Chapter 27: What Can't Be Changed
September 24th
Blüdhaven
Dick
Dick sunk into his bed, letting out a low groan.
A mistake, perhaps – he would never get up again now that he was comfortable.
At least he'd been wise enough to eat dinner on his way home from work. All of his duties for the day were over.
He was tired – working at the Wayne Foundation was a lot more work than the desk job he'd held at Wayne Enterprise. It was, however, perhaps a thousand times more rewarding, and so it was with a sense of accomplishment that he lay on his bed after a hard day's work.
This was right up his alley. This was work that mattered.
He enjoyed a small respite on his bed, burying into his covers and soaking in the warmth. Then, he forced himself to get up and clean out his kitchen. Piles of plates and dirty mugs needed washing.
He couldn't believe how much lighter he felt after getting this new job. He had known it was important to him for the job to matter. He just hadn't realized how dire it had been at his old one. And now? Going home with a sense of accomplishment every day from work, showed him that he didn't have to settle.
If only he could tell her - the catalyst to this change - how much that conversation had mattered.. how integral of a part she had played in helping him finding his path.
No.
He wouldn't think about it.
He had promised himself to stop thinking about her. He hadn't seen her for two weeks at this point, and he was unsure if it was a relief, or if it felt even worse than if she'd been around. Maybe the thing that bugged him was not knowing how she was doing. If he'd seen her, even once, he would know if she was okay.
He had no idea where she had gone, still. He hadn't had the fortitude to ask anyone that might know. After all, he was supposed to not care. He had told her he would leave her alone, and he was sticking to that.
And yet. Here he was – thinking about her.
With a huff, Dick threw the dish towel he'd been using onto the counter and went over to his TV, turning it on demonstrably. Anything to drown out the silence of his empty apartment. The news was on, and slowly he began tuning into the program. After the news came some boring TV show about gardening, but he forced himself to pay rapt attention.
Was he nodding off? Perhaps the smart thing to do would be to tuck in for an early night. After all, he had nothing to stay awake for right now. No homework. Barbara was taking care of the team. He had nothing left from work to do. And he had no one to hang out with. Yes, perhaps an early night would do.
He had only barely got himself off the couch, heading towards his bedroom when there was a knock. He halted, looking at the unassuming front door. Who could that possibly be? He couldn't remember the last time he had any visitors. Usually, in his line of business, unexpected guests weren't there to play nice.
Dick went into his bedroom and removed the false back of his closet, pulling out one of his escrima sticks. Holding it behind his back, he crept towards the front door and looked through the little eye hole. Nothing could have prepared him for the person on the other side.
"Abigail?" he said, pulling open the door. There she stood, looking distraught. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry, Dick I didn't know where else to go," she said, fretting with the straps of her purse. "I know you two had some kind of disagreement. I don't know any specifics; she wouldn't tell me. But you're the only one I could go to for help."
Dick motioned for her to come inside, closing the door behind them. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping in days, and Dick felt worry squeeze his insides. He guided her towards his couch and had her sit.
"What's going on?"
"Morgan's gone," Abigail said.
Dick frowned, ignoring the lump of ice lodging itself in his chest. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"
"I mean, she hasn't been seen for four days." Abigail sounded terrified and she stumbled over her words, "She went out for a walk in the woods-"
"Abigail, slow down," Dick said, holding up his hands to calm her. "Please, start from the beginning. What woods?"
Abigail took a deep breath and Dick saw tears well in her eyes. He looked around for anything for her to dry her eyes with, but all he saw was the dishtowel he had just been using. He tried to stave off the fear he felt rising, when he saw how genuinely distraught she was.
"She was visiting my sister in Alaska," Abigail finally clarified. "Bea lives by a big stretch of wood, in the middle of nowhere."
" Alaska?" Of all the places he might have expected she'd go; the Alaskan wilderness hadn't been one of them. Morgan was a city girl, through and through.
"The-the authorities are out looking but- well, you and I both know she wouldn't just 'get lost in a wood'. She can fly." Abigail pointed out through her sniffles.
"You think something happened to her? Or someone?" he frowned, trying to stick to the matter at heart. He wouldn't allow his own worry to affect his judgment - he had to treat this like a case.
Even though he was worried.
"What else could've happened?" Abigail said. "Please, Dick. Help me find her. You have the equipment and the skill."
Doubt seeped in. Morgan had gone all the way to Alaska just to avoid him – there was no way she wanted to see him.
He wasn't so sure he wanted to see her either.
But what if she was really in trouble?
He considered Abigail for a moment, and then he squared his jaw and gave her a curt nod.
