VVVVV
Consequences Part One: Fortune and Men's Eyes (1/3)
a Gargoyles story
by Merlin Missy
Copyright 1997, 2005
PG-13
VVVVV

The characters and situations in the "Gargoyles" universe belong
solely to Buena Vista Television, a subsidiary of the Walt Disney
Company. No infringement on their copyright is meant or should be
inferred. Characters in this section of the story not owned by either
of these sources are my own creations, and are hereby declared public
property (just let me know if you do actually use them; I'd like to
see what happens).

Continuity notes: takes into account the continuity established in "All
Through the Night," and in most of Nancy Brown's story universe. You
don't need to have read any of those stories, but you might enjoy this one
more if you do.

I thank you for your time and attention. Now, on with the show.

VVVVV

In her half-dreaming world between sleep and full awareness,
Elisa relived the moment on the tower. It had seemed so natural and
perfect to jump into his startled arms and press her lips against
his. Now, in her semi-conscious state, the scene replayed, changing
as it went. She felt his wings enfold her as his arms moved around
her, holding her lightly against the quickening rhythm of his heart.
He began to return her kiss, and although she could sense the sun
rising behind him, he remained warm and responsive while she
explored the strange contours of his mouth. His hands massaged her
shoulders and neck as ...

BUZZ " ... oh, it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night!"

Elisa shot her hand out, slapping the top of her radio alarm
clock until she found the Snooze button. Not quite awake, she
stared at the ceiling for about thirty seconds, then looked over at
her clock. 3:30. She had a few minutes before she had to get up,
she decided. She closed her eyes again and tried to recapture the
fantasy from which she'd been so abruptly pulled. Her heart rate
slowed gradually back down as the adrenaline rush subsided. Tower.
Goliath. Kiss. And after the kiss ...

BUZZ " ... so put your little hand in mine/There ain't no
hill or mountain we can't climb/Babe!" That killed it.

She looked at the clock as she hit the Snooze button again.
3:39. Like it or not, she had to get ready. She sat up and turned
off the alarm. There were times she was certain that thing knew
when she most didn't want to hear it. With all the magical objects
she'd encountered in the past two years, it wouldn't have surprised
her in the least to learn her alarm clock was possessed by some
vindictive spirit.

Oh well. Sunset would be in a few hours. If Captain Chavez'
temporary replacement had a new case for her and Matt, she would
simply have to swing by the castle for a few minutes. Or more.

The castle. It was odd to think about it as a place she
wanted to go. For over a year, it had stood for her as a symbol
of the most devious foe she'd ever had to face, a man who played
with others' lives as if they were toys for his personal amusement.
He had utterly upset the balance that had been her own life, first
by introducing her to the gargoyles, then by changing her brother
into a mockery of one, and finally by managing to slip into every
facet of her existence one way or another. Xanatos.

Yesterday that same villain had called an end to the battle
between them. He said it was all over; Elisa would wait to see
how long the uneasy peace actually lasted. She was never going to
make the mistake of trusting that man, not for an instant.

Merely thinking about him put a frown on her face that she
didn't notice until she passed the bathroom mirror. She decided
quickly that she wasn't about to let thoughts of Xanatos set her
mood for the evening. Instead, as she stepped into the warm spray
of the shower, she thought of Goliath again, and wondered how he
would explain the grin on his face that she'd left him with by
dawn's early light.

VVVVV

She was still thinking about Goliath when she entered the
station a few hours later. Her cheerful grin and wave hello to
Morgan and the rest of the guys earned her more than her normal
share of stares. Considering the plywood that lay haphazardly
around, and the spackle which had managed to get everywhere in the
course of the last twenty-four hours, both grim reminders of what
had occurred, she supposed she probably should take on the same
serious aspect of the rest of her coworkers.

The serious face lasted until she saw Matt at his desk, at
which point she could not help but let her smile shine through
again.

"Have a nice day?" asked her partner over what was probably his
third cup of coffee. There was just enough of a layer to his
questioning tone that Elisa wasn't sure whether to bat him on the
arm or start laughing.

"Yeah, seven hours of sleep can work wonders."

His returning look asked her if she was just talking about
sleep.

Her silent reply asked him what else could she be talking
about during the day?

He watched her for a moment, then began to study his coffee
cup, a smile of his own threatening.

"I'm glad to see you're both in such bright moods," came a deep
voice to her left.

"No extra charge," said Matt, straightening up. Elisa felt
herself doing the same without trying.

Carl McKenzie wasn't a large man, but he had a presence that
managed to make even the toughest creeps they brought in feel
inadequate. He had the rare gift of being intimidating simply by
stepping into a room, which had come in handy on more than one
occasion in his fifteen years on the force. Elisa had known him
half her life, had seen how much like a teddy bear he really was,
but every time she saw him, she couldn't get over the feeling that
she was still merely a scrawny little kid in the company of a giant.
She'd seen the same effect on the other officers in the precinct,
which she supposed made him a good, if not perfect, choice to take
command while Captain Chavez recovered from her injuries.

Making a firm attempt to stay nonchalant, she asked him, "So
what's the bad news for tonight?"

McKenzie leaned casually on a chair for a second, until he
noticed that it would not support him. He slid to an empty desk and
sat against it, obviously half-convinced it too would fall, but not
wanting to take up any more space than he needed.

"The Captain called this afternoon. Bluestone, she wants you
to check out those leads you had on the whereabouts of these
'gargoyles,' but if you don't find anything, she wants you to drop
it and instead concentrate on finding Jon Canmore. She said we had
full confessions from Jason and Robyn Canmore," Elisa's heart
skipped a beat, "concerning the bombing, and that the city could use
the funds being spent on the Gargoyle Task Force to repair the
station house sometime before the next millennium." His mouth
quirked. "If you could manage it, I'd like your preliminary report
on the gargoyles by tomorrow night."

"I'll see what I can do," said Matt. "What did she say about
my idea to substitute the Garg Task Force with an Alien Task Force?"

