Chapter 26: So Easy to Leave Behind

September 13th

Gotham

Dick

Dick stormed through the entrance to the Batcave, feeling like his heart was pulsing poison through his veins as he looked around for Bruce. As expected, Batman was sitting at the computer, probably logging their night into his system. Bruce acknowledged him with a small look over his shoulder before going back to his typing.

"How is she?" he asked, and Dick wasn't sure if he asked out of real concern or simple politeness.

"Did you tell her to stay away from me?" asked Dick, instead of answering. Bruce paused and turned towards him.

"I did," he said. Dick felt some strangled emotion pour into his stomach. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why?"

"Because you clearly weren't over her and it was distracting you. Clouding your judgment. I was trying to protect you." Bruce spoke in that detached, calm voice he always used when he felt Dick was being too emotional. Too vulnerable.

"Trying to protect me?" he parroted, and if he had any more anger to give, he was sure he would have been shouting by now. But the hour he had just spent on that rooftop with Morgan had left him feeling numb.

He had had no idea she felt so insecure, so burdened by his achievements. Hearing her levy all of his hard work from the past thirteen years against him - use them as an excuse for breaking up with him - had felt like a slap in the face.

He realized he had been blind to the things she had been going through, the fact that people had hounded her for years. How much had he missed? How couldn't he have seen that she was suffering?

Why hadn't she told him? Didn't she trust him at all? He was unsure if this was her fault or his, and somewhere in the back of his mind he accepted that perhaps they were both to blame.

Yet, the betrayal he felt made him unable to forgive her right now. He wasn't sure what it would take – if he would ever forgive her.

But tonight wasn't the night to try. Tonight, he was tired. Tonight, he had almost been shot and then saved by his estranged, sort-of-brother. Tonight, he had well and truly lost hope that he would ever reunite with his ex-girlfriend. The woman he had, until an hour ago, wholeheartedly believed to be the love of his life.

He was unsure how much of his inner turmoil was visible on his face. But Bruce kept a carefully blank expression as he studied Dick.

He thought about confiding in him. Tell him about the talk he had just had with Morgan. Admit how heartbroken he felt. And how foolish he felt for getting his hopes up.

But he didn't say anything. The fact that even Bruce had been rooting against them, had been telling her to stay away from Dick, made his insides feel like ice.

So, he left without another word. Jumping onto his bike, he raced out the cave and down the road. He knew he could have used the zeta tube in the Batcave, but right now he needed a ride. He needed the wind beating against his face. He needed the rain pelting his hair. Anything to wash away the night he had just endured.

He thought desperately about anyone he could talk to. For a wild moment, he thought about visiting Abigail. But that would be deeply inappropriate, he realized. He thought about visiting Barbara, who he knew lived close by. But they hadn't really had a proper talk for ages. He'd closed himself off from people after the death of Wally, and then even more so after the breakup with Morgan. And so, he kept driving down the road, until he passed through Gotham. At some point it stopped raining, and the wind whipping at his face dried him up.

For over an hour, he rode his bike until he realized he was heading towards Blüdhaven. He couldn't remember if he'd ever traveled between the two cities without simply using a zeta tube, and he found the ride was beautiful. At some point the sun rose and colored the sky in deep reds and pinks, and he had to stop on the side of the road to take it in.

With the new dawn came a new realization. He had to stop chasing her and allow her to find herself first.

He knew he loved her, and he knew she loved him. Even though she had done everything she could to not say the words out loud last night. He was starting to wonder if he had been a fool for thinking it was enough. The love was there - but what if that didn't change anything?

He had told her he would leave her alone and he was still resolved to do that. If she ever wanted anything to do with him, she would have to approach him first.

There was a strange sort of acceptance that came with the realization, and it left a dull throb in his chest – pain mixed with relief.

An hour later, he hit Blüdhaven, and he reached his apartment.

Exhausted. Tired. Aching.

September 13th

Watchtower

Nightwing

Dick suppressed a yawn as he sunk into his chair, waiting for the rest of the heroes to file into the room. Aquaman sat at the end of the table as he always did, and Dick studied him subtly

It bothered him that Kaldur had apparently come out to a bunch of their friends, and yet Dick had had no idea. Yet, he didn't want to approach it, not when Kaldur hadn't brought it up on his own.

He tried to remember when the two of them had last met and talked about something that wasn't League related.

A year? Perhaps?

The guilt felt like acid in his throat and it made him realize it was high time he started hanging out with his friends again. He wanted to say he had no idea when he'd become such a recluse, but that would be a lie – the death of Wally had been the catalyst. Strengthened by the guilt he still carried from how he'd led the Team during the Reach invasion.

The loud and boisterous voice of Guy Gardner signaled the arrival of the Green Lanterns, shaking Nightwing out of his thoughts.

"I believe we can begin."

He was about to protest. Without even needing to do a headcount, Nightwing knew they were still missing someone.

"Shouldn't we wait for Sparrow?" Gardner asked, saving Nightwing from having to get her name past his lips.

