DISCLAIMER:
All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder.
All other original characters belong to me and may not be used with my permission.
--
August 17, 1993
Specialist Smith wiped the grime off her hands and stood up, arching her back as she tried to get the kinks out. "Right here," she called to the c-truck that was rumbling her direction, kicking up the Yakima dust into a small whirlwind. "Hey Vasquez, how are you? I need a hole here." She pointed to the small trench she had dug while waiting for the large machine.
Spc. Vasquez smiled with a "Won't complain," and the green machine lurched into action as he began to dig a hole about six feet deep. You know, everyone looks the same in these uniforms, but the way Smitty fills hers out. He did his best to pile the dirt as close to the hole as possible. "You sure you don't want any help here, Smith?"
"Well, quite honestly, yes," she replied. "However, this is corrective training for talking out of turn with my platoon sergeant. It was either this or a more formal punishment… you know, articles and the like." She grimaced as she recalled her lapse of judgment when she disagreed with her prior orders. "Besides," she replied, "keeps me away from the smell of those trucks for a while."
"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be around." His brown eyes sparkled as he nodded at her and worked the machine towards another soldier standing about fifty feet away. "Let me know if you discover a lost civilization down there," he called back with a chuckle.
He's a sweetheart. Smith nodded with a smile and grabbed her e-tool. "You bet. We'll be partners," she called after him, her green eyes shining back at him. And we rake the dirt from here, put it in the bag, tie it off, throw it in the hole, and repeat, she thought. With a short pause, she put a single ear bud from her Walkman into her ear and then continued. This is stupid! My suggestion was a rational one! Why should I be out here doing this when that IDIOT is in the air-conditioned tent up there? That frigging AC wouldn't work if I hadn't fixed it in the first place! Her shovel clunked against something solid…interrupting her thoughts…and grumbling as she set the shovel aside, she kneeled in the dirt. "What the hades is this?" Brushing the dirt away, she uncovered a small metal box. Damn, I don't have time to open this now. What can I do with it? Taking an empty sandbag, she stowed the box in it… determined to ward off her curiosity until later when it wouldn't cost her rank. What's in the box, she thought as she went back to work.
The sandbags made a satisfying thump as they hit the bottom of the foxhole. Following them down, Jessica stomped them into a solid floor…thinking again of the bag she had left outside the hole. Maybe someone left it here from a previous field exercise. With a hearty grunt, she hefted herself out of the hole and returned to filling sandbags. I mean I've heard of soldiers burying their valuables at the field site. Maybe someone just forgot them? After about a dozen more were filled, she threw them into the foxhole with the others... packing the rest of the bottom with them. There, she thought. Phase one is now complete.
Pulling herself out of the hole, she examined the box she had found. It was rusted and very rough as she ran her hands over it; and wound up with rust covered hands when she reached the sides. It's got to be at least fifty years old…maybe sixty, but with the weather here, who knows. Her left hand twitched a bit as she reached for her Gerber multitool and yet at the same time ran her right hand along the front of the box again. There's something written here in runes. "Damn, I knew I should have took my rune study a bit more seriously," she muttered. Being Wiccan and somewhat interested in the magics of the world around her, Jessica sat in thought. The right thing to do is turn it in to HQ and let them deal with it. However, since it doesn't seem to be military related… I'm going to take it home with me… if I can find a way to get it into my foot locker.
--
"Hey Smith," Vasquez shouted from a few yards away. "Chow time. Beef or chicken?" He held up two brown plastic bags labeled MRE.
Smith wrinkled her nose. "A Meal Rejected by Everyone," she groaned. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"
"Never!" He feigned hurt, but then nodded. "However, Sarge said to take one of these out to you and I agreed to make sure you choked it down."
She grinned. "Thanks, Aaron. You're a real lifesaver." With a mock death of her own, she closed her Gerber and set it aside.
"No problem, Jess. Here, you get chicken." He tossed her the M.R.E.
"Eww, cardboard flavored food," she groaned again as she caught the meal. "Hey, you remember your Runes study?" Shouldn't have done that. I don't need to get him in trouble too, she thought as she ripped off the top of her meal bag. Bah, he's already seen it.
