A/N: This story (and every other "Urban Legend") is set in a variant of Gryph's "Deep Water" universe, developed by Gryph and Laura Boeff; splits off before "Gambit". Gargoyles belongs to Buena Vista, Godzilla: The Series to Toho and Tristar, the Real Ghostbusters belong to DIC.

Justifiable

"This' as far as I come, Detective." The elderly cabby's voice was gruff as he pulled over to the sidewalk a block away from a certain battered ferry building. World-wise compassion glimmered in the look he cast over his shoulder. "It ain't safe any closer."

"Thanks, Mac." Detective Elisa Maza handed over the fare, took a deep breath. Tugged her red leather jacket closer around her to warm her chilled back. The first shreds of dawn glimmered off nearby buildings, turned New York fog to grimy white, and she shivered. Felt like the fog was seeping through every last torn thread of her shirt.

MacGillivray rolled down his passenger-side window, leaned toward her. "You sure this is where you want to go?"

A ghost of a smile flickered over the detective's weary face. "They're friends, Mac. I'll be fine."

Mac lifted a skeptical gray brow. "No business of mine, Detective, but you don't look fine."

"Yeah, well..." Her smile died. "You should see the other guy."

Tall steel tanks sang in the wind, long since emptied and abandoned. Scorch marks were half-erased by new coats of paint. Bits of olive-drab metal were scattered in odd places, occasionally embedded in solid concrete. And asphalt bore suspicious, three-toed potholes.

Shoulders braced, Elisa stalked across the no-man's-land that separated H.E.A.T. headquarters from the rest of the Staten Island waterfront.

She splayed keys in her hand as she approached the chain-link gate, searching for the newest. Don't copy this, and don't lend it to anyone, Nick had stated when he first handed it over. It won't open the lock.

Non, Monique had corrected coolly. The lock will open. An elegant brow had lifted; raven-black against pale skin. It will simply not disable the security perimeter.

The gate opened. Elisa let out a relieved breath. Dupres was one of the good guys, but when it came to protecting her team, she had less regard for the law than the gargoyles.

A sob hit her. Elisa scrubbed her eyes, slamming the gate behind her. Just a little farther.

"Guys?" Elisa walked through the freight elevator door into the bottom level; Nick's rooms, heavy equipment, boat bay-

Empty boat bay. Waves lapped against concrete, carrying a salt breeze off the Atlantic. The H.E.A.T. Seeker was nowhere in sight.

"Knew I should've called first."

She took the ladder up to the lab, wincing as the rungs pulled at the bandaged cut on her palm. She could have taken the elevator. Part of her wanted to.

But pain was a good thing right now. Pain one man wouldn't ever feel again-

Don't think about it.

Sticky yellow notes festooned most surfaces that didn't move fast enough. Elisa scanned the pile on the refrigerator. Grocery list, chemicals list, parts list, explosives list... Nick, you really shouldn't leave that lying around....

Ah. Upper right comer, under "Breaking News".

Delilah-
Bioassay on the Jersey samples indicates a high concentration of anticoagulants, but the selenium level's weird. May be why it's going after the feed supplements. Elsie thinks it's a leech, Nick thinks it's an earthworm. If we're not back, call.
-Mendel

Right, Detective Maza thought dryly, drumming her fingers on the edge of the earthworm tank. The orange biohazard sticker on the side was peeling; a new, green one had recently been slapped beside it. You had to go looking for the one bunch of people who've got weirder hours than the 23rd Precinct.

She could still go. Head back to her apartment, or Matt's, or her parents'. Even the Labyrinth was an option, if she was willing to put up with Derek's I-told-you-sos.

Instead she opened the roof door, heading out into the dawn.

Gray stone stood poised and ready to her left; wings spread, fangs bared against the rising sun. Yet for all her ferocious stance, Delilah looked happy.

"You go, little sister," Elisa murmured, running fingers over fog-chilled horns. For all Dr. Mendel Craven's lack of social skills, he was just as kind-hearted as his Ghostbuster cousin. He'd never hurt Delilah. Not deliberately.