"Give me two minutes," he said, and then he marched to his bedroom. Grabbing his utility belt and wrist-computer, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.
Three rings, and the other person picked up.
"M'gann?" he said. "I need to borrow the Bioship."
?
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Morgan
Her brain felt like cotton, but at least she was capable of thought. Morgan tried to shift where she lay, but her body felt impossibly heavy.
She opened drowsy eyes, the room swimming for a moment before coming into focus-
" Aaah!" she bolted upright at the sight of a face inches from hers. Strangely familiar eyes studied her, set in the round face of a kid with unruly black hair and sun kissed skin.
The kid tilted his head at her reaction and then bounced towards the door of whatever room she was in – it looked like an auto camper, cramped with beds, drawers and a small kitchenette.
He threw open the door and leaned his whole body out, swinging by his hands which held onto the doorframe.
" Dad! Mom!" he bellowed, "she's awake!"
Morgan stared at him, brain in a frenzy as she tried to pinpoint the kid. He was eerily familiar but who was he?
Better yet, where was she?
Had she been drinking and somehow forgotten about it? It was the best reason she could think of to explain why she couldn't remember the previous night at all.
How had she ended up in someone's.. camper? Trailer?
Did it honestly matter?
A tall woman with light brown hair entered, a man following in her wake.
It was the sight of the man that made the pieces click in her confused brain and she almost reared back in shock.
Because that was Dick's father. That was John Grayson. She didn't have to have seen pictures of Dick's parents to recognize him – his now adult son was close to his spitting image, except the Dick she knew was about fifteen years younger than the man watching her curiously at the moment.
"Uhm," she said, but nothing else came to her. "Hi?"
She looked at Mary next, noting with a racing heart that Dick had her eyes.
Then, even though it was somehow worse than meeting his parents, she looked at the young boy still studying her like she was a particularly interesting species of frog he'd found on the side of the road.
"We found you wandering out of the woods last night," the man – John – explained how she'd ended up in their home. Christ, his voice even sounded similar to Dick's.
"Oh," she said, not sure how she'd ended up in some wood. Then, the previous night finally came back to her, images of stars and fogs flashing across her inner eye, and she sat up further on the bed. "Oh!"
The kid was still studying her like a hawk. His parents looked confused at her outburst.
"Uhm, I think I got lost," she quickly thought of the excuse. "I've always had a terrible sense of direction."
"Well, where were you headed?" the kid asked, but she refused to look at him, refused to pin a name on him. It was too weird.
"Just out for a walk."
John narrowed his eyes at her, for a moment looking like he would catch her in her lie. Then, he smiled and barked out a laugh, and even his laugh sounded familiar.
"Hah! Sounds like something you'd do, Mary!" he joked, clapping his wife playfully on the ass before walking further into the room, sitting down on the other bed in the small space.
Mary glared playfully at him and then smiled politely at Morgan.
"Ignore my husband, he's an idiot."
Morgan was unable to stop a single laugh from bubbling forth.
"What's your name?" Mary asked.
"Uhm, Louise," she said – technically not a lie.
The kid jumped onto the bed where she sat, and she had to resist the urge to push him away, feeling existential horror at the very sight of him.
"You drool in your sleep," he said plainly.
"So do you!" she shot back before snapping her mouth shut. "Uhm, I mean, most kids do, right?"
"Dick, leave her alone," Mary said, holding an arm out for her son to slip underneath.
He jumped off the bed and ran over, wrapping his arms around her torso.
"Can the weird girl go with us to breakfast?"
"We don't call guests weird," John told his son, but looked over at Morgan. "Hungry?"
At the very mention of food, she felt her stomach gurgle, and she remembered that she hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day.
"Starving, actually."
"Then c'mon!" the kid – Dick – exclaimed, leaping forward, and tugging at her arm with much less strength than she was used to from him. "Breakfast is in the big tent!"
They emerged into the large camp, which was already bustling with activity. As they passed, Morgan realized she had been sleeping in a good, old fashioned circus wagon. On the side of the wagon, in bold, cursive letters, read "The Flying Graysons".
She was officially losing her mind. Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble forth at the sight, and the feeling only intensified when she saw the large, red and white-striped circus tent loom ahead. Clowns, strong men, contortionists and other acts mingled about the camp, some eating, some practicing their acts and some simply engaged in conversation.
All stopped to greet Dick good morning as he passed with a hesitant Morgan in tow.
"Who's your friend?" asked one of the clowns.
"Dad found her last night in the woods!" Dick enthusiastically replied, like he was talking about a kitten he was hoping to keep.
The inside of the tent was less crowded with colorful characters, but the smell of breakfast made up for it. Dick dragged her all the way to the back of the line, however most of the people there allowed him to go before them, and it became evident that he held the love of the whole circus in his impish little hands.