Aaron joined her on the edge of the foxhole. "Some of them. Why, what'd you find?" He arched an eyebrow at the box in her lap. "A lost civilization?"
"I don't know," she replied as she handed the worn box over to him. "It's got runes along the front part. I was going to try breaking the lock, but what does it say?"
Aaron remembered the long hours laboring beside his friend as they worked on their Rune magic… smirking as he recalled Jessica throwing her book away in disgust right before they got the idea to join the service and get away from their hole in the wall hometown. And we wanted Fort Lewis as our first duty station. They suffered through their nine weeks of 'hell' in BCT with letters… mainly a paper chessboard for chess by mail game. Their advance training had landed them both at Fort Jackson, but in different companies. It wasn't all bad as they frequently saw each other on the PT field and every weekend they had free. And KP duty, he chuckled. Man, the others must have thought we enjoyed the kitchen to our studies. Honestly though, we just can't stay out of mischief when we're together.
Ok, he's lost in thought, Jess waved her left hand in front of Aaron's eyes as her right one worked the meal package. "Yo, Romeo, you in there?"
If only I was your Romeo. He blinked and gave her a light shove. "Yeah, yeah. Let me see." Running his own hands across the box, he frowned. "The runes are really aged. We'd have to check it out back in 'the box' if we really wanted to be careful. It seems to say, "Protect the race that was bred to protect the rest". Roughly translated, of course." He shook his head. "I don't know what you're going to do with it, but it seems… interesting enough."
Jess nodded. "Ok. So I can take it off site and you won't tell anyone? I mean you know how picky they are about that." She held her forearm out to him.
"Deal," he agreed, grasping her forearm as she clasped his. "I'll put it in your sleeping bag after we eat."
She nodded again. "Thanks, darlin'," she purred.
He smiled as he released her. "So, when are you actually going to admit you like me as more than just a friend?"
"The day I fly," she chuckled. You know I like you, why do I have to admit it to the world? After glancing around, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "We're still young. We already agreed that when our ETS dates came up we'd take our next steps then. Why so eager to rush it? No one here worth looking at?"
He chuckled. "The only one worth looking at is right here in front of me." Dear gods, Jess, I've been sweet on you since you were in pigtails.
"Flatterer," she blushed, deciding now was a good time for a topic change. "So, you pick the entrees?"
"Nope, was tossed at me when I volunteered," he replied.
A short time later the box was stowed safely on the bottom of a sandbag concealed by the trash. "Merry part," Aaron intoned.
"Merry part," she smiled back at him.
--
Nearing two in the morning, SPC Smith examined her defensive position. It looks concealed, she thought, but at this hour and in this light anything would have been difficult to see. She gave a yawn that would have done a lion proud and began to scatter the remaining dirt. Her foot struck something and sent it skittering into the darkness. What in the world? That was no rock. Curious, she took out her red-lensed flashlight and began to scour the area nearby.
There! About five paces to her left, she saw it. A worn leather bag of some sort lay in the dirt. Odd, she thought as she picked up the bag and examined it. It was well aged, most of the leather dirt encrusted and the bag its self sported several holes. There was barely enough of the bag left to call it a bag even. I wonder if it went with the box. Well, no harm in concealing it in my pocket. She stumbled off in the direction of the tent for some sleep before PT.
With a simple movement, the sleeping bag was unzipped and the box sat staring at her. Jessica frowned as she pulled her boots off and got dressed in her PT's for bed. Thanks Aaron. Now I have to hide these in my footlocker; less chance of them being discovered there. Quietly unlocking the padlock on the footlocker in question, she quickly shuffled around the bogey bait and the rest of her clothes…creating the perfect spot for her discoveries. And to complete the picture… She placed her clothes neatly back on top of the box and bag. If I get woke up between now and PT, she grumbled, I will murder the one who wakes me.
--
August 18, 1993 circa 0330
"Specialist Smith!" The loud voice of Sergeant Kasandy boomed through the tent.
Smith sat straight up in her cot and looked around, still lost in the haze of sleep. "Yes, sergeant?" She scrambled to get her sleeping bag unzipped and to stand up at the same time - effectively tripping her self and hitting the floor with a resounding thud. A groan let her NCO know she was listening.
Sergeant Kasandy shook his head. "The commander wants you and a battle buddy in his office in BDU's ASAP."
