Chapter 30: Already Burning


October 13th

Somewhere over the Atlantic

Morgan

The bioship was silent, and it was not the comfortable kind. Morgan could feel Dick's eyes burn holes into the back of her skull, but she stood unmoving, watching the endless expanse of ocean stretch out before them as they sped across the Atlantic.

Europe was hours behind them, but the sun had barely moved from its position in the sky; a testament to the speed of the Bioship. A small part of her wished they could keep flying, keep chasing the sun forever. If night was never allowed to fall, then she could pretend the day was never over, and she wasn't one day closer to death.

She heard Dick shift in the captain's seat behind her, briefly cutting through the silence. Zatanna had chosen to stay behind with Diana. She had said something about studying the usefulness of the magic they had used to summon the Fates. Morgan wondered if perhaps Zatanna had also dreaded the prospect of traveling for hours with the two of them, given their situation.

Dick had spent the first several hours making at least a dozen calls. Planning, strategizing, arguing. He had sprung into action immediately – always looking for the way out, looking for the thing that would solve their predicament and save all of them.

She admired that quality in him. She admired a lot in him.

Morgan let her gaze drop to her feet. During their last talk, after all between them had been said, she had allowed herself to hope.. allowed herself to admit that she didn't want to stay broken up. She wanted him back.

She almost looked back at him on pure instinct, but she knew if she did, the silent spell would be broken, and he would approach her. Would try to talk to her.

Morgan wasn't ready for that yet. She still felt numb from what Diana had revealed. She was still stuck grieving the life she apparently wasn't meant to have. She bitterly thought about how she'd wasted the last nine months of her life struggling with herself and her worth. Denied herself the one thing she wanted above all – him.

Now, she realized it was too late. She knew Dick would take her back with open arms if she so desired, and it would feel as if no time had passed at all.

But in a month's time, they would be ripped apart again, and he would be left heartbroken. She couldn't do that to him. She couldn't undo all those months of progress he'd already made. Besides, they were going to be very busy from now on. Morgan suspected she wasn't going to be seeing her own apartment for a while. If she guessed correctly, the Bioship would be her home for the foreseeable future as they flew across the world to seal up rifts, however futile she suspected it was. And then, in a month..

God, she wanted to be like Dick. Have complete faith that they could fix this. She wanted to not believe in fate like him. But it became increasingly difficult when she had been possessed by Fate only hours ago. When she'd been tormented by visions of her own death for months. All of those other things she'd seen in her dreams – the water, the circus tent, the ruins.. all of it had come to pass.

Black Beetle was already in Gotham.

Her mind began scrambling with all the things she needed to get in order before that day. She needed to terminate her lease. She needed to donate all her stuff – Julie would probably be pleased with the extensive mug-collection and all the books the shelter would receive.

She needed to figure out her life insurance. She had to transfer all the money she had left from her father's inheritance and give it all to her mom.

Morgan halted her frantic thoughts.

Would any of this even matter? If the timelines merged, wouldn't Earth be taken by the Reach? Wouldn't they all die, or leave the planet?

No, that was unacceptable. Morgan understood at this point that the merge was inevitable. But that didn't mean they couldn't use the knowledge they had to change the outcome. Earth could still be won. Perhaps not for her or all the people who, like her, would disappear because they were already dead in the other timeline. She didn't dare guess who. She knew Connor was one of them. Kaldur and Artemis too, presumably.

But what about all the people who could still be saved?

She had to believe that the remaining heroes could still save the world - that donating her stuff and ensuring her mom would be compensated would end up mattering after all.

She had other stuff she needed to clear up, too.

"There's something I have to tell you," she said, speaking up for the first time since they left Greece.

"No." Dick's voice was deceptively calm.

Of all the responses she had expected, that hadn't been one. She unwound her crossed arms and turned towards him with furrowed brows.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

He looked at his screen with a stiff face, taping keys on the control panel. "Whatever you're about to say, you're only saying it because you think you're going to die in a month."

Her mouth dropped open and she wanted to hiss at him to stop reading her mind. She pushed past the raging coil of emotion in her stomach at how dismissive he was being, knowing he was just trying to deal with this the best way he knew how.

"You heard the Fates back there," she reminded him. "It couldn't have been clearer."

"I heard Diana translate for some ancient, unknown entity whom she had just described as tricky. That doesn't mean anything. Their statement could be understood a number of ways."

"Always the skeptic," she said, her nostrils flaring with annoyance. "I'm not going to have this fight with you for a month straight."

"Good," he still wouldn't meet her eyes. "Don't."

She said she wasn't going to have this fight – but damn if his complete lack of engagement didn't bait her into it after all.

"And what about the visions I've been having?" she asked, watching him close his eyes and lean back, drawing a deep breath. "Everything I've seen ended up happening. I've seen my fight with Black Beetle dozens of times by now and I know it's where I'm headed!"

"They're dreams," he said through gritted teeth. "You're not going to die."

"Why are you being so dismissive? You've been telling me for months to trust my own gut, but this time I'm supposed to ignore it because you don't like what I'm sensing?"

He sat stock still, but she could read the lines of his body clearly. He was seconds away from blowing up. If she kept pushing, she would get him to voice out loud how he really felt.

"So, my dreams, the Fates, our trips to the other timeline, my gut – none of that matters? You just get to decide what's right? Dick, you have to accept that this is going to happen!"

"No, I don't, because I'm not letting it!" he shouted, his voice sounding like a whip cracking through the air. He jumped out of his seat and started towards her with an intensity and power to his presence that sent her stumbling a step back.

His voice was hard as steel and his eyes flashed with unbreakable determination. "I don't care about the Fates and about your dreams and what the other Dick told us in the other timeline. God himself could descend on a cloud and tell me that you have to die, and I would tell him to fuck off." He drew a shuddering breath and his voice took on a vulnerable timbre when he spoke next. "I'm not letting you die."

It sounded like a plea and a promise all in one.