They sat at a table a moment later, and Morgan decided, despite the frenzy taking place inside of her, that she might as well eat. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied the kid she had arrived with, trying to figure out how she was supposed to feel.
She couldn't believe that it was Dick. And yet, he had to be. If nothing else, he was behaving exactly like she had expected Dick to act as a child, growing up in a circus.
She was in the middle of her portion of beans when a strange noise sounded from outside. A loud series of trumpeting rang through the air, and she almost dropped her spoon.
"Is that.. elephants?" she asked, eyes shining.
This place was delightful.
Dick smiled so wide she could see a missing tooth in his mouth. His skin was much tanner than it would be as an adult, but then, she supposed he spent more time out in the sun now than he would as Nightwing.
"We can go say hi!" he offered.
She readily nodded, grabbing a piece of toast to snack on as she went. The young Dick abandoned his plate, and Morgan dutifully put both of theirs into the soapy bucket labeled "dishes", not wanting to exploit the kindness of the people feeding her.
Catching up to Dick, she saw him busy himself with juggling three apples in the air.
Huh, she'd have to ask him if he still knew how to do that.
If he's still willing to speak to me, she thought with a twinge of sadness.
Better yet, if she found a way to get home. It didn't escape her that she hadn't seen any fogs nearby. Perhaps if she went back into the woods?
Something told her it wouldn't be that simple. By now, it was clear the fogs weren't random. So that begged the question..
Who had sent her here? And for what purpose? And what did she need to do to get back?
She looked at the boy juggling apples ahead of her and wondered if perhaps there was something she was meant to do, or learn, by being here. Perhaps, for now, she should simply stay put. Surely, her purpose in being here would reveal itself.
She allowed the young Dick to lead her to the back of the tent, where several enclosures and cages were set up, containing an array of animals.
Most impressive of all were three, fully grown Indian elephants. They stood in the middle of their enclosure, chewing lazily on hay as if they weren't the largest and coolest animals she'd ever seen. Their trunks moved with surprising grace, plucking hay and strands of grass off the ground.
"This is Judy, Jeanette and Gertrude," Dick said, voice filled to the brim with pride when he saw Morgan take them in with openmouthed delight.
"They're wonderful!"
The young Dick shrugged casually. "Sure. Haven't you ever seen an elephant before?"
" No," she answered, growing uncertain when the little rascal slipped past the fence of the enclosure. "Uhm, should you-?"
She was interrupted when the elephants let out little toots of delight as they approaching the young boy. She was back to open mouthed staring when one elephant wrapped its trunk around his middle and hoisted him up, placing him upon the back of another.
He laughed a deep belly laugh that made her heart ache, and fed the apples to his animal friends. Leaning forward, he lay against the elephant's back and petted it.
"Di-ick!" someone called.
Dick sat up again. "That's my mom. We probably have training."
"Oh?" she said, pretending she didn't already know about the Flying Graysons, "What's your act?"
He jumped off the elephant, executing a perfect triple somersault, landing on his feet with his arms spread wide.
"We're acrobats!" he announced with glee. "The very best in the entire world."
"No way! The very best?"
The pride was rolling off him in waves. "We're so good, we don't even have a safety net when we perform!"
"Oh," she said, the statement invoking nothing but a sense of dread in her. "Maybe that's not-"
She stopped herself. What was she trying to achieve here, exactly? Prevent the death of his parents?
Distracted as she'd previously been by the glamor and life of the circus, Morgan instantly came crashing back to reality.
Dick – the Dick from her own time – would be furious if he knew she was even thinking about meddling in his past. He had been the one completely adamant that they shouldn't do anything to alter the other timeline.
She couldn't get involved.
Especially.. now. After the hurt she had caused.
"There you are!" Mary said, an easy smile on her beautiful face. "Showing Louise the elephants?"
"Can Louise watch us train, mom?"
Mary tutted at Dick, combing a hand lovingly through his hair. "I'm sure she has better things to do."
"I really don't," Morgan quickly said. "I would love to watch your routine – uhm, if that's okay?"
"Of course!" Mary motioned for her to follow. "It's not like we aren't used to an audience."
September 25th
Fairbanks, Alaska
Dick
If Morgan had really gotten lost in these woods, he couldn't blame her. They were dense, the trees probably centuries old and stretching tall and imposing towards the heavens. The ground was filled with fallen logs, thick brambles, and moss, making for a frustrating hike.
On his wrist was his computer, sending out a blue scanner beam, fanning out across the ground. It was having a hard time following her tracks, and several times he had lost the trail, and he'd had to double back to when he had last picked it up.