"She said to take some vacation time, and that if you even
thought about running a check to find satellite interference, you
were to be put on suspension until after 'Independence Day' leaves
town." Matt pretended to be hurt. McKenzie turned to Elisa. "And
as for you, she said that if you asked for any vacation time, you
were going in front of a firing squad."

"There goes your trip to Tahiti."

"So do I tag along with him all night?"

"Not tonight. Officially, you're still partnered with Conover.
We'll fix the paperwork tomorrow, as soon as they excavate the
Captain's office. I have a Missing Persons report for you." For
the first time, she noticed the manila folder in McKenzie's grip.
He handed it to her.

"What's this about? I haven't worked MP in years."

He shrugged. "This one is a little different. A woman
disappeared while working for Gen-U-Tech. Her parents filed a
report months ago. They showed up this afternoon demanding to know
why their daughter hadn't been found yet. The Captain figured that
since Xanatos was involved, you'd want to work on it."

"She's right." The truce might come in handy after all. She
could get some information on the poor woman out of Xanatos, and
keep her parents from going through the same turmoil her own had
before they discovered what had become of Derek.

She opened the folder, and looked at the photograph of the
missing woman. She wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was pretty, a
blonde Caucasian in her twenties. Elisa had the feeling that she
had seen her around but couldn't figure out where. She'd
encountered enough of Xanatos' employees in her recent travels to
populate a small city, but none of them in her immediate memory came
close to this face. Another quick inspection of the picture told
her that it definitely wasn't the blonde woman from the XCG who
seemed to show up everywhere.

She sighed and glanced at the name. Margaret Ann Reed. Her
fingers contracted involuntarily around the paper as the woman's
identity slid into focus.

Maggie.

Damn.

VVVVV

They were waiting in one of the less-damaged areas of the
station when Elisa located them. Mr. Reed looked to be in his early
fifties, his salt and pepper hair thinning just to the point where
brushing it over the top of his head no longer helped. He was
easily half a foot taller than she, and had the kind of build to
make potential attackers think twice. He sat, reading one of the
handful of antique magazines kept around for the law-abiding among
the passers-through of the precinct house. Beside him sat his wife,
a mousy little woman with darting eyes. Her hands had knotted
together in a manner suggesting she'd been toying with them
uselessly minutes before. She was probably around his age, but her
face was older, sadder. Elisa had seen that same face worn by a
hundred women, coming to the station to drop charges against
husbands and boyfriends.

"Mr. and Mrs. Reed?"

The woman's head shot up. Her husband looked up from his
magazine, and his frown deepened a fraction when he saw her.

"It's about time."

Elisa ignored the irritation in his voice, reminding herself
that he'd probably been under a great deal of stress since Maggie's
disappearance. Her own father certainly had. She gave them a
professional smile as they stood. "Detective Elisa Maza."

"Detective," said Mr. Reed, "perhaps you can explain why we've
been left here for so long."

"I'm very sorry for the delay. Things have been a little crazy
here lately." She indicated the mess. "If you don't mind, I'd like
to ask you a few questions."

"What's there to ask? We filled out the report months ago.
We've heard nothing since then. I got some time off work to come
here, and now you want to ask questions?"

"It could help us in our investigation." Elisa didn't want to
acknowledge it, but she was really beginning to dislike Maggie's
father, and she'd only known him a few minutes.

"All right." He sat back down abruptly, and his wife followed
suit, watching Elisa carefully. So far, she hadn't spoken a word.

Elisa pulled up a chair and sat down casually across from them,
trying to broadcast her good intentions. She opened the folder and
scanned the file again. She'd read it carefully before she'd come
in, but she needed to remind herself of just what she was after.

"It says here that your last contact with your daughter was in
September of last year. May I ask the nature of that contact?"

Mrs. Reed said in a small voice, "She sent us a letter."

"Do you have the letter with you?" She nodded and dug into her
handbag. She pulled out a somewhat crumpled envelope with the same
address on it as was on the report. Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. "May I?"

Mrs. Reed looked to her husband. Mr. Reed appeared unhappy,
but nodded. Elisa took the envelope. She pulled out a piece of
stationary paper, with the Gen-U-Tech logo emblazoned on the top and
read it quickly.

Dear Mom,

Hi, it's your long-lost daughter. Sorry it's been
so long since my last letter. I've been very busy
lately, but I have good news: I'm working at Gen-U-Tech
Systems as an assistant to one of the doctors here. His
name is Anton Sevarius, and he's been very kind to me.

I haven't had time to go to any auditions, but as soon
as I save up some money, I want to take a little time
off and go for it. I don't plan on working here forever,
you know. I have to go now. Dr. Sevarius says we're
going to start Phase Two of the experiment tomorrow, and
that means work work work tonight. Take care, Mom, and
tell Dad I said hi. And don't worry.

Love,
Maggie

Elisa remained staring at the letter after she finished, trying
to decide what to do next. She noticed the date on the letter, and
was positive it had been written after Maggie's transformation had
begun. The handwriting, just unsteady enough to be conspicuous,
reinforced her opinion. But she hadn't mentioned anything out of
the ordinary, which meant she had probably still been hoping for a
cure. Maybe Sevarius had told her it would only be temporary. Then
Sevarius had faked his own death, and Maggie had lost hope with the
rest of the Mutates.

She glanced up to meet their faces. "And you've had no further
word from her?"

"None." The man's voice was a death knell.

"Why did she come to New York originally?"

Her mother spoke again, her eyes wide, "She wanted to be an
actress. She was very good in her high school plays, and she
majored in drama at the community college."

Mr. Reed interrupted, "Maggie was never what you'd call
grounded in reality. When she wasn't in a play, she was writing
poetry, or mooning over some boy." He snorted. "I'll bet that's
where she is now, shacked up with a man, either with a kid or one on
the way, and too ashamed to come home."