But then, neither had Goliath. Deliberately.

Ohhh yes he did, a cold, rational comer of her mind pointed out. The part of her that made a police officer; the deliberate disconnect between sympathy and reasoned analysis of the situation. The same way he hurt Demona. The same way he hurt you.

We're not what he thought. None of us.

Dragging in a ragged breath, Elisa took off her jacket, bundled it tight into the corner near the door. Shoes went next, then socks. Her toes curled involuntarily against the chill of the roof.

"Strike a pose," the detective murmured, spreading arms to the sea wind. Opening the gate in the back of her mind that held back fire, fury, nightmare-

Oblivion.

*****

Sunset was a crackling stretch, a whip of wind against silky blue membranes. Elisa shook off shards of stony skin, reveling in the feel of strength renewed, of stretching a hand that would bear no mark of a desperate man's knife....

Talons closed into fists. Fangs drew blood from her lip. She wanted to scream denial to the night, howl her rage at a world that had driven her and Tony Stanis to that alley-

"Screaming never helped that much."

Elisa whirled, eyes aglow and dangerous. I know that voice.

Slim and pale, Nick Tatopoulos stood just outside the door, steaming mugs in each hand. A blue gaze weighed her, totally unfazed by the sharp-edged, ruby-eyed snarl in front of him. "Cocoa?"

"Depends," Elisa said roughly, stepping over the shards Delilah had left behind. The hybrid tended to wake up an hour before sunset. Must've been a nasty surprise for Thailog. "Did you spike it?"

Nick passed her warm ceramic. "Sorry, Detective. Only alcohol in the building is denatured." Something dark moved behind his smile. "Depressants and our line of work don't mix."

Hot. Sweet. Just enough salt to make it go down smooth as silk. "Someone has a problem?" Great, Elisa thought dryly. Ask him if one of his people's an alcoholic. He ought to throw you right off this roof.

"I... considered having a problem," the mutation biologist said levelly. "Then I decided I'd had enough people messing with my brain chemistry."

Open mouth, insert foot. God, she wanted to crawl into a comer and die of embarrassment.

Nick gazed out at the night. "I thought it ought to be Monique here. But she said someone who worked outside the law was the last person you'd want to see right now."

Cocoa wouldn't go past the lump in her throat. Oh, yeah.

"And since I'm the only other person in this building who's killed another sentient being... I guess that leaves me."

Elisa froze.

Nick's gaze ached at her; so calm, so painful, so full of stark compassion. "Sit down."

Someone had brought out a pair of lab stools during the daylight. Not to mention a folding table, a sack that smelled like cheddar and hot dogs, and a small syringe that looked suspiciously like enough tranquilizer to put a gargoyle down for the count. Somebody planned ahead. Elisa hauled a stool over, perched with her talons entwined in the rungs. "Who knows I'm here?"

"We do." Nick sipped his mug. "Matt and your parents know you're fine, though I think Randy implied you were in Jersey."

Randy Hernandez' computer hijinks could convince ace reporters H.E.A.T. was going to Antarctica. She was covered. "Matt's okay?" Guilt surged into her throat; the way she'd left her partner, the words she'd left him to. Even though he'd told her to go.

Nick nodded. "Said he needed an icepack for the day, but Angela and Hudson kept things from getting too physical."

He hit my partner. He hit my partner. The rage was raw and hot, sizzling at her control like boiling acid.

But she held it. She was a cop. And cops didn't take the law into their own hands. "Captain Chavez?"

Nick offered the cheesy dog. "She said you've got an appointment with the department shrink, but when is your call."

Food. It'd been a long night on top of a week of long nights, and it smelled so good-

Stanis would never eat a cheese dog again.

But Stanis wasn't here, and she was, and life had to go on.

Gingerly she bit down. Hot. Not quite too hot, Elisa judged, tumbling bread and cheese and wiener over her tongue. Salty. With that sharp tang that was the best cheddar on Staten Island....