Abigail was walking behind him, looking worn and exhausted. He had suggested several times that she should head back to her sister's cabin to get some rest, but she had insisted that she didn't want to leave him alone. In his opinion, it would've been better for her to stay at the cabin, where she and her sister could comfort each other. Beatrice, as he'd learned her name was, was absolutely distraught. She had been crying during the entirety of their short stay, as she blamed herself for Morgan's disappearance.
If he was being honest, he would've preferred solitude. His work was slow and boring, and his lack of results so far stressed him out. He wanted to have something to show Abigail, some proof that Morgan was alive and well, and the longer they went on without proof, the more her presence made him feel worse.
She had asked for his help because she trusted in him to provide results. But what if he had no results to give?
It was a done deal for now, anyway. They were too far into the woods for him to comfortably send her back alone. In an hour, dusk would settle, and they'd have to go back. Her tracks were already difficult to follow in daylight – he wasn't sure if they were even possible to trace in the dark.
On they went. For a while, the ground cleared out a bit, and her tracks became easier to follow. Dick was logging their path on his GPS, hoping to be able to calculate the most likely direction she was heading in, but so far, her trail had been random. She seemed to have wandered aimlessly, led entirely by which path was the easiest to go according to the whims of the impenetrable undergrowth.
They hit upon a deep groove in the ground, and he could see she'd walked along the side of it. Ahead, he saw the remains of an old, rotten tree. It had splintered, scattering across the ground. From the looks of it, he could tell it had happened recently, and he quickly made his way towards it.
He scanned it thoroughly, carefully finding the point from which the tree had been hit.
"Morgan was here," he said, and Abigail hurried to his side. "I think she used her telekinesis to blow up this stump."
"Why?"
"No clue. But the spread-pattern of the splinters indicates it was hit by something powerful. And look at this," he pushed away the soft branches of a bush, revealing a patch of mud with a footprint.
"Women's sneaker, sized six and a half."
"That's her size."
"Exactly."
Dick looked up at the reddening sky.
"I think this is a good place to stop for tonight," he sighed. "I'll call the bioship to take us back."
"But we just found a lead!" Abigail protested.
"It's about to get a lot darker and I won't be able to follow her tracks. We'd be wasting our time."
Abigail pursed her lips but sighed and slumped where she stood. He could tell she was tired to the bone and knew it would do her good to go back. She hadn't dressed for the Alaskan autumn nights either. Dick knew his responsibility was not only to find Morgan's but to take care of Abigail, as long as they were out here.
"We'll rest while we can and get back out the second it gets light out again," he assured her. "This is a good place to land the bioship, there's a gap in the trees because of this groove." He motioned for the chasm cutting into the ground and then pressed a button on his computer.
A minute later, the low hum of the bioship reached his ears, and the wind was disturbed, tickling his hair as it landed in front of them.
Once inside, he watched as Abigail sunk into a chair, unable to stop a pained sigh from passing her lips at the relief she must've felt. So like her daughter to pretend she was good to go on when she was barely able to stand.
Abigail was asleep by the time they arrived at the outskirts of the woods by her sister's house, and he realized she was even more tired than she'd led on. He landed the ship and then gently shook her awake. She jumped up, like she hadn't realized she was dozing off.
"Thanks, Dick." She got up, giving him a tired but grateful smile.
He offered her an arm and was honestly surprised when she took it, leaning her tired body against him as they left the ship. The walk to the cabin was only a minute or two, but every step seemed to be a struggle, especially now that it had gotten dark.
They emerged onto the path leading to the cabin, and Dick could see the warm lights from inside beckoning them out of the darkness.
The husband, Hank, must've seen them arrive, because he opened the door and waited for them on the front porch. Dick allowed Hank to take over supporting Abigail, who looked worse by the minute.
They came in, and the sister, upon seeing them arrive without Morgan, burst into tears again.
"We found her tracks," Dick said. "But it got too dark. And Abigail needs rest."
"I told you, I'm fine," Abigail mumbled, but she looked weak.
"Let's put you to bed," Beatrice sniffled through her tears, helping her sister up the stairs and towards their son's room, which Abigail was using during their stay. Dick had been told the son was staying with his grandparents while the search went on, as they didn't want him to know what was going on.
Dick had been given the guest bedroom. The one, he had quickly realized, had been Morgan's.
"How far out where her tracks?" Hank asked once the women had gone upstairs.
"A few miles," he said, sighing and running a hand through his hair.
"We'll go back out tomorrow," Hank said. "If we can convince Abigail to stay home and look after Bea."