"Don't say that, Jimmy," Mrs. Reed whispered.

"It wouldn't surprise me," he said. "Not one bit."

Elisa said hurriedly, "Before the letter, how long had it been
since you'd heard from her?"

Her father responded, "Three months. She called right after
she got here to tell us she'd found a place to live."

"May I have the address?" She took out a pad of paper.

Mrs. Reed looked at her husband again, and then said, "She
didn't tell us the address. That's why we put our home address on
the report."

Now that was odd. Why wouldn't Maggie have told her parents
where she was? She knew Maggie had been on the street a while
before Sevarius had approached her with the job. She didn't speak
of that time at all, and Elisa had never asked. She saw people from
the street every day, and knew what they were forced to do sometimes
to stay alive. That was the reason the Labyrinth had been founded:
to give other people a better chance than Maggie and Claw (and Fang,
when he'd been sane) had.

"Did she ever mention any friends or associates, maybe a
coworker?"

"No," said her father. "Just the doctor at Gen-U-Tech."

"All right, that should be enough for now. I'm going to check
some things out tonight, and I'll let you know tomorrow what I've
found. In the meantime, I'd suggest you go back to your hotel and
try to get some rest. We'll handle this from here."

Mr. Reed stood. "We'll be here first thing in the morning."
He set the magazine down and headed towards the door. Mrs. Reed
gave Elisa a quick, tight smile, and said, "Thank you, Detective.
I hope you can find our girl."

"We'll find her, ma'am," she said, meaning it. Maggie's mother
nodded, and scurried after her husband.

She watched them go, knowing exactly where she was going next.
Her heart felt light; she was going to reunite a family. It didn't
happen often. Usually, missing people stayed missing. This
particular missing person, though, would be easy to locate.

VVVVV

"'Maybe you do not understand. You see, turning pages will
bring us to the end of the book, and there is a Monster at the end
of this book ... '" Delilah's voice, so much like Elisa's to be
almost painful, echoed in the room. She paused between each word,
and the reflected sounds filled the spaces, making the story even
scarier.

Maggie glanced over at Hollywood, who had drawn his knees
against his chest and was staring over them with wide, frightened
eyes. Brentwood sat on his heels beside him, webbed arms wrapped
around his little body. Malibu was trying not to look scared, but
she was willing to bet that he would jump the highest if she said,
"Boo!"

Burbank was sitting a little bit away from the other boys, and
wasn't really paying attention to the story. He was watching one of
the candles in the room with the fascination of a moth. She had
worried about that in the beginning, but after he'd given himself a
nasty burn when he'd tried to play with a flame, he'd been very good
about touching with his eyes only.

She put a comforting hand on Brent's shoulder. He snuggled
against the touch, and she couldn't resist a fond smile. When she'd
first met the clones, she'd been taken aback by their appearances.
They were like bad color negatives of the gargoyles, and they had
significantly less charm. She was certain they'd never fit in with
life down here, even after Derek explained where they had come from
and why. Only reluctantly had she taken on the task of teaching
them to read. To her surprise, she had discovered what she had on
her hands was not a group of dangerous clones who would kill her
given half a chance, but five very young and inquisitive children.

From what they could gather, the kids were just now turning
three months old. What they had seen in those three months could
only be imagined. Thailog had created them to obey him, and to
fight. He hadn't bothered with teaching them how to speak more than
a few words, or how to feed themselves by any other means than
shoving food into their mouths as fast as possible. They had adult
bodies, but their minds were sorely lacking in anything but basic
sentience. He'd sent the mental equivalents of two-year-olds into
battle with their alternate selves. What kind of creator would do
that to his own children?

Delilah turned the page in the book, and read to the others how
Grover was building a brick wall to keep her from finishing the
book.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind as to why she'd been
created. She had Elisa's face, Demona's body, and was utterly
obedient to anything Thailog told her to do. Maggie had been
getting close to her, but hadn't yet reached the level of trust she
needed to find out what that had entailed. What she did know was
that Delilah hid whenever Goliath came below, but remained nearby,
watching him. In many ways, it was the same kind of fascination
Burbank had with the candles. Too close brought pain, but it was
impossible to stay away. The boys had also been wary of Goliath at
first, but they'd quickly come to accept him as yet another one of
the people who came to visit.

As if her thoughts could shape reality, she turned to the door
as Elisa poked her head in to see. Maggie raised her finger to her
lips, and Elisa slipped quietly inside. Delilah noticed her and
stopped.

"Hi, Elisa," she said, a shy smile on her face.

Elisa shrugged at Maggie as if to say, I tried. "Hi, Delilah.
What are you reading?"

Hollywood piped up, "Monster story!"

"Monster at the end of book," added Malibu.

Maggie sighed. "Malibu, say that again."

The clone, who could have been Brooklyn's technicolor twin,
scrunched up his beak in thought. "Monster is at the end of
book?"

She smiled. "Close enough." She made a mental note to tell
Derek they needed to work on their articles.

Brent pulled at Elisa's jacket. "Come listen! 'Lilah's almost
done." Elisa sat down between her and Brent and put on her most
attentive face.

Delilah turned the last page. Burbank moved away from his
candle to sit a little closer to the group. Hollywood bit his lip,
obviously very frightened of the monster.

Delilah giggled and turned the book so they could see. "It's
Grover! Grover is the monster!" The boys breathed a sigh of
relief. Delilah continued reading: "'And you were so scared! I
told you and I told you there was nothing to be afraid of. The
End.'"

"That was good story," said Burbank."

"Scary," said Hollywood.

"I ... wasn't ... scared," stated Brent, and looked proudly at
her.

"Very good." He beamed. "I was getting a little scared near
the end," she said, and Hollywood looked appreciatively at her.

Malibu looked at Elisa. "Why you come visit us?"

"Actually, I came to see Maggie." Her eyes added, Alone.