The strength in his stance, the lightning flashing in his eyes and the harsh breaths he took, expanding and collapsing his chest, all showed her the seriousness of his conviction. She didn't doubt that he would go to the ends of the known world if it was what he needed to do.

It was enough that she, for a moment, believed him.

Warmth spread across her chest and before Morgan realized herself, she had bound forward and jumped into his embrace. Dick caught her and pulled her to him fiercely, his arms like vices around her. Morgan buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her legs around his torso, clinging to him with a desperation that would've felt embarrassing in any other situation.

"Thank you, for not giving up on me," she mumbled against the blue shoulder pad of his suit. She shivered when she could feel his breath rush along the crook of her neck, where he had hidden his face. A hand came up and dug into the curly hair at the back of her head and she felt like all her senses went into overdrive.

"Never." His voice was muffled by her hair, but his intensions were no less clear.

She was unsure how long they stood like that. The ocean kept rushing past with no land in sight. Surely, his arms must've been aching by now. Morgan's thighs shook when she finally unwound them from around his body and let her feet touch the floor. He had bent over to ease her descent and as she straightened, she found his face dangerously close. His arms were still around her and his eyes searched her face for something – she wished she knew what, so she could give it to him.

His hand came up to cradle her face, thumb running over the cut she had suffered on her cheekbone from their confrontation with Jason. It was a scar by now, one she knew would fade with time, but which stood out white against her skin now.

Against her better judgment, Morgan's eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into the touch. Her response made the arm he had resting on her waist clench and pull her closer.

"Morgan," he whispered her name with all the reverence of a prayer, and his nose bumped against hers.

With a seizing heart, she looked at their feet and pressed her forehead to his chest, stopping herself before she claimed from him the kiss that she knew he'd wanted to give her several times over by now.

The chest she leaned against rose in a deep sigh and she wrapped her arms tightly around him in response. Guilt mixed with desire deep in her stomach. But she couldn't bear that he might think she was rejecting him because she didn't want him.

"It's probably best that we.. that we don't.." Morgan trailed off, her voice dying in her throat. She couldn't kiss him when she knew what waited for her in a month. "Not when I don't know if I'm even still here in a month."

"You're not going to die." His voice was impossibly soft.

She smiled sadly against his chest. "Then what's the hurry?"

Dick was still, but he didn't let her go.

"What was it you wanted to tell me?" he whispered, coming back to the thing that had started their conversation.

Morgan froze. She had almost forgotten about the confession she'd been about to make before he had stopped her.

Part of her felt bad – after all, she had promised not to tell anyone. But with how things were going, she didn't want any secrets between Dick and her.

Morgan left him go and instantly felt the loss of his warm body pressed against hers. She went towards the sleeping bags that they had left shoved into the corner of the ship and sat down on one of them. Looking at him, she saw Dick deliberate for a moment before joining her.

Morgan heaved a sigh and look at him seriously. She had no idea how he would react to what she told him.

"When I was in a coma after the fight at the Fortress of Solitude, I wasn't just.. gone. I went somewhere. And I.. I met Wally."

Dick frowned deeply. Clearly, whatever he had expected her to reveal, this hadn't been it.

"Okay?"

"I mean, it was like my soul left my body and I went to this other dimension or something. Wally was stuck there."

"Sounds like a dream."

Morgan pursed her lips. She had expected him to say that.

"It wasn't a dream. It was more real than that," raking a hand through her hair, she wished she could explain the sensation better. "Don't you believe me?"

Dick studied her and shrugged carefully. "I believe that you believe it wasn't a dream. And I respect that you believe it."

Morgan shot him an unimpressed look. "That's such a Dick Grayson thing to say."

He held up his hands in surrender.

"I can prove it wasn't a dream! I saw you when you were at the Watchtower, looking over me," she waved her hand at him. "You grabbed my hand!"

That gave Dick pause. He tilted his head at her.

"So, you say you met Wally. Why?"

"Why? I have no idea why! I just woke up and he was there."

"Why haven't you told me this before, if you really believe that was Wally?"

Tugging at a lock of hair, she grimaced.

"He made me promise not to. He said he didn't want to cause any more pain."

"That does sound like Wally," Dick admitted with a quiet voice after some deliberation. Then, he unconsciously patted one of the pouches on his belt as if he had suddenly remembered something.

Morgan watched with interest as he seemed to carry an internal debate for a moment.

"I have something to tell you too. I also met someone." He opened the pouch and pulled out a piece of paper. Morgan could tell it was a picture and the curiosity only grew when he pulled it close against his chest so she couldn't see any of it.

Dick awkwardly cleared his throat. She looked at him with what was meant to be encouragement.

"When we were at the manor in the other timeline, I met, uh.. Alex. Alexander."

Morgan frowned. "Alex?"

His next words couldn't have stunned her more.

"Our son."

As if that wasn't enough, he finally moved the picture from his front and held it out for her to take. She was almost about to kick it out of his hands, so she'd never get to see it, but her curiosity won over her fear.

She looked at the little family in the picture, at the red and wrinkly little thing that was apparently her child, and the her that had just given birth to him. The love and tenderness she saw on the face of the Dick in the picture made a stuttering breath blow past her lips.

Letting her hand fall into her lap, her gaze found the eyes of the man sitting across from her, and the look he wore as he beheld her was scarily identical to the one she had just seen in the picture.

Terrifying. He was terrifying, but in the most thrilling way.

"This is.." she trailed off, at a loss for words.

"Insane," he suggested.

Morgan nodded.

"He has your wings," Dick cleared his throat. "I bumped into him in the hallway. The other Dick gave me that picture. I'm not sure why. Maybe he thought I needed the encouragement."

The encouragement..

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Why was her voice so breathless?

He appeared sheepish, looking down and scratching the back of his neck. "We weren't exactly on the kind of terms where it seemed like a good idea to mention."

"True," she conceded. She handed him the picture back, but Dick held up his hand.