"Sparrow called in sick," Kaldur said vaguely, making Dick frown. Had she lied just to get out of the meeting? Because she knew he would be there?

"Is she okay?" Hal asked, looking first to Kaldur before his eyes landed on Dick.

Nightwing raised an eyebrow at the Lantern.

"Why are you asking me?" he asked, voice perfectly calm, but eyes flashing dangerously from behind his mask. Hal must've picked up on something in his voice because he looked confused as he went on.

"Well, because-?"

"Sparrow is fine, I talked to her this morning." Aquaman interrupted firmly. "If you want to know how she's doing, you are welcome to ask her yourself, next time you see her."

Message clear; butt out of her business.

"Should we start?" Nightwing asked, trying to keep his foul mood out of his voice. He just wanted to get this over with – sitting in a tiny conference room with Guy Gardner for any length of time was enough of an irritant to his system.

The reason for the meeting was catching up on the Yellow Lantern attack they had endured last month. After their successful interrogation, the Green Lanterns had left Earth to gather intel on this so-called "Intergalactic Republic", and why it might have taken a special interest in Earth. The reason Sparrow had been expected at the meeting was, naturally, because she had been part of the interrogation.

John, Hal and Guy took turns going over their findings. Nightwing listened with half of his usual enthusiasm, but he stayed focused enough for the information to stick.

"The Intergalactic Democratic Republic of Peace –"

"– Or IDROP, as it's hilariously nicknamed –"

"It's a real thing. It's comprised of hundred of planets, all living under one democratic court. We've been unable to find out why it's supposedly taking an interest in our little backwater planet." John explained.

"But the most important thing to know is that it's a peaceful republic," Hal stressed. "They're not looking to invade – every planet under their rule is there by choice."

"So, we might expect an offer from them some time in the future?" Nightwing guessed at their intentions.

"Perhaps." John looked thoughtful. "It would be strange, since every other planet in the republic is clustered closely together, and Earth is way out of their usual turf. We'll have to wait and see. For now, I don't see this Republic being a problem. We can keep an eye on them, but I'm not worried."

"Which is rare for this guy," Gardner joked, earning him eyerolls from all except Kaldur.

The Green Lanterns weren't worried. Too bad Nightwing was a professional worrier – it came with his training.

"I think we should keep an eye on them. Without making it obvious."

"Ditto," Hal nodded. "I'll personally see to it that we check up on them from time to time. But as long as they aren't making any moves, I don't think we need to seek them out."

"Agreed," Aquaman said.

It didn't take long for the meeting to wrap up, and Nightwing subtly waited for the others to file out of the room before stretching his back as long as it would go, letting out a deep groan when one of his shoulders gave a loud pop. He still felt completely emotionally drained from the night before, but at least a few hours of sleep had rejuvenated his body. He had counted a few bruises, courtesy of their enemies, but he had escaped mostly unscathed.

He looked at the head of the table where Kaldur still sat.

"Hey," he said, keeping in a wince when he heard how drained he sounded.

"How are you doing?" Kaldur asked.

Dick paused.

"Tired," he admitted. "Busy." That was as far as he would allow honesty to take him. "What about you? I feel like we haven't talked in forever."

Kaldur wore an amused expression, a small smile teasing at his lips. "Busy. And tired."

Dick coughed out a laugh, despite himself.

"I think that's the essence of being a leader, huh?"

"Agreed. Though, having people to lean on may help to lighten the burden."

"Do you?" Dick hoped his voice sounded relaxed, and not like he was fishing for something. "Have someone to lean on, I mean?"

Kaldur cleared his throat, shifting in his seat for the first time since they began talking.

"I have someone. In Atlantis." He fixed him with a look that seemed to indicate that Dick wasn't being slick. "Wyynde. He is my partner."

"I heard," Dick admitted, offering his friend a genuine smile. "Congrats."

"What about you? Do you have.. someone to lean on?"

Dick felt his lips curl like he'd taken a sip of sour milk, an expression he only allowed to cross his face because he and Kaldur were alone.

"I have my family."

"Ah," Kaldur stood, smiling casually. "In that case, I think I had some bad intel."

"Sounds like an unreliable source," He wasn't proud to admit his tone was clipped, but he didn't appreciate that his relationship – or lack of the same – had been through the League gossip mill.

Kaldur raised an eyebrow at Dick's sour tone.

"How did your mission go, last night?"

Dick felt every muscle in his body clench. "We took down the operation, but their leader escaped."

"So, Jason remains at large."

Nightwing sighed and nodded, looking down.

"Did something happen?" Kaldur stepped closer to him and lowered his voice. "Morgan called me this morning and requested some time off."

She was taking a break?

Dick felt the tidal wave of hurt and heartache threaten to break down the door he had firmly kept it locked behind all morning.

"Is Diana still in Greece?"

Kaldur pursed his lips at the sudden change in conversation. "I heard from her last night. She says she has picked up a new lead and is pursuing it."

