All's Fair

---- Introduction ----

This is a story which completely disposes of Freitag's pyramid. You
remember Freitag - he's the fireman who's the main character in Fahrenheit
451. Oh, wait, sorry, wrong Freitag. But you learn about both of them in
9th grade lit - or at least you do at my school.

Anyway, to the point, if you're looking for shoot-outs and huge climactic
battles, you're in the wrong place. That's in some of my other stories -
the ones that actually follow that Friday's Pyramid thing. Oh, wait, wrong
language. Friday's Pyramid is the pile of work on your desk when you want
to leave.

... aaaaanyway, if you like emotional train wrecks and ruining the lives of
guys whose names start with 'M' as much as I do, read on!

---- Acknowledgments ----

Thanks go to(in no particular order):

Christine Morgan, for the scene that inspired this madness.

Merlin Missy, for the lecture on rewrites and the MS Litmus test.

Jewel Faulkner, for writing really dark stuff and giving me lots of
inspiration. If not for this, then for other really scary things. Also,
*much* thanks for pre-reading this story. Having never shown my new work to
anyone in the Gargoyles fanfic community, I didn't know what reaction to
expect.

Rob Bos, for reminding me that there are major differences between how men
and women think. You'd think I'd remember these things, but I guess we
really do come from different planets.

Shad and JR, for participating in market research.
<J-Rock> GAAAAAAHHHHH
... time passes...
<J-Rock> DOUBLE GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
<Shadur> [ . . . ]
<Shadur> You are an evil evil EVIL dwagin.
<Shadur> Evil evil evil evil EVI-gak
* Shadur sprays the contents of his maw (Half a litre of Jolt and a handful
of mashed chips) all over his keyboard, his monitor and you.
<Shadur> Evil evil evil evil evil evil evil
<Shadur> Fine. That's *THREE* keyboards you owe me. And a flask of Glass-Ex
to clean my monitor.
(Of course, this was only the first revision. After the second one, I got
this:)
* Shadur 's head explodes. Again. 
<Shadur> You. Evil. Evil. EVIL. Dwagin! 
* Shadur 's head explodes. Again.
<Shadur> You are the incarnation of all that is evil
<Shadur> Okay, if you want me for further prereading, I won't 
  be available. And I also won't be hiding in the sealed  
  barrel under the stairs making those whimpering noises. 
(Then I finished the story)
<Shadur> You are going to a Bad Place when you die.
<Shadur> And when you get there, you'll likely as not 
  scare the proprietor away.

Pat, for being there and not freaking out when I wrote this. Well, not
freaking out too much. Well, not freaking out like when I started a story
with "Commander Sheridan of the U.S.S. Agamemnon on the way to Deep Space
9."(His reaction was
"gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" *explode*)

And finally, my good and dear friend who goes by White Star 2, for keeping
me insane, keeping me awake until my muse wakes up, and generally upping
the weirdness level in my life. And I'm going to kill you for exposing me
to X-Files. Someday. ;)

---- Disclaimer ----

Everything belongs to Disney or Buena Vista. Fnord. All characters herin
are not meant to portray actual people. Don't blame Disney or Buena Vista
for the events herein - blame me.

---- Warning! Suspension of disbelief ahead ----

Yes, yes, yes, I *know* what is cannon and what is not in Gargoyle
physiology. I have taken a couple liberties with Greg Weisman's baby in
order to add a couple elements to the story. You know, the kind of things
that make people cringe in terror. Fanfic in and of itself is artistic
license taken to extremes. This is my only apology for what I do to the
characters, and even then it's not much of one considering what follows.

... You'll know what I mean when you finish.

---- Hajime ----

Matt clutched his head in his hands and stared at the fake grain in his
fake wood table. This wasn't happening. Life wasn't doing this to him. Not
now. Not really.

He knew, remotely, that people drank whiskey. He even remotely remembered a
party at college, when a roommate had poured a bottle into the keg of cheap
beer they were serving from to create a truly horrible concoction that
tasted better after the second glass. But he didn't remotely recognize the
bottles sitting on the table in front of him, mocking his reality. He knew
how much damage alcohol could do to a person. He'd been dealt blows often
enough as a kid when his stepfather had been drinking - tended to later,
true, but there all the same. The bruises had been real enough, just as the
bottles of cheap whiskey were real enough, here on his table.

He frowned at the first bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink. It bit
his tongue, the back of his mouth. It was harsh, just like he'd expected.
Just as harsh as life was right now.

He slammed the cap back on the bottle and glared around his apartment. Not
quite the one-room-hell Joe Gillis bemoaned in Sunset Boulevard, but close.
Door leading to semi-kitchen, with cheap fake wood table and folding
chairs, instant coffee on the counter and dishes in the sink. Across the
counter the living room with the 'sofa' that was really a loveseat someone
who'd seen too much Furniture Guys had repaired, and a card table with the
two good chairs in the apartment huddled around it. Behind a half-wall from
the kitchen, the bedroom, with the door to the balcony that had triple
locks on it. Just in case.

God, what an idiot he was. Here he was, past thirty, and still living in a
bachelor's warren. His friends would say it was his obsession with secret
societies and other garbage that kept him from getting a life. Suddenly
angry again, he hauled the top off the bottle and took another drink. It
tasted better this time. He'd been right, hadn't he? He was right!

He was an idiot. And he was getting drunk because of a woman.

There, he'd admitted it to himself, at least in his mind. Setting the
bottle down gently, he tried to shake off anger. Why was one little scene
bothering him so much? Goliath had as much a right to Elisa as... as anyone...

... as he did.

He wasn't in love with Elisa. He knew that it was stupid, it was futile, it
was everything but rational. So why was he so... angry? It didn't matter.
So Goliath and Elisa had kissed. So what? So what if they had done it right
there, while he was still in her apartment? So what if she had snuggled
into the big gargoyle's arms and smiled at him and-

Matt gritted his teeth, relishing the pain in his jaw. He wasn't in love
with Elisa, dammit. The first bottle was gone, and he stared at it in a
mystified stupor before opening the next one. He couldn't be in love with
her. They were partners, and she was with Goliath. Oh, yes, she was with
the gargoyle. The gargoyle he hadn't believed the existence of for as long
as a year. The gargoyle that had paved his way into the Society.

The gargoyle whose neck he would like to wring, very sharply. Just slow
enough to really hurt.

As the second bottle drained away, Matt staggered over to his couch and
collapsed there, muttering that he didn't love her, not really. And no one
heard at all.

---

The phone was buzzing in his ear. Matt blinked bleary eyes open and studied
it from his position, half-sprawled on the couch. It buzzed again, and he
reached out a hand to pick up the offending object.

"Ye'h?" he asked into the receiver, still slightly fuzzy and warm from the
alcohol he had drank... recently? He blinked at the clock, but he didn't
have enough patience to try and decipher the movement of the hands.

"Matt? It's Elisa." He blinked. There was something about Elisa...
something that he didn't want to talk about.

That was about the time the full force of his hangover hit him. "Wha?" He
muttered back, not having the power to enunciate anything more complicated.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. A long one. "Matt, you
don't sound too good."

"I don' feel too good."

"Are you sick? Do you want me to come over?" That was something he could
connect with, even through the pain. No, he didn't want her over. Something
about that would be baaaaaaaaaad.

"No, no," he pushed himself upright and regretted it. "Ack... just... call
in sick for me, okay? I... I need to sleep." He hoped that sounded
coherent. He hoped it *was* coherent.

"All right," Elisa said dubiously. "I'll check on you later, to see how
you're doing. Bye, Matt."

"Bye, Elisa," he managed to say. The dial tone was buzzing in his ear as he
aimed the phone at the receiver and missed. Between the headache and the
vision he decided it wasn't worth it to try again. Falling back on the
sofa, he hoped the pounding would eventually wear down long enough to take
a shower.

---

It had been three months since Matt had drunk himself to a near stupor, and
he wasn't feeling any better about Elisa's relationship with Goliath. He'd
managed to keep away from the corner drugstore through sheer force of will,
but he didn't know how long it'd last. Sure, they were apart more often
then they were together, since they weren't exactly partners anymore, but
every time she brushed by him in the hallway, or gave him a ride, he could
feel his nerves tingling, the sweat congealing on his palms and on his
forehead.

And every time he saw her with Goliath, it made him feel... violent. Or
crazy, not just the half-crazy people called him sometimes. He'd been right
about the Illuminati... but he wasn't sure about this, a flash of anger so
strong it felt overwhelming. He found himself appalled at his own thoughts,
then trying to rationalize everything and failing. 

He finished his meanger meal of chow mein from the corner dollar Chinese
store and reached after the fortune cookie. Cracking it open, he tried not
to think about the rise in disappearing cats in the neighborhood and read
the fortune. 'You will be called upon to help a friend in need,' the paper
read, followed by a string of freudian numbers.

"In bed," he added sarcastically, tossing the cookie back into the bag.
Shaking his head, he tossed the bag into the trash and headed into his
bedroom to close the drapes over the balcony door. "God. I'm losing it."

That was when Goliath dropped out of the sky, carrying Elisa.

Matt dropped the curtain, mind racing. Was something wrong? He opened the
door as Goliath set Elisa down and, with a cursory nod hello, turned and
jumped off the railing, leaving Elisa standing in the wind.

"Come in," he said when he realized they'd been standing there for a
minute. She nodded and stepped past him, blue-black hair caressing his arms
and making his breath catch.

"Matt... I need to talk to you," she said when he'd shut the door.

"Yeah, I figured," he said, slipping into a bantering tone to ease the
strain. Elisa shot him a grateful smile. "Why don't you sit down? Want some
coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks." She glanced around his empty apartment, then took a seat on
his bed. Matt tried not to stare as he fumbled with the instant coffee and
finally produced two cups of drinkable caffeine. Trying not to spill
anything on his legs, he handed Elisa a cup and dragged over his computer
chair.

The silence was thick as Elisa turned the cup around and around in her
hands. Without looking up, she said, "I've got a problem."

"I seem to be the bartender." Frantically trying not to panic. Frantically
attempting to conceal his body's betrayal, and trying to convince his mind
that he wasn't having a particularly vivid dream that could lead to any
number of scenarios.

Elisa managed a shaky smile, then said softly, "Goliath and I can't have
children."

Matt stared. "What?"

"I..." She took a sip of coffee, grimaced at the heat, and set the cup by
her feet. "We talked it over. I mean, Xanatos' scientists have been
correlating data as long as it's been possible. As much as I don't trust
him, I think... in this case, he might be right. It's impossible." Her
voice finally cracked, the note of desperation shooting down Matt's spine
and getting an answering twinge from-

Stop that, he told himself resolutely. She's in pain. She's not looking
for... she could get that from Goliath. Unless *that's* the problem.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, when she'd been staring at his wallpaper for
too long. "I... I'm sorry, Elisa. I didn't... I don't..."

"We want children, Matt. And..." She sighed and bit her lip. "Oh, God, I
don't know how to say this."

"Elisa..."

"I mean, Goliath and I talked this over. I could get artificial
insemination or something. Xanatos even offered to cover the finances." She
finally met his eyes. "I don't want to spend time in a lab, Matt. I
couldn't stand it... not after everything that's happened."

He swallowed. She continued, her voice slipping back into a quiet,
reasonable monotone. "We talked it over, like I said. I'm not going into a
lab. So we agreed... that I should..." She broke off. "God, I don't know
how to ask this."