"Keep it. I've had it for a while."

She was about to insist, because she wasn't sure how she was supposed to possess this picture and not go insane from it. But she made to place it in one of the pouches of her utility belt, before she remembered that she'd lost it in the fight against Jason and had yet to replace it. She reached for her backpack and put it in one of the pockets instead.

Morgan thought about M'gann, and how she'd reacted upon finding out she was pregnant. She had felt that it was crazy she was at an age where her friends got pregnant – on purpose.

Certainly, she'd never thought about kids all that much. She'd know she'd had a kid in the other dimension. And she'd been reminded during many of her dreams.

What a terrifying prospect. She wasn't sure that she even wanted kids – kids made heroing complicated. And she was only twenty one! She wasn't weird for not thinking about kids, or for being unsure whether she wanted them, even though she knew that the other her had gotten a kid. Really, that knowledge had only made her extra cautious when it came to the two of them using protection. She wasn't about to make the same mistake in two separate timelines.

And yet, as her inner eye couldn't stop recalling the picture she'd just seen..

Well, now that she knew she likely only had a month left to live, she desperately wished she could have experienced that with Dick. She didn't doubt that if she was allowed to live, they would have reunited and then who knew.. in a few years time..

She chanced a look at Dick and the way he regarded her plainly revealed his stance on the subject.

Morgan cleared her throat awkwardly and started aimlessly straightening out the sleeping bag she sat on.

"When do we arrive?"

The question burst their bubble and reality came crashing back. Dick got up, heading for the control panel.

"Five hours. You should get some sleep."

"Only if you sleep too."

"I-" she was sure he was about to release a river of excuse for why he didn't have time to sleep, but she held up a hand.

"I'm not letting you work on this alone. If you want me to sleep, then you sleep. Otherwise, we stay up and work together to figure out our next step."

He regarded her, weighing his options.

"Okay," he relented, and then he came back over and lay down on one of the sleeping bags. "We'll sleep for a few hours and then we'll work on a plan."

Morgan nodded. "Agreed."

She lay down with her back to him, feeling immensely awkward as she listened to him shuffle around shortly before settling down himself. Part of her wished she had the guts to turn around and reach for him, cuddle into his side. But she knew why she shouldn't, and so she kept to herself. Eventually, she began to relax, and she felt sleep creep in on her. Briefly, she worried that she would have another nightmare, but her thoughts muddled before she had fully registered the fear, and then she was asleep.


October 20th

Blüdhaven

Dick

Dick sat at his kitchen table with his head in his hands. His eyes swam from exhaustion, but he couldn't allow himself to go to sleep yet. His mind kept going over the time he had spent at the Watchtower most of the day, and the information he had been given. There was a lot to go over and he'd spent long hours working out their plan once he had gone home.

Now, he was exhausted after days with little sleep and constant worrying. But he couldn't sleep yet.

Not when Morgan wasn't here.

He looked up at the watch on his wall. It was late – surely, she should be here by now. He thought about texting her, but he stopped himself. He knew she only had so much patience for his worrying, and she'd already been annoyed at how much he had protested her going to her apartment alone.

Black Beetle had been spotted in Gotham only hours ago. Why he had chosen Gotham to keep blinking in and out of existence in, was beyond him. Couldn't it have been any other city? It felt like a cruel joke, crafted specifically to haunt him.

The only upside was that it had made Morgan agree to stay at his apartment for the time being. And despite everything, he did consider it an upside.

Half an hour passed, and he felt himself nodding in and out of sleep.

It was well past midnight by now. Why wasn't she here?

Something must've happened. Dick jumped out of his seat, already heading for his shoes and jacket. Maybe it wasn't too late - perhaps Black Beetle hadn't got to her yet, and he could save her still.

He had been stupid for letting her go. He never should have let her go.

The lock on his front door gave a little click and the door swung open, revealing Morgan with a duffle bag.

Dick almost sagged with relief at seeing her looking exactly as she had when she'd left earlier. She was unharmed.

"Why are you standing in the middle of the room like that?" she wondered, and he shook his head before pulling her into a hug.

"I was just worried," he admitted against the top of her curly head. He drew a relieved sigh to have her in his arms.

"I just went to get some of my stuff," she protested, though without much fire.

A lie. She'd been gone for far too long for that. He wouldn't pry, however. She was allowed her privacy, especially these days. He could feel her close off to the world – to him – more and more with each passing day. He knew, despite his promises, that she was preparing to die.

He hated it. He wished he could take away the fear. He wished he could whisk her off to some far-off planet where nothing could reach her – not even the fate she had resigned herself to.

But hiding her away wouldn't matter if the timelines merged. She could be on the other side of the galaxy, and she would still disappear, along with their current reality. Just like Connor, Barry and all of the others who were already dead in that timeline.

"Hungry?" he asked, heading for the fridge. He was pretty sure he had some bread lying around. Perhaps some leftovers from last night?

"Starving," she responded, putting the duffle bag down with a heavy thud, and jumping onto the chair he'd just sat on. Her usual perch when he was in the kitchen.

"All we have is bread," he said apologetically, digging through his food cupboard. "But there's PB and J."

"My favorite," she said neutrally, and then gave him a patronizing smile when he narrowed his eyes at her. He could tell when she was making fun of him.

"I could go to the late-night store if the selection is so horrible," he offered with a sarcastic lilt.

Morgan considered his suggestion and then hopped off the chair. He watched as she shrugged on her jacket and slipped back into her shoes.

"Let's go." She raised an eyebrow at him as he stood, bread in one hand, and jelly in the other.

"For real?"

"If I'm going to die in three weeks, I'm not wasting one of my previous last few meals on a PB and J."

He frowned at her as he put down bread and jelly. He wanted to say that she shouldn't joke about stuff like that, that he had promised that she wouldn't die. But he could understand that she would feel the need to make jokes. He would've been surprised if Morgan, of all people, hadn't felt compelled to joke about her own death.