And tears were running like rain, spattering her shirt, dripping off her hands, turning her grip on warm ceramic slick and treacherous. Tears she couldn't cry at the scene. Tears she hadn't cried, after Goliath-

A warm arm around her, weaving between talons and wing to steady her grip on the mug. "It's okay," Nick murmured, gentle as falling feathers. "No one's going to hurt you. You're safe. You did the right thing. It's okay...."

*****

Since when did I qualify as a sponge? Nick thought dryly, keeping up his soothing murmur as the storm spent itself on his shoulder. Catching his breath as waves of black despair crashed over him, deadly as the abyss that had threatened to swallow him over a year ago. The bleak, desolate certainty that there was nothing left, no reason worth struggling on-

Warmth surged forward in his mind, prickly with protective instincts. Threat.

Friend, Nick insisted, holding fast to sanity. Standing on the shore of killing despair as he held out hope to the dark. Helping.

A sense of water moving over scales, sliding away with thrusts of a powerful tail. He could reassure the lizard all he liked, but Godzilla remembered this darkness too well.

Terrific. Nick held grimly on, just trying to keep his head above the flood of guilt and rage. Monique, I'm going to get you for this.

"Intensify her emotions," the French agent had stated, troubled gaze on the sky as the sun began to fall. Detective Bluestone had filled them in on the bare details, up to and including the disastrous confrontation with the clan last night. Tranquilizer rifles were already on the table; a floorplan marked sentry posts against aerial incursion. "Heighten them. We will provide the safe environment; you will lower her defenses."

"You're asking me to tamper with her mind," the biologist said flatly.

Perched on a counter, Randy glanced between them. "Yo, can he even do that?"

"Oui." Dark eyes fixed Nick. "This wound cuts deep. It must be cleansed."

"Wait a minute." Mendel held up halting hands, half-laughing. "You're saying Nick can make people feel things?"

"Not exactly," Nick hedged. Knuckles turned white on the edge of his earthworm tank. He'd been living with this for over a year, and he still felt like he'd rather walk across hot coals than talk about the specifics of his bond. "An empath could, but..."

"Anincantares aren't typical empaths," Elsie rescued him. Pages flipped as the paleontologist found the relevant section in a back issue of Who's Who and What's That. Nick tried not to wince. "Studies seem to indicate that empaths project and channel PKE frequencies corresponding to emotional states." She pointed at the red-and-blue illustration, which for all its Latinate words looked like nothing less than a plumbing diagram. "They can transmit alien frequencies to another receiver."

"Els. English?" Randy pleaded.

"They can make you feel things you don't actually feel," Dr. Chapman translated. She flipped a page. "Anincantares... well, the research is sketchy. But the consensus seems to be that they redirect PKE." Her hands formed a wedge. "Like a valve, Nick. You can block it, or let it through, or turn up the pressure. But you can't put in anything that's not already there."

Wonderful. Just wonderful. "And you want me to turn up the pressure on Detective Maza."

"The first kill is the most dangerous time." Monique's arms were crossed, hugging herself. "She must decide if she can continue, knowing that she has taken a life. Knowing that she is capable of it."

Something in the flinch of dark eyes twisted Nick's gut. "You don't just mean as a cop."

"I do not."

Elsie sucked in a breath. "Are we talking suicide risk, here?"

"It has occurred." Monique deliberately lowered her arms. "In one night she has lost innocence, the trust of one close to her, and the company of her fellow officers." The raven head tilted. "The last she may reclaim, once the shooting has been declared - how do you say, justifiable." A roll of her eyes declared the agent's opinion of those who would rule on whether or not a person was right to defend their own life. "But with the rest, it is a difficult blow."

Great. This was just looking better and better. "So you want me to wander into a shed full of explosives with a lighted match."

"Oui." Not a shred of remorse glimmered in dark eyes. "She is here, Nick. I will not turn away one who wishes to live."

Randy scratched his dreadlocks, absently tapping an update to the computer security programs in case Lex called Matt's bluff. "Ah, run that by me again?"