Matt's mouth was dry. "You want..."

"Matt, please. We've been partners, we've been friends..." Her eyes caught
his, sparkling in pain and hope and fear. "Could you please... give me a
child?"

The coffee cup slipped from his nerveless fingers and crashed to the
carpet. Matt winced, more from the shock of what he'd heard than the damage
to his apartment. "I... Elisa..."

"Please," she said softly.

"Oh, God," he said. "You don't even know... Elisa, look," he spread his
hands, pleading. "You don't know what you're asking. You're ... I've been
jealous for so long, all right? I'll admit it." He was babbling now, not
caring. "I've been watching you and Goliath, and I've been so jealous my
teeth hurt, literally, dammit! And now, you come in here, asking..." He ran
out of words. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

"But you're not going to leave."

"I can't," she said, desperation putting a quaver in her voice.

He rose, crossed to her, and took her hands. "Elisa..."

"Please," she said again. They said nothing more for a long time.

--

"I feel," he said some time later, "Like a goddamn boy whore. Unclean."

"Matt, please..." Elisa's hands were warm on the back of his neck,
tentative. "I just thought..."

"You didn't, that's the problem." He shook his head, still not turning to
look at her. Not wanting to see what was in her eyes. And not wanting to
admit to all the emotions that were coiled up inside.

Didn't you want this? half of his mind asked.

Not like this, he cried.

Then how?

"It'll be your child too, Matt," she whispered.

"Did you and Goliath decide that, too?" he asked bitterly.

"No. I did."

There was silence. Then, "I'm sorry, Matt."

"I'm sorry, too."

"But you won't say no."

His voice was quiet, resigned. "I can't."

--

o/~ You offer me solutions and offer me alternatives / And I decline / It's
the end of the world as we know it... o/~

Matt hit the 'off' switch on his radio and shook his head. It was partially
to stop looking at his shaking hands, he knew. He could stop the shaking,
easily. All he needed to do was give in to the tiny desire creeping under
his skin.

He should have known. He should have known that it wouldn't work. Elisa had
shown up last night, only three days after they'd spent the night together.
She'd shown up with rings around her eyes and a quaver in her voice, to
tell him that it hadn't worked, she hadn't caught, she wasn't pregnant. And
she was asking him again, if he'd just hold her close and wish.

How do you say no to a beautiful woman begging you for sex? Matt shook his
head. He'd never find an answer for that one as long as he lived. And he
*wasn't* going to resort to alcohol again, dammit!

Matt worked one of his hands into a fist, tightened it. He hated
alcoholics, hated dealing with them and the victims they created. The
thought that he could so easily resort to the bottle scared him more than
he wanted to admit.

He wanted Elisa more than he wanted to admit.

He looked up and saw her standing outside his balcony door, pain in her
eyes. Hurrying to open the door, he saw Goliath behind her, and the look on
the gargoyle's face chilled him through.

Not envy, though he could have expected that. Not resentment, either. It
was rage. Seething rage, hidden just beneath the surface. He only got a
glimpse before Goliath was gone, but the look on his face as he opened the
door was enough to reach Elisa, even through her single-minded drive.

"What's wrong?" she asked as soon as they were out of the wind.

Matt shook his head. "I don't think Goliath's happy."

Elisa shrugged. "He'll get over it."

"Yeah. I hope." He glanced at the bed, then winced. "I feel like that kid,
Ben, from The Graduate."

"Oh, God, Matt. Please..."

"And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson... I'm sorry. Look, I'm sorry." She was
crying, silently, staring out the window. Matt put a hand on her shoulder,
and let her curl against him.

"Oh, God. You're right. I didn't think."

He winced again, softer, so she couldn't tell. "Yeah. I forgive you."

She shook her head, leaving tear-trails on his shirt. "I just want... I
want a child..."

"I know."

"And it didn't... again..."

"Here, sit down." He sat next to her on the bed, keeping an arm around her
shoulders. "Want something to drink?"

"Do you have any scotch?" She sounded faintly disgusted with herself for
asking, and he felt faintly the same at the urge to leave her and get some,
then return and get plastered to a degree college students could only imagine.

"No. But there's a store..."

"Never mind." Sighing, she lay back and stared at the ceiling. He lay down
beside her and watched as she breathed, her blue-black hair falling around
her head like a dark halo. "I never thought I'd be in this position."

"Lying prone on my bed?" It was a feeble attempt at a joke, but she smiled
anyway.

"Something like that." She rolled onto her elbow and looked at him. They
were scant inches away, breath mingling and shared heat causing tingles to
race up Matt's arms. "Matt, I..."

He reached for her hand, and she didn't move away. "Just don't go away," he
finally said.

She didn't.

---

"You've been quiet," Matt said as they climbed into the car.

It was a few days later, chilly for September, the only perps in the
station a few kids who cut school to smoke and the only problem a ton of
paperwork. Elisa gave him a flicker of a smile, then stepped into the car
and started the engine. Mystified, Matt got in and waited for her to explain.

"I'm pregnant," she finally said when they were a block away from his
apartment.

Matt was suddenly very glad he wasn't driving. He took a deep breath, then
glanced over. Elisa was calm to the point of death, staring straight ahead
into traffic. After a second, he uncomfortably said, "I'd say
'congratulations,' but..."

"I know. But you should know."

"Yeah." He shifted in his seat. The silence held thickly until they reached
his apartment. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Do?" She glanced at him, startled. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I mean, you're going to have to go on leave. You *are* going
on leave, right?"

Elisa shrugged. "Well, yeah. After a few months."

"Right." He didn't want her to know how his insides curled up at the
thought of her working, in the profession that they shared, while she was
carrying *his* child. It was stupid, but he couldn't help feeling it.

She caught the implications. "I don't have to... I mean, if you don't
want... I don't have to make an *announcement*," she said haltingly.

"What are you going to tell Chavez?"

"I..." Elisa obviously came up blank, and shrugged again. "I don't know."

Matt leaned back and thought for a second. "Why not that you're doing a
temp job for Xanatos as a favor?"

She glared at him. "I hope you're kidding."

"Well, it'd explain why you can be contacted at the AErie and at home." He
tried to smile. "Well, you don't have to explain anything for a while."

"Yeah." She shook her head. "I hate it when you're right."

"Right." He got out, but something made him hesitate before closing the
door. "Uh... want some coffee or something?"

Elisa shook her head again. "I don't want the kid to get a caffeine
dependency," she said, smiling.

"Won't he, anyway?"

She rolled her eyes. "All right. You'll be the death of me." Pulling the
keys from the ignition, she got out and headed up the stairs with him. "Why
is it that men always think their kids will be boys?"

"I dunno. Ego, maybe." They'd reached his apartment. Crossing the
threshold, he looked back and saw Elisa hesitating in the doorway. "...
maybe this wasn't a good idea."

Startled out of a reverie, she smiled bravely. "No, it's fine." Closing the
door, she took a seat on the couch. He started the coffee, aware of the
tense silence and the sudden, horrible electricity in the air.

She grabbed his wrist as he handed her the coffee. "Matt..."

Tension so thick you could cut it. "I..."

"It's over." She stood up, gripping her coffee cup so hard her knuckles
turned white. "It was supposed to be over."

Her hand was still on his wrist, burning him. He was sure that he'd have a
white scar in the shape of her hand when she removed it. Hardly breathing,
he reached behind him and set his coffee on the counter. "I'm sorry. This
was..."

"I don't want to leave," she said quietly.

Then she was in his arms, and so soft...

---

She was nestled in his arms, breathing quietly. His head lay on the back of
her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair and her skin, their mingled
sweat and pleasure. The room seemed to be drifting into haze as sleep
started to overcome him.

"This has to stop, Matt," Elisa whispered.

"You stayed," he said, unthinking.

There was sudden quiet. Under his fingers, her body went tense. "What did
you say?"

Blind to his doom, he repeated, "You stayed."

"Bastard." Suddenly she was sitting up, pulling her warmth away from him.
Blinking, Matt tried to follow her progress, but she shoved him back down.

"Elisa... what..." She rose unsteadily to her feet and searched out her
clothes. Finally able to sit up, Matt watched her, frowning in puzzlement.
"What's wrong?"

"You think this is all a game, don't you?" Seething, she pulled on her
clothes, shooting Matt an occasional glare.

Matt rubbed his eyes and attempted to focus. "I never said that. What's
going on?"

"You invited me up here."

"For coffee, Elisa. I never meant..."

"Didn't you?" She was buttoning up her shirt, slipping on her jacket,
looking for her keys.

"No, wait, Elisa, please!" The last brought her up short. Turning, she
watched as he tried desperately to appease her. "I'm sorry. I don't know...
I mean..."

"I'm in love with *Goliath,*" she said harshly. Twisting the knife.

"I know," he said.

Something in his voice must have caught her attention. "Matt," she started,
then caught herself. Silence. Then, "Matt, you're my friend..."

"And you asked me..."

She shook her head violently. "God, Matt, this isn't about..."

"No, it's not. It's not about owing, or favors, or even *our child.*" He
paused, then sighed. "It's about you walking out of here at..." he glanced
at the clock, "Four in the morning, telling me that somehow, all of this is
my fault."

She glanced at him, glanced at the door. "You want me to stay? After..."

"Baby, it's cold outside."

It was the Ray Charles that did it. A faint smile flickered over her face,
then she turned back to him. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"There isn't enough room. It's really just a loveseat with no armrests."

"So I see." Sighing, she slipped off the jacket and started undoing her
shirt again. "But this has to stop somewhere."

"Good night, Elisa."

"Good night."

---

A cop should never hang out in dark alleys without backup, Matt thought
cynically to himself. But the tracks were clear enough, and the light
filtering in from the street was just enough to make him overconfident.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you," said a voice from behind him.

Matt nearly turned around. "I know that voice from somewhere."

"Probably, human. Why shouldn't I blow your brains across the alley?"

That did it. "Because Angela would be unhappy with you."

There was a sigh from behind him. "I suppose," Demona said, though she
didn't sound happy.

"Yeah." Matt took the chance of turning around. Demona was affixing a
rather large automatic pistol to a bandolier. "Mind telling me where you
got that?"

"Yes," the female gargoyle said shortly.

Matt shrugged. "Fine."

Demona looked at him askance for a moment. "You were Elisa Maza's partner,
were you not?"

He couldn't help but wince. "Please, don't mention Elisa right now."

"Why not?" She eyed him sideways. "What happened to her?"

Matt clamped his jaw shut before he could say, 'I got her pregnant.' "She's
living with Goliath," is what came out.

Demona didn't snarl, didn't lunge for his throat to exact revenge for an
imagined slight. She just sighed and suddenly looked every one of her
thousand and some-odd years. "How far he's fallen," she said wearily.

Matt shook his head. She glared at him. "You think it's amusing?" she
asked, "that a warrior can be corrupted by such a one as her? You think
it's amusing that I still care? She can give him *nothing* that I cannot!"
There was the snarl, the crimson eyes. "What can you know of my pain?"

Matt shook his head again and made to leave. "I don't need this."

"Wait." She was calm again, surprisingly quickly, and had caught his
sleeve. He had no choice but to meet her eyes. "Human..."

"My *name* is Matt Bluestone," he finally snapped at her. "Let go of my
arm." Pulling away, he turned and walked away, fully expecting to feel the
harsh bite of a bullet that never came.