So instead of a lecture, he quickly went over to put on his shoes, and then followed her out and into the dark streets.

"Besides, we don't know when the timelines start merging for real and shit really hits the fan. It's probably a good idea to stock up – who knows when we'll get the chance to buy groceries again."

Well, he couldn't fault that logic.

For now, things were.. well, he wouldn't say calm. They were weird. The rifts had changed in nature, perhaps because of the merger rapidly approaching, and so they kept shifting around. The Watchtower would get reports of a large rift somewhere, with Reach blinking in and out of existence, or buildings collapsing and then reappearing. The heroes would mobilize a squad to deal with it, counting on Morgan to seal the rift. But then, once they arrived, the rift would be gone, and their reality would have resettled. It had quickly become apparent that they were wasting their time this way, and so they had turned their attention onto another solution.

"The only place that'll be open now is Walmart," he said, digging the keys to his bike out of his pocket. "We'll have to drive."

He did his best to focus on the streets as they sped along them but it was difficult, his mind distracted by how tired he was and how tightly she had her arms wrapped around his torso.

They reached their destination safely, however. A few minutes later, they were walking along the seemingly endless aisles of Walmart. Dick pushed the cart as he allowed Morgan to pile whatever she wanted into it.

"How did your, uh, group assignment go today?" she asked, looking up and down the aisle. The Walmart was mostly empty due to the late hour. Dick saw tired college students or nightshift-workers walk about, but that was mostly it.

He thought about the meeting. The plan that had been proposed, that he didn't like. He looked back at Morgan, who stood with two different tubs of Ben and Jerry as she deliberated on which to choose.

"We're going to build a machine that can broadcast the spell across the entire planet in one go. Seal every rift at once," he mumbled, grabbing a bag of doritos, and throwing it in their cart.

Morgan looked up at him with interest. "That sounds promising." Turning back to the two ice creams, she shrugged and then threw both in the cart.

Dick grimaced. "Barry wants to use the MFD's left behind by the Reach," he revealed, trying to work past the distaste the idea left in his mouth. "The technology was so effective at covering the entire planet with only a few touchpoints."

"I thought they were field disruptors. How does that help?" She gave the cart a small tug, and Dick dutifully followed her down the aisle and into the next. Morgan started going through their fresh produce, piling potatoes, onions, carrots, and other vegetables into the cart.

"They can be tweaked, he says. It's more their broadcasting ability we're trying to use, not what they did."

Morgan halted, regarding him cautiously. She must've clearly read the hesitance on him because she tilted her head and grabbed onto the side of the cart so he couldn't escape her eyes.

"You don't like it."

Dick sighed deeply and stepped closer to allow his low voice to carry without anyone else hearing.

"That technology killed Wally," he worked past the lump he instantly felt in his throat. "I don't trust it."

She looked up at him again, and Dick took a hasty step back upon realizing he'd gotten a bit too close.

"We're going to use it in a completely different way," she reminded him. "And with magic. It'll be fine. It might even work."

He wished she wasn't so dismissive, but he knew exactly why.

She was the one that stood to be in danger if the tech failed. Now that the spell had been transferred to her entirely, Dick was out of the picture. And as he'd started to realize after their deal with Red Hood, Morgan firmly believed letting herself get hurt in service of the greater good was acceptable.

She led them down another aisle and pulled out a bottle of hard liquor. Dick raised an eyebrow.

She raised one back. "As if we both don't need it a little bit."

He didn't have any arguments against that.

He looked at her profile as she stood trying to choose between two bottles of rum. Her hair was pulled back by colorful pins and his eyes traced the dusting of freckles she had along her nose. Right now, she looked full of life. The spark he usually saw in her eyes was diminished, but there was a strength to her body still, even though she also looked worn.

But she looked alive.

Was she willing to die for the sake of the world?

The very thought made a chill run down his spine because he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was. You didn't enter this business if you weren't prepared for that sacrifice. He tried to put away the worry – they only had three weeks until her fate was decided. And the fate of countless others. He couldn't allow himself to fall into despair. He had to fix this – everyone was counting on him to fix this.

He had to fix this.

Morgan must have sensed the way his mood had soured because she didn't say anything else. They wrapped up their shopping in silence and as they went outside, Dick felt his exhaustion intensify.

"Do you know how to ride a bike?" he asked, holding the keys aloft.

Morgan bit her bottom lip and shrugged. "How hard could it be?"

"Harder than you seem to think," he mumbled. "Never mind."

"No, no, show me!" she insisted, snatching the keys from him. "You're clearly too tired to drive."

"Aren't you?" he wondered because he knew she was getting little sleep too.

Morgan shrugged. "I've been dealing with it for months."

It wasn't like Dick wasn't used to long periods with little sleep. He just usually didn't find himself as emotionally invested in the cases he was working, and he suspected that's what was really draining him.

He loaded their bags of groceries onto the back of the bike and then allowed Morgan to sit at the front. Dick scooted close so he could guide her over her shoulder, and she lowered her wings for him to better see. As he leaned over, her curls got in the way and he gently pushed her hair to the side, ignoring the goosebumps he saw erupt across her exposed neck.

"Okay, so this is the clutch," he grabbed her hand and made her press down the lever on the left handle. "Keep your hold on that and then press the start button to your right.."


It took him a second to wake up, his exhausted mind stubbornly wishing to stay asleep now that he finally got to.

But the sound of someone screaming bloody murder was too much to sleep through. He jumped up on the couch, eyes blinking through the darkness of his living room until they found the door to his bedroom. The source of the screaming.

He sat, frozen – should he wake her? Usually, she woke up on her own pretty fast, but this one seemed to be dragging out.

Before he could finish deliberating, her screaming stopped. There was silence for a moment, and then he heard shuffling. The door opened softly, and Morgan appeared.

She stood, illuminated in the streetlight that streamed through his window, wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, with her curls wild and all over the place. Her eyes found his and she looked so lost that he felt his heart clench.