"We are allies, and safe," Monique had spelled out. "We are not the law. We are not outside the law. If she wished to die, she would not be here."

So here he was, shivering in the night breeze, having his shoulder soaked by someone who wasn't quite a gargoyle. Please let this work, Nick wished. Fighting two sets of instincts; his own, that urged him to flee this poisonous hate as he would a collapsing inferno. And Godzilla's.

Godzilla, who didn't know self-hate. Who had only one response to threat-to-parent.

A dark form towered against the night, New York lights gleaming off water-slick scales. The massive head lowered silent as air. An orange eye focussed on the winged form near his parent; narrowed.

Don't hurt her, Nick asked silently. Please.

Willing or not, Elisa was Delilah's sister. More than that, she was a friend. Not as tight as his team, but if there was trouble in New York, he knew Maza would move heaven, earth, and Avalon to stop it cold.

A quiet snort. The massive mutant dug talons into concrete. Stepping light and delicate, Godzilla curled up next to the building, knife-ridges of scales adding to the gashes festooning the empty tanks.

He'd trust his parent to handle this. For now.

Thank you.

Sobs ebbed. Elisa drew in a long, ragged breath. "Oh, man...."

"It's okay," Nick said again. One of these times it had to get through. "You should have seen how many of Elsie's shirts I cried on after my team got me back from Kaplan."

"Kaplan." A hiccup. "You - were kidnapped...."

"And shot, and drugged, and damn near drowned." Nick shrugged. "All in all, not a good week."

A shaky giggle. "Oh god. Oh-"

"It's okay." Blue eyes met tear-reddened brown. "You hate the world, you hate yourself, you hate everything and anything even remotely responsible for the whole mess. And anything that isn't. I know. Believe me."

"How could you-" Elisa froze.

Nick didn't have to follow her gaze. "He's not going to hurt you." I hope.

"What-" The detective swallowed. "What's he doing here?"

"Visiting."

Dark eyes narrowed. "Right."

A smile tugged at Nick's lips. Suspicion. He'd take it over despair, any day. "He does." Lowering her onto the stool, he walked to the edge of the roof. Want a scratch?

Interested rumble. A mass of scales shifted, amber eye coming level with his.

Swift intake of breath behind him. "Nick, don't-"

The biologist dug fingers into an armored lip, dragging worn nails over emerald-gray scales. Joy thrilled through him, beating back the dark; the awesome wonder of touching a creature so fierce, so incredibly powerful, so carefully gentle.

Trust.

Scales pressed against him, urging him upward. Nick laughed, clinging to a hard ridge as Godzilla lifted him clear of concrete.

*****

Elisa swallowed, frozen in place. She wanted to shift back to human form, wanted to leave wings and talons behind... but she didn't dare. Godzilla had straightened, ever so gently, carrying a biologist along for the ride as his head cleared a hundred and eighty feet. Now that same biologist-

-Suicidal idiot-

-Was free-climbing up gray-green scales, clinging like a sandspur as the massive skull tilted and turned. A quiet rumble shook the air, vibrating her bones.

A flick of tail; Elisa's heart pounded, feeling the brush of displaced air. This was the offspring of the creature that had wrecked half of Manhattan. A beast that had faced down mutants, genetic monstrosities, half the U.S. Army, and who knew what else. A monster in reptilian form, capable of searing anything in its path to radioactive ash.

And Nick was currently kneeling on top of its head.

Footsteps behind her. Elisa didn't dare turn away. "He's crazy."

"Believe it or not, that's the safest place Nick can be," Elsie Chapman said softly.

Rage sparked like static; Elisa whirled on the paleontologist. "Are you all nuts? What if he falls off?"

A wry smile tugged at the redhead's lips. "He wouldn't fall very far." She leaned on the railing, watching her co-worker scramble over scales eighteen stories high. "They're playing, Detective. You get used to it."

"They're-" Words died in her throat. Fact ran into fact and snarled in confusion. What on earth is going on here? "Lizards don't play."

