VVVVV
Consequences Part Two: Hill and Home (1/3)
a Gargoyles story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 1997, 2005
PG-13
VVVVV

Second verse, same as the first: Disney and Buena Vista own all the
characters and situations. No infringement on their copyright is
intended or should be inferred. Henry FitzMartin is the property
of Tara O'Shea and is used by permission. The excerpt in the
second section is from The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle, and is
used without permission but with the best of intentions.

VVVVV

Early afternoon sunlight filtered into the library, catching
on dust motes, turning them briefly into pixie sparkles, then
setting them back into gloom. The gargoyles were sound asleep,
Alex was down for a nap, David was on the 39th floor conferring
with a new junior V.P.. Fox had time to lose herself within the
pages of an ancient book or two, making notes as needed, continuing
her research on her mother's kind. Her kind. Whatever. Her
former history teachers would no doubt be horrified at her choice
of topics, but to her knowledge none of them had recently
discovered themselves to be children of the Fairy Queen.

She'd been drawn this time into a volume of Shelley's which
had been published when the man was less than forty years in his
grave. His spirit came alive for her, taking her with him as they
traveled in Queen Mab's enchanted chaise:

"Awhile thou stoodst
Baffled and gloomy; then thou didst sum up
The elements of all that thou didst know;
The changing seasons, winter's leafless reign,
The budding of the heaven-breathing trees,
The eternal orbs that beautify the night,
The sun-rise and the setting of the moon,
Earthquakes and wars, and poisons and disease,
And all their causes, to an abstract point,
Converging, thou didst bend, and called it GOD ... "

"Here is the information you requested." Owen's voice jerked
her out of the semi-trance she'd been in as she'd read. Quickly,
she closed the book of poetry, hoped it would cover the title of
the tome beneath it. A distinctive Celtic knot pattern continued
to glare up accusingly at them both.

She took the proffered file, glanced at the name on the tab in
his impossibly precise handwriting. "Sloane?"

"Victoria Sloane, nee Phillips, nee Fraser. Their mother."

"What about their father?" She flipped through the thin set
of papers. There were photocopies of a drivers' license, a tax
return, a marriage license. She didn't want to know how he'd
obtained them.

"He left in 1972. I haven't been able to locate him."

"Keep trying. We need to find whatever we can on these
people."

"I don't see why you're bothering."

She looked up from the file. "What?"

"I fail to see how tracking down Hyena's family is of any
importance other than to waste my time."

She blinked at him, wondering for a moment if somehow, Vogel
had killed Owen, bleached his own hair and secretly taken his
place. That had been the plot, so to speak, of her first movie, a
made-for-USA flop. She'd played the best friend of the woman who'd
been married to the dead man, and she'd spoken precisely three
lines before getting blown away by his double. The entire scene
had ended up on the cutting room floor to make room for
commercials. She'd gotten a new agent after that one.

Nah. Vogel didn't have enough imagination. Owen was simply
in a bad mood. Again.

"Would you prefer we handed the baby over to Jackal?"

"I would prefer we didn't get involved in this. May I remind
you that you have your own child with whom to concern yourself? We
need to focus upon his education, lest he level the city when he
reaches kindergarten!"

"That's your responsibility. I have others, including finding
a place for this kid when he's born. It looks right now like our
best option is his grandmother."

"Why not? She's probably the child's only one."

"We don't know that, and until we do, we're not discussing it
around Mrs. Sloane or anyone else."

He muttered something almost inaudibly. She heard
"Pointless."

She drew in a breath, then said in a low, clear voice, "Mr.
Burnett, if you are incapable of performing this task, I will find
someone else who can."

He stood back as if slapped. "I am perfectly capable of
fulfilling your request," he said, more subdued.

"Good. I'll have Harvey take me to meet Mrs. Sloane tomorrow
or Friday. In the meantime, try to track down Mr. Phillips, at
least determine if he's still alive."

"Fine," he said, and walked out.

Fox watched him go, then turned back to the book below the
volume of poetry. It was a collection, although by no means complete,
of myths and legends from the British Isles surrounding the Fay.
Within, she'd found her first reference of the Fairy Court outside of
Shakespeare and Jonson. Many of the stories had been retold and
changed into gibberish. Others contradicted themselves horribly.
When she'd skimmed through everything she knew to be patently false,
and added in what she'd been able to gather of the truth, she'd been left
with a surprisingly large chunk of information. She had come to a
clearer understanding of just who and what her mother was, the same
for her stepfather. The rest of the Children were more difficult to
categorize, being not only tricksters, but nurturers, healers, guides,
gods. Her sources couldn't decide if they were good, evil, or beyond
such paltry human terms, and the more she read, the more confused she
became on what it meant to be fay, or to have been only to lose one's
gifts and be bound to a mortal's little existence.

She feared it might be enough to drive one mad.

VVVVV

"'"But what if it prove that I am no harper?
That I lied for your love most monstrously?"
"Why then I'll teach you to play and to sing,
For I dearly love a good harp," said she.'"

Broadway looked up from the book and grinned at her. Angela
could not prevent her smile in return, although he was no doubt
unaware that she smiled more for the checkered apron around his
waist and his hand stirring the pot of jambalaya than for the poem
itself.

She applauded. "I like it."

"I thought you might have."

"My favorite part was the line about it not being such a bad
thing to have loved a unicorn."

"Mine too."

He continued stirring the pot, as they fell into silence. His
words still gleamed among the pots and pans, having been caught
there while he spoke them. Angela was half-certain that, should
she open a drawer, she would hear Molly's voice, crying for Maid
Marian.

She shook the illusion from herself.

