought you lived at the Manor?"

"I do. This is where I work on my.. personal projects. That I don't want Batman to butt in on."

"Is that the prototype for a cloning machine?" she pointed at the machine standing in the far-right corner, a mess of cords and circuit boards connecting to a large tank.

"No, it is not," he sat down in the swivel chair by his desk and started typing on his computer, "and you can't prove that it is."

"Hm."

"Did you want my help with something or not?"

She hovered by the door for a while longer, watching him type away on some calculation. Five redbull stood stacked beside his keyboard and she wondered how many of them had been opened tonight.

Morgan almost chickened out. What if Tim told Batman? Worse, what if he told Nightwing? She couldn't help but feel like she was barging in on family drama. Did she really need to insert herself into their mess?

But then again, she was the one that had willingly worked with Red Hood. She'd inserted herself into their mess, and it was now her mess as well.

"So, you know Red Hood?"

Tim stopped typing and turned in his chair, studying her with a shrewd look on his face.

"I know of Red Hood, yeah. Why are you asking?"

Morgan went and sat down on the bed opposite his desk. He swiveled in his chair to follow her with his eyes. He seemed to have guessed at least part of what she was here to talk about.

"Do you think he's.. reliable?" She grimaced at the obviously stupid question. "I mean. Do you think Jason.. well, is he unstable?"

"Jason? Yeah, he's insane. That bitch beat the shit out of me when he came back from the dead," Tim huffed. He leaned back in his chair, placing an elbow on the desk behind him. "Crazy bastard. That was the first time I met him, too. He used my blood to write a warning for Batman on the wall."

"He what?" Morgan spluttered.

"Like I said.." Tim trailed off, and she marveled at how unbothered he seemed. Then, he got to the point: "How much have you been dealing with him?"

"Uh," she wasn't exactly surprised that he'd guessed so quickly, "I've run into him a few times over the past couple of months.. It's like he's seeking me out."

"Oooh, you have an admirer," Tim smirked. Seriously, how many Red Bulls had he chugged?

Morgan gave him a deadpan look. "Don't make me hit you."

"Fine. Why do you think he's seeking you out?"

"A week ago he told me he wanted to turn things around – start mending his relationship with the rest of the family," Tim snorted with disdain, which she ignored. "I talked with him about something along those lines earlier this month, so I offered to help."

Morgan quickly held up a hand to stop the protest she would see was about to burst from Tim.

"He said he wanted to take down the Militia, to prove to Batman that he was trying to do good. He said something about it being a show of good faith. Anyway, I offered to help him take them down. I figured one less gang couldn't hurt?"

Tim had stopped all protests and was watching her with rapt attention.

"He just seems to at least consider what I have to say, and I figured, that's probably more progress than the rest of you've made, right?"

Tim slowly nodded his head yes, but his eyes told her he didn't like this.

With a lump in her throat, she went on to explain what had transpired earlier that evening. Tim didn't say anything, but he allowed expressions to travel across his face freely, and she knew her story surprised him.

"I think he's playing me. I'm not sure why – maybe just to kill me, who honestly knows."

"And now you want to play him right back?" Tim clarified. "With my help?"

"Exactly. I don't know if I can influence him in a positive direction, but I'm not willing to gamble my life on it. And if he's really trying to pull a fast one, we can always have a plan ready for capturing him."

Tim nodded eagerly, turning around in his chair to dig through the drawers of his desk.

"I agree that whatever he's planning, it might be worth it to play along for now." He pulled out a small, round, and flat device, and threw it at her. She caught it easily and studied the tiny, gray thing. "So, first order of business is you need to carry a tracker so I can keep an eye on you, when you meet up with him."

Morgan pulled up her sleeve and inserted the flat tracker into a small pocket placed along the inside of her sleeve – a pocket that had been sown into the suit for the exact purpose of hiding trackers such as this.

"I've tinkered with that one, so the batcomputer won't be able to track it. Only this computer knows the signal."

"You won't tell Batman about this? Or Nightwing?"

"Obviously not." Tim looked at her like she was crazy. "Those two are wayyy too emotionally involved. They wouldn't be able to make the right calls, but they would absolutely take over. No, I think we should keep this on the D L."

"And this has nothing to do with you wanting to beat his ass for revenge?" She wore a sly smirk.

"This has everything to do with revenge," Tim said with a solemn voice. "Alright, time to formulate a plan. Do you have any way of contacting him?"

Morgan grimaced. "I kinda stormed out."

"Hmm. You'll have to track him down, then."

At some point, Tim offered her a Red Bull and she downed it quickly to stay awake as they sat strategizing into the early hours of the morning. By the time the sun had kissed the horizon, and climbed into the sky, Morgan was exhausted, but less worried.

She came home to her apartment and dragged herself into bed, every muscle in her body aching from sheer exhaustion. With how little sleep she was getting already, it had been stupid of her to stay up all night. It had been necessary though.

She was worried still – but she felt less alone with this task that was set before her. It felt good to work closely together with someone like this. Sure, she went on missions for the League, but that wasn't the same as this. Those missions didn't involve late night strategy-meetings and proper, old-fashioned sleuthing.

No, this was a proper team-up with another Gotham hero. It just felt right.

She didn't know how this deal with Red Hood was going to go, but she felt more than ready to find out.

She's really just so very eagerly digging herself deeper down this hole, huh? There's no way thats going to explode in her face!

Red Hood is a fun little mystery to write. What do you think is up with him? Is be being truthful with her? Is he just trying to get her killed? What's his angle? I would love to know your theories!

It's fun to write because Morgan is so clearly getting controlled by her own lack of self-esteem. She's so desperate to prove herself, its honestly a little heart wrenching. This silly girl needs to build her confidence!

Also fun fact but aside from a short epilogue, we're officially halfway through the story! Chapter 19 out of 38 (39 including the epilogue)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think! I think it might be the only chapter completely without Dick in it, so that's a fun little change of pace. Don't worry, he's back and ready to be a charming troublemaker in the next chapter so stay tuned for that!