Tears were streaming down her face and at the sight of them, Dick was on his feet, gathering his blanket and pillow in his arms. Without a word, he walked past her into the bedroom and threw his things onto the bed. He was sure he looked groggy, and he could only guess to the condition of his bedhead, but none of that mattered.

Morgan approached him and he gathered her into his arms, scooping her up with an arm around her back and one under her knees. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, hugging him tightly. He squeezed her close in response.

He crawled into the bed, never letting her go, and lay down. Morgan curled into him, and Dick hurriedly flung a blanket over them before wrapping both arms tightly around her shaking form. She tried to keep in the tremors, but she wasn't succeeding. For long minutes, her body trembled, and he lay stroking her hair, her arm, her back, while quietly shushing her and mumbling short reassurances. Eventually, she began to calm down, and her breathing evened out. The hand she had fisted tightly in his t-shirt relaxed and she nestled against him with a deep, tired sigh.

Neither wanted to talk about it, but both knew her nightmares were getting worse. Morgan wasn't one to let a nightmare send her into a panic attack, and Dick understood that it was more than a bad dream.

She didn't speak of them – and he didn't ask. He knew she wouldn't tell him. Instead, this had become their routine every night. She would wake them both from screaming, and then he would go to her and chase away the shadows that were drowning her. How long would this last? He wasn't sure. He suspected the only thing that would stop the night terrors was closing the rifts for good and then removing that cursed spell from her. He felt sure that the reason her dreams had intensified was because she now carried all of it by herself.

Guilt gnawed at him. He didn't understand how or why, but he knew the spell had drained from him and into her because he had walked away from her on the rooftop that night.

Breaking out of his thoughts, Dick looked down at her and realized she was asleep once more.

With a deep sigh, he pulled her closer and allowed himself to drift off. He knew she would wake up before him in the morning and leave so they could both pretend this wasn't their sleeping arrangement. At some point, there had been a silent, unspoken agreement to not acknowledge the situation-ship they were in – if it could even be called that. But as long as the fate of the planet hung in the balance, he knew that they couldn't afford to spend time trying to figure themselves out.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. He resented the fact that he wasn't afforded the luxury of caring about his personal life.

But Morgan was right - if he knew with absolute certainty that they'd find a way to mend the rifts, then there was no rush. In three weeks, they would have fixed their timeline - and then the two of them could find out what came next.

They still had time.

For now, he allowed himself to savor the closeness, allowed himself to drift off to the lulling sensation of her slow breathing against his chest.

Tomorrow would bring a new day with new struggles. For now, all he perceived was this bed, in this room, with this woman.


October 25th

Watchtower

Sparrow

The Watchtower used to feel like a cold place, but right now it felt like safety. Morgan knew Dick was being overly cautious by constantly tracking any appearance of Black Beetle. But his worry still got to her, and though she wanted to pretend sleeping at his place was just to ease his worry, she would be lying if she said it wasn't also to ease her own.

But the Watchtower was still untouchable. Here, she knew for sure Black Beetle wouldn't get to her.

"Sparrow, are you ready?" asked Barry, breaking Morgan out of her musings. He stood by a control panel across from the platform she had been placed on. Adam Strange had fastened a helmet on her, and a few electrodes at chosen parts of her body to monitor her health as they went along with their experiments. Next to Barry stood Nabu and Zatanna, who were there to oversee the magical part of their work. While Barry and Adam worked on repurposing the Reach MFD's to suit their new purpose, Zatanna and Nabu found incantations, symbols, and talismans to magically strengthen the broadcast.

So far so good. All that was left was for all their theoretical work to turn into a tangible, physical machine that could actually do the job. This was the first test run with her activating the spell, while connected to the prototype of the machine.

Morgan nodded cautiously to show Barry she had heard him. Nightwing stood to the side of the room, watching with a blank face – which she knew meant he was worried.

She closed her eyes and focused on the spell. Like she had done in the forest weeks ago, and many times since, she now accessed the part of her memories that stored the magic and allowed it to activate. The darkness slowly turned to gold, and she felt her mind humming as power rushed along her skin. It felt like electricity was zapping at every single one of her nerve endings, and she wouldn't have been surprised if she opened her eyes and found out they had stuck her finger in an electrical socket as a bad prank.

She didn't reopen her eyes – she knew all she would see was gold. But from the gasp that escaped Adam, she assumed golden tendrils were erupting from her body, spreading out across the room. She had seen the videos recorded during their first test run. Since her vision had always been taken over by gold, she had never actually seen what the spell looked like while activated. Dick had described it to her a few times, but his description had fallen short, compared to the video she had seen. The spell, despite what it was doing to her, was beautiful when activated.

She heard them talk with excited tones, the hollow echoing of Nabu's voice standing out from the rest. The loud humming in her mind made it difficult to hear what they were saying, and so she concentrated on keeping the spell steady. At some point, she realized that she was floating. Her entire body was vibrating, and it was starting to hurt, like the spell was tearing at her from the inside.

"You can stop now!" someone called out, and she immediately let go, wondering if they had called out to her a few times without her hearing them.

She felt like someone had dropped a weight onto her and she crumbled to the floor, her head spinning and her vision still swimming with gold.

Hands grabbed her and supported her into an upright position. Morgan blinked rapidly and rubbed at her eyes, wishing her vision would clear faster than it did. The room was awkwardly silent, as the five people present seemingly waited for her vision to come back before they spoke once more.

Her eyes cleared and she looked expectantly at Barry and Adam, ignoring the stinging she felt under her skin. She took a step forward, leaving Dick's supporting hands behind. She couldn't afford to have him that close. Their nights together were difficult enough – her control and resolve were hanging on by a thread.

"Thanks," Barry said, looking over the readings they had gathered. "We got what we need for now – you should go get some lunch or something and we'll be ready to try again in a couple of hours."

"Cool," she said, keeping in a wince as she walked away. She kept her voice casual. "I'll stick around, if you need me sooner."