She had grown up in the fairy land, in the palace of Oberon
himself, but the magic of that place had been more a low, easy
murmur, like the sound of the tides washing up at the beach. This
castle was not at all enchanted, yet it seemed to discharge energy
like lightning. Perhaps it was due to the raw power of the child
sleeping in the nursery, and of his tutor, currently hiding in his
mortal shell behind a terminal, doing heavens only knew what for
their host. Perhaps it was simply that Wyvern was the place she'd
always associated in her mind with fairy tales, and stories of old
times, told by firelight in three beloved voices. It breathed a
magic of its own, even when the real sorcery had been stilled after
the evening's lessons.

Was it magic, then, that she felt as she watched him continue
to stir the pot, or just another shade of friendship, made more
glittery by the chimeras in her imagination? And did it matter?

"Broadway?"

"Yeah?" he asked very quickly. His eyes were wide, like a
hatchling's, as if he'd heard, or thought he'd heard, another
question in her tone.

"You like mysteries."

"Yeah." His gaze had returned to the jambalaya and
disappointment filled his voice.

"I think I have a mystery on my hands, and I'd like your help.
If you're interested."

"Um, sure. What is it?"

She had his attention. Now, what to do with it? She sat on
one of the fine wooden stools and placed her feet on the rungs, so
that her knees provided a convenient rest for her elbows. She
watched him watch her position herself, and smiled inwardly. Boys.

"I'm not entirely sure. Whenever I start talking about
Avalon, Owen gets really ... weird."

"Owen's always weird. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Weirder than usual."

Broadway put on his thinker's face. "Well, he's from there.
Maybe it's like when we talked about the castle while we lived at
the clocktower. It's fun to remember, but it hurts, too."

"Maybe." She shook her head. "There's more. It's not just
when I talk about Avalon. There's something about my parents," she
corrected herself, "our /i>other /i> parents, the Guardian and Princess
Katharine and the Magus. I'm not sure what."

"Why don't you just ask him?" She sighed.

"I can't."

"Then ... " He stopped, as if spending a very quick moment in
internal debate. "What do you want to do about it?"

What did she want to do? "I want ... I'd like it if you
would help me observe him, see if you notice the same things I did.
Maybe I'm just crazy."

"You're not," he said earnestly, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks."

He looked down at the pot once more, a slight flush to his
bluish face. She observed him, not with the detachment she'd
fostered in herself towards all three of the boys, but with a
fondness she could not quite express. He was a dear. No, he
wasn't Gabriel, but then, no one was, and Gabriel was very far away
from her now.

"So," she said, dismissing Owen from her mind for the time
being, "what would you like to read next?"

VVVVV

Usually, going for a moonlight stroll in Central Park was
enough to get one tossed into the psychiatric ward for a suicide
watch. When one was taking that stroll hand in claw with a
gargoyle, with this new group calling themselves Quarrymen about,
it wasn't suicide, but it probably was asking for trouble. On
the other hand, they needed to talk, preferably on neutral
territory. The castle was his domain, the apartment hers, but the
Park belonged to them both, and in many ways, it belonged to them
together.

A week had passed since Maggie's parents had returned without
her to Ohio. She'd seen Maggie once in the intervening days, and
while there had been a sadness about her, at the same time, there
had been a new kind of strength which Elisa had never before
observed in her. She wasn't going to spend her time worrying about
what her father might say or do concerning the rest of her life;
she had other things with which to occupy herself. The clones
still needed her. The child she carried would need her strength
very badly in the coming months. Elisa remembered a little from
her high school biology classes, and thought she recalled something
about all the eggs in a human female's body being produced by the
age of two. Therefore, the baby would be human. Probably.

Babies had been on her mind a bit lately. She did remember
enough of that class to be relatively certain that the course of
action she was now contemplating would not result in a cute,
squirming little accident.

She looked up at her companion, trying to read in the angle of
his neck, the tilt of his mouth, if he'd had the same thoughts.

"Goliath ... " she started.

"Elisa ... " he said at the same time. He stopped, and looked
down at her sheepishly. "Go on."

"No, you say what you were going to say."

"After you."

She noticed the flicker of a lightning bug in the path before
them. Moments later, it was answered from just beyond a park
bench. Mating, she thought. It had to be easier to be a bug, she
thought. He flickers, and if he has a cute light, you respond. A
few minutes later, you eat him. Or maybe that was for praying
mantises.

"I've been thinking," she started.

There was a shout from a short distance away. Goliath pulled
her off the path into shadow, and they remained there for a few
moments, listening. There were voices, but they didn't sound like
Quarrymen voices. In fact, they sounded like they needed help.

With a nod of agreement, Elisa moved through the bushes
towards the noise, while Goliath climbed a tree to get height for
liftoff. As she pushed aside some foliage, she saw an annoyingly
commonplace sight: three punks were surrounding another couple
who'd been walking through the park. An older couple. Who looked
awfully familiar.

She groaned inwardly, and asked no one at all what on earth
the Guardian and Princess Katharine were doing in the middle of the
night in Central Park. One of the punks had a knife. Tom had a
sword. Despite the fact that she knew the Guardian had never
seen a movie in his life, she immediately wondered if he'd pulled
a Crocodile Dundee.

She stepped out of the bushes. "Don't you boys have anything
better to do?" She saw sudden recognition, intertwined with trust,
on Katharine's face and mirrored in Tom's.

The punk with the knife smiled at her. "Now that you're here
we do."

One of his pals looked at her more uncertainly. His eyes
widened in recognition, and he backpedaled away from her. "Oh no!
Not you!"

"What's into you, man?"

"She's that cop. The one with the gargoyles."

Now two of the three punks looked wary. At some unseen
signal, they both turned and ran like hell-for-leather. A rush of
air beating through wings, a thump of a landing, and they found
themselves face to face with Goliath, eyes blazing like twin suns.
Switchblade made the unfortunate mistake of taking his eyes off the
couple.

Two seconds later, he was on the ground with a sword pressed
against his throat. "Give me one good reason not to run you
through, sirrah!"