She looked up at him. "Am I in trouble sergeant? I mean I did what Sergeant
Nickelson told me to do. I didn't mean to question him, it sort of came out."
The sergeant's eyes softened. "No. You've all ready been disciplined for that. I know it's not for that." The look on his face said he could say no more about it though.
"Thank you, sergeant. Is Vasquez awake?"
"Yes, I woke him before you."
"Thank you again, sergeant." She pulled herself out of her sleeping bag as SGT
Kasandy turned his back to her.
"So I recall you saying that you both had a pretty good life? What made you join the Army then?"
Jessica chuckled. "Actually, we don't have a reason." She pulled her PT's off and then pulled her brown tee and pants on. "I'm decent," she told him.
He turned around. "No reason?"
With a nod, she pulled on her black socks and then tugged on her boots as she spoke. "We went everywhere together, though as we grew up I was just another one of the guys. When we hit high school, we had to choose a course we could do together or else run into the whole classes suck problem. We chose ROTC. We excelled, actually." She shook her head. "We got a surprise visit from a recruiter one afternoon in our senior year and just signed up. We were both eighteen at the time. Only thing we wanted was a starting duty station to be the same. I chose mechanic, he chose truck driver." Quickly finishing with the tying of her boots, she stood up and pulled her DCU top on. "Seems to work here. I'm his mechanic and we're still the best of friends." She smiled. "My mother was the only one who supported us at first, but then again, she was prior service too. My brothers thought it was pretty cool, but dad forbids them from taking ROTC in high school. They're only 12 or will be," she looked at her watch, "in six hours."
I'd hate to be in the commander's shoes right now. Sergeant Kasandy's eyes flinched a bit as he listened to the specialist talk. "Are you ready?"
Spc. Smith nodded. "Yes," she replied as she put on her Kevlar and her LBV (Load Bearing Vest). "Sergeant." Grabbing her M-16 from where it had been in her sleeping bag, she followed the sergeant out of the tent and towards the commander's tent.
Vasquez met them halfway. "Hey Smitty, what'd you do this time," he asked.
"Sergeant," he acknowledged.
Spc. Smith shrugged. "I don't know yet."
"Ooh, the best kind of trouble," he chuckled, giving her a nudge in the side.
Sergeant Kasandy snorted at the two young adults. These two have got to be two of the best two soldiers this company has…save the fact they are usually causing some sort of mischief. "Why? Cause then you don't have to admit to what they don't know?"
"Exactly," Vasquez grinned.
--
A few moments later they were standing outside the commander's tent. "Specialist Smith reporting as ordered, sir," the female said crisply.
"Enter, Specialist and bring your battle buddy."
Jessica lifted the flap of the tent and entered, feeling a bit calmer with her friend there. They each gave a sharp salute and then the waited. I really just wish they'd forget about making us salute in the field. I don't care if we are in a tent. If this was war they'd not want the rank singled out, right?
Returning the salute the two soldiers had given, the commander sat down... indicating they sit as well. His usually stern face was creased with worry. His baldhead reflected the single bulb hanging over the table he was using as a desk. It gave off a feeling of an old war movie tent, with maps and papers all over the place with just enough light to see by. "Specialist Smith, Specialist Vasquez. I'm not surprised to see the two of you here together when I only wanted the one."
They said nothing, as there was no indication a response was wanted.
"It's for the best I suppose," he said as he stood up. He picked up a small square slip of paper and walked around the table. "Specialist Smith," he began. "Jessica, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your mother and two brothers were involved in a car accident last night. There were no survivors."
What? Jessica didn't move for several long seconds, even though Vasquez immediately turned her direction. This is some sick joke. Mom is never out that late. Hell, she's in by sunset. Reaching a shaky hand out towards the slip of paper, she took it from the commander and read it herself. The Red Cross alert simply said: 40th Trans. Spc. Smith: Mother, 2 brothers involved in fatal crash circa 1:05 AM 18Aug1993. Send home. No, it's a lie. Staring numbly at the paper, she didn't notice when Vasquez laid his hand on her shoulder.
"Smitty," Aaron called, "are you ok?" Man, snap out of it, hun. "Talk to me, Smitty."
"No," she whispered numbly.