"Good. Keep me updated."

"And you? Has the tracker had any hits?"

Dick shook his head. "I wish I knew why the rifts just.. disappeared. My gut tells me it's not because the problem just solved itself."

Kaldur smiled sarcastically, "And you are sure that is truly your gut and not simply your training?"

"What's the difference?" he retorted.

Footsteps down the hall made the two heroes pause their conversation, and Black Canary stuck her head inside the room, asking for Aquaman to join her.

Kaldur excused himself and Nightwing waved him off, staunchly ignoring the watchful gaze of Dinah.

He thought about staying at the Watchtower and burying himself in work. He knew M'gann was on duty delegating missions, but he thought perhaps she'd let him take over for the day.

The wiser part of him realized it would've done him better to go home and sleep this off.

Well, at the very least, he could check in on her and ask if she needed help. Not that he thought she did.

He went down the hall, heading for the room from which the Team operated. A chill went down his spine as he passed the doorway to the memorial room, and he quickened his pace.

Then he halted. Looked at the foreboding door over his shoulder. Turned to face it.

He hadn't been in there since the erection ceremony of Wally's memorial. He hadn't been able to go there since.

Unbidden, he recalled the memory of seeing Morgan's memorial in the Other Batcave and he vividly remembered the almost paralyzing fear it had brought with it.

That's what all of this had been about, hadn't it? He was so busy soaking in his own misery that he hadn't considered what their months-long mission had been working towards.

Saving her life.

And now, with the rifts gone and the threat over – well, they had done it, hadn't they? Morgan was no longer going to get murdered by Black Beetle.

Struck down while defending her – their – son.

The memorial room seemed to call out to him, to the point where he felt he could physically feel it whispering in his ear, bidding him approach.

Come visit us, Dick.

It sounded like Wally.

Dick turned on his heel and went down the hall.

M'gann allowed him to relieve her, perhaps sensing that he needed this more than she did. He spent long hours overseeing three separate teams, until his feet ached, and he felt faint from hunger.

He went the long way around to avoid the memorial room on his way back.

September 16th

Fairbanks, Alaska

Morgan

"She's doing – good." The sound of her aunt talking on the phone reached Morgan through the crack of the slightly ajar bedroom door. Even in this muffled version, she could hear Aunt Beatrice didn't sound convinced.

"I think maybe she's tired from the trip. The layover was seven hours, so she spent the night in the airport. She's asleep right now – I think."

Aunt Beatrice wasn't the type to ask prying questions, but that didn't make her any less discerning than her older sister. It had never ceased to humor Morgan that a woman who had grown up in Gotham, with all the hustle and bustle such a large city brought with it, had decided to settle in a cabin outside of a tiny town in the middle of Alaska. The closest large city was Fairbanks, and that was a good five hours away on a day with decent weather.

Yet, it made sense, didn't it? While Abigail felt at home in the city, her sister's more mellow nature had never fit in there.

The creaking of the staircase made Morgan leap from her perch on the chair by the desk. It had been shoved into the corner of the small guest room, as most of the space there was dedicated to the large bed. Burying herself under the covers, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. The air in the room had only just settled when Beatrice pushed the ajar door open, peeking in.

"She's asleep." Her aunt whispered into the phone, and Morgan heard her mom on the other end answer 'good'.

Her aunt closed the door behind her, and the floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she went down the hall. Morgan breathed out a small curse and leapt from the bed. She hastily poured the rest of her coke into the potted plant on the desk. Pushing the empty glass against the wall, she used it to listen to the muffled conversation continuing on the other side.

"Don't get me wrong, we love having her visit. I was just wondering if she told you why she suddenly wanted to come? And why her face looks all busted?" her aunt fell silent, but Morgan was unable to hear whatever her mom answered.

"Hm," Beatrice hummed. "Well, we'll give her space to catch up on her schoolwork. Maybe the fresh air will do her good."

"Not too much space, hopefully," the deeper bass of Beatrice's husband's voice rumbled clearly through the glass Morgan was pressing to her ear. "I thought about taking her and Jaime on a hike this Sunday."

"I'm sure she'd love that," Beatrice agreed.

Morgan removed the glass from the wall and set it down on the desk again.

Outside, the crescent moon shone, weak, gray light crawling across the floor. Unlike her mom's apartment in Gotham, where everything was concrete, steel beams, plaster and linoleum, her aunt's house was mostly wood and soft rugs.

Morgan went to the window and looked outside. She had thought Gotham was dark at night, with all its pollution and broken streetlights. As she stared into the woods beyond their little plot of land, she realized this was darkness.

The waning moon, despite being much brighter than she saw it in the city, was doing little to illuminate the darkness. It feebly outlined the shapes of individual treetops, but no more than that.

Her eyes became transfixed, staring into the complete darkness until an involuntary shiver shook her entire body. She pulled the curtains closed, as if to keep out the darkness, and turned on the lamp on her bedside table. The warm glow of the lightbulb pushed back the darkness in her room, but did little to banish the shadows in her mind.