Switchblade made a peeping noise and passed out.

His friends made a crack when Goliath knocked their heads
together.

Looking over the scene, Elisa said, "With you guys around, I
could retire early."

"But then who would call them in?" asked Goliath, and it took
her a moment to realize he'd made a joke.

"Thank you for coming to our aid," said Katharine, as she
stepped nimbly over Switchblade to embrace Elisa.

"I coulda handled these ruffians," said Tom, sheathing his
sword.

She patted him lightly on the shoulder. "I know you could
have, Love, but havin' friends to help is always a blessing."

Goliath dumped the other two hooligans beside the first, then
sketched a bow. "The honor is to serve. May I ask what brings you
to New York? We thought the gates of Avalon were closed."

"Nay," said Tom. "Oberon's Children must stay there, for
certain, and the Eggs, bein' His Most High Pompousness' Honor
Guard, are supposed to be on hand, too. But we're neither fay nor
gargoyle. Since the bairns no longer need us, we decided to go see
the World, perhaps drop in on our Angela."

"Love, ye don't have to fib to Goliath or Elisa. They're
family." She turned to Elisa. "We left because I wouldna stay in
the same room as those three murderin' witches!"

So that was it. In Katharine's mind, the Three Sisters were
solely responsible for the Magus' death. That it might have been
a gentler form of suicide would never cross her thoughts. Or
anyone else's, she added as she saw Goliath's understanding nod.

"We have had other dealings with the Weird Sisters. They are
not welcome among us. You are."

"It is good to see you again," said Katharine, and surprised
them all by taking Goliath's hand.

"How did you get here?" Elisa asked.

"Our skiff is moored in the lake yonder." Elisa shuddered.
If she never saw another skiff again ...

"If you are going to be staying, you may wish to send it back
to Avalon." Staying.

"Um ... Goliath, as much as I hate to bring this up, we're
going to have to ask Xanatos first. It is his castle now."

Katharine looked up. "Castle?"

They didn't know. Oh, they knew about the spell, and the terms of
it, but it probably hadn't hit them what Goliath's awakening had meant
until just now.

"Ah ... " said Tom, uncertainly. "Perhaps we should wait here
until ye've talked to your friend."

Katharine ignored him. "Wyvern? It's near?" Her eyes were
wide. Elisa saw the girl she must have been a thousand years
before, as she said softly, "Home."

Tom shot Elisa a warning glance. Something wasn't kosher.
"My love ... "

"Thomas, we're going to see my castle."

"Yes, Love."

Elisa glanced at Goliath. If he'd seen the alarm on Tom's
face, he wasn't acknowledging it. "Come, friends. I can't carry
all of you, but I think we can make our way there without much
difficulty."

As Katharine still had his hand, he gallantly led her in the
direction of the rock outcropping he typically used for altitude in
the park. He could fly them to Elisa's apartment, and she could
drive them.

She fell into step with Tom a pace behind the others.

"What?" she asked quietly, as Goliath pointed a set of statues
out to the princess.

"I do no' think taking her to the castle is a good idea."

"Why not?"

He watched his lady for several paces before he said in a low
voice, "She's not herself." He wouldn't elaborate, forcing Elisa
to speculate in silence.

Not herself? Not herself as in how?

Katharine laughed at something before them, and Goliath joined
her.

Great.

VVVVV

The car pulled to a stop in front of the building. Katharine
looked up, and up and up.

"On top of this, you say?"

"Above the clouds," she responded. Too bad those clouds were
covering it now. The castle was a glorious sight on a clear evening.

She pulled into her parking spot and killed the engine. She
hoped Goliath had already reached home. This was not going to be
easy without him there. Tom was growing antsy, watching his wife
with great concern.

"Let's go."

The elevator was a new experience for them. Only her careful
assurances that this was normal kept Tom from attacking the wall.
Katharine kept her eyes open, but said nothing on the trip to the
top.

The door slid open, depositing them just outside the Great
Hall. Elisa said gently, "Welcome home."

Katharine put one foot in front of her, and then another, as
if each step caused her terrible pain. She surveyed the room in
open wonder, saw the tapestries, the decorations. Heaven only knew
what she thought of the electric lights in place of the torches.

She placed her hand against her mouth, sank gently to her
knees on the flagstones. Tom ran to her side.

"Love ... "

"I'm all right," she said, still taking in every detail. "How
could I not be? I'm home."

Elisa saw Goliath at the opposite end of the room. Xanatos
and Fox stood with him, watching.

"Your Highness," said Goliath in a grave voice, "these are
David and Fox Xanatos. They own the castle now."

Katharine raised her head, wiped at her cheek with the back of
her hand. Tom helped her to her feet, and remained holding her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I don't mean to be weeping on
your floor."

The three crossed the room, Goliath hanging back. Xanatos
bowed deeply before her. "Your Highness, we had the honor of
meeting your parents. You are welcome in our home as long as you'd
like to stay."

Katharine looked confused. "My parents?"

"We'll explain later." He glanced at his wife expectantly.

Fox said nothing at first, merely watched Katharine with a
strange look in her eyes. "You're here," she said softly. "I
can't believe it. You're actually here."

Katharine's confusion grew. So did Tom's obvious concern.

"Have we met?"

"No," said Fox, "but I'm glad we have now. I've read
everything I could find about you. Meeting you is like ... " She
paused. "I can't begin to describe it."

This was ... interesting. Elisa could really have cared less
about Fox's enthusiasm over meeting the princess, if it weren't for
the fact that Tom was obviously very troubled by it. Something was
majorly amiss. She was going to get to the bottom of whatever it
was.

A shriek of joy from across the room turned into a flurry of
legs and wings, and Angela grabbed her foster parents in a bear
hug. Well, maybe she'd find out later. The rest of the gargoyles
were coming their way, albeit slower. They would want to spend
time with the new houseguest.