---

By the time he reached his apartment, he was shaking. He should be dead. He
knew enough, from stories by Elisa and Goliath and the rest of the clan,
that Demona was just crazy enough to have slaughtered him without any
remorse. But something had kept him alive long enough to get out of her
reach. He hoped.

He opened his door, and saw Demona sitting at his kitchen table.

"My life," he said slowly, "has become too surreal."

The blue gargoyle smiled at him. "I did some investigating."

"Fast, too." He stepped inside and closed the door, then leaned against it.
"What are you doing here?"

"At the moment, nothing. But something intrigued me about you, human."

"The name is Matt." Figuring he had nothing to lose, he crossed to the
table. She backed up slightly, but didn't attack. "Can I sit down?"

"Go right ahead," she said wryly. "It's your apartment."

"Yeah." Matt took the other chair and stared at her. What do you say to an
immortal genocidal gargoyle who shows up in your apartment? "Can I get you
anything to drink?" is what he came up with.

"I won't bother you to get up again," she said.

"So why did you come?"

Demona smiled at him, and for an instant Matt could see why Goliath had
fallen for her, so long ago. "Would you believe that I'm tired, and I want
someone to talk to?"

Matt simply stared at her. "What... the... hell?"

Shaking her head, the immortal rose to her feet. "I've been doing a lot of
thinking. About Angela. About Goliath."

"Goliath."

Matt realized that he wasn't good at controlling his voice when Demona gave
him a sharp look. "You know, human..."

"It's *Matt*."

"... Matt. You seem to be conflicted about something."

Matt snorted. "Understatement of the year."

"I see." Her searching gaze softened. "Tell me about my daughter."

He was startled by the sudden change of subject. "What?"

"Angela. Please... I hear very little, and I wonder."

Matt shrugged. "Well, she and Broadway are... together. They have an egg in
the rookery." He wondered why this all felt too natural, to be talking to a
psychopathic murdering immortal about her potential grandchildren. It was
probably the weather. El Nino or something. The butterfly effect.

"Ah." Demona smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Can you leave now? "I, uh, suppose you can't just ask,
can you."

She shot him a glance. "It seems I just did."

"Yeah, but ... extenuating circumstances."

"You're pleading insanity?"

"Shouldn't that be you?"

Demona laughed. He stared at her, shocked, and not sure if she was going to
come across the table at him. "Oh, hu- Matt. I think that I've missed
having someone to talk to."

"Look..." he was about to protest, but a raised eyebrow ridge from her
stopped him cold. What if this was what it seemed, some harmless diversion?
And... what if it was part of one of her schemes to take over the world and
wipe out humanity? And what would asking her about it gain him, aside from
the possibility of gargoyle talons messing up his insides?

She seemed oblivious to the mental argument brewing inside him. "It is
getting close to sunrise," she said, turning to the balcony. He followed,
noticing that all three bolts had been opened, but not destroyed. "I would
like to continue this conversation later."

"Could you just answer me one question?" The words were out of his mouth
before he could take them back.

She turned back to him, silhouetted against the city lights. "Yes?"

"Why me?" He shook his head. "That came out wrong. Why are you talking with
me? I mean... is this..."

Demona frowned and turned to look out the window. "I've had a lot of time
to think," she said. "And I think... the last time that I was ever able to
talk to anyone was a little over a hundred years ago. And from what you
said earlier tonight, I figured that you wouldn't attack on sight, or run
screaming." She suddenly grinned. "And the compulsion I placed on you when
you stepped into the apartment let me make sure that you won't tell anyone
about this. Goodbye...  Matt." Stepping outside, she threw herself to the
wind.

---

She was back the next evening.

"Did you check out my schedule, too?" he asked bitterly as he found her
sitting at his table, looking all too natural there with a cup of coffee
nestled between her sky-blue hands.

"Of course," she replied. "I hope you're not offended."

He stared at her strangely as he got his own coffee. "Why does it matter to
you?"

She shrugged. "I've found that humans aren't good company when they're
offended."

"You? Humans? Company?" Matt smirked. "Sorry, but from what I've heard,
that doesn't make a lot of sense."

"You'd be surprised at how bored you get when you're immortal." Demona took
a sip of coffee. "I took the liberty of replacing your store of instant
coffee. One of Nightstone's subsidiaries came up with something with a
little more... taste."

"Thanks," Matt said hesitantly. Removing the cup from the microwave, he
took a cautious sip. "*Thanks,*" he said again, more heartily this time.

Demona shrugged. "It's nothing. Talk with me a while."

"About what?" he took a seat across from her.

"Life. The clan. What it's like to be human."

Matt shook his head. "I couldn't answer that last one. I don't have any
basis for comparison."

Demona smirked. "I could turn you into a gargoyle for a few minutes, if you
want to compare."

He stared at her in shock for a few seconds. "No thanks."

"It was only a thought." She shrugged and took another sip of coffee. "How
is the clan?"

"Pretty good. Uh, Brooklyn and Lex met a couple girls from Avalon. I don't
know if I mentioned that."

"You didn't. It is good to know that they won't go completely insane with
jealousy."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah. When Angela first came, it was nuts. I got the story
out of Brooklyn a few weeks after she got here, and I think he still
regrets telling me."

Demona shook her head and smiled. "Ah, young males. Are humans much like
that?"

"Over girls? Oh, yeah." Matt leaned back in his seat and watched her. "Can
I ask you something?"

She met his eyes. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Or something like that, yeah."

Demona shrugged, staring into her coffee. "I made a mistake," she finally
said. "No, I made a lot of mistakes. Why run from it?"

Matt was quiet until she spoke again. He couldn't quite forget that this
one gargoyle had made repeated plans to destroy all of humanity, and had
come pretty damn close to accomplishing them on occasion. "I didn't realize
how many mistakes I'd made until I met Angela. It's funny, isn't it, that
talents you never thought you had show up in your children? Talents for
saying the right thing, instead of the wrong thing."

Demona sighed. "She made me realize that... there was something else. That
I was hurting her, that I was hurting Goliath. And that's when I really
started thinking." A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, but never
reached her eyes. "Tell me. You've heard the stories. Where do you think I
went wrong?"

"Uh..." This was not a good place to be. "Well... I'd say..." He took a
swallow of coffee and took a chance. "Probably when you decided that humans
are just... all one thing."

Demona frowned at him. "All one thing?"

"Well..." Matt shrugged. "There's this theory... that to go into war, you
have to turn your enemy into something less than you. To turn them into
monsters. And the easiest way to do that is to group your enemy into a
category, and then stick labels on them. Say they're all evil, or dirty, or
disgusting, or all of that. Then it's easy to kill them."

Demona stared at him, then raised her cup of coffee and took a long
swallow. "I think... that this time, I made a good choice. Finally."

---

It was perhaps a few weeks later. Matt had just finished meeting with
Brooklyn about a game plan for the Gargoyles Task Force, and he was glad to
be leaving the AErie. It wasn't that he didn't like the clan. It was the
proximity to Goliath.

And Elisa.

It was Elisa's voice that brought him out of his daze, only a few steps
away from the elevators. Frowning, he peeked around a corner to try and
figure out what was going on.

He didn't exactly expect to find Elisa and Goliath locked in a passionate
embrace in the middle of the hallway.

Goliath's tail and wings were wrapped around her slim form, his lips
covering hers. Elisa was moaning in an incredibly provocative fashion, and
her hands were tracing patterns down Goliath's back.

When she slipped her hands under the gargoyle's wings and stroked her hands
up and down, Goliath's tail lashed uncontrollably, finally settling down
enough to wrap around her leg.

Matt had a feeling that if he had been gifted with a tail, it would have
been lashing as well, but with barely controlled anger. God, he should have
seen it. Felt it. Her questing fingers, running up his back exactly where
his wings would have been, had he possessed any.

Maybe, he thought, if I *had* wings and a tail...

The trip home seemed to pass in a blur. Before he knew it, he was leaning
against the door to his apartment, face to face with the other complication
in his life.

"Are you all right?" Demona asked.

Matt stared through her for a few seconds before focusing. "Yeah," he said.
"Peachy. Just kind of wishing I could..." Get royally drunk. Turn into a
gargoyle and get Elisa back. Understand why you're standing in my
apartment. "... have understood sooner."

"Understood what?"

He pushed past her into his bedroom. Tossing the trenchcoat over a chair,
he turned back to Demona, who had followed him. "Have you ever gotten
insanely jealous? Okay, stupid question."

She shook her head at him. "What happened?"

"Just answer me this." Reckless, drunk on jealousy and indignity, he
reached behind her. "What the hell does this do?" Very quickly, he ran his
fingers down her back, just under her wings.

Demona straightened in shock, then met his eyes with an odd color in her
cheeks. "Just what this does to humans," she said, running a hand down the
back of his thigh. She had incredibly long fingers.

"Hey!" he cried, jumping back. He tripped on something and landed on the
bed, sprawling backwards.

"Turnabout is fair play," she said, suddenly grinning. Landing beside him
as lightly as a cat, she grinned and did something with her tail...

"God!" Matt grabbed one of Demona's arms and twisted himself over, pinning
her body under his. Her tail, now wrapped tightly around his waist, pulled
them together. Smirking, Matt rolled them over again and ran his hands down
both of Demona's wings at the same time, this time digging in with his nails.

Demona gasped, then started breathing faster. "Do that again," she said.
Matt mentally shrugged and threw any remaining caution to the wind, pulling
his fingernails down her back. Demona moaned in a fashion that he'd never
heard from *any* woman before, and then kissed him.

After that, it was only a matter of time before they lay there in each
other's arms, naked and covered with a patina of sweat, staring at each
other. Matt suddenly realized that making love to the number one
self-declared enemy of humanity, no matter how reformed, might not have
been the brightest idea in the world.

"That... was... incredible," Demona whispered.

Then again, it might not have been such a bad idea after all...

---

Matt woke up sometime in the middle of the afternoon, blinked fuzzily at
the woman in his arms, and wondered who he knew with red hair.

Oh, yeah. That.

"Um..." he said hesitantly.

"Good afternoon," Demona said, craning her head back a little to meet his
eyes.

"'afternoon," he managed.

She stretched, languid as a cat, and he could only watch in fascination.
This woman had everything: immortality, looks, muscles, a genocidal complex
that she was hopefully over, stamina...

Oh, yeah, stamina.

She glanced at him. "Mind if I borrow your shower?"

He shrugged and looked down at himself. "I think I need one, too."

"I'll scrub your back," she offered, standing. Watching her move, Matt
couldn't find the heart to refuse.

After a few hours, two showers, and breakfast, Matt decided that he should
meet Elisa in the parking lot instead of waiting for her to walk into the
apartment. As he headed for the door, Demona caught his arm.

"Yeah?" he asked hesitantly.

"If you would like," she said, "I'll be here when you get back."

He blinked a few times, then looked her up and down. She was wrapped in one
of his old robes, her normal 'Queen of the Amazons' outfit being a little
much for lying around the apartment. Her red hair spilled over her
shoulders, her head was tilted slightly sideways, and the absolute
confidence in her eyes was a little unnerving.

"I'd like that," he found himself saying.

She smiled, and he forced himself out the door. Leaning against the wood,
he took deep breaths and tried to relax. Consorting with the enemy? Hell, yes.

Taking another deep breath, Matt stood up straight, checked his gun, then
started downstairs to meet the other complication in his life.