She figured she might as well do what her aunt had assumed her to already be doing – sleep.

The bed was soft and warm, her covers made to keep out the deep chill of Alaskan winters, and she didn't find it difficult to get comfortable, despite her strange surroundings.

She lay staring at the golden glow of her bedside lamp. The night was impossibly quiet. Then, the lamp exploded, sparks erupting and igniting her wooden bedframe and thick covers in seconds.

Morgan jumped off the bed, but one of her wings was broken, and it prevented her from flying away. The pain that throbbed from her wing and through her body sent her crashing to the ground, a scream choking her throat.

The fire ran along the corners of the room, surrounding her before she had the chance to regain her bearings. Somewhere, a baby was wailing. A throb in her chest made her look around for the child and she knew it was her they were calling for.

The curtain was no longer closed, and she saw the shadows press against the window, seeping in through every tiny opening. The crescent moon fell from the sky and became a mouth, grinning wickedly at her with sharp teeth. Two stars become hateful, beady eyes. The glass was starting to crack under the pressure from the shadows.

Smoke was choking her. Where was her baby? The heat was nearing unbearable levels and she almost relished the cool air that burst inside the room as the window finally gave way to the strength of the darkness.

The shadows burst in like a tidal wave before materializing into Black Beetle. He stood, lording over her from her feeble position on the floor.

"Did you think you could escape me?" he asked, his rumbling voice shaking her very bones. He raised his knife, which shimmered wickedly as it reflected the warm glow of the fire surrounding her.

He moved to bring it down upon her, and Morgan held a hand up to shield herself. His hand halted at the last moment as he looked her over, and his mouth split into another, cold grin.

"I don't need to do anything," he said, and the blade morphed back into his hand. He took a casual step back. "You're already burning from the inside out."

She looked down at herself and saw a bright orange light blazing from inside her chest cavity. With a pained gasp, the fire in her chest burst through, consuming her in a matter of seconds, and her scream was instantly cut off as her vocalcords were destroyed.

The wailing grew louder, or perhaps it was the shutting off of her other sense that made it appear so.

The darkness overtook her vision before it bled into gold.

A voice called out to her.

Morgan! Be ready!

September 20th

Fairbanks, Alaska

Morgan

Beatrice placed a glass of OJ in front of Morgan, and she dutifully drank it, avoiding any curious look her aunt and uncle might attempt to level at her. Her little cousin was luckily too young to notice the purple bags under her eyes and the gray tint to her skin.

She had chosen to visit her aunt partially to get some new ground beneath her feet – somewhere she could think. But she'd also picked her aunt's place specifically because she knew neither Beatrice nor Hank were the types to ask questions. They didn't stick their noses where they didn't belong.

Still. Morgan would've been surprised if they weren't at least a little curious to know why she woke up screaming from night terrors every single night.

It wasn't like she had an answer to give them. She had no clue why the nightmares had returned, worse than ever. It wasn't a question of if she would have a nightmare when she went to bed, it was a question of when.

She was aware that she looked like shit. She looked frail and worn and like she was losing weight rapidly. Her face was gaunt in a way it hadn't been since she'd stopped starving herself to inhibit the growth of her wings.

Despite her churning stomach, she nibbled on the homemade bread her aunt was gently pushing in her direction. The smell was heavenly, but her weak stomach was uninterested.

"This smells amazing, my love," her uncle told his wife, practically wolfing down an entire slice of bread in a single bite. Beatrice kissed the top of his head and he wrapped a hand around her hip as he finished off his breakfast.

"Coffee?" her aunt offered, and Hank readily nodded.

"You always know exactly what I need," he said, eyes shimmering with admiration for his wife. "Let me grab it myself. Sit down, save your energy. You were up early, baking."

"Thanks, my love," Beatrice said, sinking into a chair with a tired sigh.

It had taken Morgan a day or two to really notice, but her aunt was pregnant again. Her stomach wasn't huge yet, but the bump was visible, especially when she wore an apron.

"Jaime, are you done with breakfast?" Beatrice asked her son, who had sat completely engrossed in his superhero figurines at the end of the table.

Jaime, six years old by now, and at least twice as tall as when Morgan had last seen him, dropped his figurines with a look like he knew he'd been caught.

"I was playing."

Her aunt tutted. "You better hurry up. Daddy is heading to town soon."

Much like his father, Jaime stuffed his mouth full of bread, finishing his breakfast in thirty seconds.

Morgan took another nibble on her bread, trying her best to not discern the dull throb she felt in her chest as she watched the small family interact with each other so lovingly. She had no idea what that felt like. Her own childhood had been a long string of arguments and sharp barbs, only occasionally broken by moments of ceasefire. The good times had felt like little more than the sun peeking through sporadic holes in a dark layer of thunderclouds.

She managed to force down half of a slice before she had to call it quits.

"I'm going to go do some homework," she mumbled, rising from the table, and clearing her things away. "Thanks for breakfast."