For half an instant, she wondered where Owen was, then forgot
his existence as Hudson bowed before Katharine, who pulled him from
the bow into a hug.

They spent the better part of an hour in the antechamber to
the Great Hall, until Katharine's distracted glances around the
room signaled a tour was in order. Xanatos and Fox gracefully
bowed out, Fox never taking her eyes off Katharine as they did, and
requested Angela show off the changes that had been wrought upon
the ancient stone.

She did so happily.

Elisa thought she should probably also disappear, but a touch
from Goliath to her shoulder indicated he would like her company as
Angela showed one refurbished room after another to her amazed
parents. Tom, she recalled, had probably only been in the original
castle a day or two as the inhabitants readied themselves for the
trip to Kenneth's keep.

Katharine was a different story, and as they walked the halls,
Elisa understood why she and Goliath were joining them: the
princess needed familiarity.

She was quiet, deathly so, as they walked, though Tom's
incessant questions disguised the gap efficiently. Only when he
paused for breath did Elisa even realize his lady hadn't spoken a
word since they'd left the Great Hall, instead looking around her
in mute wonder with his hand at her arm guiding her.

They walked through the bedroom suite, where Xanatos had
offered Elisa a room if she chose to spend the day some time. She
hadn't yet taken him up on it.

Katharine stopped in front of a closed door, placed her hand
against it. "This was my room when I was a girl," she said, her
voice very small.

Angela smiled. "Why don't you go in?"

Tom's concern turned to blatant alarm. "Love, perhaps ... "

Katharine turned the latch and pushed the door open. She
stepped out of his touch and into the room.

The room had been re-done in heavy shades of blue, elaborate
but tasteful. Elisa couldn't say for certain whether Katharine
even noticed, as she walked through the room to the glass-doored
balcony. That had to be new, she thought.

She turned around. "Thank you, Captain, that will be all."

Captain?

Tom stepped into the room, and gingerly took her hand.
"Katharine ... "

She pulled her hand away quickly. "Captain, do no' test ma
patience. Now go." Her brogue had deepened, almost to the point
of incomprehensibility. A stray wonder crossed her mind: how in
the world had three people with Scottish accents raised thirty-six
children without them? That was a thought for another time,
after they dealt with this one.

Tom inclined his head. "If ye'll need anything, summon me."

"Of course." He walked out of the room, and to the shock of
the rest, closed the door.

"Guardian?" Angela was visibly frightened.

"Don't concern yourself," he reassured her. "She's just a bit
put out by all this." Elisa may not have been raised by the man,
but she could tell he was lying through his teeth.

"Will she be all right?"

"Certainly. In a few minutes, I'll go in and check on her."

"In the meantime," said Elisa, "Angela, will you please wait
here in case she comes out?" Angela nodded, mystified.

Elisa tugged at Tom's arm. Goliath followed them back towards
the Great Hall. When they were out of Angela's earshot, Elisa
stopped.

"How long has she been like this?"

"Like what?" His eyes darted from her to Goliath and back.

"Thinking you're someone you're not, talking to people who've
been dead for a thousand years."

"It's not bad. She's just a bit confused."

"That's not confusion, Guardian." Why wasn't Goliath helping
her with this, instead of looking at her in confusion of his own?

"She'll be better in a few minutes."

"She doesn't know who you are."

"What of it!" His voice was quiet but fierce. "What if she
canna remember my name? We're neither of us very young anymore.
Of course we forget things."

Then he looked down, caught his breath. "My apologies. She and
I have been together too long. We start sounding alike after a while."
He explained, "She gets angry when she doesn't remember things, too.
But she'll be all right in a little while. She always is."

"Perhaps you should check in on her," suggested Goliath, and
Tom nodded.

"Perhaps I should." He walked back towards the room, but
Goliath prevented Elisa from following.

"Goliath, you've got to see she's not okay."

"She will be fine," he said, and she stared at him.

"Goliath ... "

"And if she is not, we will keep an eye on her." She saw
understanding in his eyes. He wasn't blind to it, then, nor would
he immediately accept her diagnosis without further observation.

"All right," she replied. "Let's see if they need anything
else."

Together, they walked back to the room, where Katharine was
already in the hallway, holding Tom's hand.

VVVVV

"Maybe we ought to see if they need anything." Fox pulled
away from him, and headed towards the door.

"If they do, I'm sure they'll ask. Or one of the clan will
get whatever they require." He watched as several expressions
warred on his wife's face, then settled into dissatisfaction as she
reluctantly came back to where he sat.

"It's just ... She's really here."

"Yes," he said slowly, meanwhile trying to remember what
they'd been discussing before the arrival of their new guests. Oh
yes, she'd been telling him about the final casting call for a
sitcom being developed for the network launch in January. "You
were telling me about deLancie's argument with your friend Skip."

She didn't hear him. "This is too incredible. She's here.
In our home."

"Fox."

"Yes, David?" Her eyes were on him, but her thoughts were
visibly far away, or perhaps just a few floors from them.

"Would you like to spend some time with Katharine?"

"I wouldn't ... I can't ... I wouldn't have any idea what to
say to her." There was something on her face, in her eyes, a kind
of distraction. He felt her slipping from him and had no idea why
or how, only knew that she had a sense about her of time misplaced.

He heard a rap on the doorframe, turned to see Owen standing
there, and felt peculiarly happy to see him. At least someone in
his world was sane tonight.

"I've made arrangements for your departure tomorrow morning,
Madame."

"Cancel the arrangements. I'm staying in town until further
notice." Her expression had become firm, decisive. For no reason,
David regretted his suggestion.

"The Sloanes are expecting you," said Owen, visibly annoyed.

"Tell them I can't come. We have houseguest."

He frowned. "I was not aware of anyone's impending arrival."