Reaching the door, she turned and faced the room. Adam Strange and Flash were busy discussing the information they had gathered, and Nabu stood still as a pillar in the background, surveying their work. Zatanna was rifling through the purple tome, which she was still working on translating fully. In the middle of the platform, where Morgan had stood during their test, was Nightwing, looking forlornly at her.

Morgan lowered her eyes. She knew he hated that he'd been left behind on this – he was there to oversee the project because he felt personally responsible, but he didn't actually have anything to do, aside from some helpful suggestions and brainstorming when Barry and Adam hit a roadblock. He had helped them build the actual machine, as well as worked on some of the software. He was a brilliant mind in many ways – but he wasn't a physicist or a scientist.

Now that he wasn't carrying part of the spell, he had been shoved to the side, made to watch the rest of them work. She almost considered it a blessing because it meant she could keep him at arm's length. Every day, it became harder and harder to keep away from him, to deny the wants and desires. But she had promised herself she wouldn't – she had to protect him from the heartache it would cause further down the road.

Morgan's gaze found Zatanna again.

"Z, a word?" she said, and the sorceress looked up at her.

"Sure," Zatanna said, snapping the book shut and leaving it behind. Morgan staunchly ignored Dick's gaze, not wanting to deal with the guilt she felt for not including him.

The two women went into the hallway.

"Can you do your spell thing so we can talk in private?" Morgan requested, motioning with her hands for Zatanna to speak an incantation.

"Llaw fo Ecnelis" Zatanna spoke, waving her arm over her head, and Morgan saw a bubble appear, forming a thin barrier around them. She thought it looked sorta like cling wrap.

"What's up?" Zatanna studied her shrewdly and Morgan bit into her bottom lip, gnawing at it in her worry.

"Something's up with the spell," she explained. "It.. hurts. I don't think it's good for me to carry all of it at once. It wasn't like this when Dick had the other half."

That gave Zatanna pause. She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Is it all the time, or just when you use it?"

"So far, just when I use it. But the nightmares are way more intense too – they used to just be dreams, but I can feel them physically, now."

"So, you feel like you're getting burned? Or stabbed?" Zatanna's voice grew softer, worried. She regarded Morgan with sympathy. It made Morgan look away. She nodded.

She quickly moved on, hating the reaction her admittance drew from Zatanna. The sorceress looked horrified, and Morgan was tempted to assure her that it wasn't such a big deal – not when she had a few weeks left, after all.

"I can tell my body is stressed out because my telekinesis's gone completely haywire. I can't use it or control it at all – it's like my metagene is trying to fight the danger, but the danger is coming from inside so it doesn't know what to do."

"I don't know a lot about magical dreams," Zatanna admitted. "But I can look into it."

"No, that's not –" Morgan shook her head dismissively. "You need to focus on getting this machine up and running. I just need you to be honest with me – If I use this machine to broadcast the spell across the world.. will it work?"

She fixed Zatanna with a discerning look and her friend considered the question for a moment.

"I- I think it will." Zatanna crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her feet, body language that didn't instill much confidence in Morgan.

"Zatanna, please," she pleaded. She had to know this was worth it.

Zatanna met her eyes and nodded resolutely. "This will work."

Morgan gnawed at her thumbnail, searching Zatanna's face for any uncertainty.

Then, she nodded. "Good."

She didn't ask her other question, though it hung between them.

Will I survive?

"Let's go get some lunch," she said, making to leave their little private bubble.

"Morgan." Zatanna made her halt in her tracks and face her once more. She looked to be in pain. "If this thing with the spell gets worse, tell me. We can look into it."

"Okay, I will," Morgan lied.

Down the hall they went, heading for the cantina.

"Don't tell Dick," Morgan leaned close and spoke in a low voice. "He's worried enough as it is."

"I make it a habit to not discuss you with him." Zatanna tried to sound lighthearted. "I never understand what's going on between you two."

"I don't think we really know either," Morgan mumbled, wishing to death that the heat that rose to her face wasn't visible. "This isn't exactly the time."

"Are you sure about that?"

Morgan nodded resolutely and then sped up once she saw the entrance to the canteen. She wasn't hungry, but she wanted the conversation to end, and going to get some food was a nice excuse.

The selection wasn't inspiring, but the pasta was okay. By now, everyone at the Watchtower knew about the situation they were in – and they knew about the doom hanging over Morgan's head.

She hated that part the most. The next person that tried to give her a well-meaning attempt at a pep talk or awkwardly expressed sympathies – she would brawl with them. She didn't care who it was.

Zatanna had gone back to the lab and Morgan sat alone, picking at her lunch. She hoped she looked unapproachable – she truly just wanted to be left alone. At one point, a Leaguer had tried to approach her, and she'd leveled on them such a glare that they had turned on their heel and walked back to where they had come from.

"Eat."

She peeked over her shoulder to see Nightwing looking at her barely touched plate.

"You need to keep your strength up," he said.

"I'm fine."

He sat down across from her, his eyes roving over her face. She imagined he was looking at the deep bruises under her eyes and the way her cheekbones had become just a bit too pronounced.

"You've lost weight."

"I'm not hungry," she dismissed. To show that she meant it, she pushed her plate back. It was difficult to stomach food these days, even though she had made a big show of buying a lot of stuff last week.

He pushed it in front of her again.

"You need to eat, or I'm pulling you from this project."

She looked at him, incredulous. "You don't have that authority."

"Don't I?" he said in a way that distinctly sounded like 'try me'.

"You need the spell for this to work," she countered. "You can't pull me."

"Then I guess the project fails."

She let out a helpless laugh at how ridiculous he was being.

"You're willing to risk the entire planet over a plate of pasta?"

He leaned forward and studied her with a gaze so intense, she felt heat pool into her lower stomach.

"How far do you think I'm willing to go to have you take care of yourself?" His eyes studied her with ill-concealed hunger, and she had to look away before she did something stupid. Food wasn't what she wanted, right now. Not when he looked at her like that.