There was one positive to this trip – she was slowly but surely catching up to the mountain of neglected homework she had. It was the one thing she could do to keep her mind distracted. She wasn't being as productive as she felt she should've, however. She often found herself scrolling through reels on her phone for hours, when she was too tired to think straight. She had brought books too, but simply reading wasn't enough to keep her focus. Her mind would inevitably start to wander.

Wander in dangerous directions. She would start thinking about things like the look of betrayal on Dick's face when he had realized she'd cared more about his status than him as a person. That she'd spent even a second caring about their differences in wealth, opportunity, ability, and privilege.

But wasn't it justified? It was easy for him to be the one that didn't consider those things – he wasn't the one at a severe disadvantage.

Perhaps he had been right. She was shallow.

Or maybe she was just realistic. She wasn't sure anymore.

The distinction didn't matter anyway – it hardly took away the aching in her heart.

Dick wasn't at the center of her agony, however. He had pinpointed the heart of the matter exactly; she was lost. She wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but Morgan felt like a husk of herself.

Realizing that she had fallen into the trap of thinking about it again, she quickly refocused on the biology report she was supposed to be working on.

Her professors were all under the impression that she was sick with a mean flu and her biology professor had even graciously allowed her to skip one of their reports, giving her full marks for an assignment she was never turning in.

"You're the least of my worries in this class," he had told her over the phone when she'd called to let him know she'd be out for a few weeks.

Morgan sighed as the words on the page swam together, rubbing at her tired eyes.

There was a short knock on her door, and she called for the person to enter.

Her aunt stood leaning against the doorframe, studying Morgan. She looked at the plant on the desk, frowning when she saw the flowers had fallen off and the leaves were starting to droop.

"Help me hang up the laundry?"

Morgan put her feet on the floor and left her seat, following her aunt dutifully.

The cool, clean air tickled her curls, and Morgan closed her eyes against its soft caress. Birds were chirping in the woods, enjoying these rare few days of warm weather before autumn set in for real. This far up north, the trees turned brown quickly, and so the forest was already bathed in warm reds, yellows and browns.

"Did you enjoy the hike?" Bea asked casually, referring to the walk Morgan, Hank, and Jaime had gone on two days ago. She hung up a pair of her husband's jeans.

Morgan nodded. "The forest is beautiful. Not really something I'm used to."

"You should go for a walk later, when you've had lunch," her aunt suggested. "The air might do you some good."

The sideway glance at her suggestion was as direct as Morgan knew her aunt was going to be.

"I will," she said, instead of answering the question her aunt was really asking.

She stayed after her aunt had gone inside, standing on the small patch of grass that constituted their front lawn, soaking up a few rays of sunlight.

The air in Alaska was already much cooler than it had been in Gotham, but Morgan had been prepared for that and had packed her warmest sweaters. Now, however, the sun warmed her thoroughly, and she shrugged off her knit, perspiration erupting on her brow.

At some point, her aunt came out with lunch and the two of them ate on the porch. Once they had finished, Morgan cleaned up, trying to squash down the guilt of being a burden on her hosts.

An hour later, uncle Hank returned home with Jaime.

"I'm just staying for lunch and then I'm heading back to work," he told his wife, kissing her deeply. Morgan redirected her eyes. The exaggerated retching sounds from her younger cousin pulled an involuntary smile from her.

"Look what dad got me!" Jaime ran over, breaking up his parents embrace, waving around a toy still trapped in its plastic box.

Hank laughed and ruffled his son's curly, caramel locks. Bea sent her husband an unimpressed look.

Hank shrugged. "He's always going on about those heroes, I figured he should have the complete set."

" Moooom, can you open it for me, pleeeease?" he begged, and Beatrice gently pushed him towards Morgan, who had shuffled awkwardly into the corner as she watched the little family.

"Go wash up, love, and I'll have lunch ready for you. Jaime, maybe you can ask cousin Morgan to help you open the box!"

Jaime bounced to her side, already sporting large puppy eyes.

Morgan smiled and accepted the box, curious to find out which hero had been missing from his set. Perhaps she would have a story to tell.

Her heart skipped a beat as she turned the box over and saw the toy version of herself peeking back at her.

"Sparrow?" she mumbled, rooted to her spot. She had no idea she even had her own action figure.

"She's so cool," Jaime asserted, pointing at the gray wings spanning the width of the box. "She's part bird like Hawkwoman but she has powers too!"

"I, for one, can hardly tell all of them apart anymore," Bea said from the counter, where she was putting together a sandwich. "I guess it's easier when you live closer to where they operate. They're almost never this far north."

Morgan shrugged.

"Can you please open it for me," Jaime pouted, and Morgan realized she was still clutching the box in her hands.

"Of course," she opened the top and pulled out the cardboard background. Untwisting the wires keeping the figure in place, her curiosity won over.

"Why do you think she's cool?"

"She's one of the bats!" Jaime explained with extreme seriousness. "She's in Gotham like Batman. But she's a bird, like Robin!"