Dick nodded, even though he had no intention of letting Hank join. If he was there, Dick couldn't use his tech to aid them, and there was no way they'd find Morgan without it
The two men stood in silence in their small kitchen.
"Oh!" Hank realized, "Do you want something to eat?"
"Sure," Dick said, sinking into a chair, realizing that he had been so focused on the task at hand, that he hadn't noticed he was hungry.
Half an hour later, he was in the guest bedroom, lying on top of covers that unfortunately smelled like Morgan. The desk was littered with Morgan's books and papers, in a system he recognized as her usual style of organization – unknowable to anyone but her. Next to the papers was a dead plant and he wondered why it hadn't been thrown out.
Dick shifted, staring up at the ceiling and feeling numb.
The question that had been swimming around in his mind for the past twenty-four hours presented itself once more.
Was this his fault?
He had to surmise there was no way she would've gone to Alaska, if he hadn't been so harsh. He had been hurt, yes. But he had never wanted this to happen.
Dick dug the palms of his hands into his eyes and breathed deeply. Releasing the breath in a hiss from behind his barred teeth, he succumbed to the guilt eating him up. Where had she gone? Had she been taken?
Facing the reality that she might not come back, he was almost struck immobile by the regret of their last conversation.
His first suspicion had, of course, been another rift. But he'd checked and then double-checked and then triple-checked the tracker, and it hadn't detected any rifts in the area at all. Besides, even if there had been one – that was no guarantee that she would be able to go through it. Even though he suspected that he no longer carried his half of the spell. Had it perhaps gone to her instead? He wished he knew. If she carried both halves of the spell now, perhaps she could have traveled by herself. But then, why wasn't his tracker alerting him?
He looked at his wrist, which was now bare. He hadn't noticed that her handprint was gone until days after their fight, so he had no idea when it had happened. During their fight? When she had disappeared?
Did the disappearance of the handprint mean Morgan was.. dead?
No, he refused to believe that. He couldn't help but feel that he would know if she was dead.
The house grew quiet. He knew nobody was sleeping – but hopefully they wouldn't go looking for him.
He had told Abigail he wouldn't be able to track her in the dark – and that hadn't been entirely true.
He had just wanted an excuse to get her home. Both so she could relax, but also so he could go back out alone.
The woods were no more welcoming in the night, but the darkness hardly bothered him. He went back to the track they had found a few hours ago, scanning it thoroughly.
With the new information – the exact size and shape of her print, and the weight with which she stepped, calculated from the depth the footprint had left in the mud, his software could much more accurately track her process through the woods. Now, even something as innocuous as a few snapped twigs could be a clue.
His trek became easier, both with the added accuracy of his tracking software, but also because he didn't have Abigail tagging along. He felt bad for thinking it, and he admired the devotion she had to her daughter, but the truth was she just couldn't keep up with his preferred speed.
"I'm coming, Morgan," he mumbled to himself as he went at a brisk pace in the direction she had gone. "I'm going to find you."
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Morgan
Morgan bit into the candied apple she'd been given by one of the vendors, looking out at the hustle and bustle of the circus grounds. It surprised her that she'd been allowed to hang around all day, receiving food – and now treats – without having to pay a dime. Not that she had the means to. All her money was at least a decade too 'new'. She didn't think they were going to accept a fiver from twenty-fifteen here.
Still, as she watched visitors start to pour in, she realized they were used to strange company. They lived their life as a performance for others to enjoy. The show was hours away from starting, but the camp was full of vendors, gift shops and small acts meant to keep the people entertained so they might stay longer. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy teased at her nose. She took another bite of her apple. She had placed herself on a large outcropping of rock, allowing her to look out across the entire camp.
"You're not really from around here, are you?"
She had stopped getting surprised by the sudden appearance of the young Dick after his third time sneaking up on her, but the question he posed still caught her by surprise.
"What makes you say that?" she asked vaguely. She wondered if this Dick would be as good at discerning when she was lying, as his older counterpart. Still, how clever could he really be? He was about eight years old and hadn't been trained by Batman yet. Surely, she could outsmart a kid.
"I went through your stuff. Your phone is at least a decade ahead in tech, and your ID says you were born in ninety-seven," he shrugged, sitting down beside her. "That means I'm supposed to be seven months older than you. Also, I know you used your middle name."
She gaped at him. So much for outsmarting the elementary schooler.
"You're a little rascal, do you know that?" she said, sitting up straighter and adjusting her wings, so they wouldn't squish against the rock.
He narrowed his eyes and suddenly his small hand shot out and grabbed onto her feathers.
Morgan yelped and fluttered her wing to get it out of his grasp, though it was too late. He plucked a feather from her, and it became visible to him as it stopped being under the glamor charm.
