Chapter 21: Morphine and Eyedrops
August 20th
The Batcave
Morgan
The Batcave was quiet except for the steady beeping of a heart monitor. Batman and Alfred Pennyworth were standing over Dick's body as they performed surgery on him.
Morgan sat to the side, alternating between being unable to look away, and unable to bear the sight of it. The butler's gloves were bloodied almost up to his elbows, matching the surgical gown he wore.
It had once been blue.
The rhythm of Dick's heart was strong, after a transfusion with what she'd been told was his own blood, extracted for exactly a time such as this. The anesthesia kept him from waking up. It had been two hours by now. Alfred was a meticulous worker, taking his time and making sure he did as little damage as possible. Batman, to Morgan's surprise, was more of an assistant than the main surgeon. She supposed it shouldn't have been strange to her – after all, the older man had probably stitched up Bruce plenty of times, as well as all the different Robins and Batgirl.
Morgan was starting to regret her stubborn insistence to go with Batman to the cave. She felt useless, sitting off to the side and watching. Red Robin and Robin had hovered in the cave too, but eventually they'd gone to the manor instead, waiting for news in more comfortable surroundings.
She was also incredibly uncomfortable. For the first half hour of her stay, Batman had kept shooting her looks, like the only reason he wasn't chewing her out was because Dick needed his help first. She'd asked Alfred if there was anything she could do to help, and he'd kindly told her to just sit and wait as he worked.
Every time she looked at Dick, face obscured by tubes, his skin pale with a sweaty sheen, she swallowed her regret – she wasn't here for Batman, she was here for him. The sight of him unconscious, helpless, hurt, sent her heart pounding with fear and her chest squeezed so tight she could barely choke out her breaths.
"That's the last stitch." Alfred said, putting down his tools. He took off his blood-stained gloves and sighed tiredly. Bruce started wrapping up the wound with clean, white gauze.
"Will he be okay?" she asked, clearing her throat to get past the lump.
"He was fortunate. No vital organs were hit – he'll wake up in his own time. But the wound was deep, and he lost a lot of blood. This will take weeks to heal fully." Alfred started clearing away tools and mumbled his next words, "and if I know him, he'll be up and about much sooner than he should."
She smiled a little bit at the complaint because she knew he was right – slowing down wasn't in any of the Bat's repertoire.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked again.
Alfred walked the few steps to end up beside her, and he patted her clenched hands. "Your presence, I'm sure, is already helping him in some way."
She weakly smiled at the butler, not sure how to feel about his statement. He talked like they were still.. well.
Morgan didn't know Alfred very well - she'd only met him a handful of times during her previous relationship with Dick. He had rarely brought her to the Manor, especially in the last year before their breakup. But she'd gained enough of an impression about the man to know that he was incredibly loyal to the family in his care.
The tightening of Batman's fists didn't escape her notice. She knew Bruce would've preferred that she wasn't here at all.
Alfred went back to washing and disinfecting his tools methodically. Batman stood watching over his adopted son, eyes flickering towards his cleaning butler from time to time. The hard line of his back told Morgan he was stressed out and worried. Bruce disconnected the anesthesia and removed the mask from Dick's face, before carefully brushing his hair out of his face. The tender display surprised her, coming from the usually stoic dark knight.
Alfred finished up his task and dried his hands off before unrolling his sleeves.
"Dinner is in thirty minutes." He looked at Bruce first, and then pointedly at Morgan.
"Uh-" she stuttered in surprise. "I don't think-"
"You will surely stay until he wakes up?"
"I-yes." She realized she wasn't going anywhere until she could see him awake and hear him tell her that he would be okay. She didn't care if she had to sit in that uncomfortable chair all night.
"Then, dinner is in thirty minutes," the butler said primly. He bid them goodbye and went back up the stairs towards the manor that lay beyond.
Morgan sat rooted to her spot. She wanted to approach Dick and have a look at his wound. She was sure Alfred had stitched it expertly, and she knew he'd been wrapped in thick gauze that covered his whole torso, but she still felt compelled to see for herself. If nothing else, then to make sure that the wound hadn't started bleeding again and had soaked through.
The dark shadow of a man hovering above Dick's still body made her stay put. She was almost afraid he would start hissing at her, like a feral cat, if she got too close.
"You need to stay away from Dick," he suddenly spoke into the quiet cave. It almost took her a moment to understand what he had said, because of the sheer audacity of his words.
"I'm sorry?"
"You need to stay away from him. He wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't been there." His voice was a deadpan monotone, but it carried venom.
"How do you figure that?" she got off the chair she'd been sitting in and approached the platform he stood on. Her heart was hammering in her chest – Dick had warned her this would happen, and she'd expected it. But that didn't mean she relished in the fight she knew she was about to have. With Batman.
"He's not focused when you're around. He doesn't think straight because his priority is protecting you." He turned towards her at last, and the cowl he wore did little to hide the malcontent he regarded her with. "So, I'm telling you to stay away from him."
"You don't get to make that kind of call for Dick," she bit out, willing herself to stay calm even though Batman was being an asshole. "In case it slipped your attention, he's a grown-ass man."
His teeth barred in a sneer. Had he expected her to stand down like a cowering puppy? It would be a cold day in hell before that happened, not when what he was asking of her was so outrageous. No way was she staying away from Dick, he meant too much to her.
"He's too emotionally compromised to think clearly – so I have to make this decision for him. So if you really care for Dick, you'll do what's best for him by staying away from now on."
She felt gob smacked by his repeated audacity, that he so brazenly felt that he could control Dick's relationships. Had this happened before? Fury seized her insides at the thought, and she took a long, resolute step towards Batman, her fists clenched into angry balls by her sides.
"You wanna talk about emotionally compromised? How about the fact that you're so emotionally inept that you allow your worry to control you - and you wield it as an excuse to control Dick too."
"How dare-"
"Being worried doesn't give you any right to act like an asshole! You're protecting him from nothing." She pointed a finger at the unconscious man they were fighting over as she continued, "And I know he would be furious with you if he could hear you right now."