"Get your gear packed and go see Sergeant Kascandy – both of you. He will be driving you back to Fort Lewis. Dismissed."
Stand up, salute, leave. She moved through the base camp silently… on autopilot…seeing neither things to her left nor to her right. Upon arriving, she mutely packed her gear away and then sat on her empty cot. Momma, why? What were you doing out so late with the boys? She sat staring at the wall of the tent for several long moments with the slip of paper crumpled in her hand before Sergeant Kascandy entered the tent.
"Come on, Smith," Kasandy said, hefting her to her feet. "Vasquez is packed and we're waiting on you now. It's about a six hour ride as you know, so we're going to bring a portable radio…maybe we can find something that will make you feel a little better on the way back." He spoke mainly to keep noise going throughout the suddenly silent tent. He hadn't seen Smith shed a tear, but he could see the hurt she tried to hide. "Crying for loved ones isn't a crime," he reminded her gently. "Nor it is a weakness."
She nodded mutely and grabbed her rucksack as Sgt. Kasandy grabbed the footlocker. "Thank you," she said quietly.
"You're welcome and I'm sorry."
She nodded again.
--
The trip back was quiet. Even the Humv seemed to run more silently than usual. The trees, buildings, and surrounding countryside passed unseen. Only the steady rise and fall of her chest gave Jessica life. She didn't blink for several long moments at a time, her eyes glazed over as her grief swallowed her.
"But dad, I'm not even dating yet!"
Mr. Charles Smith glared at his daughter. "I said no. You already got away with joining that ROTC crap; you are not going to that dance."
Jessica frowned at her father. "It's part of my grade! Do you want me to fail the damn course?" Her senior year. The last great milestone in her ROTC course required professionalism at a social event, so the ROTC ball was hosted every year for that purpose. And here was her father, telling her she couldn't attend.
"You do not talk to me in that manner," her dad scolded.
"Well, you sure the hell don't deserve anything better right now." It was a low blow, but decorum was out the window. "You have no right to tell me how to live my life."
"I'm your father," he reminded her.
"STEP-father," she emphasized.
One memory bled into another.
The lawyer closed the folder in front of him. "And we're done here. You're no longer married."
Into another.
"Our first duty station will be right here at Fort Lewis. We'll be able to visit as often as you like mom."
Catherine looked at the two young adults standing in front of her. "I'm so proud of you two. In the Army. It's a wonderful career."
Thomas and Michael, Jessica's twin brothers, hopped around excitedly. "Will you write to us? Will you send us presents?"
Jess chuckled. "You know I will." She messed up Thomas's hair and gave Michael a hug. "I'll see you guys in December."
Aaron tugged her arm gently. "Jess, we're here."
Jessica blinked a few times, clearing her vision. "That was fast," she mumbled as she stepped out of the vehicle.
Fort Lewis was green. It was always green; the rain kept things that way. The odd thing was, it wasn't raining right then. The sun was shining brightly and it was about 70. Birds chirped at one another and other soldiers could be heard marching somewhere in the distance. Jessica found herself mouthing the words with them. Momma, momma can't you see? What this Army's done to me? Momma, momma, can't you see? What this Army's done to me? Her eyes glazed again as she struggled to remain on her own two feet. Her gear was stowed in Vasquez' room, except for her LBV and Kevlar which she still wore.
Nodding to Sgt. Kasandy, Vasquez led Jessica to the sergeant's car and then went to speak with the noncom again. Nodding in Smith's direction, Kasandy went to his car and got in it.
Jessica barely noticed.
"You have to ID the bodies, Smith. Can you handle that?"
She blinked. "Sure," she replied hoarsely.
--
She wouldn't remember the trip from her company to the hospital or the long mile from the car to the basement of Madigan. What she would remember was way her hand shook as she pushed open the wooden swinging door with the lone window to the morgue. She'd remember the dozen paces it took to get from the door to where the coroner stood. Her heart seemed to move up into her throat as she moved. Finally, the coroner removed the first sheet. "Michael" she whispered, her eyes blurring. Then, the next. "Thomas" she choked out. And finally, "M..mo..mom." Her knees buckled, but she managed not to hit the floor as she watched the bodies being slid back into their drawers. She stood staring at the drawers for what felt like eternity as SGT Kasandy and the coroner talked off to her left.