---

"Why is it," Matt found himself asking a couple weeks later, "that my love
affairs seem to have an average lifetime of about two weeks?"

It had been an incredible two weeks, he had to admit. Stamina. Goddamn. And
he never imagined that making love to a woman with a *tail* could be so...
exhilarating.

But there was no denying that it was over. Sure, he'd pretty much made up
his mind that Demona wasn't using him in some diabolical scheme to attack
the clan. When they weren't ... busy, they were talking, either about the
clan, life in general, or history. And while she occasionally did drop a
gargoylocentric comment or two, she was catching herself more frequently.

"Of course," he muttered, "I could be a little biased."

"Hmmmm?" Demona sat up next to him, human at this time of day, blinking
sleep out of her eyes.

Matt smiled sadly. "Just wondering why good things never last more than two
weeks."

"You felt it, too." She ran her nails up his spine, which wasn't as good as
having wings, but the closest substitute he had. "I've been thinking. I'd
like to travel. Visit places I haven't seen in centuries. But..."

"I have to stay here," he said wryly. "Yeah, I kinda got the feeling you
wanted to fly away."

"Do-do-do-do, do-do-doo..." Demona sang. Matt shot her a glance. "Sorry."

"Anyway."

"Yes," she agreed. "It's been wonderful."

"I never argued that."

"But," she continued, "our mutual interests seem incompatible."

"You've never been thrilled with secret societies..."

"And the genocide of your species has never been high on your reading
list," she teased.

"Not this month," he said, and tickled her. She laughed and
counterattacked, making sure in one fell swoop that their leave-taking was
anything but hateful.

---

And so another week passed uneventfully.

Matt was avoiding the AErie with a passion, now. Which was all right,
because he had more than enough to do at work, keeping the Quarrymen out of
his hair and organizing permits for PIT rallies - why he had to be on the
receiving end of so much paperwork, he wasn't sure. But at the moment, he
was quite content to organize the files on one side and organize
'clanspotting' activities with Brooklyn on the other.

That, all while making copies of certain documents for Society use. What a
life.

"So... PIT rally on Sunday in Central Park, starting just before sunset and
supposed to last a few hours. Got it." Brooklyn scribbled notes on his Palm
VI before stowing it in a pouch on his belt. "So, anything new with you?"

"Not much," Matt replied. "Languishing in my corner of the world, as
normal. You?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "Life's okay, except that Summer keeps bugging me about
the eggs. She says all the gadgets Xanatos had installed in the rookery are
hurting the eggs. He just put in a space-heater!" Brooklyn laughed and
shook his head. "Sometimes I think all expecting females go insane for a
period of time."

"That would explain Elisa," Matt muttered.

Brooklyn frowned at him. "What's going on between you, anyway?"

Matt raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Come on. She never said outright who the kid's father is..."

Matt felt his blood running faster, and turned away.

"... but we all heard when the doc said she couldn't bear Goliath's
children, that it might kill her to try. And here she ends up pregnant..."
Brooklyn cocked an eyebrow ridge at Matt, "And suddenly, Goliath doesn't
want to hear you mentioned and you're avoiding the castle. Someone had to
put two and two together."

"Yeah, yeah." Matt shook his head. "You'd make a good detective."

"I'm sure someone else picked it up."

"Real comforting."

Brooklyn shrugged. "How are you handling it? Elisa and Goliath seem..."

"Just fine, from what I've noticed," Matt cut in.

The ruddy gargoyle took a long look at him. "You're in love with her,
aren't you?"

"Damn, when did you get perceptive?" Matt shook his head. "I used to be.
Now... now, I don't know."

"Mmm." Brooklyn was about to say more when his watch went off. Rolling his
eyes, he hopped up on the balcony railing. "We shouldn't have let Xanatos
donate equipment, you know?" he said. "Timers. We never needed timers
before. See you later?"

"Yeah, bye, Brooklyn." The gargoyle swooped off his balcony, disguising
another swoop behind him. Hence, when Matt turned around and ran into
Demona, he was shocked out of his wits.

"Uhh... hi?" he said.

"I need to talk with you," she replied.

"Come on in," he said, stepping past her. "I need more surrealism in my life."

Demona smiled, then stepped into the apartment, closed the sliding glass
door, locked it, and closed the curtain. Matt grabbed his computer chair
and turned around, watching her.

She turned from the balcony door. "I'm pregnant," she said quietly.

Matt blinked a few times, attempted to sit down, and missed the chair.
Sprawled on the floor, he stared up at her. "That's... impossible," he said
slowly.

"I hate to say it, but..."

He pulled himself to his feet. "No, you don't understand. That's
*impossible* because..."

"... because otherwise you screwed your life up for nothing?"

Matt paused. "How much of that conversation did you hear?"

She smirked. "Gargoyles have very sharp hearing."

"God DAMN." Matt sighed and sat down. "Well. Uh. What are we going to do?"

"Do? I'm going to keep the child. If it lasts." Demona sighed. "I don't
know how Puck's spell is going to affect..."

She trailed off, then walked forward to kneel by Matt's side. "I'm going to
need your help with this."

"Are you even sure ... I mean, this kid's going to be half-human!" Matt
eyed her warily. "Have you managed to get rid of a millennium of prejudice
in three weeks?"

Demona fixed him with a gaze. "When it comes to my child? Yes."

He smiled sadly. "Your child. Of course."

She started, then reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair. "*Our*
child, of course. Matt... you helped me to rethink everything. I
wouldn't... I won't..."

"Yeah. Sorry." He gave her a halfhearted grin. "I've kind of gotten used to
it, though."

"What *did* happen between you and Maza, anyway?"

He chuckled ruefully and stared down at his hands. "Oh, yeah, that
misadventure."

"You got her pregnant, as well? Keep this up, and you'll have to start
charging stud fees."

"Only if the red hair breeds true." He reached up to catch her questing
fingers and grinned. "But seriously... the whole thing was that she and
Goliath couldn't have children. So she asked me if I would... er..."

"Take her for a roll in the hay?" Demona asked sardonically.

"Something like that." Matt shook his head. "It was a bad idea. It was a
really bad idea."

"And part of you is still in love with her?"

He looked up at her. "How do you know that?"

She smiled. "Because I know exactly how you feel."

---

Why, Matt thought later while riding the AErie's elevator, do I let women
manipulate me?

He didn't *think* he was particularly weak-minded, though the fact that he
was riding up to the AErie to speak with one Puck alias Owen was a clue.
And the fact that he considered actually heading to the AErie of his own
volition a *good* idea was making him question his sanity.

Still... Demona was right. And the fact that he was thinking *that* was
making him consider counseling. No, doctor, I don't think my problems are
because my stepfather was alcoholic and I'm repressing anger. I think it's
because I just had an affair with my partner, who's in love with a
gargoyle, and after that happened I got involved with a gargoyle who's
immortal and for the last thousand years has been trying to destroy
humanity. Do you think you can help?

He stepped out of the elevator and nearly ran full speed into the other
complication in his life.

"Hey, Elisa," he said.

"Hi, Matt. What brings you here?" She shot him an odd glance. "This isn't
your normal beat."

He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. Well, you see, I need to help
Demona... "I need to talk to Owen," he said.

She frowned. "Why?"

"Long story. Were you heading out?" He jerked his thumb at the elevator.

"Well, actually, yeah... why?"

"Just curious. See you tomorrow." Giving her a halfhearted grin, he walked
past her into the inner part of the castle, heading for Xanatos' office.
Behind him, he heard the elevator doors chime closed.

Probably for the good of all parties concerned, Matt bumped into Owen
before he reached Xanatos' office. Explaining his situation to Xanatos was
a bad idea second only to explaining it to Goliath and Elisa.

"Owen," Matt said as soon as he noticed him, "I need to talk to you."

Owen tipped his wire-rims just enough to throw the light in Matt's eyes.
"Detective," he said. "Certainly."

"Uh... in private, if you don't mind," Matt said after a few seconds.

"This way, then," Owen said, gesturing down the hallway. Matt followed him
into a small office, then waited as Owen shut the door. "How can I be of
service?"

"For one, is this room bugged?" Matt got a sudden chill at the thought of
Xanatos reviewing the tapes, then deciding to mention his findings to
Elisa... or Goliath.

"Of course. However, depending on what you wanted to talk with me about,
the information may or may not be reviewed. I assume you wish to speak to
me about something of some... delicacy."

"Yeah." Matt paused tried to think of how he could save himself any shreds
of dignity. "I've been, well, seeing Demona," he finally said.

Owen took the time to raise one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "You have," he
said rather than asked, his voice a precise monotone.

"Yeah. And I was wondering if you, or rather, you and Alex, could maybe
cancel the spell that makes her human during the day."

A slight frown creased Owen's brow. "And why should you want that?"

Ah, hell. "Because we don't know how turning into a human every day affects
pregnancy."

Owen's jaw actually dropped. He stood there completely dumbfounded for a
second while small strangled sounds escaped his throat. "You..." he finally
said when he regained conscious control over his jaw muscles.

Matt shrugged, then nodded. "Yeah."

"I... see." Owen looked mildly ill for a moment, then gave Matt a sharp
glance. "This wouldn't happen to be a 'rebound' from your affair with
Detective Maza, would it?"

"Look. Can you get rid of the spell or not?" Matt glared until Owen finally
shrugged.

"I don't see any problem with revising or repealing the spell. Will that be
all?"

"Yeah. No." Matt pointed at the ceiling. "None of this conversation gets
out, okay?"

"Of course," Owen said. "Good day, detective."

"Bye, Owen. And thanks."

---

Matt barely saw Demona after that, and part of him was grateful. The rest
of him was too busy dealing with everyday life.

"So," he asked Elisa in the car a few weeks later, "Have you been thinking
up names?"

She started, then looked over guiltily. "Well, I mean, Goliath and I
were..." She flushed and went back to staring at the road.

"Come on," he said when she didn't say anything more. "I'm not going to bite."

She frowned. "Well, we were thinking... Jacob for a boy, and Jacqueline for
a girl."

He smiled at her reassuringly. "I can see that... a girl with your eyes."

"And your hair?" Elisa grinned, and he grinned back, then remembered an
earlier conversation and almost choked in trying to keep from laughing.

"You all right?" They'd reached the station, and Elisa was looking over
with concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine. Sorry." Matt shook his head, then grinned. "Something I just
remembered, that's all. A long shaggy dog joke."

Elisa shrugged, letting it go. "All right. Come on, we have to get back to
the never-ending stack of paperwork."

"Just what I was looking forward to."

---

Later that night, Matt wandered out of his apartment, took a certain bus at
a certain time and met a certain taxi which took him to a certain hotel.
Flashing a certain pin at a certain time got him into a certain banquet
hall, where his old buddy Hacker met him with a certain handshake.

"Glad you could make it," Hacker said. "We expect quite a turnout."

"The new member induction banquet? Wouldn't miss it for the world." Matt
glanced around at the slowly filling hall. "Hmm..."

"What?"

"I didn't know there were any gargoyles in the Society. Or women, for that
matter."

Hacker shrugged. "A few. Not too many join; the subterfuge isn't good for
them. And the women... most of them work in other branches than these." He
jerked his thumb at the royal blue gargoyle Matt was eyeing. "That's
Vanessa, 17th Circle. She joined up a couple years after you did. Quite an
interesting woman."