Bruce was regarding her darkly, but he didn't interrupt her. She became aware that her ire was making her reveal more than she probably should.
"Did you know he specifically told me you'd lash out like this, and to not accept it, Bruce? He's so used to your bullshit, he knew exactly how you'd react. How he can stand to be around you still is a goddamn miracle and a testament to his fucking titanium patience!"
If looks could kill, she would've been stricken where she stood. Her mouth had run off with her again. Had she just said all that to Batman? Morgan resisted the urge to press a hand over her mouth in an attempt to prevent any more of the venomous word-soup she'd just thrown at him. She'd even called him by name, revealing that she knew. She supposed he must've known already, that she knew about his secret identity. After all, Alfred had been down here with no mask, and Bruce had allowed it.
Dick had never told her a whole lot about his relationship with Bruce, but she'd observed a lot more than what he probably realized. She knew Bruce was frequently controlling, whenever his worries made him lash out. She knew he expected perfection from Dick and was hard on him when he failed. She knew he was largely responsible for Dick's struggle with identity.
But she also knew Bruce had taught Dick everything he knew. She knew the two of them had once been hurt orphans, who'd learned to live again by leaning on each other. And she knew the two of them cared deeply for each other. For that reason, she regretted the harshness of her words, despite the insolence of his.
"I would like for you to leave my property now, Miss Jørgensen." Batman's voice was as cold as ice.
"I can't," she was sure she sounded bratty as she flicked her braid over her shoulder and started walking in the direction of the staircase. "I promised Alfred I'd stay for dinner."
Sitting across from Tim, Morgan was starting to question her spiteful decision to stay. At the head of the table sat Bruce, stiffly eating from the soup Alfred had served. Every line of his body was hard and angry. She was surprised he'd even turned up to dinner, knowing she was there. But she supposed he hated the thought of her roaming around the manor unsupervised even more. Beside him sat a young boy that she quickly realized was Robin, judged solely from his haughty disposition.
Tim's eyes flickered between the two of them, and he seemed to decide he wasn't going to ask.
Morgan squirmed in her suit, aware that the others usually weren't allowed to wear their hero-suits up in the Manor. Well, she hadn't exactly brought a change of clothes.
"How is Richard, father?"
Fath-? Oh my god that's his actual son!
She stuffed a spoonful of soup into her mouth to keep from gaping.
"Alfred said he's going to be fine," Bruce said through clenched teeth.
"Any news of the attack on other cites?" Tim asked.
Morgan listened attentively, eager for any kind of news, though she tried to look like she wasn't paying attention.
"Thirteen major American cities were hit by attacks from Yellow Lanterns. We've fought them off but most of them escaped before they could be detained. All but one." His sharp, cool eyes turned suddenly towards Morgan, and she nearly choked on her soup.
"The one that hurt Dick," she realized. The corner of his lips curled when she spoke and she quickly dove over a new spoon of soup, aware that the man at the end of the table was still royally pissed at her. Would he be above physically throwing her out? Honestly, probably not.
"He's being kept at the Watchtower, but the injuries he sustained nearly killed him, and he's unconscious. We're waiting for him to wake up."
Morgan looked back up from her soup and found Bruce still staring at her with lightning in his eyes. She frowned, realizing she was being interrogated.
"Are you asking me to explain what happened, or insinuating I had something to do with it?" she challenged, feeling her jaw clench even as she tried to look casual with a raised eyebrow.
He was silent for a moment. She gaped in affront.
"I'm asking you to explain."
"One of their own did it. A woman. Sharp teeth, brown hair. Clearly unhinged. Preferred spikes for a weapon."
"Karu-sil."
"Sure."
Tim cleared his throat and put down his spoon.
"All done!" he announced, pushing his chair back with such vigor it fell over. "Morgan?"
She hurriedly dropped her own spoon despite her still mostly full bowl. "Yep!"
The two of them hurried out of the room, and Tim led her down hallways and up staircases until they reached his room.
"Whew!" he wiped his brow once he'd slammed the door behind him. "The air was thicker than Alfred's onion soup. Did you two fight?"
Morgan cringed and threw herself onto his bed. "I may have used some choice words. He tried to kick me out."
"Don't worry, happens all the time." He sat by his desk and looked at her conspiratorially. "Any news on our other project?"
Morgan's eyes roved across his room, checking for any potential bugs. The mess at his safehouse has been nothing compared to this. Piles and piles of books, papers and notebooks were scattered across every available surface. One wall had been cleared so a giant net of photos, scribbles and small objects could be tacked onto it. Strings of every color under the rainbow crisscrossed between the photos and scribbles.
What, exactly, was Tim working on?
"Can we talk here? Isn't the entire mansion bugged to hell and back?"
Tim scoffed. "You really think I would allow Bruce to bug my room? Dis-a-poin-ted."
"Fair." She sat up and stretched out her wings. "There's no news. I've been a little busy. I went to our usual meeting spot a few times, but no luck. I'm thinking I should leave him a note."
"Good idea. You need to make it cryptic, something only the two of you would get, so he knows it's from you."
She tried to think of something but drew a blank. Her mind was too preoccupied with worry. She felt jittery with nerves, not just because Dick was hurt and lying alone in the cave, but because of the fight she'd had with Bruce.
Now, as she came down from her emotional high, she started to fear for the consequences. Batman was a founding member of the League and deeply respected by every member. Could he use that power and force her hand? Force her to cut off her friendship with Dick? Could he have her kicked out of the League?
Surely, he could. The real question was.. was he going to?
Her stomach churned. She realized Tim was watching her shrewdly. Had he asked her something while she'd been lost in thought?
"Sorry, did you say anything?"
"I asked if you had any ideas?"
Maybe distracting herself by spending half an hour crafting a message was just what she needed.
"Maybe let's brainstorm?"
He shrugged, producing a pen and paper in no time. "Sure. What information does it need to convey? Time? Place?"