David said, "They weren't expected. Angela's other parents
have dropped by for a visit."

Owen's eyes went wide as saucers behind his glasses. "Excuse
me?" This was intriguing.

"Princess Katharine and the Guardian. They're going to be
staying with us for a while."

"Here?" Then he looked confused, yet another expression he'd
never worn in public. "Just the two of them?"

"Yes and yes. Owen, is there a ... " Owen was gone. He hadn't
vanished; he'd simply walked very briskly away. David shook his head,
and turned back to his wife. She still wore her own odd aspect, lost in
thought about, presumably, their new guests.

Everyone was, it seemed.

VVVVV

Owen didn't run. Running would have been unseemly, so he
walked as fast as he could without hurrying to where he guessed they
would be. Something was terribly out of joint within him, something to
which he could not give a name. He had been listening to Angela's
tales, had been drawn to them like a fly to honey. Home, yes, she
spoke of home and more. He knew names, could almost see faces
within his mind, although he had not known them. At the same time,
he felt as if he were playing one of those absurd games where bits
of the picture were shown, and from that he had to guess some
nonsensical human expression. There were large parts of the
picture covered, and he dared not ask for another piece.

The gargoyles on Avalon had been raised by three people. Why
had only two come to Manhattan? He frowned, deeper than he ever
would have dreamed doing in this guise, but now did out of recent
habit.

His thoughts had been disjointed ever since he'd heard Angela
sing. If his suspicions were correct, he would at last have the
answers to questions long buried inside himself. Having that
chance, though, he feared the answers.

His mind put together the puzzle in the most pleasing shape
imaginable: his failure put to rights; his discovery a key to his
triumphant return home; possibly, though he dared not think this
last too much in case the hope push him to act too hastily,
possibly even the renewed affection of his Lord.

His soul, less logical but far more knowledgeable on Fate's
habit of treating him cruelly, sought out the touch of mind against
a certain mind, a touch unknown this past millennium, and heard no
answer to the call, save the strong unconsciousness of the sleeping
child and the weak but definite presence of Titania's daughter.

He allowed himself expand into the city beyond the castle
walls. He felt the paper-thin echoes of the minds of sensitives
through the island, pretty, useless things that could Hear but
could not Speak. He went deeper, and in the bowels of the city
felt a familiar slumbering presence, a fay fully of the blood who
did not yet know his own potential. Near him were two much smaller
presences, strong for all that, and he startled. He'd known about
the first, but the second, near to being born even as he listened,
was something new.

"Congratulations," he mouthed, but did not send. Amazing,
really, that for all he had once been able to do, he could no longer even
send a simple thought to another mind, save as training for Alexander.

That would change. He would find Ian, and all would be well
again, and he could go home.

He paused. The new guests were nearby. He could have
determined this by the feel of the air, slightly denser for two
more bodies, or by the slight humming of his thoughts near other
living beings, the same way he detected electrical fields. He
could have divined it, through some glass, or perhaps simply by
knowing the most likely location the gargoyles would show their old
friends.

Angela's voice, bubbly with excitement, coming from less then
twenty feet away, was the best giveaway.

Instead of going immediately in, he hung back in the shadows,
letting them cover his face as he watched and listened, ignoring
the hammerbeat in his chest and the sound of destiny roaring like
blood in his ears.

They had gone to the library. Angela was describing, badly,
the collection of books. She had some grasp of what the various
volumes contained, but her education for the most part had been up
through the tenth century and had stopped. Even the rest of the
clan, who had been there nigh onto three years, were somewhat at a
loss as to just how much they'd missed.

"This section is about astronomy," she said, and from his
vantage point, he saw her pull out a book carefully. One good
thing about the gargoyles: they knew how to treat books.

"According to what I've read, this was one of the most
controversial books ever written." She opened it up, showed a
simple diagram of what appeared to be stars. "These are the Medici
Stars. They're the moons of Jupiter." Her charges both looked on
her like she'd lost her mind, as she attempted to explain the
nature of the universe to them using very small words.

He remembered those mad days, when Galilei had pointed his
little tube towards the sky. Never mind that the Dutch had been
using the toys first; he'd used his in a manner no one else had
before, nor ever would in quite the same way again. He'd met the
fellow once at a party, had later regretted not spending more time
learning about him; then he had been far more interested in the
man's associate Sagredo, wondering why on earth he spoke Italian
with a Scottish burr.

The Guardian made a comment, which Owen almost didn't hear,
about how much the Magus would have enjoyed seeing all these books
in one place.

Would have enjoyed, he thought. Not would enjoy, not will
enjoy, and he floundered for a moment, grasping at his fleeing hope
while thinking everything might still be all right. Then his
senses, open from before, felt a deep, almost numb grief
reverberating from inside the library, and he knew.

Quietly and with great care, not wanting them to hear him, not
able to stand there further, he slipped deeper into the shadows and
was away to his room. Despite the darkness, and the chill of the
Autumn evening, he did not draw the window closed, nor did he turn
on any form of light. He stood in the darkness, looking out upon
the clouds below and surrounding the castle, and for a long while,
managed to think about absolutely nothing at all.

VVVVV

Elisa waved to the security guard on duty. No matter when she
pulled into the parking lot, it seemed he was the man on duty. She
briefly wondered if he was, like so many of the rest of the
castle's inhabitants, not entirely human, then disregarded the
notion. She was seeing fairies in shadows anymore. Besides, it
had been a few nights since her last visit; he'd probably had a
night or two off in the interim.

She'd talked to Goliath for a while before sunrise, enough to
know that he was fine, the clan was fine, everybody was fine, and
that he wasn't about to tell her anything on Katharine's condition,
other than to mention Fox had been spending an inordinate amount of
time around her.