"I'm flattered," she replied. "Kids, that should be enough for
today. 'Lilah, that was very good." Delilah grinned. "Why don't
you and your brothers go find Talon and tell him Aunt Elisa's come?"

"'Kay," said Delilah. "Come on, guys. Bye, Elisa." The boys
scrambled to their feet and followed her out, mumbling good-byes.

Elisa watched them go out, a mixture of fondness and some
trepidation on her face. She was still a little uncomfortable
around them. It would take time for her to get used to seeing
herself as a gargoyle.

"She's gotten better," she said.

"Better than you think. That book was a little below her
reading level, but I thought the kids might like it. I may get her
to Charlotte's Web by next month." Elisa looked skeptical.
"Well, maybe the month after, but soon."

"I can't wait to see it. While I'm here, is there anything you
need? I forgot to ask last time."

"That's okay. I forgot, too, so we're even." She thought.
"Yes, come to think of it. We're going to need a decent First Aid
kit with these five around. They're worse than kids, because
they're bigger and can get into more trouble. And if you could
figure out a way to get some oranges down here, we'd be forever in
your debt." As far as she was concerned, Vitamin C was the world's
best cure for anything but cancer and genetic mutation. A few of
the human children had caught colds from the damp atmosphere, and
she'd noticed Claw acting sluggish lately, too. Her thoughts
drifted to the kids again. Delilah hadn't been eating much since
her arrival, less than half that of her brothers. She had enjoyed
the one orange she'd had; maybe she'd eat more if they were
available.

"I can do that. What's the smile for?"

"It's just that there are times I feel like a den mother. Or
their mother."

"If you are, you're better than Demona ever was to them."

"Maybe. You didn't come here to ask about supplies."

"No." She looked at the abandoned book. "When I got to work
tonight, Carl handed me a Missing Persons file and put me on the
case."

"Let me guess: it's for someone down here."

"You could say that. It's for you."

"Me?" She tried to think of who in the world would possibly
think she'd disappeared. "My parents."

Elisa nodded. "I met them this evening. I didn't tell them
anything. I thought you should decide how you want to do this."

"Do what?"

"Tell them what happened, show them you're all right, maybe
even introduce them to the family."

Maggie stood up and spread her wings. "Show them this? Are
you crazy? My mother would have a stroke." Her heart hammered in
her chest. There was no way she could tell them. And there was
certainly no chance of her ever introducing them to Derek. "No
way," she said.

"Maggie, I know what you're going through right now." As a hot
response came to her lips, she knew Elisa was right, but she didn't
understand the whole thing. "I think it would do your parents a lot
of good to know you're okay. It was hard on Mom and Dad before
Derek finally told them."

"I know." But my parents aren't your parents, she thought.
"Trust me, Elisa, telling them would be a very bad idea."

"Why? What's the worst that could happen?"

"You really don't want to know the answer to that." She
sighed. Elisa was only trying to be helpful, and probably thought
that it would be the best thing for everyone. How in the world
could she explain what she knew would happen when her parents
met Derek, or worse, the rest of the family?

"You can tell me, if you want."

"No, I can't. Elisa, I appreciate what you're trying to do,
but you have to believe me. They wouldn't understand."

"Maggie ... "

"Hi sis!" came Derek's cheerful greeting from the door. He saw
her face and asked immediately, "What happened?"

"Nothing," she said, knowing Elisa would probably tell him.

"Girl stuff," Elisa said quickly.

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically. "I could leave." Elisa
grinned impishly at him.

Maggie watched them with more sadness than she showed. Not for
the first time, she wished her own family had been as close as Derek's.
Since he'd introduced her to his parents, they'd treated her like another
daughter. Of course, this meant Diane felt perfectly within her rights to
tell her she wasn't eating enough and so on, but it was worth it just to
feel that kind of affection. She'd found herself wishing that her mother
was like this powerful, kind woman, or that her father was as
good-hearted as Peter. Then again, if they had been, she probably
would never have left home, never have met Derek or his family.
Kismet, she thought.

"My parents have come to town," she said. Derek's ears perked
up, something she normally considered adorable. Right now, though,
seeing the action as her father surely would, she trembled.

"So when do I get to meet them?"

"Never, if I can help it."

He crossed his arms. "What, you don't think they'd approve of
a boyfriend who can shoot lightning bolts from his hands?"

"It's not that!" She turned away and began wringing her hands,
then stared at them. Her mother did that, she remembered. She put
her arms to her sides.

She felt Derek's hands at her elbows, touching her lightly, as
if asking permission to hold her. "Maggie, tell me."

She thought of her parents, what they would say, what they
would do, if they saw her as she was right then, in the strong arms
of the man she loved. She thought of the look on her father's face
the last time she'd brought someone home to meet them. Then, she'd
told him just exactly what she thought of him, and then she'd
stomped out. She'd been in New York three days later.

"You know," she said, "I honestly think that the wings and the
lightning bolts will be the least of their objections."

"Will they have a problem with me?"

She didn't want to say it, wanted her parents to leave New York
and stay out of her life for good, and then she could go back to their life
here, teaching the kids to read by night and slumbering in Derek's
embrace by day. Would he understand if she told him? Would he
understand if she didn't?

"No. They're going to have a problem with your mother." She
turned to him, watched as recognition filled his eyes, to be
replaced with bitterness.

"I see." She saw Elisa close her own eyes for a moment, as if
trying to ward it off a little longer.

She took his hands and held them against her, willing him to
trust her. "I stopped caring what they said or thought a long time
ago. I don't really care what they say now about what we've become.
But if I saw them again, I'd want them to meet you, and know how
wonderful you are, and that I'm not alone. And if they met your
parents, I don't know what they'd do."

Derek let out a deep breath, then twitched his lips in what
passed for his smile. "You know, a few nights ago, I was wishing
that we'd just once have a 'normal' crisis, one that didn't involve
mad scientists or clones or power-mad ex-bus drivers. Now you're
telling me that my in-laws are going to hate my guts." He squeezed
her hands. "Guess I should watch out what I wish for, hm?"