Finally the coroner offered her a clipboard. "You need to sign this and take their personal affects."
Staring blankly at the sheet, she managed to sign her name somewhere near the line. A few moments later, she was handed a small bag of affects. Inside were Thomas' reading glasses, her mother's jewelry, and Michael's dog tags. Their IDs fell out into the palm of her hand… their pictures smiling up at her as if nothing in the world was wrong.
--
The next several days passed in a blur as she laid her family to rest. So much went on behind the scenes that Jess hadn't thought about until then. As per her mother's wishes, she was buried next to her first husband. Her brothers were laid to rest to the left of their mother.
--
September 8th, 1993
Aaron woke up late one night a couple weeks after the funeral when he heard a door open. Jessica had asked that he stay with her until she was comfortable in her house again, so he had. Carefully slipping into his pants and shoes, he followed the noise. The stairs creaked a bit, but not enough to alert anyone of his presence. He was surprised to find the dining room light on, but more surprised by the fact the box and scrolls were on the table. What surprised him even more was the sight of Jessica's receding form. She was headed out into the night in black jeans and a tee. He grabbed a set of keys, locked the door as he left, and followed her into the night; plucking a rose from the garden before he left. He was pretty sure of where she was going.
--
Her feet lead her along the familiar path to her destination. She had followed it for ages after her father died and now she did so because the rest of her family was gone.
Her heart ached, but she had yet to cry. Even at the funeral whispers had started about how cold she must be not to shed a tear at her own family's passing. She ignored them, determined not to show any weakness in her uniform. Her mother would be proud of her, knowing she did her legacy justice. Her mother hadn't cried at her father's passing until almost two days later, in private.
The grass was wet; Washington living up to "the rainy state" it is dubbed by the people who don't actually lived there more than a week. It would soon rain again, if the clouds were any indication. Jessica stopped when she reached her destination and stared for a brief moment before stretching her shaking left hand out to touch the cold marble headstone that marked where her family lay. Her fingers traced the engraved words, memorizing them. "Dad, mom, Thomas, Michael" she whispered, her voice cracking. Finally overwhelmed, she hit her knees and buried her face in her hands as the sky let loose with a cold rain. Her sobs grew louder until she was crying, screaming at the Fates and their sadistic sense of humor. The Fates then received a swift string of profanities as she broke back into tears. Very wet at that point, she sniffled and laid her head against the tombstone. "Why'd you leave me," she whispered. "I don't want to be alone."
Aaron sighed and watched his life long friend release all her hurt. Singing softly, he found solace in a simple chorus and lifted his voice so Jess would hear him.
"There are holes in the floor of Heaven and her tears are pouring down.
That's how you know she's watching, wishing she could be here now.
Sometimes when you're lonely, remember she can see.
Cause there's holes in the floor of Heaven, and she's watching over you and me."
Her tears fell harder than before as she released her pain into the wet Earth that separated her and her family. Her life lay covered by six feet of dirt in all directions around her. Finally, in a fit of more pain than rage, she lifted her face to the sky and screamed - long and loud before collapsing.
Aaron's hairs on the back of his neck stood up slightly at the inhuman scream that escaped from Jessica. She sounded like her soul was being forcibly ripped from her body. Shaking his head when she fell back to the Earth, he moved towards her. Leaving the single rose on the headstone, he scooped up his friend and let his feet carry them towards home.
--
September 13th, 1993
One night a few days later, Jessica sat at her kitchen table snacking on some cold bacon. The box sat on the table and she had the bag of scrolls opened carefully in front of her.
A hand snaked over and nabbed a piece of bacon from the plate. Aaron had several books open in front of him. "Are we sure we want to play with this? Goddess only knows what we're going to find."
"But it'll be FUN," she grinned. "Who knows what's on these scrolls. It'll make for something different."
"It could also fry us into smoldering ashes."
"Yeah, yeah," she said, dismissing the thought quickly. "But we'll never know if we don't try." She pushed a scroll over to him and pulled the box over to her suddenly waiting Gerber multitool. "What I wouldn't give for a knock spell," she muttered as she began to try and pick the lock.
Aaron chuckled. "Yeah, and a decoder ring."