She pulled the plate closer and took another bite of pasta. He could win this one. If for no other reason, then because her cheeks were blazing hot, and she couldn't meet his eyes.

By the time she was halfway through her serving, someone else came over to sit beside Nightwing. Morgan looked up and saw Red Robin there, with Batman, Oracle and Robin close behind.

Oh no, was another well-meaning speech about to happen? From Batman of all people?

She had said she was going to fight the next person that tried to offer sympathies, she just hadn't expected it would be the entire pack of bats.

Instead of trying to console her, however, Batman pulled out a belt from beneath his cape. It looked to be their standard utility belt, except the little bat at the front had been switched out for a pair of gray wings.

She looked them all over with clear confusion.

"We know you lost your things during the fight with Red Hood," Tim said, accepting the belt from Batman and sliding it in her direction. "And we figured you could probably need a replacement."

She hesitated before taking the belt in her hands. It was heavier than her old one, and as she looked through a few of the pouches, she realized why. The belt was filled to the brim with a variety of the gadgets Batman and his protegees used. Smoke bombs, flash bombs, wire, lock picks, multitools.. They had even fashioned a few batarangs to look like wings, akin to Robin's birdarangs.

"I-"

"And we figured it was about time you had one of these," Barbara came forward and placed a comm earpiece on the table. "So, you can stay in contact with the rest of us when you're out on patrol."

"Guys, this is-" she searched for the right words. She was touched but confused. "I know I trained under Nightwing but I'm not-"

"Are you honestly still trying to pretend you're not part of our team?" Red Robin asked, tilting his head to the side with a smile pulling at his lips. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

".."

She had nothing to say. Dick was looking at her with a wide smile, and she felt warmth pool into her stomach. Was she being adopted into a superhero family right now?

"Once you two have fixed the timelines, we'll introduce you to our usual schedule and find out what works for you. Since Robin is going to be working more with the Team, we could use the extra set of hands. You don't have to do any more or less than you want to." Batman's gravelly voice sounded unaffected. "But if you're going to keep being active in Gotham, you should have the right equipment, and you should be able to contact backup when you need it. And we'd like to know we can count on you in an emergency."

She nodded to show she understood and then she clutched the belt to her. Something akin to hope blossomed in her chest, and the belt offered her more comfort than all the other pep talks she'd received, combined.

"Thanks." She couldn't tell if she wanted to go hide somewhere or if she wanted to jump with joy. She tried to keep her reaction neutral under the many watchful eyes currently on her. The only one that seemed hesitant was Robin, but he was the one she knew the least, so she didn't hold it against him. The young boy stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his face carefully neutral.

She looked at Batman the longest, trying to discern if he was on board with this, or if his team had forced his hand. She knew they relationship wasn't the most solid. He had tried to control her relationship with Nightwing, and she had said some mean things in return.

He gave her a subtle nod.

"Well, try it on!" Barbara encouraged.

Morgan got up from the table, stumbling on her way as her boot got caught by the edge of the bench.

The belt was heavy on her hips, but it clicked into place perfectly, sitting snuggly against her suit, but without being too tight.

"This is great," she smiled genuinely at the group watching her. "Thank you so much."

"I'll have to teach you how to throw the birdarangs," Nightwing got up from the table too and approached her. He started digging through the pockets, unaware of the heat that rose in her from his proximity. He pulled out object after object, introducing each of them with vigor. How long had they been planning this?

The others siphoned away, and Morgan tried to give them proper goodbyes, but she got swept up in Dick's enthusiasm.

As she looked at the belt, she realized she wished desperately for this future. That she could be part of the team in Gotham – help make the city better, in a way other than going out to bust petty crimes like she had been doing. Would she have to go against rogues like the Riddler? Poison Ivy? Bane?

It all sounded so exciting.

If only..

Her heart plummeted as she was brought back down to Earth.

If only she survived.


October 31st

Gotham

Morgan

Gotham was, predictably, rainy. Still, Morgan walked slowly down the street and allowed the rain to soak into her hair and down her face. It felt.. cleansing.

It somehow managed to melt away at the lump of ice she'd had in her stomach for two weeks now. The lump that grew every day.

Dread.

That was the only word she could use to describe it. She appeared calm on the outside – in fact, the others kept giving her weird looks because of how calm she was.

Inside, she was waging a battle with herself. And that dread grew ever bigger and more potent with each morning she woke up entangled with Dick in his bed. Each day she spent at the Watchtower enduring tests that hurt more every time she activated the spell. Each night she spent burning up or getting stabbed to death.

This was hell. She almost started to welcome the idea that it was going to be over in two weeks.

As she walked, she saw jack o' lanterns lit by the front doors and in the windows of several buildings. A kid and his dad ran by, dressed as Batman and Robin, and she realized with a start that it must've been Halloween night.

She reached her street, and her old apartment building loomed over her, blocking out the dark clouds churning above.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she hurried inside to answer it.

"Hi, Dick," she tried to sound breezy, but it came out breathless instead.

His end was silent for a bit and then she heard him sigh.

"You went back to your apartment, didn't you?"

She gnawed at her bottom lip.

"I just wanted to grab a few books."

"Morgan-"

"I'm being careful," she said forcefully, and hurriedly shoved her key into the keyhole, locking herself into the apartment.

She slammed the door shut with her foot and went to sit on her bed.

"Besides, you heard the fates. Black Beetle doesn't get to me for another two weeks."

"You shouldn't tempt fate like that."

"Ah! But you don't believe in fate, do you?" she pointed out with a sarcastic bite. Dick sighed again at his words being used against him.

"Just.. please be careful. For me."

Her heart clenched and she rubbed tiredly at her face before nodding. Then, she answered, knowing he couldn't see the gesture.

"I will." She quickly changed the subject. "Do me a favor and buy some limes for when I get home. I'm going to try making mojitos."