Slowly, she let go of her thoughts about Batman and the League, as Tim managed to keep her focused on the task at hand.
Twenty minutes later, she was heading back to the Cave, a piece of paper stuffed into one of the pockets of her utility belt. Her worry for Dick had grown too great, and she needed to get back to her silent watch over her.. friend.
The cave was dark, but the lights came on the moment they detected motion. Good, that meant she was alone down there. The lighting was harsh and cool, but it couldn't completely chase away the deep shadows of the underground grotto. She stood at the top of the staircase and took in the sight for a moment. The cave was vast, housing a seemingly endless expanse of gadgets and machines. She could see several cars and a plane ahead in the darkness. The waterfall further back turned the air damp and clammy, but the sound of the rushing water broke the otherwise deafening silence, and she welcomed it.
She thought about tiny, nine-year-old Dick bouncing around excitedly down here, with his brooding mentor working by the large computer. For many years, it had been just the two of them. Well, three of them if she included Alfred.
The family had expanded a lot in those twelve years, but she understood that it was no less a family now than it had been then.
She stopped studying her surroundings and quickly went down the stairs, trying to mask her discomfort with large, confident steps. She did feel bad about being there when she knew Batman coveted his secrets dearly. He was obviously uncomfortable as it was - In one night, she'd revealed she knew the location of his hideout and his secret identity.
"You should go get him a blanket; it gets cold down here."
She jumped at the low, rumbling voice of Batman, appearing so suddenly in what she had assumed as an empty cave.
How hadn't she noticed him? There he was, sitting like a dark gargoyle by the computer. He must've sat unmoving for so long; the lights had turned off.
"Uh," she scrambled to recover, hoping he wouldn't realize she hadn't noticed he was there. "I'll get one from his room."
He didn't bother asking if she knew the way – obviously, she did.
Five minutes later, she was back, clutching a heavy blanket to her chest. The scent of Dick was thick on it, taunting her nose as she went. Bruce still sat by the computer. She glanced quickly as she passed and saw several documents on Yellow Lanterns on the screen.
Dick still lay motionlessly on the bed, and he looked pale. The sight made her heart clench, and she wished he'd wake up soon. Now that she was unable to, she needed to hear his voice. She needed to see his eyes opening, looking beautiful and full of life. She needed him to crack a smile and say he was alright.
Morgan touched a finger cautiously to the back of his hand. She grasped it briefly upon realizing how cold it was, and hurriedly threw the blanket over him, tugging it firmly around and under him until he looked like a mummy.
Placing a chair beside his bed, she settled in for an evening of waiting. She started scrolling mindlessly on social media on her phone, her preoccupied mind not taking any of it in. Reels played soundlessly on her screen and she swiped between them without really seeing anything.
Bruce was still sitting by the computer. She supposed they must've reached some kind of a truce, since he wasn't actively trying to kick her out, or pull her away from the unconscious man beside her.
Slowly, as the blanket helped warm him up, color returned to Dick's face, and he looked less sickly. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath the blanket, and he looked like he was just asleep.
Morgan started reading some of her homework on her phone. Anything to distract her from the rollercoaster of emotions she seemed to be on. She tried to rationalize that she would be just as worried if it had been M'gann or Karen or Tim who'd been hurt. But would she be? Would she have sat a vigilant watch at their bedside, even after being told they'd be okay?
Focus on this boring study for class, Morgan, she sighed at herself.
Eventually, she gave up when she realized she'd been reading the same three sentences on a loop for a good five minutes.
Bruce was still by the computer.
Should she apologize? The very thought made her entire body cringe. Because if she was being honest with herself, she had probably meant every word she'd said.
Still.. she wanted to stay on good terms with him. Just because she had meant what she'd said, didn't mean she should've said it. Some things were best kept to herself.
She cleared her throat awkwardly.
"Any improvement?" Bruce asked the moment the sound had left her, as if he had known she was gearing up to speak.
"Uh. He's less cold at least."
"Good. If he needs help, press the red button by the bed." He got up and left, his form gliding up the stairs.
"Wait!" she blurted out before he could disappear entirely. He paused on the steps, but he didn't turn to face her. "I'm sorry about what I said before. It's not my business to dig into and I should've kept my mouth shut."
He didn't move for a moment, but then he simply continued up the stairs and disappeared.
She flinched when the grandfather clock closed behind him with a dull thud. Was his lack of response a good sign, or a bad one? Did she care? At least she could now say she'd been the bigger person by apologizing.
An hour passed. Surely, Dick should've woken up by now? For a moment Morgan considered poking him, but refrained.
She started nodding off. She tried to keep her bleary eyes open, but after ten minutes of her head nodding up and down as she lost her fight to sleep, she scooted closer to the bed Dick lay on, and rested her arms against it. Placing her head in her arms, she allowed herself to drift off. Just a quick nap – he'd still be here when she woke up.
August 21st
The Batcave
Sparrow
Morgan registered someone gently pushing hair out of her face and cradling the top of her head. Was her mom waking her up? She blinked slowly and breathed a deep sigh. Why was she sitting up? With her deep sigh came the knowledge that her back was killing her from the awkward position she'd been sleeping in. Maybe she'd fallen asleep at her desk again.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
That.. definitely wasn't her mom's voice.
In an instant everything came back to her, and she jumped up in her chair, looking with shock at the man before her. He was on the bed still, propped up on his elbow, and he was smiling softly at her.
"Dick!" she exclaimed and lunged forward to wrap her arms around his neck. He welcomed the embrace, his arm snaking around her back and his fingers digging into her hair at the back of her head. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck.
In her vigor, she jostled him, and he hissed out a pained breath as he flinched.
"Sorry!" she drew back instantly, looking him over with concern. The blanket had slipped down, and the bandages peeked out, thick and white against his tan skin. Completely on their own, her eyes traveled across the broad expanse of his bare chest, and she quickly redirected her eyes onto the bandages, feeling her cheeks heat up.