"Mmmm." Matt gave her another once-over. Royal blue, double wings in a
butterfly pattern, and horns extending back from her eyebrow-ridges that
curved behind her platinum hair in a sleek arc. She was dressed in a halter
top and billowing black pants that buttoned above her tail. He tore his
gaze away and shook his head. What was he thinking?

The banquet dragged on through most of the night, only to segue into a
cocktail party deal while the members of the Society waited for the closing
rites and exchanged information.

Matt was attempting to fade into the wood paneling of the room when he
heard a voice beside him murmur, "Fingernails."

Turning, he stared at Vanessa, who had managed to appear holding a couple
glasses of champagne. "Thanks," he said, taking the offered glass, then,
"What?"

She chuckled and took a drink. Her eyes were bright green, mesmerizing.
"Something I heard through the grapevine. Are you as bored as I am by the
proceedings?"

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a sip of champagne. The good stuff, of course. "I
don't like waiting around watching people talk at each other. I think it's
cop instinct."

She grinned, trapping the shine of the room in her fangs. "I know a bar
that's friendly to gargoyles, if you're not doing anything after," she said.

He took another look at her, then smiled. "Sure. Why not?"

---

Dear God, he thought later, how am I going to explain this to...

... actually, he didn't want to explain this to anyone. He was quite
content to lay there and let Vanessa trace little circles on his chest with
her talons. Gently, of course. Her claws were a lot sharper than his
fingernails.

"Mrrrrrr," she murmured contentedly against his shoulder. "That was
incredible."

"Thanks. You were, too," he said, not wanting to seem ungracious.

She sighed again in happiness, then chuckled. "I haven't felt like that
since my last Flight," she said dreamily.

"Flight?"

She raised her eyebrow ridges at him. "I thought you talked with the clan
here a bunch. Don't tell me they never mentioned..." she trailed off and
blushed.

"Nope." He eyed her. "What's this about?"

She giggled in embarrassment. "Mating Flights," she said. "It's... well,
it's the only way female gargoyles can conceive. I mean, you pick a night
that feels good, and the whole flight and the sex kind of drive you past
ecstasy, and..." Vanessa broke off, her blush spreading. "Hell, with that
trick you've got there, you don't even need wings."

"... Ahh." Matt blinked a few times. "I see."

"No, really. That thing with the fingernails is a trip."

"Tell me," he said suddenly, "have there been any recorded cases of
gargoyle-human crossbreeds? Do you know?"

Vanessa frowned in thought. "I... hmmm. I think the Society found a couple
during the 60s, but the mothers were so whacked out on drugs that the kids
didn't last very long. That, and they never got positive IDs on the
fathers." She shrugged. "Sorry. Why?"

"Just wondering if..."

"Don't worry about me," she said, anticipating him. "I got the
sterilization treatment. Reversible, but I don't want to have anything
interfere with work, including great sex." She winked, then grinned.
"Speaking of which..."

Matt chuckled as Vanessa tossed her hair provocatively, then pulled her
close again.

---

And with one thing and another, Matt survived the next few months. He
didn't see Vanessa after the one night, and was, to put it bluntly, glad.
One night stands were great, but any more tangled relationships and he'd
probably collapse under the weight of his own angst.

So until Elisa was about ready to give birth, he managed to keep his life
relatively sane.

Brooklyn met him at the elevator, sending worried glances down the hallway
where the sounds of Goliath frantically arguing with a doctor could be
heard. "We didn't know if you'd show up," he said.

"Yeah, well, I always had a suicidal streak." Matt smiled wryly and made no
move to get out of the immediate vicinity of the elevators. "All the same,
I think I'll stay out of sight."

"Good idea." Brooklyn took a few steps down the hall, listened for a few
seconds, then winced. "Elisa's doing fine. Goliath wants to know why he
can't be in there. The docs think he'll overreact."

"They *think?*"

"That *is* debatable," Brooklyn agreed, then winced and covered his ears at
one of Goliath's more vocal outbursts. "I'm glad that *you're* being sane,
at least."

"Well, one of us has to set an example." Another roar echoed off the stone.
Matt shifted back and forth on his feet uncomfortably. "You think we should
head that way, or duck down the elevators?"

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Brooklyn said, and led the way toward
the hastily converted guest room.

Elisa had made it clear that she wasn't going to head downstairs to give
birth in a lab. Xanatos had argued, pleaded, quoted statistics, and finally
given up and brought some equipment upstairs along with a few medical
experts. Therefore Elisa was giving birth in the ancestral home of the
clan, instead of six floors down surrounded by the best medical help money
could buy.

Matt had, at the time of the argument, not cared much one way or another,
figuring that in the event of an emergency the elevators were always an
option. But now, here in the castle, face to face with the fact that Elisa
was giving birth to *his child*...

... that was part of the problem, he reflected as they rounded the corner.
It wasn't going to be his child. Oh, sure, biologically. And eventually the
kid would figure out that he wasn't half gargoyle. But the child would be
raised here, with the clan, and at the rate his visits to the AErie were
piling up...

He suddenly wondered how Demona was doing. He hadn't seen her since he'd
told her Owen had fixed the spell so she was a gargoyle all the time, day
and night. He'd have to catch up with her sometime later.

Boy, he *was* going insane.

"All considered, things are going well," Matt saw the doctor explaining to
Goliath as he stopped in the doorway. "She's got good hips, and there's no
problem..."

"Are you saying I'm *fat*, you medical bastard?" Elisa snapped from the
next room back.

Matt blinked and stepped back, glancing at Brooklyn. "How long has this
been..."

"Eight hours, so far."

"And... how far along..."

"The docs say well into the last phase."

"And she's cranky because..."

"Well, she *was* asking to have your head and certain other portions of
your anatomy on a platter before they gave her some painkillers. They just
wore off an hour ago, and they aren't going to be able to give her another
dose for at least another two hours."

This last was punctuated by a scream from Elisa and a frantic chant of
"Push! Push!" from the nurse. Matt got a sudden image of Goliath in a
Lamaze class and had to keep himself from laughing.

Finally, there was a silence, broken only by a thin, infant's wail.

Matt was unprepared for the jerk on his heart that one sound had. He
involuntarily took a step toward the doorway, then glanced back at
Brooklyn. "I cross this threshold, and Goliath kills me," he said.

Brooklyn nodded. "About what I figured."

Fortunately, the doctor came out, looking harried but happy. "Ah! You're
the biological father, then?" he asked Matt.

Matt figured that a) he was in Goliath's hearing range, so saying nothing
more wouldn't help, and b) denying it wouldn't get him anywhere. "Yeah," he
said, suddenly feeling guilty. Was it just that the term 'biological
father' was only used at the station in teen pregnancy and rape cases?

"Great. She's asking for you."

Hesitantly, Matt followed the doctor into the room. Elisa was holding the
child against her, looking weary but a lot happier than she'd sounded
minutes before. Goliath was standing over her, glowering protectively.

She looked up, and the radiant smile on her face was enough to let him
forget Goliath, parapets, or the prospect of becoming a Matt-shaped hole in
the wall. "Matt," she said. "It's a boy."

"That's great," he said, and couldn't help but glance up at Goliath. The
gargoyle seemed willing to let things slide, for now. "Jacob, right?"

"Yes." Elisa leaned back into Goliath's embrace and smiled sleepily. "Jacob
Maza..."

Matt figured after a few seconds that she'd fallen asleep, and was about to
leave when her eyes snapped open. "Jacob *Matthew* Maza," she said clearly.

"Elisa," both he and Goliath said, Matt in fear of getting hung up on the
rafters, Goliath in mild disapproval edged with sharp disapproval.

"Write it down," she said to the doctor. "That way... won't ever..." this
time she yawned, curled up against Goliath, and fell asleep.

The nurse expertly took Jacob and set him in the crib which had been set up
for that purpose. Matt checked his watch, surprised that a whole hour had
passed. It seemed like only minutes.

He looked up, and met Goliath's very angry gaze. "Go," the gargoyle growled.

"Goliath," Brooklyn said from the doorway, "I think you're being a little
unfair."

"No, really," Matt said, backing away. "I need to get back to my apartment.
Sleep, you know. And it's almost dawn."

Goliath started, then glanced at the wall clock. "So it is," he said. "I
believe I will stay here."

"Right." Brooklyn turned to leave, and Matt followed him. "What was that
bit about the kid's middle name?" he asked when they were safely out of
earshot.

"Damned if I know," Matt said. "Look... next time we get the clan together
for a GTF meeting, I'll take you guys out. I know this club downtown that's
gargoyle-friendly, and I have a feeling Goliath will get *really* annoyed
if I show up here again."

Brooklyn snorted. "No shit. See you around, Matt."

---

Matt was about ready to collapse when he got back to his apartment. Locking
the door, he hung up his trenchcoat and gun, then went to the sink to get a
glass of water.

The phone rang.

Matt sighed, then picked it up. "Bluestone," he said, maneuvering to get
the phone under his ear while operating the tap.

There was a pause on the other end. "Matt?" a female voice that he didn't
recognize over phone static asked.

He frowned. "Yeah?"

There was another pause. Then, "How the HELL long do your goddamn human
females stay pregnant?!" Demona screamed at him.

Matt froze, listening to Demona's ranting with half his brain and watching
the water pour over the sides of the glass with another portion. The
remaining part of his mind was running in circles screaming, Please let the
phone not be bugged please GOD let the phone not be bugged...

"Are you LISTENING to me?" Demona finally demanded.

"Ahh... of course I am," Matt said, regaining enough consciousness to turn
off the water. "Nine months."

"Nine MONTHS?" Demona screeched.

"Um, yeah. Like that movie. Um... why?"

Demona was quiet for a few moments while she got her breathing back under
control. "Let me give you a short lesson in gargoyle physiology," she said
slowly. "A gargoyle female actually bears the egg for only four months at
the most."

"Ah."

"The eggs are then cared for until they hatch in five years."

"Ahh-hunh." Matt frowned, trying to remember. "I think Brooklyn mentioned
something like that."

"I am under the impression that human children are born live."

"That's right." Matt sighed. "Just witnessed that half an hour ago."

There was a long pause. "Elisa, then?"

"Yeah."

"I... see. I suppose I should offer you congratulations."

Matt laughed. "Like hell. She handled the hard part, and the kid's going to
be raised at the AErie, anyway."

"So what's 'the kid's name?"

"Jacob." Matt paused, suddenly hit with an indefinable emotion in his
chest. "Jacob Matthew Maza."

"Ahh." Demona was silent for a few moments, then said, "I'm sorry, Matt.
The child I carry... will be yours."

"You're going to be heading all over the world," he said bitterly.

"Not for a while at least, I'm not. And I'll be back. I'll be sure to be
back." He could almost see her smile. "And while we're not in New York,
I'll be sure to tell our child all about his father."

Matt smiled, warmth easing the tightness around his heart. "Demona... thank
you."

"It's ... only right. I have to make good decisions some time. Good night,
Matt."

"Good night."

---

"So, Matt," Hacker said as they met. The Illuminati Society was having
another meeting, and the pre-meeting cocktail party was in full swing. "I
hear you got Demona pregnant."

Matt sent a withering glare at his friend. "The phone *was* bugged," he
said accusingly.

"Actually, we just asked Owen. What phone?"

"Never mind." Matt sighed and swallowed half of his champagne. "Yes. Can we
talk about something else?"