That disturbed her, though she didn't vocalize the thought to
him. She had believed there to be an unspoken noninterference pact
among the various residents of Wyvern. Hence, when she was there,
and she assumed even when she was not, Xanatos, Fox and Owen were
absent, or at worst, announced themselves, said or did what was
required, and departed again.

Alexander was a more constant presence, because of the baby
monitors and the fact that Lex enjoyed playing with the child, and
oddly enough, so did Katharine. The last time Elisa had been to
the castle, the baby had spent most of his waking time on the
woman's lap, and she had been the one to put him to bed, just
before Elisa had left. The clan did not mind his company, figuring
he was too small to provide much danger. No one ever brought up
the Coldstone/fire/steel incident.

Therefore, when Goliath said that one of Their group had taken
it upon herself to start spending quality time with one of what she
thought of as Our group, Elisa had filed it away as a concern
without mentally red-tagging it, then turned her attention fully
towards Goliath. They'd chatted idly, and then they'd stopped
talking, and while he had not moved to touch her any further than
the comfortable drape of his arm around her, she'd felt between
them an undercurrent of change.

He'd left soon afterwards, fleeing the sun and perhaps more.

So here she was again at the Eyrie, parked in her increasingly
usual space, wondering why she'd come. She had to work tonight, but
not until eleven.

The elevator deposited her in its usual place, and she
wandered, wondering where everyone had gone. "Hello?" she called,
feeling like an idiot.

"Hi Elisa," said Brooklyn from nowhere, startling her.

"Hi Brooklyn. Where is everyone?"

"Hudson and Goliath are out on patrol." Damn. "Lex is
working downstairs. Last time I checked, everyone else was in the
living room."

"Thanks." She cursed inwardly again. So much for catching up
with Goliath before work. "Could you tell Goliath I dropped by?"

"Sure." Something was wrong.

"Why aren't you with the others?" He looked at her, eyes
momentarily full of pain, which he shuttered tightly away before
she was certain she'd seen it.

"No reason. Just thought I'd get some air." The lie was
apparent on his face, but she didn't call him on it. She had
noticed how much time Angela was spending with Broadway lately as
well, and while she was happy for them both, she knew what it had
to be doing to Brooklyn's heart right then. He would no doubt
learn to live with it, as he had learned to live with Maggie's
obvious love for Derek. He just wouldn't enjoy it.

"Do you want some company?" she asked, thinking to be a
shoulder if nothing else.

"Nah. I think I'd rather be alone right now. No offense."

"None taken." She watched him go up the stairs in a fair
imitation of someone who wasn't dying from within.

A voice spoke to her in her memory as he went: "I'm used to
being on my own." She remembered too well what had become of the
speaker, and as Brooklyn was gone from her sight, she prayed the
same fate would not befall him, to be forever alone among friends
and always in sight of the one being who could make all the pain go
away.

She went into the living room, waving half-heartedly at those
gathered there. As she'd expected, Angela and Broadway were
sitting together, perhaps not quite as obviously as the older,
human couple on the couch, but still close enough to leave no
further doubts as to who'd won the unspoken contest. The truth was
in the ease on Angela's face as she rested beside him, and even
though it was not the kind of unbridled yearning one saw on a movie
screen between young lovers, the visible emotion was as clear as a
teardrop. No wonder Brooklyn had fled.

"Elisa," nodded the Guardian in her direction. "What brings
you here tonight?"

"Oh, just thought I'd drop in for a quick hello." She had the
sudden feeling she'd interrupted something, though what she did not
know. She noticed Fox, sitting close to Katharine, and her hackles
rose in immediate and unconscious protection of the princess.

"Why don't you join us?" he asked quickly.

"Sure. Thanks. I can't stay long," she lied as she placed
herself in one of the overstuffed chairs.

"You were telling us about the castle," Fox prompted.

"The castle?" asked Katharine vaguely. "Oh yes. My castle.
Wyvern. Lovely place. I haven't seen it in years, though."

"We've just arrived there, Love," said the Guardian gently.

"We have?" She looked distressed, then smiled at him. "So we
have. Silly of me." She glanced around the room, and her dark
aspect returned. "What did they do to my castle?"

"We redecorated," said Fox.

"I liked it the way it was," said Katharine quietly, and Fox
looked down, whether angry or embarrassed Elisa didn't know or
care. She had little use for the current lady of the house, or for
that matter, for the other ostensibly human members of the
household.

"What was it like?" asked Angela, and Elisa noticed Broadway
squeeze her hand as Tom shot her a glance.

Fox latched onto the question. "Yes, what was it like when
you were here?" Her eagerness was almost hungry in its intensity.
Tom's concern level shot sky-high, as Katharine turned to the other
human woman, her eyes focused on some unnameable other place.

"Father likes ta have music." Her accent was thick again.
"Perhaps we might have minstrels when we sup." Father? Wherever
she was, it was a safe place. Elisa, recalling the strong woman
who'd blasted a wall down on Demona's head, ached inside as she
began talking about her life in Wyvern as someone who still lived
there.

"Katharine," said the Guardian, "perhaps you'd like to lie
down for a spell before supper."

She drew away from him, distrust in her eyes. "I'll ask ye ta
keep yer hands off me!"

"Princess," said Angela, keeping her own hands away, "would
you like me to walk you back to your rooms?"

Katharine looked her up and down, not saying a word. Her face
was eloquent in that respect. Angela was a gargoyle, and when
she'd been a lass, gargoyles were not pleasant sights.

"I'll go with you, your Highness," said Elisa, before Fox could
volunteer and possibly do more damage. She stood as gracefully as she
could, and tried to make a bow. Katharine stared at her, then offered an
elegant shrug that said, You'll do. She got to her feet, and with hardly a
glance to the others, allowed Elisa to lead her out of the room.

Elisa thought she remembered where the room was that had been
given to the couple for their stay, and walked in that direction
slowly. Katharine was silent, until they reached the door.

She looked into her room. "What are we doing here?"