"How are you feeling?" she asked with concern, watching the way he was trying to school his features into something neutral to hide that she'd hurt him.
"Peachy," he said with a strained voice. He reconsidered his answer and added, "cold."
"Can you move?"
"If you help me," he said, slowly getting up into a sitting position. She worried, her hands hovering with uncertainty around him, wondering how to best support him. He breathed deeply and Morgan tried to recall any other time she'd seen him this affected. He was clearly in a lot of pain. Didn't they have any painkillers?
"Do you need some painkillers? Morphine? Ibuprofen?"
He barked out a laugh through grit teeth. "Yes, to all of that. If you can help me get to my room first, you can find Alfred afterwards to get me something."
"Why not painkillers first?"
"Because I'm cold and I want to get out of this cave."
"Okay."
She placed an arm around his back, and Dick draped his arm over her shoulder, placing quite a bit of weight onto her. With a grunt, he got off the bed and took a few, laborious steps. Morgan did her best not to stumble, but it wasn't easy. Perhaps because the amount of weight he put on her had caught her off guard. Subconsciously, she had accepted that him asking her for help had more been for her sake than because he actually needed it. Now, it became clear to her that he truly did need her help, or he wouldn't have been able to get up.
She could feel his muscles tense and tremble under her grip, and the arm he had draped across her shoulders clenched until he practically had her in a chokehold. She could feel that he was indeed still pretty cold, and the cool, damp air of the cave wasn't doing him any favors.
They reached the stairs, and he was breathing like he'd run a marathon. How was he going to get up the stairs, if walking along a normal floor had exhausted him so much? And he'd lost so much blood..
Dick looked up at the stairs with exhausted eyes, a resigned air to him. Sweat had erupted on his brow. At the exhausted look he wore, and the deep sigh that made him slump his shoulders, Morgan made up her mind.
"Okay, I know you're going to hate this," she spoke with determination, "but you know you're not getting up those stairs right now."
She tapped into her telekinesis and used it to gently lift him off the floor and into her arms, doing her best to not jostle him too much.
"What are you doing?" he protested, his voice rising an octave. She was sure it felt emasculating, but she certainly didn't care. His bruised ego would recover.
"I'm getting you up those stairs. I promise I'll put you down when we're upstairs."
She was sure it looked ridiculous, as his legs almost touched the floor because of how much taller he was. Using her telekinesis to strengthen her hold, she quickly went up the stairs, getting this over with before he tried to escape.
His primary reaction seemed to be confusion, and she ignored the color rising on his cheeks. However, after his initial protest, he didn't complain. Instead, he wrapped an arm across her shoulders.
Once they reached the top, she gently bent so his feet touched the ground, and she kept her support of his back so he could stand up with minimal pain.
"Thanks," he said, his face still a puzzled mask and his voice meek.
What, had he never been carried bridal style by a woman before? From his reaction, she decided he could probably stand to get carried around more often. He hadn't seemed to hate it.
"No prob," she muttered, keeping her eyes on the ground to make sure they didn't stumble over anything.
The rest of the walk through the study and down the two corridors to his room was uneventful. He was tired, but he didn't complain. He wasn't a complainer, she knew.
They reached his room and she quickly got him inside and made a beeline for the bed. Morgan used her telekinesis to push back the covers and then they worked together on lowering him carefully into the soft mattress.
He groaned, a sound mixed with pain from the movement and relief from arriving. He lay still for a while, his chest moving from his labored breath. Morgan shifted from one foot to another as she battled with the illogical urge to remove the pain. It wasn't like she could change the past, so why did she wish it had been her and not him that had gotten hit?
Perhaps because Dick almost never got hurt – she had never seen him squirm like this. It unsettled her. Whereas she felt like she rarely came back from a mission without something bleeding or bruised.
Her gaze traced an old scar that ran across his upper chest, reaching his collarbone. It wasn't like Dick never got hurt. She'd seen the multitude of scars; she'd seen countless bruises and she knew of a few broken bones. She'd just never seen him admit to any pain.
"Can you get Alfred?" he said with a breathless voice, his brow furrowed, and his eyes closed.
Morgan shook herself out of her thoughts and moved towards the door, hoping she could remember where Alfred's room was.
"Be right back."
Morgan went down the dark hallway, doing her best to not get lost. She'd been to the manor a few times while the two of them had been dating, but never enough to really get comfortable with the floorplan. Besides, the place was huge.
Would he be in his quarters? Or perhaps the kitchen?
She also had no idea how late it was. Maybe he was fast asleep.
She saw light coming out from underneath the closed kitchen door and went in that direction. If Alfred wasn't there, then someone else hopefully was, someone could point her in the right direction.
She cracked open the door ever so slightly and poked her head through. Luck was on her side. Alfred sat by the kitchen island, looking half asleep. He sat hunched over a cup of what she assumed was tea. At the sound of the door going, he looked up and quickly rose, reassuming the role of poised butler.
"Is he awake?"
She nodded. "He's in his room. He's asking for painkillers. Strong ones."
"I did say he would be up and about much sooner than what was good for him," Alfred said with nary a drop of sarcasm. "I will be right there."
She gave him a small, terse smile and headed back. The sight of the butler hunched over the table like a defeated parent seemed burned into her retina as she fumbled around in the dark.
She came back to Dick's room and hovered by the door. He looked to be asleep already. What now?
"Did you find him?" he asked after a good thirty seconds of silence. He hadn't been asleep after all, and Morgan quickly went to his side. He hadn't put on his covers, and she wondered if he was too tired to do it.
"He's on his way."
"Good."
She stood halfway between the door and his bed, unsure what to do. Now that she'd fetched Alfred, there was nothing more for her to do, right? It was probably best that she went home.
He opened his eyes a sliver, looked at her uncertain stance, and quirked a small smile, which shortly removed the furrowed brow he had worn.
"You don't have to stand all the way over there; I promise it's not catching."
She was about to protest and remind him that she really needed to be getting home, but whatever she'd wanted to say died in her throat when Alfred arrived, medical kit in hand.