"Guess so."

"So," said Elisa, "should I set up a meeting?"

"Can I think about it? Please?"

Elisa hesitated, then assented. "I think I can keep them in
town a few days while I 'look.'"

"Thanks."

Derek's sister wasn't the touchy-feely type, so when she touched her
shoulders, placed her head lightly against her cheek before letting go, it
meant a great deal. So did the simple "We'll get through this" she said,
pausing briefly at the door before she left.

Maggie watched her leave, her heart still twisting. There was no
way she could allow it, of course. Her parents would simply have to go
back home without seeing her, without finding out about what had
happened, and certainly without finding out ...

Derek's hands began massaging the back of her neck. She tensed
every muscle in her body, then leaned back against his touch. "That
feels nice."

"You have a knot right," he prodded at a painful spot just
below her left wing, "here." He kneaded it gently until she felt
the tightness relax. If he kept that up, she was going to start
purring. "You're going to have to tell them eventually, you know."

She tensed again. "Why? Way can't I just let them go back
into their own narrow world and live my own life?"

"Because they're your family."

"You're my family, and Claw and the kids. And if that's not
enough, Elisa and the gargoyles seem to come with the deal, too. If
he did anything to hurt you or one of the others, I don't know what
I'd do."

He moved his hands lower, and she arched to help him work out
the tension in her lower back. "Like Elisa said, we'll deal with
whatever happens."

"No matter what?" Maybe now would be a good time.

"No matter what." She felt his breath hot against her mane as
his hands shifted a fraction. She lost all interest in further
conversation.

After a while, she really did start purring.

VVVVV

Elisa had intended to go directly back to the station, and call
the Reeds from there. Instead, she found the Fairlane on a course
towards the Eyrie Building, seemingly without any intervention from
her. What was that about the subconscious having control?

It wouldn't hurt to put in an appearance. The guys were awake.
She might not be able to spend much time with Goliath, but seeing
him would definitely put her in a better mood. She could deal with
the Reeds after she saw him. Yes, that was an excellent idea, and
she praised herself for thinking of it.

She pulled the car down into the small parking garage below the
east side of the building. She flashed her pass to the guard on
duty, feeling strange for doing so. Xanatos had handed it to her as
she'd left that morning. It meant free parking, easy access to the
castle via the express elevator, and more. It meant he wanted her
to trust him to not do anything to her car while it sat, to her as
she spent time in the castle proper. With the pass and the
elevator, she had free run of the place whenever she chose, and
considering their past, that was a huge level of faith on his part.

She wasn't sure she could offer that kind of trust, but the
pass did make it easier to see the guys.

She got out, and locked the door before she closed it.

The elevator deposited her on the roof, no doubt informing the
castle's inhabitants that she was on the way as it did. In fact, as
she stepped out into the evening air, she heard padded steps on the
stairway, and turned to see Goliath, his wings draped gracefully
around him.

"I'd hoped you would come tonight," he said, opening his arms
enough for her to place herself comfortably within them.

"I can't stay, but I wanted to drop by for a minute anyway."
Oh, but she felt safe now. There was nothing in the world that
compared to being in the arms of someone who loved her. It brought
security from her earliest memories, of her parents' loving hugs,
sprinkled like rain among the three of them.

Three.

Uh oh.

She pulled back, remembering something that had completely
slipped her mind in the excitement of the past few days.

"Elisa?"

"Beth's coming home tonight. Her plane landed at six. I was
supposed to drop by."

"Is she finished with her school?" She had to admit, Goliath
looked very sweet when he was confused.

"No, she's home for a few days on Fall Break, and she brought
a friend from school." Translation: you can't come with me, and
she's going to have a hell of a time explaining why her friend
wasn't going to be meeting Derek. She loved her kid sister very
much, but there were many times she was sure she and Derek had been
the only ones who'd inherited their parents' common sense.

"Then perhaps you should spend time with her. You have
tomorrow evening off."

She weighed spending the time with her little sister against
spending it with Goliath. Years of "I'm gonna tell"'s rattled
reminders in her brain. "I was going to ask you over tomorrow
night."

His shoulders fell; had it not been for months of enforced
confinement in the skiff, during which she'd become hyper-attuned to
shifts in his mood and behavior, she might not have noticed.
Seeing it now, and recognizing it for what it was, made her warm
inside.

"There will be other nights," he said, simply. His words were
underlaid with meaning.

"Yeah, I guess there will." She smiled at him again, letting
him know she understood.

"I love you. You know that."

Electricity jerked her. He'd said it. She'd tried to say it
the night before, had said it the only way she knew. Tonight she
saw eagerness, a little fear, and the knowledge on his face that he
knew what he'd just done, hoped she would return it.

She prayed Xanatos didn't have a camera recording all this.

"I ... " Fear won. "I gotta go." She turned from the
quickly-masked hurt on his face, unable to deal with it. She thrust
her hands in her pockets, stepped into the elevator.

When the door closed, she rested her head against the wall.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

VVVVV

Angela yawned and put the book down carefully. Father had been
right; the books in the castle library were even better than the
ones in the public library had been. Xanatos was a connoisseur of
fine and rare books. The literature collection alone was just as
large and eclectic as the one in the building next door to the
clocktower, and the nonfiction sections, on history, science,
philosophy and more, were virtually a cornucopia of information.
Angela was hungry to learn.

They were staying in the castle for a while, to allow public
fervor to cool to the level of a forest fire rather than a
thermonuclear aftermath. Lex had spent the early part of the
evening playing with Alexander, and afterwards had disappeared to do
something on the Internet. Brooklyn and Hudson were in front of
the big screen television, watching the news. Father had gone to
the roof when one of the castle's sensors informed him someone was
using the express elevator, probably Elisa. Right now, Broadway was
puttering around in the kitchen, but she knew as soon as he was
done, he'd be in the library with her.