Opening the multitool and using the knife as a lock pick, Jessica wiggled the bladed around, testing the tumblers. After a few moments of nothing, something clicked. Removing the knife confirmed that it wasn't the blade and she watched the lid pop up a few centimeters. "Um, it opened."
Aaron rolled his eyes and nodded. "I see that. Look here, so did this scroll," he replied with a touch of light sarcasm.
The box lay forgotten for a moment as Jessica moved around to peer over Aaron's shoulder. "So, what's it say?"
Reaching for a second, Aaron's eyebrow went up. "It seems to be a history. Something of the sorts, at least. A 'clan Yakeema'. Probably where we got Yakima from," he said with a shrug. He seemed to be reading a label on the scroll because he put it aside and grabbed another. Setting that one aside, he grabbed for the last one and pulled it open. "Look, look, look, look, look," he jabbered. "This scroll references a, a map. This one is the map." He waved his hand excitedly. "This is where you found these things." He pointed to an area on the map that she recognized. "It says here," he indicated the first scroll, "that 'Twice three shall sleep in stone until the castle rises.' Do you think that's talking about Castle Wyvern in Manhattan? Some guy named Xanatos bought it and is putting it atop the Aerie Building there."
Jessica gave a shrug. "Maybe, but what's this twice three? And sleep in stone?"
Aaron shook his head. "I don't know, but here's an inscription of some sort." He squinted a bit as he translated it out loud.
"Protectors of the night,
Who sleep by the sun's searing light,
Let them who read this know our fight,
To them grant our way of life.
No curse upon them we would place,
So gift to them wakeful days."
He paused for a moment and turned to her. "That was spell," he said needlessly.
Jessica nodded. "You think?" She shook her head. "Maybe it's a good thing it's only Friday night."
"Ok, so I just read a possibly powerful spell. Nothing happened."
Jessica wasn't listening. She had moved towards the window. "Correction. You just cast a possibly powerful spell on the night of a possible full moon with an even greater possibility of it being a BLUE moon, since we were supposed to hold Circle tomorrow night for it! Damn Aaron, the only thing we were missing was the regent - if it requires one anyway!"
Aaron frowned as he looked at the box, which was smoking slightly. "Um, I think it had regents." He pointed to the box. "Shall we see if the box has anything in it?"
Tossing her hands up in the air, Jessica nodded. "Sure, what's the worst that could happen?"
"It could fry us into smoldering ashes."
"Yeah, so you've said." She flipped the box top open and was knocked back by a blinding flash of light. "Sonofapigheadedfrog!"
"Fudge," Aaron hollered as he was thrown from his chair.
--
Jessica rubbed her eyes briefly and blinked a couple of times when she poked herself in the eye. "Oww, anyone get the number of that bus?" A gasp from Aaron brought her attention to him. "Aaron," she asked as she reached out to him. The sight of her own hand made her stop. Slowly, she brought it up to her face and wiggled her ... four talons. A scream got caught in her throat. Scrambling to her feet, she promptly felt like she was going to fall over again. She was balancing on the balls of her feet - only they didn't look like her feet. They had three front talons and a rear one. Her skin was thick and leathery and had deepened to a dark mahogany color. Clothes hung in tatters around her new form as she moved to get a glimpse of herself in the mirror. An alien, almost demonic face looked back at her - causing her to stumble back against the wall. Something stopped her from leaning completely against the wall and when she examined what that something was, she realized it was a tail! Looking back into the mirror, she traced the new shape of her ears and the ridges above her eyes. She had grown about eight or nine inches and now stood about six feet tall. Twin sets of horns had erupted from her hair - one set only a couple inches high inside a set that must have been about six inches long, despite the slight backwards curve to them. Wings laid relaxed behind her, topped with a single clawed digit on them. "AARON," she finally choked out.
Aaron, who had made a very similar discovery as his friend, appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. He was a deep green in color, almost like a dark forest would appear, and about six and a half feet tall. Only a single set of horns graced his head, though the ridges above his eyes were more prominent than Jessica's. His wings were ribbed like a bat's and had a tiny claw hand on them. "Um, pinch me," he said, fangs appearing as he spoke.
Jessica quickly grinned into the mirror. She too had fangs. "This is why we NEVER read things out loud until we know what will happen."