"Here you are, Master Dick." He handed him a glass of water. Dick struggled to get onto his elbows, and Morgan quickly went over to sit on the bed beside him and help prop him up. He drank deeply and sighed with relief. Then, the older man produced a syringe, and Dick readily held out his arm. Morgan could tell they'd done this before, and she wasn't sure if it unsettled her or not.
"Thanks, Alfred."
"I'll leave some pills here. I trust you're capable of determining the correct dosage."
Dick had already lain back down and closed his eyes. He gave the old man a thumbs up.
Alfred looked at Morgan, who found herself feeling inexplicably exposed under his shrewd gaze, as she sat on Dick's bed.
"A pleasure as usual, Miss."
She smiled stiffly. "You too, Alfred." He was halfway through the door before she scrambled to add, "and thanks for dinner!"
Dick chuckled, already looking much more at ease. "You always get so awkward around him."
"Well, some of us didn't grow up with waitstaff," she grumbled. She looked him over again, wondering if he was cold from lying without his covers.
"Are you cold? Do you need anything?"
He smiled again and opened his eyes to look at her.
"I need you to stop acting like such a mother hen."
She opened her mouth in affront.
"I'm not." Couldn't he see how atypical it was for him to be this weak and in pain? How deeply it unsettled her? How worried she'd been?
"But yes, I'm a bit cold," he admitted, shifting around in his spot. "You'd better warm me up."
Morgan froze. Did he mean-? Did he want her to lie with him? She felt heat creep up her neck and her heart skip a beat, and the reaction angered her because of the way it poked at her confused feelings. She quickly went to gather his covers, throwing them on him with vigor.
"There."
He was practically pouting.
"That's not what I meant."
"You're high as a kite, Grayson," she retorted. "That's the morphine talking."
"I lost a lot of blood, there's no way I can maintain body heat without help."
"You got a transfusion. You'll survive."
He sighed deeply and pulled the covers tighter around himself.
"Fine. Leave me to freeze."
"Oh my god, it's not like you're on the Franklin Expedition!" She threw her hands up in surrender and got into his bed with a huff. "I'll warm you up for ten minutes and then I'm going home. It's late-" she looked at his bedside watch and held in her groan at what she saw. It was in the middle of the night. The universe seemed determined to never let her sleep. She sighed in defeat. "And I have school in the morning."
Dick didn't say anything to lord his triumph over her, he just snuggled his head against her collarbone and fell asleep in roughly ten seconds.
Now that she lay beside him, she could tell that he hadn't been lying – he really was cold. Her heart was in her throat, but she told herself it was fine that she was here and that he was snuggled against her. After all, they'd done it once before, right? When he'd helped her sleep after her nightmare? And she was just helping him stay warm. That was okay, right?
After all, she wouldn't have felt weird about it if Zatanna or Barbara had asked her to help them stay warm while they were injured. Well, honestly, she probably would.
But that didn't make this weird.
Right?
Right?
August 21st
Wayne Manor
Morgan
It was all but inevitable that she would fall asleep. At some point, hours later, Morgan woke up again. It had gotten very warm beneath the thick and lush covers of Dick's bed, and the man in question lay close by her side, his injury probably the only thing keeping him from wrapping around her like he usually would have. She could tell he'd gotten warmed up, like she'd intended to. She peeked down at his face, which lay smushed against her shoulder, looking peaceful and achingly beautiful. All sorts of emotions burst in her chest, and she almost gasped from the fervor of it. She wanted to push him away, or pull him close. Or maybe she was too scared to move. Perhaps all three at once.
She was torn between feeling so right, right here, like she was where she belonged, and feeling like it was wrong, that she was wrong for feeling those feelings.
The longer she lay, the more tormented she became. With every one of his breaths she could feel gently caress her collarbone, panic rose higher in her throat.
When she could take it no longer, she slipped out of the bed, frightened by her own reaction, and absolutely terrified by the man who lay peacefully beneath the covers before her.
Morgan snuck out of the manor in the early hours of the morning, jogging silently but quickly down the halls and towards the cave. Her thoughts were one big scramble of confusion. She couldn't help feeling like the two of them were toeing a line that she wasn't sure she felt comfortable with. Her heart was aching, and she wasn't sure why.
She'd tried to keep her head down and just focus on dealing with these rifts and saving the world. She'd tried to work with Dick and stay professional – friendly. So why was she so confused?
Her steps echoed down the stairs in the cave, which thankfully appeared to be empty this time. She spread her wings and flew across the expanse, heading for the exit to the grotto. Fresh air greeted her, and she started flying almost frantically, trying to get as much speed under her wings as possible.
She had to get up, get away. Up where she could clear her head. The wind pelted her face, but she kept going.
By the time she slowed down, she was out of breath and sweat had erupted on her brow. Hovering in the air, she looked below. She could see the entirety of Gotham before her, laid out like a gray, dimly lit beast. If she squinted, she could spot the manor, nestled between trees on the outskirts of town.
She dove, gliding on the air. Up here, nothing could reach her. Up here, she was safe from everything.
Except, unfortunately, her own thoughts.
Like a mantra, she kept repeating to herself that they were just friends. Just friends. Just friends.
She should've known something like this would happen. How had she expected to work so closely with him, and not develop feelings for him again? He was Dick Grayson! He was Nightwing! Not falling in love with him felt like an impossibility. She knew at least a quarter of the Team had had crushes on him at some point, as well as half of the GU student body.
It was one of the reasons, besides her perceived lower-class, that had made so many of her fellow students hate her. In fact, now that they'd broken up, some of the sneered, hateful comments had died down. Some.
They'd never bothered her – at least, that's what she'd told herself. After all, she was Morgan. She never gave a shit what anyone said about her, right? She just responded with her usual sarcasm, and never showed when their blows landed.
"Check your pockets, guys. The scholarship student is over there."
A few snickers followed.