"Thought so," he said seriously. "You're wearing some kind of cloaking tech to hide your wings."
"How did you-"
"The way you walk indicates you're carrying a lot of weight on your back. I just had to touch to know they're wings."
"You're not even done shedding your baby teeth!" she helplessly spluttered. Just how much did this kid observe?
"Do you know me in the future?" he asked next, biting into the candied apple he had managed to steal from her at some point without her noticing. The goofy energy he usually carried had melted away into something more serious, something she recognized as distinctly Nightwing-esque. "I could tell you knew who I was when you woke up."
"Say I do," she responded. "What do you think future-you would tell me to do, if he knew I would meet you like this?"
The young boy looked thoughtful. Morgan made a play for the candied apple he had stolen from her, but he held it out of her reach.
"He would tell you not to tell me anything," he pouted. Then, he took mercy on her and gave her back the apple.
Morgan nodded sagely.
He finally revealed why he had gone to find her; "Dad's looking for us. Dinner's ready."
"Well, far from me to keep your parents waiting."
Morgan jumped off the rock, spreading her wings to break her landing. She threw a smirk over her shoulder at the young Dick, who had noticed the use of her invisible wings, and was watching with awe.
He somersaulted off the rock himself, landing in a crouch and running off. She followed at a less energetic pace, but halted when he headed towards their wagon instead of the tent.
"I thought meals were in the big tent?"
"It's being prepped for tonight. Dinners are always at home."
They arrived at the wagon, and Morgan was pressed into a chair before being served a plate.
The little family gathered around to eat, and Morgan couldn't help but feel strange. Who would've guessed that she'd ever get to sit and enjoy dinner with her ex-in laws, ten years before their son would even meet her?
They finished eating, and John got up, gathering up their plates.
"Let me do the dishes, Mary," he said, kissing the side of her head. "Thank you for dinner."
Morgan felt a rawness in her chest, but this time it didn't hurt.
An hour later, she was back outside and watching guests slowly begin to pile inside the tent. She thought about joining, but stayed put. She'd already seen the Grayson act, the only part she was really interested in. Besides, she couldn't pay for the ticket.
She watched the crowd, her eyes landing on a tall figure dressed almost entirely in a black suit.
Was that Bruce Wayne?
She wouldn't have pegged him as an enjoyer of the circus arts, but fine.
Morgan thought about going up to him and telling him she knew he was Batman. The idea made her smirk to herself, but she figured it would be unwise to make herself more known than necessary.
It occurred to her that his presence meant they were in Gotham. She wondered how she hadn't thought of that before – perhaps she had assumed she was somewhere in Alaska, since the rifts never spat her out in a new place – usually it was the time that got funky, not the placement.
Wait, if she was in Gotham.. wouldn't that mean..
That she could go see her family?
Loud music and moving lights erupted from the tent, and she realized the show had started.
Nobody would be there to notice if she flew off.
It took her only a moment's deliberation, and then she was off.
The flight wasn't long, and she knew the streets well despite the extra fifteen or so years of wear she was used to.
Morgan landed on the roof of the building opposite to the one she'd grown up in. Counting the windows, she found her own. The large, purple, stuffed dragon sitting against the window confirmed it was her bedroom.
The living room would be the next window, then. She glided over, landing soundlessly on the little balcony outside of the living room. The never-used balcony. Really – who wanted to sit outside in the middle of Gotham? Terrible idea, and a waste of good building material.
She folded her wings tightly against her back and peeked inside. The living room was empty. Disappointment pooled into her stomach.
Where they out?
She leaned over and looked through the window to her own bedroom.
Her mom, looking years younger, was sitting beside the childbed, in which a slumbering kid lay.
Her.
She could recognize her younger self easily, even though she could mostly see a mop of blonde curls from her position. She could feel that rawness inside intensify at the sight. She became briefly overwhelmed with sympathy for the sleeping child, who looked perfectly innocent and peaceful.
She wanted to go in there and hug the younger version of herself, tell her that things would get rough for a while, but they would get better. She would find purpose. She would find people that loved her.
Abigail lovingly smoothed down soft blonde curls that bounced back up the moment she removed her hand, and then she bent forward and kissed the top of little Morgan's head.
She whispered something that Morgan was unable to hear, and then she left the room.
She didn't enter the living room. The kitchen, then? Or her bedroom?
Morgan jumped off the balcony and flew to the other side of the building. Counting three stories down, she located the correct window, and landed on the fire escape.
Looking inside, she released a small gasp at the sight of her dad. He was standing over a suitcase, meticulously folding clothes and placing them inside. Abigail stood by the door, arms wrapped tightly around and her face drawn into a distraught look.