"You wanted to lie down for a little while." It wasn't exactly the
truth but it would work.

"I did?" She sat down on the edge of the bed, still looking
around her in some fear. Elisa wanted to leave, and knew that she
didn't dare just yet. She sat in a chair by the dresser, her hands
placed palms down on her legs, the least threatening position she
could muster.

"You did. Do you know where we are?"

"Of course I know where we are. I'm not stupid. We're in my
castle. We've come to see our Angela." She stood up again, walked
past Elisa to the dresser, picked up a brush, and began working it
through her hair. "She's a good girl, that one. A little testy now and
then, but she has a fine head on her shoulders. Always learning, asking
questions. The Magus said he could probably teach her a bit of magic
if she wanted." She set the brush down, and her shoulders drooped
slightly.

"I'm sorry," Elisa said, thinking it was the only thing to say.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You grow old, new things
replace you, and life moves on. That's how the world works."

She watched the woman, standing by the mirror, touching her
hair as if fixing it, but really just staring. She felt awful, and
at the same time, felt she had to say something that had plagued
her for nearly a year. She stood, and moved beside Katharine in
the mirror.

"He was in love with you."

"I know," she said. "I always knew."

"You knew? But then ... I mean, why ... "

"I wondered that, for a long time." Her face went far away
again, and Elisa feared for a second she'd sent the princess back
to the other place.

"It seemed like a perfect thing, he and I. But he was so shy. I
could tell he wanted to say it, just didn't know the way, and didn't think
he even had the right. And I was raised not to say such things. So we
neither of us spoke, and time went on, and after a while, I fell in love,
and it was no longer a perfect thing, nor anything at all." There was no
regret on her face, only a passing sadness, and Elisa reminded herself
she ought to visit Jason soon. "That's one bit of advice I'll tell you,
dear. When you see something you want, grab onto it with both hands,
and don't let it go from you."

Elisa nodded, her thoughts no longer on Jason.

"Princess Katharine?"

"Yes?"

"May I ask a personal question?" After her last outburst, it
seemed almost silly to ask, but it was impossible to proceed
otherwise.

"Ask."

She swallowed. "Do you ever regret not having children of
your own?"

Katharine looked at her in utter confusion. "What do you
mean?" Damn. She was gone again. Then, as if she'd heard Elisa's
thought and meant to contradict it, she added, "I have thirty-six
children. I don't need any more than that, thank you."

"That's not what I meant."

Katharine turned to her, and in what was possibly the last
moment Elisa would ever see her completely rational, she said, "I
know. And I know why you're asking. And that is the only answer
I can give you." She moved past her and sat down on the bed again.
"Now, if you'll be so kind, I would like to catch a bit of sleep
before supper."

"Of course," she mumbled, and making certain the woman would
be all right, she closed the door behind her.

The Guardian waited at the end of the hallway, and looked up
when she exited the room. "How is she?"

"She's going to get some rest." She paused. "Guardian. Tom.
Tell me you see what's happening to her."

He watched the even glow of an electric light across the hall,
perhaps blocking out the truth for one last time. Then: "The first
time I really noticed was about two years ago, our time. Ariadne
brought her some tea, and she didn't recognize her. A few minutes
later, she was fine, and she apologized to the lass. But I'd seen.

"Since then, she's had occasional fits of not knowing who
she's talking to, thinking we're other folks, and so on. She'll
spend the better part of an hour calling me Captain, something I
find disturbing, myself." He shuddered. "When she comes back, she
gets mad at herself for not remembering, and sometimes she's mad at
me for not bein' who she thought I was."

Elisa let out a slow breath. "She seemed fine when we were on
Avalon. That wasn't long ago."

"You were only there a few hours. Besides," he added, "before
your first trip, she wasn't nearly as bad." He offered a small
shrug. "Before, when she got confused, the Magus would usually be
able to bring her back to us. She'd known him her whole life, you
see. No matter when or where she thought she was, he was there,
and he was incredibly patient with her."

"But he died," she said.

He nodded. "And now she's not quite sure who is who. I
imagine she'll have no trouble wi' Goliath and Hudson, maybe just
a little wi' the others here. Or maybe bein' around them in this
place will be the last thing to take her out of reality. When we
left Avalon, I'd kinda hoped bein' someplace new might be good for
her. Then the damned island brought us here."

"Where you need to be."

Tom turned on her, a little more bitterness in his voice than
he probably intended. "I don't see how we're needed here! The
only thing I see is that the longer we stay, the more I'm gonna
lose her to things she sees that aren't even there!"

Elisa placed a comforting hand at his shoulder. "Maybe Avalon
sent you here so we could help."

"Help what?" he asked. "Unless this new world is even stranger
than I first thought, you canna stop someone from growin' old."

"No," she said with regret. She remembered her mother's father,
who'd been one of the biggest, strongest people in her childhood
memories. As she'd grown up, he'd grown smaller somehow, and like
Katharine, had become confused. The last time she'd seen him, he'd
been uncertain of who she and Derek were. He'd been polite to them,
but he'd been very upset at their mother for some reason, and had
shouted at her until they'd left.

"I'm sorry," Tom said. "It's hard to stand by and watch her
slip away, knowing there's nothing in the world I can do to stop
it. I don't like bein' helpless."

Elisa longed to offer him some kind of hope, or at least
consolation, but there was none. He was right. Katharine was
growing old, and there was nothing to stop that.

"I should go see her. She'll wonder where I've gone." He
inclined his head to her, and meandered towards their room. Elisa
wondered what kind of reception he would have. Would his wife know
who he was? Would she shout at him and make him leave the room?
Elisa tried to imagine watching the love of her own life falling
away from her that way, piece by piece. She shivered in the
breezeless passage, and resolved to go by the roof one last time
before she left the castle. Just in case.