Aaron wiggled his wings. "I wonder if these work."
"I'm wondering how we're going to explain this to our chain of command," Jessica growled. This caused her eyes to flare scarlet for the briefest second. Remembering the spell, she looked out the window. "Who sleep by the sun's searing light? Does this mean at sunrise we're going to fall asleep?"
"I don't know, but I think we'd better call someone. It also said something about not cursing us and 'wakeful days'. And maybe you'd like to find something a little less ... revealing?" He pointed to her nearly nude body, as the scraps of clothing weren't covering all that much.
Growling lightly, Jessica tore the scraps off her and stalked to her room. "Yeah,
I'll see if I can whip something up for the both of us."
Aaron let out a wolfish whistle and reached for the phone. Using the device though took a little bit of patience as his talon kept punching two numbers. "You know," he called, "this is why voice command is so popular."
"Why," she called from her bedroom, "fat fingers?"
"Yeah," he chuckled.
--
A short while later Jessica had successfully altered a pair of her uniform pants to fit her new form. Other jeans were just too tight around the ankles and didn't allow for a proper fit anywhere else. A black tee shirt stretched across her chest and twin holes in the back let her wings remain unhindered. "Do you know," she complained, "just how many shirts I've destroyed trying to figure out how to thread our wings through them?"
"Nope," Aaron replied, "but I think you're about to tell me."
"Damn right." She tossed him a pair of pants. "Eight. Eight of my uniform shirts. That's why I'm in black and you get brown."
Chuckling, Aaron pulled the shirt over his head. He felt his friend move around him to help with his wings. Twitching a little, he groaned when she placed her hand between his wings.
"What? Did I hurt you?"
With a downward glance, Aaron shook his head. "Um, no," he coughed. "I think I need to read those scrolls completely before Sergeant Kasandy gets here." As Jessica stepped away, the male quickly hid himself at the table.
Confused, but satisfied, Jessica shrugged and stepped towards the kitchen. "Alright. I'm going to make something to eat. You want?"
Aaron nodded absently, his attention drawn to something on a scroll. "Oh, he should be here in about an hour."
She glanced at the clock. "Why's he coming at midnight?"
"Because he's at the movies right now with his wife. He's going to drop her off and then head right over. I text him when I didn't get an answer. That took forever."
"Oh."
--
At eleven fifty-six the doorbell chimed, causing them both to jump. As Aaron moved towards the door Jessica said, "You realize we're so busted for this, right?"
He chuckled dryly. "Yup." Hesitating for a moment as his hand reached for the door, he swallowed his nerves and opened the door widely. "Sergeant, come in."
Sergeant Kasandy nodded as he entered, but jerked his head back around to the male specialist. "What the hell?!"
"I told you we had an accident," Aaron explained hastily.
"I was assuming accident meant that Smith here was pregnant." The NCOs eyes had traveled the height of the male twice before he turned to the female sitting at the table. "I'm too shocked to even pass out at this point. I think someone needs to fill me in COMPLETELY. And Smith, that shirt is not authorized with that uniform."
Jessica ran her talons though her hair. "Yes, Sergeant, I know." She pointed to the bedroom. "I kind of destroyed my brown tees when I tried to make my wings cooperate with me."
The sergeant looked them over again. "So, who's going to explain to me what happened? And do you know what you are?"
"Retrospectively, yes and me." Aaron escorted the human to the chair across from Jessica. "According to," he shuffled a scroll around until it lay in front of him, "this we're gargoyles. From sunrise to sunset, they will 'sleep a stoned sleep'. When the sun vanishes, they'll wake up and look as we do. However, we're hoping the whole 'wakeful days' thing cancels that out." He quickly covered the basic points that the scroll had given them. "We don't fly, we glide. We'll need more protein in our diets - meats. We're pretty much protectors. According to this scroll, the urge to protect will be extremely hard to ignore." He continued in depth after the brief summary.
Jessica, who had already heard this, stood up to pace.
--
Dawn would freeze the two gargoyles in stone. One had been pacing the length of the dining room and the other one with his taloned hand raised in explanation to the befuddled human seated next to him.