That started her down a train of thought she really didn't want to
follow, and she banished it by picking up the book and stroking the
cover of her latest find lovingly. "Sidereus Nuncius." Thankfully,
Xanatos had a copy in Latin. Her English was improving, with
Broadway's help, but she felt much more comfortable reading in the
first written language she'd learned.

She was only now beginning to realize how lacking her education
had been. She could read and write, of course, and do mathematics
past even what her father could, and she knew a bit of history. In
the past year, she'd picked up geography.

Lots of geography.

She was quickly realizing what she didn't yet know could fill
these shelves, and did. This particular book told her volumes about
the workings of the solar system, in simple enough terms that it
blew her senses.

The Earth not the center of things? The planets and stars not
on shells around it? The Magus had built a model for her and her
rookery siblings to show them, and now this new scientist Galilei
says he was wrong? Oddly enough, she didn't think he'd mind, if
he'd been able to learn it with her. He would have taken the book
with him and disappeared for a few nights, maybe even a week. He
would have come back, half-delirious for not having remembered to
eat or drink, his eyes lit with knowledge, and he would have tried
to explain it to the rest of them, sketching the idea out in the air
with long, graceful fingers. Princess Katharine would probably have
fussed at him for not taking better care of himself, and then he
would get a different light in his eyes, and he'd fall silent.

She put the book back on the shelf unfinished. Thoughts of
home had been nagging at her since the loss of the clocktower. She
wasn't homesick, and maybe that was the entire problem. She felt
guilty for not wanting to go back as soon as possible. She missed
everyone and she did want to see them all again but the differences
between the two timestreams could very well make that impossible.
She had the feeling she wouldn't be welcome in Oberon's presence
until he cooled off over the battle for Alexander. That could take
years in the World, years that she wouldn't spend with her family
there, with Gabriel.

Yet another thought she didn't want to face right now.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" She bolted upright. There was
nothing like a crying baby, of whatever species, to replace unpleasant
thoughts with more practical ones.

She tapped the baby monitor, knowing it would broadcast to the
rest of the castle. "I'll get him."

She hadn't spent much time with Alex since moving in; from what
she'd observed, the nanny had primary baby duty, with Owen filling
in on her rare evenings off. Her few experiences watching them in
action had led her to have even deeper respect for her three foster
parents.

There went her train of thought again.

The nursery was darkened. Her night-vision kicked in before
she needed to bother with the light. It probably would have upset
the baby worse anyway.

She stood by his crib for a moment, watching him. Human babies
were very strange-looking. She picked him up and held him at her
shoulder. Strange-looking and smelly. She patted his bottom
experimentally. So that's why he was crying.

She'd watched Lex change a diaper earlier that evening. It
couldn't be that hard. A few tries later, she had him back in his
one-piece, clean and dry but still cranky. She left him on the
changing table while she tried to unravel the mysteries of the
Diaper Genie.

Amazing things in this modern world, she mused, from
communication devices that broadcast her words over miles, to
disposable nappies and near-magical diaper pails. Her foster
parents would have killed for one, or twelve, of these things.

Of course, for every incredible new invention from this
scientific age, there came something equally fearsome: nuclear
bombs, laser rifles, Tickle-Me-Elmo's. She spared a glance to Alex's
crib, where the red monster he slept with lurked. Alex loved it. The
rest of the castle's denizens could agree on little, but had come to a
mutual understanding that this toy was evil incarnate and must be
destroyed.

After the baby learned to sleep through the night without it,
that was.

Alex waved his chubby fists unhappily. According to Lex, he
was starting to cut teeth. For a human, three months was a little
early, but not unheard of, and Avalon only knew what was normal for
quarter-fay babies anyway. She picked him up again, this time with
a rag at her shoulder before she set him there. No use getting her
wings messy. She started walking back and forth in the room,
patting his back. He cried harder, and tried to pull away.

"Stop that," she scolded lightly. "You're going to fall, and
then you'll really start crying." For no reason, she touched him on
the nose. His head was too big, and the reddish tuft of fuzz he had
for hair was too fine, and he was way too pale and pink. She
wondered if he was considered cute for a human.

Her thoughts went back to Avalon. Whatever trouble she and the
others had caused their parents during the night, at least they'd
slept all day without waking up. Sometimes they'd even take naps
after dark. Now she could understand why the humans had been so
happy, or at least relieved, when it was time for them to go to sleep.

A memory, not entirely formed, came to her, a song she recalled
from when she was hardly bigger than this one. If there had been
words she'd long forgotten them but the melody had stayed with her,
sometimes peeping out as a nonsense song she sang to herself while
her mind was occupied on other things. It was a lullaby, she
thought. Maybe it would work on human children as well as it had on
hatchlings.

Uncertain of the complete song, she simply hummed as much as
she could remember, stroking Alex's head in time with the rhythm.
There was something almost exotic about it, not keeping with the
other songs she'd learned as a child. It was calm, hypnotic in a way,
lulling her along with Alexander into a dreaming state.

She sat down on the rocking chair, began rocking back and forth
with the music. Alex's eyelids lowered. His head slipped down her
arm to rest in what surely was an uncomfortable position, and she
noted that he was drooling. She kept rocking and humming, until she
was certain she was about to doze herself. As she finally stopped,
she heard an intake of breath.

Her head spun around, and she grabbed a protective hold onto
Alex. She felt her eyes glow for a split second.

Owen stood in the doorway.

She relaxed, until she saw the barely-held fury on his face.

"What?" she asked in a low voice, careful not to disturb the
baby. "I said I'd get him."

"Where did you hear that song." It was not a request. It was
a demand for information. Her skin prickled.

"I learned it when I was little."

"On Avalon." Crazily, she thought he'd do terribly on "Jeopardy."

"Yes. Why?" His gaze left hers and went to Alex.

"Never mind."

"Is it a magical song?"

"No," he said too quickly, then frowned in confusion. "Why do
you ask?"