"Godzilla's behavior is actually closer to some crocodilians," the paleontologist corrected. "Fish-eating, social behavior, use of sound to communicate with offspring. Defending nests, providing for the offspring... lizards don't do that. But crocodilians do."

Elisa eyed her suspiciously. "Crocodiles don't play."

"I was thinking of alligators. And you're right. But Godzilla does." Green eyes went distant. "Climb-over-me's saved our lives a couple of times. Nick's scrambled clear of a lot of things that meant to eat him... and Godzilla knows just how hard he can shake before someone falls off." She jabbed a thumb toward the forgotten cheese dog. "You going to eat that?"

Elisa tore into warm cheese and meat. "Doesn't anything faze you people?"

"Not much." Callused fingers gripped the rail more tightly. "But then, we've got something you and the clan don't." A quick, emerald-eyed glance. "We're all heading the same way."

Gargoyle ways are not human ways. Elisa saw red. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Someone's got to say it," Chapman said levelly. "That's what the whole fight was about, wasn't it? Are you a gargoyle, or are you a cop?"

"A man is dead!"

A red brow arched. "Really? You don't get off that easy, Detective."

Easy? "Detective?" Elisa laughed bitterly. "I don't even know if I'm a cop any more."

"Oh. So if you had to do it over again, you'd do it different?" Elsie folded her arms, eyes glittering.

"Damn straight, I'd-"

The paleontologist ran right over her words. "Do it the way Goliath wanted?"

Elisa hesitated. "I-"

"Let Stanis shoot down the man who killed his brother in cold blood, because gargoyles believe in revenge?"

"No!" Red colored the night; talons dug into her own flesh, curling into fists.

Elsie didn't flinch. "Why not?"

"Because-"

Because she was there and Goliath wasn't. Because Stanis had already stabbed her trying to get to his target. Because Matt was in his line of fire, and you did not let a man shoot your partner-

Because none of that mattered. She was the law. And laws, the people had decided, didn't allow revenge.

"You mean, that the humans decide." Goliath's words echoed through her memory; shards of the night they'd met.

Elisa drew in a breath, straightened clenched talons. "You're good," she said tightly. "You're... really good. What'd you do, call up the hostage negotiators and find out what to say?"

The paleontologist's eyes narrowed. "I talked to your partner."

Low blow. "Yeah?"

"He says he wishes he'd seen this coming."

Talons clanged on steel. "I love him!"

"Nick loved Audrey, too." There was pain in the paleontologist's level voice; but old pain, worn into bittersweet acceptance. "Doesn't mean she loved him back."

"Angela-"

"Was raised by humans." Chapman's tone brooked no argument. "Sentient behavior's not my specialty, Detective, but I can tell you culture modifies it. Angela was raised with human laws."

And Goliath wasn't. Goliath didn't care about human law. Serve and protect, sure - protect his clan, his territory.

Serve human law? Their ways are not our ways.

Red hair blew in a breeze of salt and seaweed. "Heads up."

Elisa ducked as the massive muzzle lowered, grimaced as Nick dropped chuckling to the roof. Jaws parted, teeth gleaming in starlight-

Oh god, no-

Slurp.

"Yuck." Nick brushed slobber off one shoulder, waved away a length of tongue. Brown hair was soaked dark, spiked with slime. "So much for putting the laundry off."

Rumble. A gentle nudge of scales against damp cotton.

"Go home." Nick shoved at the scaly wall, like a parent urging his kid up school bus steps. "Stay safe."

A snuffling breath. Godzilla took one last look over the roof, strode silently into the harbor.

Elisa picked her jaw off the ground as scales slipped into dark water. "How... you...."

Nick shrugged. Blue eyes were still lit with joy, bright as stars. "You're welcome to stay for a few days," he said, heading for the door. "We still have towels inside?"

"Oh, yeah," Elsie smirked. "But you look so cute with your hair all ruffled..." Fingers waved threateningly.

Nick ducked in mock horror. "Not the hair!"

Elisa looked at the lit door. Glanced back at the harbor, where twin plumes of steam rose before a scaled form plunged down.

What just happened here?