Morgan rolled her eyes but kept them otherwise on the pages of her books. The start of the semester meant she didn't have time to deal with anyone's bullshit beside her teachers'.
It sucked that she couldn't just sit quietly in the library without anyone heckling her, though.
Her lack of reaction emboldened her new harasser, who went on; "Wouldn't want to lose anything valuable. Then again, how else is she going to afford dinner?"
Morgan looked up from her book then, aware that she probably wouldn't be left alone until she gave them a reaction. She spied the girl that had spoken, as she was looking gleefully back at her, now that Morgan was giving her attention.
"Sasha, was it?" she asked in a deadpan.
The girl had worn a pleased smirk, but it seemed to falter slightly. Maybe she hadn't expected Morgan to actually respond? Her gaggle of snotty friends looked on with interest.
"What's it to you?"
"I was just wondering, what was your major again?" she tilted her head innocently, eyes big and unblinking, like an owl.
Sasha appeared caught off guard by her line of questioning and it made her lose the nasty edge to her tone. "English lit. Why?"
"I just would've expected you to come up with more creative insults, then. Very disappointing."
The girl sneered and her companions' hid snickers behind their hands, which only added to her ire.
"Whatever. I'll never understand what Dick sees in you. You're just a pathetic charity case who lives by the grace of a rich man. And you even had to fuck his son to get here."
Morgan knew Sasha was just spouting hate because she had succeeded in what Sasha had wanted to do; get under her skin. She just wanted to take out her own hurt on someone else. Or maybe she genuinely didn't see Morgan as a person.
Normally, Morgan didn't care about what her fellow students thought about her. But Sasha had touched upon the one area where Morgan was the most vulnerable. She had only broken up with Dick three weeks ago, and the wound was still open and bleeding. She felt her face grow hot from her anger and she spoke impulsively.
"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore, Sasha, because we broke up. You're free to go flirt at him unsuccessfully at all those functions he hates to attend because of terrible people like you." She'd managed by the grace of her sheer stubbornness to sound neutral and unbothered.
Sasha and her pose had looked shocked. And by the end of the week, every student at school had known. Which had, ironically, made life easier for Morgan, as she dealt with fewer jealous jabs being thrown her way.
Morgan shook her head in an attempt to escape the cursed memory. The gleeful look when Sasha had realized what she'd said, and her smarmy comment that it was good Dick had finally come to his senses. Morgan hadn't told her that it was her who had broken up with him. That bitch didn't deserve being privy to details like that.
Morgan's eyes traveled across the city and then further into the woods that lay beyond. The woods where this whole mess with the rifts had started. Where she'd come across that spell that had irrevocably tied the two of them together for the foreseeable future. Even if she'd wanted to avoid him, to gain some much-needed distance to sort herself out – well, how could she? The fate of the entire world was dependent on the two of them getting along.
For the fate of the planet, couldn't she swallow her feelings for however long this took? She felt guilty; Dick seemed to fully believe they were friends again, and he trusted her enough to seek her out and hang out with her. He would be hurt if he knew how she was reading into it. How she was allowing herself to fall back into her feelings for him, nine months after she'd been the one to break up. He seemed to be fully over it by now – and here she was, stuck back where they'd started. It was pathetic.
Morgan turned her wings downwards, racing towards the ground at rapid speed. She decided that she needed to distract herself. Dwelling on her feelings wasn't going to fix anything.
With practiced ease, she made her way towards a specific rooftop. She had a message to deliver, and since she was already in the neighborhood..
Morgan delayed only by buying a cup of coffee from the same shop as before. And yes, it had been awkward doing it in her superhero get-up, but the cup was an important part of her plan to get Jason's attention.
Landing on the rooftop where they'd met twice already, she looked around for an obvious spot to put the cup. She emptied it out onto the roof, not at all feeling bad about wasting the terrible beverage. Taking out the superglue she'd borrowed from Tim, she spent a few minutes gluing the cup firmly to the railing, roughly in the same spot that they'd been sitting in when they'd talked.
Pulling out the note, she read it through one last time.
Everyone deserves a few extra chances.
I'll be right here if you're ready to try again.
She folded the note back up and put it in the cup, putting the lid back on.
Now all she could do was wait. And put up the surveillance camera that Tim had given her, of course.
Too soon, her task was over, and she headed home. The instant her wings propelled her into the air, her earlier thoughts came rushing back. She tried to push them away. Her chest clenched.
She just needed to think logically about this.
It was just a fact that she was falling in love with him again. But that didn't have to mean anything. She could still work with him, she just needed to be chill. As long as he didn't find out, they'd be fine. She could keep a lid on this for as long as she needed, and then when they'd saved the world, she could go away somewhere until this was over. Maybe visit Rachel? Or her grandparents in Denmark? Her aunt and uncle in Alaska?
Morgan landed on the fire escape by her apartment and quickly went inside. It was already light out, so she shed her clothes and jumped into bed, hoping that she'd at least escape her thoughts when she was asleep.
That morning, she dreamt about lace and flowers, and laughter mingled with uncertainty and grief.
August 23rd
Watchtower
Nightwing
"Tell us why you came here." Batman coldly demanded.
The crimson alien regarded them from his position on the hospital bed he was tied to. They were treating his injury, yes, but they weren't about to let him run off.
"He asked you a question," Nightwing said sternly, when the man only kept looking at them with disdain.
He was irritable. Every movement he made aggravated the deep wound still healing. He had to resist the urge to flinch with every breath. He kept it in, aware that the two other people in the room, Batman and Sparrow, both kept sneaking looks his way. He wouldn't feed their worry, wouldn't let them bench him just because of a few dozen stitches.
The alien looked at him and barked out a rough laugh.
"Didn't I spear you? Shouldn't you be dead?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Nightwing saw Sparrow's wings puff up, an instinctual intimidation tactic. She clenched her hands and took a resolute step forward. Dick didn't doubt she'd been aiming to punch the Yellow Lantern, and he quickly held out a hand to stop her.