He didn't protest, like she was sure he would've if she wasn't in the situation she was currently in.

"Will do," he said neutrally. "Don't stay too long. I'll.. I'm making dinner."

She felt the dread in her chest move over for something softer, more tender. She smiled a little bit at his words and then reassured him once more before hanging up. He had taken it to heart when she'd said she wasn't wasting her last meals on bread and jam. Morgan was sure she'd never seen Dick cook this much before in the years she had known him. She knew it was partly because he had nothing better to do – this crisis required all their attention, and he spent long hours monitoring the situation every day, sending out teams to survey damage, or contain a particularly large rift. But other than monitoring squads, he didn't have anything to do once the scientists working on the machine went home, and so he did what he could to make himself busy. She assumed so he wouldn't go stark raving mad with waiting.

And with the impasse they found themselves in.

Morgan sighed deeply as she thought of it. The constant looks they shared. The nights spent chasing away her nightmares – at this point, they weren't even upholding the illusion by having him sleep on the couch at first. They went to sleep in the same bed now. It only just offered enough comfort, for the torture of having him so close be worth it. The way her stomach would flutter, and her heart would race – the heat that spread through her every night when he pulled her close and she got to lay in his warmth – it was almost too much for her rapidly deteriorating control to bear. Every second she wanted to reach for him and meet his lips, allowing herself to get swept away in him. She was sure it would chase away the pain of the spell, if only for a few hours.

And yet, every night, he stayed the attentive but passive supporter, and she kept her desire to herself. She refused to hurt him more than she already had. She couldn't use him like that and then die in a few weeks, leaving him alone to put himself back together.

That's what worried her the most. Not the dying, but the hurting the people she loved. She hadn't had the heart to tell her mom. She wasn't planning to. She hadn't spoken to her mom since that evening in Alaska, and she had no idea now how to approach her. Abigail hadn't reached out to her either - Morgan assumed she was trying to give her space.

Truth be told.. Morgan just wanted her mom. She wanted to cry like a child and curl up on her mom's lap.

But she couldn't bear the thought of telling Abigail the truth. That her daughter was about to die. It made her feel like the worst person alive, but one small comfort with being dead when her mom found out, was that she wouldn't have to see Abigail's reaction.

She knew it was selfish. Saddling someone else with the responsibility to tell her mom. But, seriously, she was about to sacrifice herself to save the world. She was allowed one selfish act.

Yet, she didn't want any unfinished business. She didn't want their last conversation to be a fight.

Morgan pulled out her phone and sat for a long while trying to work out a message.

'Hey mom. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about what happened at Aunt Bea's. I said some really harsh things to you and I hope you can forgive me. I wanted to stop by and talk, but you probably know that there's been a lot of stuff going on right now and Sparrow is super busy. I love you.'

Then, she got up and focused on getting to work.

The apartment was starting to empty, as she slowly packed down her things. All her books and furniture were going to the shelter. Julie was ecstatic with the donation, but Morgan felt like crying, giving away her collection. She had spent over a decade collecting those books, and every one of them she had read and loved.

Well, it wasn't like she could take them with her, where she was going.

She spent an hour packing away more stuff. She had sold her bookshelf online, as Julie said the shelter didn't need it, and the buyer was coming to pick it up any moment now. She busied herself with emptying out the bathroom as she waited. She only had a few boxes left to fill.

The buyer came and went. Morgan stood in the middle of her mostly empty apartment, fighting to keep her emotions neutral at the sight.

She had hoped for so much more time here. Yes, the faucet in the bathroom leaked, yes, the cupboards were creaky, and the wallpaper was beginning to peel off. Yes, the drain in the shower was partly clogged and water got everywhere when she showered.

It had undoubtedly been a shitty, cheap apartment.

But it had been hers.

She stuffed a few books into her backpack and went out the door quickly, shutting it hurriedly behind her.

The commute to Dick's apartment was only twenty minutes thanks to the zeta tube, and she spent the entire time putting on her game face. She couldn't allow him to see that.. to see how much she was suffering. She didn't want him to shoulder that burden.

He had already lost so much. Dealt with so much. Morgan wished she could slip him some kind of potion that would make him forget they had ever met. She wished she could wash away every moment they had spent together – perhaps then, she wouldn't feel so guilty for leaving him. She remembered how he had been when Wally had died. How broken he was – and yet how little he had allowed himself to really grieve. He was always quick to throw himself back into his work, to keep being Nightwing, keep being strong and good and important. When Wally had died, he had only allowed himself two weeks off, and then he had acted like it never happened.

Would this be the same? Would he throw himself into his work and never allow himself to feel the sadness? Would it fester and weaken him?

Morgan halted in her tracks. She couldn't allow that. But he wasn't even willing to approach the subject of her death – he still refused to believe that it was inevitable. Which was exactly why she hadn't told him about the issue with the spell.

In an impulsive moment, she turned and went inside the small store she had been walking past. She didn't know exactly how she could make sure he healed after she was gone.

But she had an idea where to start.


A bit of a depressing chapter. Our girl is going through it!

Part of me feels like a scene is missing in this chapter or the next, but I'm also unsure what that scene would be? I didn't want to write a bunch of boring scenes of like meetings or testing the machine. For me, the interesting stuff is their respective emotional journeys and inner conflicts, and Morgan preparing herself to die. So I'm not sure what is missing, because I do also think it's a solid chapter? Maybe a scene between her and her mom - but I feel like it would clash against the way Morgan is just kinda closing off right now. I very much see her as slipping into a state of depression where she's not allowing herself to really feel anything.

Ok here's a fun fact: I made a rule when I wrote this story that it would literally always be raining when Sparrow is out on patrol in Gotham. If you read through her patrolling scenes, you'll notice its always raining.

Maybe its just because time goes super fast in this chapter - it spans over two weeks. But yeah, let me know if you feel like something is missing?

As usual, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and let me know what you think! I hope you're looking forward to the next one, which I'll upload pretty soon!