Why had she asked? Part of her memory kicked in. "The Magus
sang it to us. I can't remember his singing anything else, either.
He usually just listened when Princess Katharine taught us to sing."

His eyes grew wide behind his glasses, and his face went as white
as the sheets in Alex's crib. "I see," he said in a hurried voice very
much unlike either of his personalities. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I
see you have things well taken care of. If you'll excuse me."

Angela watched the doorway after he was gone, trying to make
heads or tails of the man, and failing that, turned her attention
towards the baby sleeping in her arms.

Carefully, she got up and placed him back in his crib. He
stirred. His impossibly blue eyes fluttered open, and she caught
her breath before he settled them shut again.

"Sleep tight," she whispered. She left the door open a crack,
then padded back towards the library. The mysteries of the universe
awaited her.

VVVVV

"Maybe I should go check on him," Fox said distractedly,
slipping out of the covers before David could stop her.

He let out a noise that in anyone else would have been a
grumble. "I'm sure he's fine. Angela said she'd take care of him,
and if she can't, you know Owen or Mrs. Ong will."

She pulled on her robe anyway. "Mrs. Ong is off tonight, and
we can't always rely on Owen to take care of our baby."

He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. They'd had this
conversation before. "No, we can't. That's why we hired the nurse."

She glanced back at him, sensed his frustration, mostly with
her. "David ... "

"I know why you're worried."

She laughed weakly. "You should be, too. I somehow doubt
Angela's ever changed a diaper before."

"That's not what I meant." He opened his eyes again. "If you
get pregnant, there's a good chance we'll have to face your
stepfather all over again."

"And we can't do that."

"If we have to, we will. We fought him once."

"And lost. The only way we're keeping Alex now is by a
technicality."

"I've bought out multi-national corporations on technicalities."

She glared at him. "Don't joke about this. It scares the hell
out of me."

He sat up, let the covers gather around his waist, and reached
to take her hand. Reluctantly, she allowed him to pull her to a
sitting position beside him.

He enfolded her hands in his own. "We'll be careful."

"We were careful before. Your son is cutting teeth now."

"Then I'll have Owen make up a memo: the next time you're
released from prison, we'll be sure to have the limo well stocked
with condoms."

The sincerity in his eyes, matched by the utter innocence on
his face as he said it, struck her speechless for a few moments,
then filled her with peals of laughter. "You're serious."

"Absolutely. Of course, now that the Pack is out of prison,
we'll have to think of a different way to get you out, but ... "

" ... but I'm sure we can think of something." She let herself
fall into his warm chocolate eyes as his hands moved the robe from
her shoulders. His lips found her jaw. "I could always seduce the
Warden," she said.

He pressed her shoulders into the comforter, moved their hands
above her head until she could grasp one of the posters. "And how
would you go about that?"

"'Warden, I know I've been an awfully bad girl.'"

David pulled away, and in that way of his that he had, of
falling instantly into character, he said, "Yes, you have. That
last escape attempt of yours sent five of my best guards to the
hospital. You need to learn respect for authority, young woman."

He leaned back and pulled open his bottom dresser drawer, and
she shivered deliciously. It had been a while. A little harmless
playacting might be just the ticket. Then she saw the box, and
frowned.

Right. Safe. Careful. Hell, she supposed she could go back
on the Pill, though she dreaded the mood swings. The violent
tendencies had worked really well during that stint in Panama, but
they were counterbalanced with miserable crying jags.

That wasn't the problem, though, was it?

The problem was Alex. If she could have wrapped an entire
universe of infinite possibilities into one fragile bundle, she knew
she could never find anything more wonderful than the small
squirming mass of baby she'd carried within her own body. When she
held him, she was aware of holding a series of miracles. Every
burble was a song from an angel, every intelligent look a benevolent
glance from a god. As she fed him, she felt the closing of a
billion cycles of birth and death with every pull.

She was scared to death of him.

No, she could be honest. She was scared of what she could do
to him. Never mind the ever-present fear of somehow "breaking" him
every time she touched him, of dropping him each time he was in her
arms. Those were anxieties she had learned, mostly, to ignore in
favor of a more practical truth: babies were made from rubber. She
was far more worried about what she would do to his, for lack of a
better word, soul.

Fox had never put much stock into organized religion, or any
other belief system beyond what she could see and feel and
understand. Her father had his own moral code, to which he adhered
without outside intrusion. Her mother had always viewed most faiths
with the detached amusement Fox tended to associate with atheist
intellectuals, although Anastasia Renard had managed to avoid the
oft-accompanying attitude of superiority. She saved that for
scientific debates.

Looking back, her mother's stance made perfect sense; it was
probably difficult, if not impossible, to have firm religious
beliefs when at any point in time several gods could show up on her
doorstep to take her out for pizza and a movie. With such a
background, Fox was a bit less concerned about Alex's, or her own,
eventual damnation. She was more worried about what would happen
while they were still breathing.

She and David had by accident managed to create something
wonderful, magical, perfect, and she was utterly terrified of
destroying it. Since the baby's birth, Mrs. Ong and Owen had
provided the vast majority of his care, feeding him, bathing him,
reading to him, being with him. Fox had spent some time with him,
certainly, but never without one or the other within easy reach.
Like they didn't trust her to take care of her own baby properly,
and could she blame them? She was more comfortable with grenade
pins than safety pins, and she certainly didn't know a damn thing
about magic. She could teach him about munitions, about deadly
pressure points on a human body, but she didn't have a clue of how
to handle him when he cried. Unsure of what to do, she'd mentioned
to David her dissatisfaction with the idea of Owen's raising their
child, and in archetypal David-fashion, he'd told her earlier that
evening of his plans to get Owen back into the office.

This was good, she thought. It meant she could spend more time
with her baby, teaching him everything she wished she'd learned
young. She could play with him, and wash him, and give him all his
feedings rather than the dwindling few for which she had to make
personal appearances. It would be fun, something mothers had done
since the beginning of the human species.