The window was opened a tad, letting in the cool air from outside, and it allowed Morgan to hear their conversation.
"I can't believe you're doing this," her mom spit out the words like they were poison. "What about Morgan? What am I supposed to tell her?"
"Tell her, her dad is about to make a big scientific discovery, and he'll be remembered in the history books."
Abigail let out a scornful laugh. "I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to her when she wakes up tomorrow and finds out her dad left without a word."
Oh.
This was –
This was the night he left them. This was the night she lost her father.
Her stomach bottomed out and Morgan felt tremors suddenly wrack across her body.
Henrik sighed like Abigail was being incredibly unreasonable.
"She'll understand. One day."
She absolutely would not!
Morgan clenched her fists, fighting down the notion to burst through the window and tell him in no uncertain terms how little she understood.
"You're delusional," Abigail said angrily. "But go, then! Leave us alone. I don't need your help!"
"Always so emotional," he grunted, snapping his suitcase shut and zipping it up. "That's why we never worked out. I can't be with someone who can't argue with reason instead of emotion."
She had seen enough, she decided. She was seconds away from flying in there and beating him to a pulp, and she didn't want to do something she knew she would regret.
Her heart raced as she flew off, and she became aware of the disappointment she felt in her chest.
Disappointment. Over what?
Had she expected to hear anything different? Perhaps she had expected this to be like in the movies, where she got to listen in on a conversation that would change her entire perspective. Had she expected to find out he was actually leaving because he was being threatened? Or that he did it to somehow protect her? That he had had some noble, loving reason this whole time?
If anything, hearing how little he cared had been a relief. She understood now, better than ever, that there was nothing she could've done to keep him around. And there was nothing she had done to make him leave, either.
No, it was clear she hadn't been a factor at all.
Yes, perhaps if her wings had started growing sooner, he would've realized his experiments had been a success, and he would've stuck around. But that still wouldn't have been out of love for her.
And then she would've been sold off to the Light and turned into a soldier against the League.
No, she realized, the best thing that could've ever happened to her was him leaving.
"Good riddance and fuck off," she mumbled to herself, as she landed back down in the outskirts of the circus camp. The show was still going strong, and she climbed up on the Grayson wagon, sitting down on the roof.
She was still shaking from anger, but she felt another knot inside of her loosening. Another thorn had been pricked from her flesh. Finally, she understood that it wasn't her fault.
Once again, the young Dick found her, easily scaling the side of the wagon to join her.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready to perform?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral. The cool air only strengthened her tremors, and she wrapped her arms around her knees.
"I'm not part of the next act. Mom says I'm still too young."
She hummed noncommittally. His mom was probably right – even though he was the only nine-year-old she'd even seen able to do a quadruple flip.
"It's unfair. I'm better than my aunt and uncle – why do they get to join when I can't?"
"Your mom just wants to protect you," Morgan mumbled.
Wait..
She felt pieces of a puzzle she hadn't been aware her brain was assembling suddenly slip into place.
"Dick, how old are you, exactly?" she asked, feeling her hands threatening to start shaking again.
"I'm nine," he said proudly, puffing out his chest.
Bruce Wayne was there tonight.
No.
"Presenting, for the last time tonight, the Flying Graysons!" Haly's voice boomed from behind the striped tarp.
Her body had led her halfway across the camp and towards the circus tent when she halted in her tracks.
You have to let go of what can't be changed.
Nightwings words of caution came to her, and she closed her eyes, horror seizing her at the knowledge. She couldn't get involved. Couldn't change anything.
She wasn't meant to be here. She wasn't meant to change anything.
Morgan took deep, rattled breaths, her knees threatening to buckle. This couldn't be it.
But it was true, wasn't it – Dick would never forgive her if he knew she had tried to meddle with his past. And as he had reminded her, changing anything would only create another timeline – it wouldn't fix anything.
"Louise? Or Morgan?" the young Dick asked, and the utterance of her real name broke her out of her panic.
But what about this Dick? Didn't he deserve another chance at the life her Dick had lost on this night?
Maybe this was exactly why she'd been sent here by some mysterious force.
She took more stumbling steps towards the tent. She could do this for him, right? She couldn't stop the act - she saw them swinging across the tent already. But she could catch them.
Except..
Her panic deepened.
Her telekinesis didn't work.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she rushed towards the tent once more, trying to access the part of her mind that her telekinesis was in. But it felt muddled and frenzied, and she knew it wasn't just because of her panic. Something had been wrong with the telekinesis since the night she had fought with Nightwing. Since the moment she had needed her telekinesis to save his life, and it hadn't been there.
But then maybe she could fly up and catch them, right?