"The higher-ups just want to know how you did it."

"Look," Matt snapped, managing to keep his voice lower than a shout only
through a major application of self-control, "I don't exactly want my
*technique* to be bantered around by the Fifth Circle!"

Hacker stared at him for a few seconds, then started chuckling. "No, no,
sorry," he said. "I'm afraid you don't understand. You see, female
gargoyles have to be... what they call flown in order to get pregnant. So
the Society is interested in-"

"How I managed to knock her up without drugs?"

Hacker paused, then smiled. "I see you already heard about that."

"Yeah. I talked to Vanessa. Why don't you ask *her?*"

There was another long pause as Hacker stared at him in shock. "You mean
you..."

"I spent the night with her, but I didn't... she said she got sterility
shots or something. What, does the Society want a list of old girlfriends,
now?" Matt glanced around, hoping against hope that he wasn't making a
scene. Or that nobody was looking at them, which they tactfully weren't.

Hacker looked like he'd suddenly bitten into a lemon. "You're going to need
to add a line to your business card," he muttered.

Matt rolled his eyes. "What *other* phones have you been tapping?"

"David Xanatos *is* a member of the Fifth Circle."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is he under orders to report on my social life?"

"Only when I need something to razz you about," Hacker said, finally
getting the sour look off his face. "Come on, the meeting's about to start."

Matt sighed, gave his empty glass to one of the ubiquitous staff in black
and gold uniforms, and followed Hacker into the Inner Sanctum.

---

The door was closed, so Matt knocked a few times and waited uncomfortably.
It wasn't that he didn't like being at Nightstone U's headquarters after
dark, it was that he didn't like being at Nightstone U's headquarters after
dark.

"Come in," a soft voice said from the other side of the door. Matt quietly
pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Demona's apartments at the Nightstone Unlimited building were spartan, but
comfortable. She was reclining on her bed, smiling up at him in light
provided by a single bedside lamp and the city shining through the curtains
over a large outside window. The room was quiet, the busy New York streets
dampened out by something more than just high-quality glass.

"Hey," he said, slowly starting across the room.

Her smile was radiant, her eyes tired. "Hello," she said.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here," he said, before his eyes caught the
bundle in her arms.

Wings, was his first thought as he sat on the bed next to her, My kid has
wings. And blue skin. Damn, I hope mom stops bugging be about grandkids
real soon, or I might shock her out of her wits.

"He's beautiful," Demona said dreamily. "I never thought..."

"You know..." Matt said after a timeless span watching the kid's tiny tail
twine around his mom's arm, "We never did discuss names."

Demona's head jerked up in surprise, then she chuckled. "Humans," she said,
a ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth, "always naming things. Yes..." Her
smile grew. "Do you have any ideas?"

Matt shook his head. "Naah. You?"

"We could always buy one of those appalling books."

He snickered. "Or worse, we could ask my mom for advice."

She smiled. "How bad is that prospect?"

"Oh, you don't even *know.* Mom's a fanatic Irish Catholic."

"So *that's* where you got the hair and the eyes. I'd wondered, with no
accent."

He chuckled again. "Naah, the family's been living in upstate New York
since the Depression. Anyway... names?"

She turned her gaze back down at the newborn again. "I think..." Again back
into Matt's eyes. "Marcus? Perhaps?"

He looked down at the child, *their* child, at the soft and oh-so-human
features that were quite overshadowed by the wings and tail. "Yeah," he
said. "Marcus."

"Marcus Matthew Bluestone," she added. When he stared in surprise, she only
smiled. "Your son, remember?"

"Yeah," he said. Suddenly... suddenly, nothing was so wrong with the world,
after all.

---

The castle was quiet right after dawn. Comforting, in a way. Matt had
found, over the years, that right after dawn was the best time to visit.
Elisa still had the happy glow she acquired from being in Goliath's
company, and the gargoyle himself was unable to complain. That, and if he
was lucky, Jake was still awake.

As if the mere thought summoned him, the bright-eyed eight-year-old ran out
into the courtyard laughing, followed by his mother. "Uncle Matt!" he said,
jumping up for a hug. "See, I toldja he'd come," Jake called back to Elisa.

She smiled at him, a smile that barely faded as she met Matt's eyes. "I
didn't doubt you," she said. "I'll leave you boys alone for a while."

"See you around, Elisa," he said, which was the best thing he'd come up
with for this kind of situation. She smiled again briefly, then turned back
inside.

Matt took a seat on one of the carved benches scattered around the
courtyard. Jake scrambled up beside him and let his legs swing.

"So, how's your life going, tiger?" Matt asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Good," Jake said, then reached up to push a fringe of red hair out of his
eyes. "Alex's a prat, though."

The expression startled Matt into laughter. "A *what?*"

"He's a prat. He made me stick to the ceiling until dad yelled at him to
let me down."

Matt reflected that children's pranks were slightly different when one of
the pair was an 11-year-old mage-in-training. "Yeah... but I thought the
word 'prat' came from the other side of the Atlantic."

Jake shrugged, clearly not interested in the etymology of the latest
preteen curse. His face was scrunched with preoccupation, and Matt didn't
press him for an explanation.

Finally, Jacob turned to look up at Goliath's still form, then turned back
to Matt, consternation burning in his dark eyes. "Are you my father?" he
asked.

The air went out of Matt's lungs as if he'd been punched. "I..." looking
down to meet Jake's gaze, he realized that the absolutely worst thing he
could do was lie. "Yes. Technically. Why..."

"Alex said I should like it in the air 'cause my dad's a gargoyle, so I'm
s'posta be part gargoyle, too. An' when he said that, everyone got real
quiet. That's when dad told him to get me down on the ground." Jake chewed
on his lower lip for a second, then said, "I don't have wings or a tail. I
don't turn to stone. I'm not part gargoyle, an'... that means dad's not
really my father."

"Sure he is," Matt said automatically.

"But he's *not.* You just said *you* are."

"Look, Jake..." he paused to get his thoughts in order. "Goliath is your
father in every way that really counts. He's with you all the time he can
be there, he's trying to teach you everything he knows, and he loves your
mother very much."

"But..." Jake took a deep breath and thought this over. "Why are *you*..."
he stopped, not having enough words to explain what he was trying to say.

"Because your mom and dad can't have children together," Matt found himself
saying with all the emotional detachment he'd seen Elisa affect when she'd
told him. "So she asked me, because we were- *are* really good friends."

Jake didn't seem to notice the slip. "So... are you gonna be my dad now?"

Matt shook his head. "Just because you figured things out? No. Your parents
are your *parents*, and I couldn't intrude on that." He grinned. "I'm just
your Uncle Matt who spoils you rotten on your birthday, okay?"

Jake finally smiled, hesitantly. "Okay."

"All right. Now, how long have you been awake?"

Jake attempted to muffle a yawn and failed. "Took a nap after school."

"Well, it sounds like you need some sleep right now. Your schedule's weird
enough as it is." Matt gently herded the sleepy eight-year-old to his room,
then waited for him to climb into bed. "'nite, Jake."

"'nite, Uncle Matt."

He clicked the light off, then closed the door and stepped back into the
corridor. Elisa was watching him, an unreadable expression in her eyes. He
gave her a nod and turned to leave.

"Matt?"

He turned back to her. She smiled softly. "Thank you," she said.

Matt nodded, returned her smile, and left.

---

Tat. Rat-a-tat. Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tatttttt...

Matt opened the door in time to save the glass from permanent claw marks.
Mark grinned at him from where he'd been drumming on the door. "Hey, dad.
Can we come in?"

"Sure." He turned to Demona, who was fighting to hide a smirk at their
son's behavior. "Both of you. Where were you this time?"

"Brazil," Mark answered. "Sorry... er... can I raid the fridge?"

"Go right ahead," Matt replied, pointing. "I can order pizza, too, if stuff
runs out."

"*Thank* you," Mark said, before all but vaulting over the counter to get
at the refrigerator. "We had to fly back, and got caught out - couldn't
risk going granite, you know? Had to fly during daylight, and I am *starved.*"

Mark had grown to look a great deal like his father - a fact that made Matt
feel alternately strange and proud when he watched him. Aside from the blue
skin, wings, and tail, he could have been Matt at seventeen. Matt turned
back to Demona as he heard his leftover Chinese food get swiftly devoured.
"So, how was Brazil? And did you fly all the way back?"

"Brazil was enlightening," she said, "And almost; we caught a cruise ship
to South Carolina. We had to fly from there."

"Wow."

"Yes. Someone had been trying demon-summoning down in Brazil, and we had to
figure out how to stop them... in Portuguese. Do you know how hard it is to
unsummon a demon in Portuguese?"

Matt blinked. "Well..."

"MMmfgh!" Mark swallowed, gestured a few times, then said, "It's twice as
hard as in Spanish. I mean that."

"I'll take your word for it," Matt said dryly. "So how'd you get on a
cruise ship?"

"Remember that Cuban sailor we rescued off the coast of Haiti?" Mark asked.
Pausing to finish off the stringbeans, he continued, "Well, after Castro
got capped, he started up a cruise line. He remembered us when we bumped
into him in port, and gave us a lift."

"You have friends in the weirdest places."

"I agree," Demona said. "But we did manage to get here a few weeks early,
which speaks for itself."

"Yeah. It's great to see you two." Matt glanced at his diminishing store of
leftovers and reached for the phone. "Okay. Pizza?"

Mark nodded a few times, tossed aside the second box of fried rice, and
said, "Two giant supreme combos with double everything. I can pay if they
take Visa."

Matt chuckled and dialed Domino's. "Are we going to get any?" he asked as
he set the phone back in the cradle.

Mark winced. "Gee, if I'd've known you wanted some, I'd have ordered three."

Demona laughed. "Sixteen, and you're already eating him out of house and
home."

"I have my Visa with me. I'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about it," Matt said. "I still owe you a birthday present,
anyway."

Mark blushed and tried to duck behind the fridge door. "... you don't need
to worry about that. Don't. Please."

"All right, then." He waited a few seconds, then said, "So how'd you get
involved in this demon thing in Brazil, anyway?"

Mark became animated again. "Well, okay, we were in Peru, right? So we
crossed the border and headed toward Sao Luis. But we came across this
village, and for some reason their entire crop was getting killed off from
the roots up. So we did a reading, and all the energy was being drained to
summon a demon..."

"Someone incredibly reactionary wanted to send out a demon to kill anyone
not of native descent," Demona added dryly. "A plan I'd already tried once
and discarded. Fortunately, the demon recognized me, or we'd have been
there all week."

Mark chuckled. "Mom managed to convince it that if *she* wasn't able to get
it enough mana to feed it, how was some hedge wizard going to manage? It
decided to stay right where it was."

"So what was the language problem?"

Demona grimaced. "Well, the problem was that when you summon a demon, all
spells associated with the summoning have to be done in the same language.
It isn't necessary for all types of magic, but..."

"And Portuguese isn't made for magic," Mark added. "Latin's better for it,
even Spanish, but not Portuguese."

"But you managed it."

"Barely." Mark grinned. "But yes, we managed. Then we spent some time with
the village helping them replant. That's where I got the shirt, see?" He
tugged on his shirt, which looked something like linen but was embroidered
with fancy patterns along the arms and collar.

Matt nodded. "Nice, very nice."