As she hurried along her path, she nearly plowed into Xanatos.
He smiled at her charmingly, and she, remembering Fox's performance
earlier, scowled back.

"What do you two think you're doing to Katharine?" she said in a
low voice. She hadn't been aware until just then how mad she was.

"Detective, what are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean. Every time she's back in the real
world, Fox asks her something else and sets her off again. I don't
know what game you're playing, but leave her out of it. She's been
through enough."

"I assure you, we're not playing any games, with Princess
Katharine or anyone else." His eyes were open, honest. She didn't
buy it for an instant.

"Whatever," she said, and brushed past him. She had to get to
work. She didn't look back, nor did she see him stare after her
thoughtfully after she was gone.

VVVVV

Fox was already in bed when he reached their room. Her
reading light was on, and her nose stuck in a book on medieval
history. She didn't look up when he entered.

"Have you been waiting long?" he asked her, as he placed his
jacket on a padded hanger and hung it on his bureau. He noticed a
stain on the sleeve, made a mental note to have Owen take it to the
dry cleaner in the morning, then made another note to ask Owen why
he'd been absent most of the evening.

"Not long," she said, turning the page. "Did you know Malcolm
the First had this castle built as his summer home?"

"Yes, I did." She still didn't look up from the book. With
a sigh and a useless curse against medieval historians, he put on
his pajamas. While occasionally Fox's bedtime reading meant new
opportunities for ah, role-playing, more often it meant he'd fall
asleep with her lamp lighting his back. They'd been living
together for over a year, and as he often had over that time, he
wondered what might happen if the light bulb burned out before he
was fully asleep.

"Darling," he asked casually, "how much time did you spend
with our guests this evening?"

"A few hours," she said absently. "Why?"

"Curiosity. Detective Maza passed me in the hall on her way
out, and made it sound like you'd been with them all night."

She set the book in her lap. "Your point being?"

"None. As I said, it was simply curiosity." He slid under
the covers, kissed her on the forehead, and rolled over.

He didn't feel her pick up the book again. "You don't like me
spending time with them."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did. Just not in those words."

He rolled back to face her. She stared at him. Hard.

"How much time did you spend with them?"

"I told you. A few hours."

He had to tread very lightly now. "And how much of that time
did you spend asking Katharine questions about the castle?"

She looked down at her book. "I just wanted to know things."

"I understand," he said, which was something he'd learned long
before he'd met Ms. Janine Renard as a Very Good Thing To Say when
he had no clue what was happening. "But Katharine isn't well."

"She's fine!" snapped Fox.

"No, she's not. She's very confused as to when it is. Asking
her questions about the past won't help her."

"I'm not trying to hurt her, David. I just need to find out
about ... " She fumbled, "Things."

"What kind of things?"

"Just things. Like what this place was like when she was here
the first time. And things that happened here."

"Why?"

"Because. Just because." She played with the binding of the
book, while he watched her. Something was askew inside her,
something she wasn't telling him.

"Fox."

"They were just dreams. That's all." She looked back at him,
daring him to say something about it. He didn't. Her gaze
softened. "I'll stay away from her, if that's what you want."

"Whatever you think is best," he said. "Maybe you should take
a break, leave town for a day or two." He hoped very much she
didn't take him the wrong way. Her eyes said she didn't. "We
could both go upstate for a weekend, leave Alex with Owen." He
gave her his best smile. "Might be fun."

"Might be," she answered. "I should go out of town for a
few. Owen tracked down Hyena's mother for me. I should pay her a
visit, tell her about the baby." She met his eyes again, looking
for what? Approval? Forgiveness? Neither was her usual wont, and
the expression made him uneasy. Nothing had been normal in his
life since the gargoyles had arrived. Perhaps if Fox took a few
days to herself, she at least might come back the way she had been
before them.

"Sounds like a good idea," he said, and without an objection
from her, he took the book from her lap and placed it on her night
stand. Still leaning across her, he turned off her lamp. Then she
drew him against her body, and they both forgot about medieval
history completely.

VVVVV

Angela's head shot up as she heard her father enter the living
room. For no reason, she felt flushed. She hadn't done anything
wrong, she reasoned. She had simply been listening as Broadway
read more to her from the latest book they were sharing. She'd
barely touched him all night, so Father and Hudson certainly
weren't interrupting something. Why did her face feel hot, then?

"Hello, Father," she said. "Elisa was here looking for you
earlier."

She watched his attention perk, and was amused as he attempted
to ask her very nonchalantly, "Did she say anything?"

"She had to go in to work at eleven," said Broadway, the book
on his lap, his fingers making scratching movements, in
anticipation of picking it up once more. Her father's face fell.

"Where are the other lads?" asked Hudson, parking himself in
his favorite chair. Bronx looked up from his comfortable position
on the floor, and was rewarded by a scratch.

"Lex is working tonight. Brooklyn," she looked around,
suddenly noticing his absence, "went outside for some air, but
that's been a while ago."

"Perhaps he went for a glide," suggested her father, but it
was apparent he wasn't thinking about Brooklyn just then.

"Perhaps," she echoed. She wasn't too worried about him yet;
Brooklyn was a grown gargoyle and could take care of himself. At
the same time, she felt somehow responsible for his recent
moodiness, whether or not he had an equal hand in it. A brief
sadness went through her for her friend, that she could not be what
he wanted. Then she glanced over at her reading companion, eager
to return to the land of Narnia with her, and she knew that her
life had chosen its course for her.

Their exploration of the mystery surrounding Owen had yielded
no new leads in the past few days. In fact, since the Guardian and
Princess Katharine had come to visit, he'd been avoiding them all,
even so far as to walk the other direction should they find
themselves in the same passageway with him. The mystery deepened,
and confused her, simultaneously enticing her to learn more. For
the time being, though, she would sit and listen to Broadway's
voice, and she would be content.

VVVVV