Maybe letting her join this interrogation had been a mistake, even though she'd been the one to bring the hostage in.
No - she needed to start doing more than just go on missions. She should learn how to interrogate and how to deal with captives.
"Sorry to disappoint," he said dryly. "Now tell us what you're doing on earth."
The alien coughed and winced, still hurt from the wound his teammate had inflicted.
"Maybe Sinestro just wanted to teach Hal Jordan a lesson," he said dismissively. It was clearly not the reason, but the alien was skirting around the truth.
"You came here for a reason," Batman pressed further, ignoring the Yellow Lantern's obvious attempt at deflecting. He wasn't even trying to hide it. "Tell us why, and your sentence might be shortened."
He laughed with disdain. "Sentence? You think I'm staying here? The Yellow Lanterns are loyal. They'll come for me."
"You call getting mortally wounded by your teammate loyal?" Sparrow pointed out coolly. She sounded remarkably calm, considering she'd been about to clock him one a minute ago. Nightwing looked at her and he could tell her eyes were blazing, but her stance was relaxed and controlled. The alien regarded her, and her gaze seemed to pierce him, as his disdain slowly gave way to discomfort.
"That wasn't-"
"We have confirmation that the rest of your team left orbit only hours after they launched the attack," Nightwing revealed, watching worry grow on the alien's face.
"They left you here to die," Sparrow said.
He grew angry at Sparrow's words, and he fought against his restraints, worming around on the bed. It was useless. Their restraints were almost strong enough to hold back Superman.
Batman placed a hand on Nightwing's shoulder and let him know he was leaving. He leaned in close to carry a hushed conversation. "You two get him to talk. I have another meeting. I expect results when I'm done."
Nightwing nodded confidently. This wasn't exactly his first time. Batman left the room, his cape fluttering behind him. It appeared to agitate the alien that they were ignoring him, and he started shouting.
"You so called heroes wouldn't know loyalty if it hit you in the face! They'll come back for me! I'll have my revenge!" His eyes were like those of a wild animal, and he sneered at Sparrow and Nightwing with disdain. "I'll tell you why we came when you lie as corpses beneath my feet!"
Like lightning, Nightwing fist came down onto the table beside the bed. Medical equipment rattled and fell everywhere. The table dented beneath his fist, but it had had the desired effect. The Lantern jumped as much as his tight restraints allowed him, and Nightwing saw fear in his eyes.
Good. They almost had him. The only reason he'd started shouting threats was because he was close to cracking. They always got agitated right before they gave up.
"Even if they came back, we've defeated them once, and we'll do it again. Face it – they're not coming for you." Nightwing bent low over the alien, ignoring the throbbing pain it caused his wound, his words low and poisonous. "You're spending the rest of your life rotting away in a cell, unless you cooperate – then you might get to cut a deal."
Getting back into an upright position was more challenging than he'd anticipated, and he had to grip onto the table to help himself. He was sweating – maybe he should've sat this one out. Sparrow placed a light hand against his back and studied his face with concern. He turned away from the alien, lest he detected any weakness, and put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a curt nod to tell her he was alright.
He hadn't managed to hide his pain. The Lantern studied him with glee and barked out a laugh.
"Hah! Do you need to sit down, boy?" his confidence was back. Dammit. "Let's see who can last the longest, hmm?"
"Alright, I'm getting tired of your lack of cooperation," Sparrow sighed. She clenched her fists, and the room started creaking ominously. "Tell us what you know."
The alien looked around with alarm. The medical equipment left on the table started rattling as it bounced around, as did those on the floor. The table was vibrating, and so was the bed. The walls groaned and the ceiling shook.
What was she doing?
Nightwing was about to reach over and stop her, when it seemed their hostage finally cracked.
"Alright! I'll tell you what I know," he relented and looked at Nightwing. "If you tell your guard dog to stand down."
Nightwing put a hand on Sparrow's arm. Her fists unclenched and the room stilled.
"The truth is, we weren't sure why we came," he admitted. "Our enemy, the IDROP, has been taking a special interest in Earth for a while. We were trying to figure out why."
"The what?" Nightwing had never heard that name before. He could only assume it wasn't good if someone out there was interested in Earth. The Reach invasion had taught him as much.
"The Intergalactic Democratic Republic of Peace."
"That's a mouthful," Sparrow commented.
"That's why it's shortened to IDROP," the alien said with irritation. He looked resigned, and all fight was gone from him as he explained further. "We've been at war for years. So when our spies told us they were talking about Earth, we had to go check out why."
"What do they want with Earth?" Nightwing asked. Please, not another alien invasion.
"That's what we hoped to find out."
"By smashing buildings in downtown Gotham?" Sparrow huffed.
"We just did as ordered."
Nightwing got close, reading the alien's face carefully.
"And that's all you know?"
"That's all I know."
He considered him for a while, but there was nothing to suggest the Lantern was hiding anything more. Turning, he grabbed Sparrow's shoulder and guided her out of the room.
Once the door was shut behind them, he regarded her critically.
"What was that? You don't threaten hostages like that during an interrogation," he demanded.
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms at him. "And what do you call that little punch earlier? That was as much a threat of harm as what I did."
"That was different," he protested.
"Because I did it with my powers?"
He halted, realizing that was exactly it. It was her use of her powers to imply harm that had worried him – but didn't that make him a hypocrite, when he had threatened harm too, just with his fists?
She raised her eyebrows at him and cocked out her hip.
He cleared his throat and leaned against the wall, trying to feign casualness. In reality, he needed the extra support as his wound gave another powerful throb.
"Anyway, have you ever heard about the IDROP?"
She regarded him for a moment, seemingly deciding whether to let him change the subject or not.
"No."
"We need to look into it."
"I mean, the name doesn't sound bad – it has peace in it." Sparrow started chewing thoughtfully on her thumbnail. "Then again, if you feel like you need to mention the peace thing, maybe that's a bad sign."
"It's never good news when some alien organization decides to show an interest in Earth," Nightwing sighed.