"Yeah. It was one hell of a surprise, too. They'd been hiding it for
weeks." Mark shook his head, then contorted around to look at the back.
"Still don't know how they managed to account for the wings... anyway, we
left sometime around mid-summer and made out way east, then spent some time
on the beach by Sao Luis, where we bumped into Herve."

Matt shook his head. "So where all have- check that. Where *haven't* you
been yet?"

Mark rested his arms on the fridge door and looked thoughtful. "Lessee... I
don't think we've been to western Africa yet."

"Or southern South America. Or Hawaii. Or Greenland. Or Finland."

Mark nodded. "And I want to go back to Japan again. And France."

"Anywhere else in particular?" Matt asked dryly.

Mark shrugged. "I wouldn't mind touring some more Pacific Islands. I was
seven, about, when we spent all that time in Indonesia... I guess it'd be
good to go back."

Demona had an odd look on her face. "We do need to go back to Africa, a few
times," she said. Suddenly she laughed. "Guess who we ran into in Peru."

Matt shrugged. "Dunno. Who?"

"Alexander Xanatos."

"Alex?"

Mark nodded a few times, grinning. "Yep. He was observing some commercial
interests for Xanacorp. We... er... accidentally hijacked his car."

Matt blinked a few times. "Accidentally?"

"Well, okay, but he was on a train with the grain shipments for transport,
and there was an emergency, famine, you know? So we hijacked it. We didn't
realize who the passengers were until we'd made it up into the Andes."

"He was really quite civil about things, once he realized I wasn't going to
bite his head off," Demona said.

"Yeah, Alex has gotten a lot more mellow, recently," Matt said. "Ever since
he got out of medical school his dad's been trying to get him to take up
economics."

Mark grinned. "He said he convinced his dad to let him down into some rural
areas for med work under the stipulation that he'd be studying business,
but what he was really interested in was the people. That and folk magic -
we traded a few spells."

"Magic," Matt said half-disparagingly. "Why couldn't you have a normal
hobby, like hockey or basketball or video games?"

"Because I can't carry a hockey stick or a basketball or a game console?"
Mark replied.

"You could carry one of those pocket game things that are all over."

"And have it pickpocketed?" Mark chuckled. "Naah. Besides, I know how to
play go, chess, mancala, checkers, and even cricket, which took me a while."

"Incredible." Matt turned to Demona. "You might want to publish your tips
on parenting. There are millions of people in this country who would pay
big bucks to have a kid who cares more about chess than the latest TV show."

"What's the hit of the month now?" Demona asked, heading off his question.

Matt shuddered. "Some God-awful cartoon about 'real Gargoyles.' Haven't you
seen the action figures?"

"We missed them," she said. "Are they really awful?"

"Let me put it this way: I used to think that Pokemon Trainer Ash with
Realistic Kung-Fu Grip was bad. Then I saw these things."

Demona shuddered. Mark looked slightly confused. "Pokemon?"

"Before your time, and be very grateful for that," Matt said.

At about that time the doorbell rang, and Demona and Mark edged behind the
wall to keep from being seen. Matt opened the door, collected the pizza,
paid the man, and then hurriedly got the door closed before he came in
between a hungry gargoyle and Actual Food.

"Well," he said after Mark had finished off about six slices of Supreme
Double Everything, Four chicken wings, and two breadsticks, "I suppose it's
better for you than cold Chinese takeout."

Mark grinned wryly and took a sip of coke. "Especially cold Chinese takeout
consisting of canine venison. Checked the missing dog reports lately?"

"No, and for a good reason," Matt replied. "I need to eat."

Mark waved at the pizza. "I'm sure you can take a slice or so before I die
of malnutrition."

"Thanks." Matt grabbed a slice and munched on it as the rest of the pizza
was summarily destroyed.

"So what's recent news in New York?" Demona asked.

Matt shrugged. "Nothing terribly earthshaking... Margot Yale's still
pushing those damn anti-Gargoyle acts, we finally managed to keep Draycon
in prison for more than ten weeks, Xanatos is producing the first
commercially viable flying car, and the stock market's up again."

"That's good news, at least," she said. "How have you been?"

"Well, getting handed more desk work, but that's only reasonable, I guess."
He suddenly flashed a grin. "And Xanatos has finally managed to get his
hands on an anti-aging process that seems to be working, thanks in no small
part to yours truly."

Mark almost choked on his pizza. "MMMFgh?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Demona absently corrected him. "What's
been going on, Matt?"

"I finally talked the Fifth Circle into a wider distribution of technology.
That means that Xanatos gets his hands on all of those techie toys he's
been lusting after. And that means that he's forever in my debt."

Mark chortled in glee. "Remind me of that when I get on his ass about
deforestation."

"Are you an eco-terrorist now, too?"

"More like an eco-rapturist. Enemies of the rainforest, beware!" Mark
struck a pose, a breadstick held up like a sword. "I shower upon you swirls
of bright flowers and good stuff like that!" With this, he bit off half of
the breadstick, still chuckling.

Demona shook her head. "Did you inherit all of my psychosis, or just most
of it?"

Mark swallowed the breadstick, and washed it down with a coke. "Just the
good parts. From both of you."

Matt rolled his eyes. "I knew insanity was inherited."

"Yeah, you get it from your kids," Mark quipped.

"That joke has moss on it," Demona said.

"Look who's talking."

"Respect your elders, anklebiter."

"So how's the clan doing?" Mark asked, opting out of the sniping with good
grace.

"Good," Matt said. "Now that the Quarrymen have basically been reduced to a
political party, they're a lot more secure. And New York is a lot safer to
walk around in at night, of course."

"Lightnin'," Mark said, grinning.

The evening passed in relative comfort, until they noticed dawn nearing. "I
need to set up the security at Nightstone," Demona said, standing. "Mark,
you can stay here for a bit..."

"Sure," Matt said. "You could even crash here if you miss sunrise."

"Thanks," Mark said. "See you around, mom."

Demona cast them a smile and left, closing the door securely behind her.
Matt turned to his son and raised a querying eyebrow. "Was there something
you wanted to talk with me about?"

Mark shrugged, stood, and started pacing. "Well... I mean..."

"Hey, come on. Something's up."

Mark shrugged again. "Well, sorta." He bit his lip, then turned and asked,
"Do you love mom?"

Matt knew his mouth was hanging open; he just couldn't concentrate enough
to close it. "I..."

Mark sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, no, wait." Matt stood, forced himself not to pace. "I... you just took
me by surprise, that's all."

"But you don't," he said.

Matt shook his head. "No," he finally said. "I don't."

Mark nodded, his expression that of a man who'd gotten news he'd expected,
but not hoped for. "I knew that," he said quietly.

"Hey, Mark," Matt said.

"No, really. I knew. And I know it doesn't mean you don't love me." Mark
took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's just... I kinda hoped, you
know? I know... it's stupid to want... normalcy. But..."

"Do you want to stay here," Matt gestured at the apartment, "I mean, New
York, for a while? Instead of heading off?"

Mark shook his head. "Not really," he said. "I can't stand Americans. No
offense."

Matt laughed, surprised. Then he sobered. "I'm sorry," he said, "But...
hey, you're a great kid. You're a great *person,* you know that. I just
wish I could be around more."

"Kind of difficult when we're on the other side of the planet, isn't it,"
Mark said wryly.

"You could say that," Matt agreed.

Mark glanced outside. "It's getting close to dawn, and... hell, we'll be
here for a month," he said. "I need to get to the roof."

"All right. See you when I get back from my shift." Mark grinned and pushed
the door open, then dived off the balcony and caught an updraft to the
roof. Matt watched him from the doorway, then closed the door, locked it,
and closed the curtains.

---

"Thanks for picking me up," Jake said as he climbed into the passenger seat
of Matt's car. "And I'm sorry the plane was late."

"That's certainly not your fault," Matt said, spinning them around and
heading out. "And hey, it's not much of a drive. I'm glad to see you,
anyway. How's training been?"

"Oh, hell, like normal. But I'm learning a lot."

"Glad." Matt threw him a grin. "Just don't do something stupid like go
nutso over conspiracy theories, mm?"

Jake grimaced. "The real world's not like the X-Files, I know."

"Mmm. As I had the opportunity to find out."

The younger man threw him a startled glance. "*You* were FBI?"

Matt nodded. "About as long as it took them to find out that I was utterly
paranoid."

"God." Jake shook his head. "No wonder dad went ballistic when I mentioned
I wanted to work for the government. I thought mom was going to have to
give him a trank."

"Well, you're already halfway through training. At least they let you out
for holidays."

"Dad was going to tear the Pentagon down if they didn't."

Matt chuckled and turned out of the airport. "Well, everyone's really
anxious to see you," he said, "And it should be sunset by the time we get
there. Aurora especially wanted to-"

Jake groaned. "That niece of mine..."

"She's not exactly the little girl you left," Matt said, amused. "You'd be
surprised. You haven't been back from the capitol in a few years."

He sighed. "All right. But I don't want the kids hanging off me asking if
they can see my gun."

"They're better trained than that. And they're hardly kids - what, Aurora's
seventeen."

"That means so are Winter and Terrence. I'll see them soon enough."

Matt nodded knowingly and kept driving while Jake talked about training,
his instructors, getting along with the other trainees, not getting along
with the other trainees, his really sexy self-defense teacher, and other
general subjects. They pulled into the AErie parking lot and rode the
elevator up to the castle just after sunset, and Jake quieted in anticipation.

As the doors opened on the hall, Jake stepped out and got stunned.

"Welcome home, Jacob!" Elisa said, embracing him.

"Hi, mom," Jake said, but his gaze was riveted on Aurora.

Angela and Broadway's daughter was standing demurely in the background, her
eyes bright with curiosity. She had her father's teal skin and finlike
ears, but her mother's beautiful sable hair, which hung in flowing waves to
the middle of her back. Her wings were caped over a light blue dress, and
she smiled shyly at Jake, who was, quite simply, floored.

Matt smiled. "I have to get back home," he said, loud enough to carry.
"Jake, I'll see you around. Bye, everyone."

"Goodnight, Matt," Elisa said, to be echoed by almost everyone.

"Yeah... bye," Jake said, still entranced. Matt grinned and hit the 'door
close' button.

---

"I don't believe it," Jake said. "I'm twenty-two, dammit. I'm about to
graduate. How can he run my life like this?"

Matt shook his head. "Sorry," he said, "I don't know."

"It's not just that. It's not just that he disapproves. It's that he's so
damn hypocritical!" Jake pounded his fist into the side of the elevator,
then did it again. "I mean, him, and mom, and ... it's not fair!"

"Life is never fair," Matt said. "Wish I could tell you otherwise."

"I mean, it's not even like we're really related," Jake continued bitterly.
"You're my real father. Everyone knows that. Aurora's not really my niece.
It just makes dad feel better if I say that."

"He's worried about you having a family."

"A family! God... there are other gargoyles out there. Aurora could take
her pick. I wouldn't be jealous or anything."

"Goliath is."

Jake opened his mouth, closed it, then closed his eyes and leaned back
against the wall. "Damn. It. Can't he just get *over* it?"

Matt shrugged as the elevator doors chimed open. "I never claimed to
understand him."

"I mean, that's his only excuse. 'You can't raise a family with her.' I
mean... I don't care. We're in love. She knows it, I know it, everyone
knows it, but my shortsighted father..."

"Hey, Matt," Alex said as they turned the corner. "You'll never believe
what I just heard from Brooklyn."