So why was she certain she'd never be able to do it?

VVVVV

Making breakfast with one hand really wasn't that difficult
once one was accustomed to it. Mothers of small babies had been
managing for millennia and if they could do it, certainly His
Majesty's formerly most favored servant and chief fool could do it
as well. So he had told himself, and so he had taught himself.

Get bag of coffee beans from freezer, open carefully with right
fingertips. Measure cup of beans. Sit down. Put grinder between
knees and open lid. Dump in beans. Grind until ready. Put coffee
into filter, filter into coffee maker, then turn on. Set pan on stove, then
turn on burner. Hold package with left fist, pull out requisite strips of
bacon, toss on pan to cook. Use fork to turn bacon. Hold paper towel
dispenser still with fist, tear off towels. Fold towels with fingers and, if
necessary, nose. When bacon is crispy, use fork to get bacon to towels
to drain. Swear as fingers burn. Swear more at bits of bacon that stick
to pan. Threaten to turn pan into Brillo pad for baby's next lesson.
Remember pan is cast iron. Curse more. Put another towel over bacon
to keep it warm. Open grease jar with EZ-grip rubber whatchamacallit,
gripping jar firmly with left armpit. Narrowly avoid spilling grease on
two hundred dollar shoes. Pour out most of grease into jar, leaving
enough to fry eggs. Open breadbox, get out bread. Rip open bread
bag with teeth, take out slices. Put in toaster. Crack eggs on edge of
counter, put into pan. Toss in a few drops of water for steam. Add salt,
pepper and dill. Put lid on eggs for precisely two minutes. Get
imported china plates from cabinet, balancing them carefully on stone
fist. Get toast from toaster. Repeat Butter Maneuver to butter toast.
Check eggs. Turn off burner. Carefully scoop eggs out of pan with
spatula and place on plates. Put bacon on plates. Set one plate on fist,
grab other plate. Walk out to dining room slowly. Give Mrs. Xanatos
first plate. Give Mr. Xanatos second plate. Go back to kitchen. Pour
coffee into silver pot. Bring silver coffeepot into dining room. Watch
as Mr. Xanatos notices eggs, then asks for scrambled. Go back to
kitchen. Start over.

No, it wasn't that difficult at all.

In fact, it was so bloody simple, maybe he wouldn't mind doing it
every morning for the rest of his life.

He set the second plate of eggs, this time scrambled, in front of Mr.
Xanatos, more roughly than he ought. The silverware rattled, causing
both his employers to look at him in curiosity.

"Owen, is there a problem?"

"No, Sir. If there will be nothing else, I'll be in my office going
over the day's agenda." It being Saturday, that would be an easy task,
but one to get his mind on something.

"Excellent idea." He returned to the oblivious consumption of his
eggs, as Fox gave her attention back to the paper.

He took a deep breath, counted to ten, let it out slowly as he walked
towards the door. When he'd started this role, he hadn't needed any
kind of calming techniques. He would have to make an effort to tweak
the character design later this afternoon, before he did something rash.
Heavens forbid the Puck do something rash.

"Oh, yes. Owen."

He stopped. "Yes?"

"While you're in your office, place an advertisement in the Times
for a new cook." Before he could stop them, hot words came bubbling
to his lips. Was he to be replaced simply because he hadn't anticipated
a change in the breakfast menu? As he opened his mouth to speak,
Xanatos continued: "I'm going to need you in the office more over the
next month. Someone should be in charge of the kitchen during the
day. Broadway practically runs it at night anyway. If we put him on
salary, perhaps the clan will feel more like members of the household.
See to it."

"Yes, Sir." He walked out of the room quickly, before either
of them could note the flush upon his cheeks.

Not replaced, just moved. This master wasn't like the last one. He
wouldn't throw him out for petty reasons, or even great reasons.

His stride brought him to his own office in less than two
minutes. Leaving the door ajar as normal, he sat down behind his
desk, rested his fist out of the way, and began going over the
agenda. It took him ten minutes to even notice that he was
rereading the same two lines over and again.

He stood up and closed the door. There was no real difference;
Mr. Xanatos would come in when he pleased whether it was open, shut,
or deadlocked (he had the master key). The illusion of privacy was
enough for the time being.

More than anything else, he needed rest. After Alexander
started to cry, after he'd gone to check on him, after he'd heard
Angela singing that terrible song, he had not been able to sleep,
and his mortal body was showing that lack.

It didn't matter. Nothing did, but the song, and the meaning
of that song.

He could remember the first photograph he'd ever seen. The
subject, a ten-year-old boy, had been made to sit perfectly still
for thirty seconds, a feat he had previously suspected was beyond
the child in question. When he'd seen the final product, it had
been silver-grey, and small, and had come in a gold framed box with
velvet inside. He had been utterly amazed, for the boy was inside
that box, or at least his image. He had "borrowed" the picture,
nearly wore out the fine hinge by closing it, and reopening to see
if the picture was still there. It was a way of capturing memories,
keeping them bright and purposeful, giving the people inside
immortality of their own. The boy had grown up, lived briefly, died
at a decent age for a human. The picture remained, currently in the
possession of one of his many descendants.

There was another face in his mind, from a time long before
picture boxes had been invented. He had only his memories, and
being who he was, they were as clear to him as the boy's face had
been inside that golden box. His memories were likewise given sound
and even touch, so while he might stopper his ears, inside his mind
he still heard crying, felt the hard-packed clay beneath his feet as
he walked quickly away from it.

Angela had asked him if the song was magical, and he'd answered
truthfully. Not one bit of magic had gone into its creation, save that
which was him. He'd left part of himself in those notes, the more so
since he had not sung them or played them since that awful day. The
crying had followed him for years afterwards. Only by making himself
not think of it had he been able to quiet the sound.

He sat at his desk, wondering if he would ever again know silence.

VVVVV