But there was no way she could catch both. And then, how could she choose?
In the end, it didn't matter. She was several yards away from the entrance to the tent when she saw the rope snap. Every sound around her dulled and she felt as if time slowed down. She swore she could hear Mary Grayson let out a gasp, her last breath, as the trapeze slipped out of her hands.
The music grew into a cacophony of sound before it fizzled out. What followed was shocked silence.
Morgan turned around and immediately shielded the view from Dick's eyes, as he had followed her to the tent.
"Dick," she said, her cold fingers grabbing hold of his small shoulders. Her heart pounded a panicked rhythm in her chest and her thoughts flooded with what she had just seen to the point where her legs could barely support her from their shaking.
She had failed to change anything, but maybe she could – offer him some kind of wisdom, some kind of encouragement -
"Things are going to get hard for a while now , but I promise you, you'll be okay. You'll go on to do great things, and-and one day the pain will be manageable. You'll have so many people close to you that love you, and you'll be okay."
The young boy frowned, but he seemed to understand the seriousness of her words, and she impulsively pulled him into a tight hug.
She looked up through the tears building in her eyes, and her gaze went to the edge of the tree line.
Another rift had appeared.
She knew it was her ticket home. Whatever she had been sent there to do, or learn, had been completed.
The young Dick drew back from her hug and saw the look on her face. He seemed to realize this was goodbye.
"Will I see you again?" he asked, and she smiled weakly, smoothing his messy hair back.
"You'll find me in the future, and we'll be great friends. I promise. You're the most important and amazing person I'll ever meet."
He smiled, seeming to take courage from her words.
Then, loud screams broke through the bubble they were in, originating from the tent. The bubble of shock had been broken, and the entire tent erupted in shouts and shrieks.
Dick's blue eyes widened, and he looked at her, fear seeping onto his innocent face.
She had no more encouragement to give him. All she could do was offer him a look of sympathy. She wanted to hold him tight and never let go - prevent him from witnessing the sight that would greet him.
But he wiggled out of her grasp and sprinted towards the tent, hastily meeting his fate. She wasn't quick enough to grab him, and she realized there was nothing more she could do.
She looked to the fog again and she knew she had to leave. She had to believe he would be okay. She knew there would be people there to pick him up and care for him. It wasn't her place - yet.
Morgan felt like a coward, but she ran.
It took her all of ten seconds to reach the rift, but it wasn't quick enough to escape the pained screeching of a young child, calling out for his parents.
It took her longer to access the spell, her frenzied mind unable to focus for long enough.
Eventually, it worked, and she felt the rift around her shift and move, swallowing her up.
She had never been so grateful for the blankness to overtake her mind.
I'm very fond if this chapter because child Dick was A LOT of fun to write. I wanted to achieve that sort of whimsical tone with the undercurrent oh "oh fuck". I really hope that was the experience you had reading it lol, as I'm sure we ALL put the facts of the situation together a lot quicker than Morgan did.
OK so some fun BTS facts about this chapter that goes to show how writing is just trying to assemble a gigantic puzzle:
Originally, there were going to be like seven or so "timeline mission", but after finishing the first three, I realized the remaining four served no actual narrative purpose - other than like strengthening the legitimacy of the concept. I had thought about some mission where they'd meet a living Wally, or a pregnant Morgan, but none of them really carried enough meat to warrant their place in the story. So I decided instead to have the rifts disappear, and for our heroes to try to figure out why they had gone. This created a new opportunity - at this point, I had also decided that they two of them weren't going to reunite at the end of the Jason plot, so that meant we'd get less time with them being an adorable couple, since the reunion would come much later. Since I had axed a giant portion of the 2nd act by removing the extra missions, I decided to instead add some cute scenes between the two of them, so we'd get some pre-relationship. Like the birthday or the yoga thing. So instead of missions, we have a lull in the action that focused on bonding.
This plot where Morgan goes to the past to see child Dick, and his parents death, was the only on of the missions I didn't want to ax. Originally, I had planned for Karen and Barbara to join - hence their conversation at the Watchtower about wishing they could go on a mission with them. I had also planned for this mission to be without Dick, which was originally why he was injured in the Yellow Lantern attack - it was a way for him to get benched.
Obviously, things ended up completely different, so now the convo w Babs and Karen at the watchtower is technically pointless. Dick getting injured became more about allowing Morgan to be there for him and working on her own feelings. And this time travel plot stopped being a mission and instead became a moment of reckoning for Morgan. It became about her seeing her dad.
It's funny because a lot of the pieces are the same, but the way they're being used in the puzzle is completely different.
Anyway, thats all for now! I hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think!