Sergeant Kasandy rubbed his hands over his eyes. He'd been listening to his soldier explain to him everything they understood. Shaking his head, he ran his fingers down the wing of the stone figure in front of him. After a moment, he tapped the statue. It was solid, cool to the touch. "Well, this would explain the stone sleep. And it lasts til sunset?" He moved toward the female gargoyle, frozen mid-step. Worry creased her stone form. "Don't worry, Smith," he said, "I promise to keep you and Vasquez safe. First, I need to tell our chain of command. I can't guarantee your continued service in the military though." For some reason, one he couldn't figure, he felt a pull to the young soldiers nearby. Maybe it was just the fact they had been under his command for almost two years now. It could be the fact they had confided in him. They may have just gone up their chain of command, but he gave them credit that there may have been better people to contact than an e-5 - like the commander and first sergeant. He thought of snapping a picture of the two with his cell phone, but decided against it. Instead, he simply dialed said first sergeant.
--
Same day, sunset
Sergeant Jack Kasandy stood with three other people of significant - judging from their uniforms. Having asked the three men to wear their uniforms for the sake of the stoned soldiers in front of him, Jack felt no need to try and explain anything more than he had when they had arrived. First to arrive had been his commander, Captain Gilhoon. He was about thirty with blue eyes that reflected utter confusion and disbelief as he gazed upon the two stone forms in front of him. The first sergeant, First Sergeant Sweet - also about forty - was a big black man; though twenty years of lifting weights tends to do that to a person. He had given each gargoyle a careful looking over, noting several things before stepping back. Last to arrive was Colonel Caldwell, the battalion commander. At forty-five with salt and pepper hair, he stood several inches over the others. He seemed shocked, but kept a tight mask over his expression after a second.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, tiny cracks appeared on the surface of the statues. They grew, spreading out and creating a criss cross pattern of web like scars all over. A bright white glow shone from the eyes of the male as he suddenly stood up and roared. Scarlet light seemed to erupt from the roaring female. Stone skin shards showered everyone in the room; even though they had taken several steps back in surprise. The tinkling of breaking glass let the humans know that some things hadn't escaped unharmed.
Aaron and Jessica finished their roars with yawns and blinked as they took in their surroundings. Naturally, the first thing they noticed was the officers. Snapping to attention, they saluted and chorused, "Good evening, sirs!"
Caldwell shook his head as he returned the salute.
The two gargoyles snapped back to attention, and then waited for further instructions.
Their first sergeant chuckled. "Why am I not surprised that this happened to the two of you?" He moved as he spoke, examining them as carefully as he had when they were stone.
"Permission to speak freely," Gilhoon told them before they asked.
Jessica's eyes shifted to Aaron, who nodded in her direction. "Sir," she started, "while at the Yakima training exercise approximately three weeks ago, I uncovered the box and scrolls on the table. Keeping them for the sole purpose of examining what I discovered, I only shared the information with Spc. Vasquez. Last night, at approximately nine, we were deciphering the scrolls. Sir, this may be hard to believe, but we accidentally cast a spell that made us what we are, sir." She paused, turning her eyes back towards Aaron. "While I went to find, well, make us some suitable clothes, Spc Vasquez called someone we thought we could trust - Sgt. Kasandy. Sir, we talked until sunrise and I don't recall anything until waking up and breaking free of that stone shell, sir."
"How did that feel," 1sg Sweet asked. "You looked a bit panicked."
Aaron spoke up first. "Kind of interesting, first sergeant. It's like the most recuperative rest I've ever gotten."
"Scary as all get go, first sergeant," Jessica added. "I didn't know what was going on. Just before waking, I was aware. Not being able to move, wondering if I was going to suffocate. I think roaring scared me more than it did everyone else, first sergeant."
The Csm. spoke the plain truth. "Not everyone is going to accept what you've become. You aren't human anymore."
Jessica gave a snarl. "I may not look like I did, but I'm no less human than you are." Her eyes blazed scarlet for a moment before she realized what she had said.
"Sergeant Major," she added after an uncomfortable few seconds.
Captain Gilhoon chuckled. "I see your temperament wasn't cooled by any of this."
"No, sir," she admitted, "it appears not, sir."
Silence reigned for a few moments before Jack cleared his throat and spoke up. "So, sirs, what ARE we going to do with them?"
To be continued...