"I can't deal with an alien invasion right now. We already have a lot on our plate," she groaned and threw her head back as she pouted, and Nightwing's eyes trailed her exposed throat.
"We'll have someone look into it. The Lanterns know more about intergalactic politics than I do."
She nodded and looked him over.
"How are you doing?" Her voice had gone soft, worried
"I'm alright," he shrugged and looked her over in turn. Her mask covered her eyes, so he couldn't see if she was currently sleeping well, or if nightmares still plagued her. She looked weary, but not tired, which he took as a good sign.
"You were gone when I woke up," he impulsively said, referring to the night at Wayne Manor. He only brought it up because he wanted to gauge her reaction. They hadn't talked about the previous time they'd slept together, when he'd helped her fall asleep after her nightmare. It had felt like an unspoken agreement to not mention it in the light of day. Those moments were reserved for the late hours of the night when the dim light and tired minds made it feel less dangerous than it was.
But his curiosity led him to bring it up now.
Her eyes widened behind the white film of her mask, and she looked up and down the corridor they were standing in. It was empty, but the Watchtower was filled with beings with enhanced hearing, and so she moved closer and lowered her voice to a whisper.
"I did say I was only staying for ten minutes to warm you up," she reminded him. "Or maybe you were too coked out to remember that?"
He smiled cheekily and bent a little lower over her. "Never. I never forget a cuddle."
"It was not a cuddle!" she instantly protested, her face turning that charming shade of red that he loved provoking out of her. "You kept insisting you were dying from the cold, how cruel would I be if I just left you?"
"Relax, I'm just messing with you," he laughed and pushed himself off the wall. He'd achieved his goal, which was to make her forget about her worry over his injury.
She spluttered before following him down the hall.
"You're a mean friend," she grumbled, before continuing under her breath, "And I was just about to ask if you were busy on Saturday."
He halted to let her catch up to him. "When exactly?"
"Evening," she said, still looking red and a bit pissed off. She mumbled and rushed out the words like they were embarrassing. "We're going out to this bar.. the others wanted to celebrate my birthday."
"Your birthday was almost two months ago," he noted stupidly, before realizing she was essentially asking him out, and his heart soared.
"And that's just about how long it takes for people in our line of business to find a day where everyone is free." She crossed her arms over her chest and refused to meet his gaze, looking abashed at her invitation.
"That's fair," he hesitated to answer. He knew he was technically never free, not as the leader of the Team. But he was always allowed a night off, if it was quiet. But a bar? Bars were rarely a good time for him. They were too much like every Gotham socialite evening; too many unpleasant people with wandering hands. Then again, it wasn't meaningless that she was inviting him. It warmed his insides, and he wondered if perhaps he could get over his dislike for one night.
"Bars aren't really my thing.." he admitted. It hadn't been meant as a rejection, more like a disclaimer, but he could tell she'd taken it as one.
She deflated and spoke in a rush, "That's fine. No pressure. It's not like I've ever tried it before so I can't promise it'll be fun, you know?"
She was disappointed – he could tell. Dick felt like an idiot for starting with what sounded like a rejection, when he had meant to imply that he needed to check his calendar and then get back to her, which would've given him the time he needed to consider whether he wanted to go or not.
Her attempt at looking unbothered didn't work on him, and the breezier she tried to come across, the clearer it was to him that she had really wanted him to come along.
They'd reached the cafeteria, and Dick saw several heroes throughout the room, chatting and eating.
Guy Gardner, the Tool, spotted the two of them, and waved at Morgan with a big smile.
"'Ey, Sparrow!"
Morgan waved back, and the Lantern motioned for her to join him. She shot Dick a sideways glance, and he resisted the urge to grab onto her and hold her by his side.
"I'll see you whenever," she said, giving him a small smile, before leaving him in favor of the stupid Lantern by the table.
"Coffee?" he heard Guy ask, and Morgan accepted easily. Dick held in a scoff. If she wanted coffee, all she had to do was ask – he would've gotten her some.
Was he supposed to be happy for her because she had friends in the League, or annoyed because it just had to be Guy Gardner?
Aware that he was staring, Dick turned on his heel and went back down the hall, his mood curdling like sour milk. And his wound was hurting. He should reayllg go lie down.
He checked the computer to see where Batman was. He needed to update him on what they'd discovered from the Yellow Lantern, and he needed to talk to the Green Lanterns about this IDROP. Perhaps that would give Guy something productive to do with his time, other than flirting with his teammates. Very unprofessional.
As he went down the hall, Dick decided it would be in his best interest to go to that bar, after all.
At this point in the story, Morgan is basically living in some alternate dimension, I fear. She's VERY convinced that her own worst interpretation of things is the objective truth. Kinda like how she's convinced that she's a big zero on the League, when everyone there is actually super nice to her, and they all think she's doing a good job. She's SO lost in her own little spiral that she doesn't see things for what they really are.
It's also funny that she specifically makes the distinction that she's falling in love with Dick AGAIN, when to all of us that are privy to her thoughts - THE SAME THOUGHTS SHE ALSO HEARS, MIGHT I ADD - it's been obvious from the start that she never STOPPED being in love with him. She's reached the point of just straight up unreliable narrator in her own life.
I'm sure it'll be fun and not at all dramatic and traumatic when she realizes that :)
But let's cut her some slack too. She's not getting a lot of sleep because of that damn spell. Poor girl is getting retraumatized almost every night from the nightmares too.
And she's still able to call out Bruce's bullshit when she has to! I love writing her fighting with people, she's very good at it.
Dick is super fun to write - unlike Morgan, he's a lot more honest with himself about his own feelings, and about hers. He KNOWS she's in love with him but he also knows he cant point it out so he keeps pushing and blurring that line, just waiting for her to snap. It's a beautiful game of romantic chicken.
So, next chapter they're going to a bar? That's a totally new setting so I hope you'll enjoy. With the combination of their barely hidden feelings and alcohol, I'm sure it'll be a blast!
As usual, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!