"Your cousin lives in Gotham too," Bea told her son, and Jaime stared at her, on the verge of vibrating with pure excitement.

"Have you ever seen Batman?" he asked, voice rising in pitch.

"Jaime, don't shout."

"I-I have," she admitted, and then thought up a story. "I once saw him stop a mugging."

Freeing the figure, she held it gingerly, her insides a mess of different emotions.

"Thanks!" Jaime said, snatching the plastic toy from her hands, and racing into the living room.

He came out a second later, his arms full of action figures.

"This one is Superman, and this is Flash, and this is Batman," he started piling figures into her hands, and Morgan, dumbfounded, allowed it. "And this is Nightwing!"

"Bit of a boys club you got there," she mumbled, redirecting her eyes.

Bea laughed, placing her husband's lunch on the table. "He's at that age where girls are ick. He likes this new Sparrow woman – I think it's the wings."

Morgan resisted the urge to subtly look over her shoulder at the same pair of wings currently taking up a good portion of the kitchen. She thought about taking off the glamor charm she had resting against her collarbone, and how shellshocked her cousin would be at the sight of them.

It was a fun idea, but it couldn't be more than that.

"I'm going for a walk."

"Stay on the paths and don't go too far," her aunt reminded her. "People get lost in these woods."

"I'll be careful," she promised. "I have my phone with me, if you need me."

"Take care!" her aunt called as Morgan went down the path at the back of their house, and into the woods.

Unlike her aunt, Morgan wasn't worried. What Beatrice didn't know, of course, was that Morgan had a big pair of wings on her back, and she could easily find her way back home, even if she strayed from the path.

She walked for an hour, and the further she went, she felt something inside of her shifting. The woods were quiet and peaceful. She felt cut off from the world; allowed to let her mind wander without feeling the sting of grief. She picked up a stick and held it absentmindedly, slowly picking off the bark piece by piece as she trudged on.

The lump that she had carried in her stomach for a long time gave ever so slightly. She wanted to pretend it had been there since her confrontation with Dick, but it had been there much longer than that.

Perhaps since the day her father had died. When she lost any chance at confronting him and dealing with that keen feeling of abandonment that had weighed her down for ten years.

Perhaps it had been there since the day he had packed his bags and left the country, not bothering to even so much as write her a letter in a decade.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away even though she knew she was alone.

"Why now?" she mumbled to herself, wondering why she'd been able to function just fine for years. She had thought she was over her dad by now.

And perhaps she was over his death – but she wasn't over the mark he had left upon her life - this fear that she was so easy to leave behind.

At some point, Morgan became aware that the sun was setting, and the wood was getting chillier, but she didn't mind it. The dusk brought a hush with it, the birds and small animals settling down.

She thought about the marriage she had borne witness to in her childhood, the constant fights and hurt feelings. How her dad would always hiss at her mom that she wasn't doing enough for them because she didn't earn as much as him, but was too busy at work to shoulder the burden of the household on her own. How he would get frustrated and slam things around in the kitchen like it was beneath him to do a couple of dishes.

Was that what marriage was? Arguing and pettiness?

"You really did a number on me, Henrik," she sighed into the cool air as the last rays of sun dipped beneath the horizon.

Clenching the branch that she still carried in her hand, she swung it at a tree with all her might. The branch splintered, but the shockwave went up her arm, and the skin on her hand burned from the blow.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, even though the pain hadn't been a surprise. Usually, her telekinesis would've been there to strengthen her hand and soften the blow, but it wasn't now.

At some point after that night in Gotham, she'd lost her grip on her telekinesis. It had reverted back to when she'd first started using it, sporadic bursts of power with no control.

With a frustrated grunt, she swung her hands out, a burst of telekinetic power shattering a dead tree to her side.

She knew her telekinesis was tied to her mental state – that was, after all, why she'd been so diligently doing meditations and yoga.

At some point in the last few weeks, however, she'd become too overwhelmed by everything that was going on to keep up her training. And her control had slipped as a result.

The more aware she became of the lump in her stomach, that heavy weight keeping her down, the less control she had.

The woods had grown dark. She shivered in the chill, but above, the stars shone brilliantly. The moon was new, and it left the stars to perform alone on stage. On she went, ignoring the growling of her stomach and the aching in her legs. Morgan used her wings to gently glide over a small stream, her feet landing in a patch of soft moss on the other side.

The woods were thick and difficult to see through, and as she pushed past a bush, she suddenly stood in a small clearing. She walked until she stood in the center of it, and then she paused, craning her neck backwards to look up at the night sky, laid out before her.

Her legs gave a dull throb, and she sat down in the soft grass before laying down fully.

The sight was unlike any she had seen before. She had never been so far away from the city, had never been in a place without light pollution.

Endless stars of many colors winked down at her, shimmering like precious gemstones against the black canvas of the sky. She could see the pale tendrils of the milky way stretch like rivers across the sky, thousands of stars and planets and galaxies revealing themselves to her.