Jake cut off. Matt shook his head. "I'll never guess. What?"

Alex took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and said, "They
caught Demona. And..." he glanced at Jake, "... someone else."

Matt blinked and attempted to remember how to breathe. The world seemed to
be going black as Jake yelled "Yes!" beside him. "That's... great," he
said. "I hope they didn't get injured."

Alex shook his head. "Nobody hurt, from what I hear. Brooklyn, Winter, and
Terrence are bringing them in now. Everyone's meeting in the courtyard." He
paused, then smiled wryly. "Just thought you'd want to know."

"I... yes." Matt took another breath. "Are they here yet?"

"I think..." Alex' eyes unfocused, a sure sign he was checking the castle's
wards. "... yes, they're here. Elisa, Goliath, Dad, and the others are
already out there. Shall we?"

Matt shrugged. Jake, too lost in the enthusiasm to take note of Matt's
reticence, led the way, eager to get a glimpse of the almost-mythical foe.
Matt and Alex lagged noticeably behind.

They made it to the courtyard to see Brooklyn staring at an unruffled Mark,
who was standing in his normal hemp and handmade clothing with his hands
chained behind his back. "It's bugging me," Brooklyn said, "But something
about you seems familiar."

Matt stepped into the light and caught Mark's eye. Mark gave Brooklyn
another grin, then turned to his father. "Hey, Matt," he said.

Brooklyn's frown deepened. "How do you..." he looked back at Matt, then
swiveled around to stare at Mark. "You..."

Elisa stared at him, then looked at Mark and came to the same conclusion.
"Matt... what... you... I mean..."

Matt shrugged and turned to Demona. "Hi, honey, I'm home," he said. Behind
him, he could hear Alex choking to death on some bizarre hysterical
combination of fear and laughter.

Demona, for her part, merely smirked. "I made meatloaf," she said,
absolutely deadpan.

"Dear GOD," Brooklyn shouted, and all hell broke loose.

Matt suddenly found himself, Mark, Demona and Alex caught behind a
shimmering wall of green-white light. "That's ENOUGH!" Alex roared at the
assembled gargoyles, many of whom were pounding on the hastily erected
barrier in anger.

"This is worse than that riot in Jakarta," Mark said, still smiling.

"Which one?" Demona muttered.

Goliath pushed his way to the front. "What is going on?"

"It's a long story," Matt said.

"Goliath," Demona said quietly, "Calm down."

"Why did you come back to New York?" he snarled.

Demona pulled herself up to her full height and managed to create the
illusion she was looking down on Goliath. "To create a *family* for my
*son,*" she said icily.

Goliath stared at her for a long few seconds, then turned to look down at
Mark. "Hi," Mark said.

Goliath was unaffected. "And you are..."

Mark put on his grin again. "Marcus Matthew Bluestone, Eco-rapturist, at
your service."

"A friend and colleague of mine," Alex said calmly.

"Does this mean I have to sign on?" Mark asked.

"Only if you want those chains off."

"QUIET," Goliath roared. They stopped and faced him. "Demona... you..." he
suddenly had trouble talking.

She had the same level gaze and tone. "Matt and I were lovers, yes." She
smiled. "I suppose that it's partly your fault."

"How is that?" he replied testily.

Demona laughed. "Come, now, Goliath," she said, "One trait we and the
humans have in common is a potential for irrational jealousy."

Goliath glanced at Elisa, an uncontrolled reflex, but it brought her
forward to the line. "Matt..."

It took all of Matt's inner strength to meet her eyes. "Yes?"

"You... really..."

He was getting fed up with the denial of reality. "Elisa, this is my son,
Mark. Mark, Elisa."

"Charmed," Mark said, his grin in place again. "I'd shake hands, but that
seems to be impossible at the moment." He flexed his arms, letting the
chain clink behind him. "Say! Heard you were in Japan at one point... did
you ever bump into a Tengu named Takaya?"

Elisa stared at him, stunned. "... what?"

Mark shrugged. "Well, I was in training with him - he was teaching me some
martial arts. Something like ten years ago... anyway, he just mentioned
something about seeing some gargoyle gaijin - no offense - and I thought
about dad mentioning your world tour. That's all." He flashed another grin.
"I think you'd remember if you met him. He has almost as bad a sense of
humor as Puck."

Owen, off to the side, cleared his throat. Mark shot him a sheepish glance.
"Sorry."

Elisa closed her mouth. Goliath turned to regard Xanatos the elder. "Did
you know about this?" he rumbled dangerously.

David nodded. "Yes, actually."

"For how long?"

David's smirk grew. "About twenty-two years, I'd say."

There was a pause. Then Elisa turned to Matt and yelled, "You two-timer!"

Matt shook his head. "I'm not going to call you a hypocrite, but I don't
think I deserve that."

Elisa, for her part, turned bright red. Goliath put a hand on her shoulder
and glowered at Matt. "When did this happen?"

"Look, are we here to discuss my love life?" Matt sent a look at the
assembled clan, most of whom had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

"We're here," Brooklyn said, "To decide what to do with *them*." He hooked
a thumb at Mark and Demona, who both looked levelly back at him.

Surprisingly, it was David Xanatos who spoke. "Let them go."

Everyone turned, and stared. "Let... go?" Lexington sputtered after a few
seconds.

David nodded. "Yes. Do you know why?"

"Dealing with the devil again, Xanatos?" Elisa asked bitterly.

"No." He raised a hand. "Starting twenty years ago, there were a series of
odd events reported from remote areas of the world. They weren't very
remarkable - a fire being put out in a village in Siberia, for instance, or
a grain harvest being saved from a flood in Borneo.

"But these events continued, and the people involved all agreed on one
detail - that the person who helped them was a woman, tall, with a child -
and she had wings and red hair."

The clan, as one, turned to stare at Demona. She made a show of buffing her
fingernails on her halter, then turning to Mark. "Think they believe me?"

"Naaaaah."

"Think they believe *him*?"

"Demona... is this true?" Goliath said slowly.

She met his eyes. "I have been trying to make amends, yes. Slowly."

"Why?!"

Her mouth quirked. "Because I had a passionate affair with Detective
Bluestone for two weeks. Why? Because I felt *guilty,* that's all. And I
didn't want my son to think I hated half his heritage."

Goliath turned to Mark again. "You *do* know what she did."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "As in, terrorized humanity for a thousand years,
attempted to wipe out the species, and failed? Yeah, I know."

At about that time, the barrier rippled and disappeared. "Sorry..." Alex
said, shaking a little. "I..."

"Hey, it's all right. That was a good job." Mark clapped Alex on the
shoulder, his manacles clinking to the ground. "Nice work."

"No problem," Alex said.

"So what is it, the name game?" Mark strode past Goliath and Elisa, who
were still staring at him. "So you all must be Lexington, Brooklyn I know,
nice job on the catch, by the way, and Broadway and Angela. Hi, sis."
Brooklyn looked stunned as Mark looked around the rest of the group. Demona
chuckled in the background, rubbing her now-freed wrists.

"So this must be Summer and Ginger. Heya. And the lovely lady here must be
Winter." He bent to kiss the white gargoyle's fingers and she retreated,
blushing. "And that means you," he pointed to the only other web-winged
gargoyle, "must be Terrence... leaving Aurora here. Say! That makes you my
niece, huh?"

Aurora blushed, but said, "I guess. We don't exactly talk about your branch
of the family."

Mark chuckled. "I guess that makes sense. Mom *was* psychotic for a long
time. I think that's where I get the loopiness from, huh?" He spun around
to face the castle. "So that leaves..." he grinned at Jake, who was
standing in the doorway and looking for all the world like his head was
going to fall off if he moved. "You're Jake, right?"

"Uh..." Jake stood and unsteadily walked out of the shadows. "Yeah, well..."

"Heard tons about you. Well, hey, it's to be expected. But this is neat, I
finally get to see everyone." Mark grinned infectiously again, and Jake's
mouth twitched in a smile. "So we're half-brothers. Technically."

Jake blinked at him, a puzzled look crossing his face. "Wait a minute..."

"Yes?"

Jake looked between Matt and Demona, then back at Mark. "You're half human."

Mark held up a hand, showing five fingers tipped with short talons. "I sure
am."

"But that means..." Jake grinned. "That means that crossbreed children
*are* possible."

"Well, yeah!" Mark smirked. "I didn't come from the stork, you know..."

But the end of his comment was cut off as Aurora cried out in joy, and
raced across the courtyard to leap into Jake's embrace. Mark backed away
from the couple, chuckling. "Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh. I see, now."

Everyone else could merely stare.

---

It was much later when Demona caught up to Matt, in a small sitting room of
the castle. Public opinion was still divided on her, but Mark had been able
to win over the younger gargoyles and some of the elders as well. Matt had
left the arguments and even the impromptu party to seek some quiet.

He didn't expect Demona to look for him.

"I need to talk with you," she said softly, closing the door.

He shrugged and gestured at the seat across from him. "Sure thing. Come on
in."

She smiled, taking the seat, but said nothing for a long while. He watched
her lace and unlace her fingers in the firelight, gold and shadow playing
across her skin. Finally, she looked up and met his eyes. "There was a
plot," she said.

He stared at her. "What?"

"Another scheme. Another plan. There was one." She took a deep breath, then
let it out. "Twenty or so years ago, I found a spell. It was ... powerful.
It would easily give me enough power to accomplish my goal... and enough
control to spare Macbeth from the danger."

"You were going to destroy the human race."

"I was," she said. "The spell needed one ingredient I did not have... the
life's blood of a half-breed child."

Matt felt his breath catch in his throat. "Mark..."

"I... the spell said that the father's race... I didn't choose you on
purpose. I didn't talk to you on purpose. I was going to seduce someone and
get it done." She laughed harshly. "I... something happened."

"You are not," he said slowly, "going to tell me that you're desperately in
love with me and you want to turn me into a gargoyle and fly me off to Paris."

"All right, I'm not desperately in love with you and I don't want to turn
you into a gargoyle and fly you off to Paris." She broke out laughing. "Oh,
Matt... that's it. You made me think. You made me laugh. You made me enjoy
living for the first time in a thousand years." Her grin turned wicked.
"And that thing you do with your fingernails is a trip."

He chuckled, then turned serious again. "So why didn't you..."

Demona took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I think it was seeing
him in my arms. He was so... helpless. So beautiful. I couldn't..."

"I forgive you," he said.

Her head jerked around and she stared at him. "You what?"

He smiled at her sadly. "I forgive you."

"But... I..." She swallowed. "I just got finished telling you that I used
you to get a child that I was going to use to destroy your species, and you
*forgive* me?"

"But you didn't," he said. "You didn't do what you planned. And you raised
him better than I ever could, and still brought him up as my son." He shook
his head. "Forgive you? I can't thank you enough."

She just stared at him in disbelief, and then in the next moment was in his
arms, kissing him and crying into his shoulder and shaking. He wrapped his
arms around her and held on until she fell asleep.

Elisa found them there the next morning, asleep. "Matt?" she said hesitantly.

He woke up, slightly groggy, and blinked at her. "Yeah?"

She chewed on her lower lip, then said, "That is the most disturbing thing
I've ever seen."

Matt smiled at her. "Fine. Glad you think so. Good night, Elisa." Then he
closed his eyes, settled back further into the chair, and fell asleep.

---- Owatta ----

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