The pale, wispy quality of the milky way made her recall the smokey fogs of the rifts, a sight she hadn't seen for weeks.

The sight of all those heavenly bodies soothed the ache in her chest. Staring into the endless bowel of the universe she was reminded of how tiny their planet was. She, even smaller.

Her problems?

Insignificant, when held against the entirety of space.

The thing that had been building up inside of her for a week broke through, and the tears welled up in her eyes again.

Beneath the comforting blanket of the night sky, she allowed them to finally fall. Sobs wracked her body where it lay in the tall grass, hidden from the world.

Her dad had been an asshole. But that didn't have to doom her.

"Just be-because you left me-me doesn't mean I'm not worth st-sticking around for," she mumbled through her sobs, the ache in her chest churning. It spread through her body until she hurt all the way to her fingertips. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling - it felt like the hurt of a stiff muscle getting massaged. The process was unpleasant, but it would leave her lighter and more flexible once it was done.

She wasn't sure for how long she lay there, but at some point, she ran out of tears and she felt infinitely lighter.

She wasn't completely unburdened. Morgan knew it wasn't that easy. But perhaps it indicated she was starting to heal. Perhaps, she was prepared to walk down that road now, even if she didn't know where it would take her.

She knew one of the first things she had to do was apologize to Dick. If he was even interested in hearing what she had to say.

He had said maybe he didn't know her at all. And perhaps he'd been right – but she probably hadn't truly known him either. She had known the version of him her fears and insecurities had conjured. The version of him that would grow resentful at her and start slamming cupboards when he had to do the dishes.

Now.. now she looked forward to getting to know the true him. In whatever way he would allow her. Even if it was just as colleagues at the Watchtower.

Morgan sat up, heaving a deep sigh.

Then, she paused, taking a second to understand what she was seeing.

What she maybe could have mistaken for a regular mist was gathering at the edge of the clearing. The fog gave out a strange, glowing light and shifted around as if with a mind of its own.

A rift.

Had she conjured it?

Morgan looked at her hands but realized that was a stupid idea. The spell had never hinted at such an ability. She got up on unsteady legs, heading cautiously towards the rift. It was floating lazily between two ancient pines, unassuming and nonthreatening.

It called out to her – not in a voice she could hear, but more something her spirit responded to.

There was no way this was a coincidence. Whatever notion they may have had that the rifts appeared randomly was squashed when it became abundantly apparent that someone had placed this here for her to find.

For her to.. use?

Morgan looked at her hands again, wondering if she could use the portal alone. She pulled the sleeve of her thick sweater up and looked at her arm. Smooth, pale skin, only marked by various scars. No dark marks. She wondered once more if the disappearance of Dick's handprint on her arm meant that the spell had been severed in some way, when he had walked away from her. But how would that explain the surge of power she had felt?

Morgan felt that the most likely explanation was that she had somehow become the sole carrier of the spell - that it had drained from Dick and into her.

She was sure someone less reckless would've stopped to reconsider. Perhaps wait for the Watchtower's tracker to alert them about the rift. Maybe a team was already on their way.

Morgan wasn't someone less reckless, however.

She felt the call of fate, and realized she had to answer.

She stepped into the fog, feeling a spike of energy spear her. The spell stuck in her body was humming, reacting to the fog.

Morgan closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

What was it Zatanna had said? Try to locate the place where the spell is stored?

Well, she knew exactly where it was. She hadn't admitted it back then, but she knew exactly why their attempt at controlling the spell had backfired. When Morgan had located it, she had vehemently denied the place it was being stored, and as a result, the spell had blown up in their face.

Now, she had to allow that door to open. She dug through her memories, recalling the night she'd come across the spell. And then she found the moment.

The place on her arm where his handprint had once been started heating up, as if he was still there, grasping her as they stumbled in the fog. She allowed herself to feel the relief that his touch had brought, because it reminded her that she wasn't alone.

The memory, and the emotion that came with it, was the catalyst.

Morgan opened her eyes as the fog around her started swirling. It wasn't angry this time, but like a gentle caress.

The power in her surged higher, every nerve in her body feeling alive and crackling with energy.

Her vision swam with gold.

And then she was gone.

?

?

Another day of performing was done as night fell over the circus. The tall flag spearing the sky on top of the massive tent fluttered gently in the wind, the first couple of stars peeking out behind it.

The acrobat heaved a deep sigh and took another long swig of the cool beer he had placed on the boulder he sat on. To his back was the circus, dozens of wagons and cages, and the outskirts of the city they were passing through. In front of him stretched the edge of the field they had set camp in, followed by a dark patch of wood.

Tonight had been a great night. The adrenaline he felt whenever he soared through the air in the tent, no net to catch him should he fall, was as exhilarating now as it was the first time.

"Dad!"

He looked over his shoulder and saw his son head towards him, the energetic child choosing to walk on his hands instead of his feet.

"I thought mom had put you to bed an hour ago, buddy," he said, allowing his son to jump onto the boulder and settle under his arm.

"She did," the boy admitted, his impish smile revealing a missing tooth. "I went out the window."

The father barked out a laugh, but pulled his son closer, roughing up his jet-black hair with his knuckles.

"Tell me about the stars again," the young boy requested. His father considered throwing him over his back and marching back to their wagon. Instead, he heaved a sigh and looked up.

"Well, that right there is Cassiopeia," he said, tracing the stars and hoping his son could follow. "See the five stars making sort of a zigzag?"

"Hmm," his son considered it for a moment. "Yeah."

"Cassiopeia was a queen in ancient Greece. She was arrogant and too sure of herself." He tried to recall the specifics of the story, but he didn't want to take too much time, knowing his wife had surely realized their unruly son was missing by now. "Her child almost ended up paying the ultimate price because of her hubris, but a hero came and saved the daughter."

"And what happened to Cassiopeia?"

The father had a faraway look in his eyes, feeling a muted sadness at the tragedy of the story he was relaying.

"She died."

The son nodded solemnly, and then frowned, pointing towards the dark line of trees.

"What's that?"

The father followed his son's pointed finger, and saw a shape emerge from the wood.

A young woman burst through the trees on stumbling legs, looking out of it. She went forward unsteadily, but suddenly she keeled over, landing flat on her face.

She didn't get up.

The father frowned and got off the boulder, beer long forgotten.

"Go get your mom," he said, more to keep his curious son from walking over and potentially seeing a dead person.

The son looked ready to protest, but his father sternly told him to go a second time, and he hopped off the boulder and ran towards their camp.

The acrobat jogged towards the fallen woman, kneeling by her side. She was still breathing, but she seemed troubled, her brow drawn and words slurring past her lips.

The man scooped her up and carried her towards camp. His wife and son meet him halfway to their wagon.

"Is she okay?" his wife asked.

"Get the doctor," he said by way of an answer. He burst through the door to their wagon and placed the young woman in their son's bed. Looking back, he saw his wife and son watching him from the door.

"Mary!" he snapped, pulling her out of her worried thoughts. She startled awake and gave him a firm nod, running to fetch their resident doctor.

"What can I do, dad?" his son bravely stepped up to help, but the man didn't have an answer. He saw the want to help blazing in the determined eyes of his son, and so he conjured up a task.

"Fetch me some water," he said, figuring the woman might need it if she woke up. "And some towels!"

If she was running a fever. The girl looked sweaty, but other than that, she had calmed down. He placed a hand on her forehead, smoothing away thick curls to gauge her temperature.

She was warm to the touch, but he knew the doctor could tell him more.

The doctor and his wife came back before his son, and the acrobat quickly led his son outside after allowing him to place down the jug of water and the towels he had fetched.

"Let's give them some peace to look her over," he told his son. He didn't want him or the young boy present if the doctor had to strip the girl of any clothes to properly assess her condition. She deserved her privacy, even when unconscious.

Ten minutes later, the doctor emerged with his wife in tow.

"I can't see anything wrong with her. Maybe she's drunk. Or perhaps she's simply exhausted. Who knows how long she was in that forest." The doctor said calmly. "Best to let her sleep it off and let her wake up by herself."

"She can stay in Dick's bed tonight," the woman said. "Is that okay, sweetie? You can sleep with mom and dad."

The young boy nodded bravely, looking jittery and energetic from all the excitement, though he had the good grace to not act excited about getting to stay up so long past his bedtime.

"Good. Let me know if anything changes. And come get me when she wakes up."

The doctor was off, and the small family watched him leave before filing into their wagon once more.

The slumbering form of the girl was a strange addition to their home on wheels, but the three of them quickly settled into the parent's bed and went to sleep.

The boy lay for a while, thoughts racing with the possibilities the morning would bring. Who was the girl? Where had she come from? What had happened to her?

His young mind knew one thing for certain; an adventure was on the horizon.

Damn, I can't believe we've already reached this chapter! It's one of my absolute favorite in terms of my own writing. I sat down and wrote this entire chapter, and the next, in a frenzy over the course of two days. And then they needed almost no editing afterwards because I'd managed to capture just perfectly what I had planned to get across. Even now when I was planning on doing a second edit before posting, I mostly just sat and read through it without adding anything lol. Am I hyping myself up too much?

I hope you liked the catharsis of that moment in the meadow with Morgan. It was long overdue. She's already on a path to healing, but she's got some more stuff to reckon with, which she'll do in the next chapter, so I hope we're all hyped for that! I'm guessing we all know where she's ended up, so I hope you're excited for some shenanigans in the next chapter.

Songrecs:

Falling by Harry Styles is like THE Dick Grayson song for this chapter, and probably the next several chapters. It just explains exactly how he feels. If this story was a show, that song would play as he speeds down the highway towards Blüdhaven.

In your Atmosphere by John Mayer fits for Morgan. She's at a place where she's actively avoiding her usual turf because she can't face him yet.

As usual, let me know what you think!