Hey, Readers and Gargoyles Fans!

Glad to see that you're all enjoying the story so far! I don't know who this mysterious 'Guest' person is, but thank you for your reviews!

Anyways, here's Chapter Five, where, as the title explains, contains a multitude of revelations about Robbins Family History, both old and recent, as well as a secret that Elijah had been keeping under-wraps.

Enjoy!

Revelations

Thirty minutes after his outburst, Elijah had found asylum in his bed room, lying on his bed and staring at the slowly spinning fan. If he looked at it the right way, he could imagine it was his bedroom fan back in Galveston, cooling the room from the muggy hot air that seemed to permeate the island.

But it hurt to think about home right now; he did not care what any social worker or uncle told him, because New York would NEVER be his home. He belonged in Texas, but no one gave a damn about his feelings or what he wanted. All he knew was that he turned eighteen in about three years, which meant that he could leave here forever and go to college in Texas. But for now, he was stuck with a blind uncle who was friends with a group of gargoyles, and they all seemed to think that he needed to talk to someone about his feelings or his deafness or his parents' death or-

Elijah closed his eyes, trying to think of something else. If he got caught up in the memories again, he would start to cry, and the last thing he needed was to be found crying like a baby. Because they would eventually come to check on him; there was no way that his Uncle Jeffrey would let him disappear like that without following up on his well-being. He was not sure how long he had been in his room, but he knew that his uncle would probably come knocking on the door any minute, and-

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and the teen gave a sigh, not getting up to answer it. There was a few seconds of silence before the knocking sound resumed again. He was starting to consider turning off his hearing aids when he realized that the knocking was not coming from the door, but from the window.

He sat up with a start, looking over at his window and gaping at the sight of Brooklyn peering in through the glass. For a second, he merely gaped at the gargoyle, wondering how the heck he had gotten up there, but then remembered that they could fly. Giving a groan of annoyance, he got up and went over to the window, opening it a crack.

"So," Elijah said, frowning at the gargoyle, "I suppose you've come to talk to me or something to see if I'm feeling any better?"

"Something like that," the red creature replied. "Mind of if we come in?"

"'We?'" Looking behind the gargoyle, he noticed Hudson holding onto the side of the window, balancing on the narrow ledge. Great; now he had to deal with two gargoyles instead of one, and one was his uncle's best friend. "Do I have to?"

"Unless you want a broken window."

"We're not goin' ta break his window," Hudson spoke up, giving the younger gargoyle a stern glare. "We're here on Robbins' behalf."

Elijah had to laugh, despite the threat of the creatures killing him. "Of course you are! Just like my uncle; not dealing with me himself and sending others to do his dirty work!"

"Well you don't really want to spend much time with him, either," Brooklyn countered. "I could tell that much, and I just met you!"

"None of you know me," the teen snapped, raising his arms to close the window. "And you're not going to."

As he tried to close the window, the gargoyle stuck his hand underneath the edge, preventing it from shutting all the way. The teen tried to push it shut but the gargoyle must have been pretty strong, because he remained adamant in keeping it open, giving him an almost bored look. Eventually, Elijah gave up and walked away, flopping back onto his bed as Brooklyn opened the window all the way, letting himself and Hudson into the room.

"Whatever," Elijah muttered, looking up at the ceiling fan again. "Why even bother anymore? It's apparent I have no say in anything that happens around here."

"Nice place," the red gargoyle commented, looking around the space, reading a few of the spines on his bookshelf. "And a reader, I see."

"Yes, I can read," the human said sarcastically. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"You're pretty rude for someone your age," Brooklyn commented.

"Get over it. It doesn't bother me at all."

"Well it should. How do you expect people to like you if you act like a jerk?"

"I don't want any friends right now," the teen told him, glaring at him with annoyance. "If you're here for idle chitchat, I'm not in the mood. All I have to do is take out my hearing aids or turn the dial to 'off,' and you might as well be talking to a wall. Like I told my Uncle Jeffrey; I just want to be left alone right now, and if you two can't understand that for whatever reason-"

Hudson, who had remained silent since coming into the room, suddenly strode forward, drawing his sword. Immediately, the teen fell back against the headboard, closing his eyes as the gargoyle brought the sword down. Seconds later, upon realizing he wasn't maimed, he cautiously opened his eyes, seeing that the older gargoyle had only cut off one of the wooden bed knobs attached to his baseboard. However, the teen was not out of the woods yet as he noticed the monster's eyes were suddenly glowing, as if they were lit with fluorescent lights. It made the winged creature look quite fierce, and the teen couldn't help but gape at the sight.

"DO YE THINK WE ARE JUST DUMB ANIMALS," the tan gargoyle demanded, pointing his sword at the terrified teen. "DO YE THINK THIS IS SOME SORT OF GAME WE'RE PLAYIN'?!"

"N-No," the boy stammered, shaking with fear. "I just-"

"YOU MAY THINK THAT YE CAN DISRESPECT ROBBINS, BUT YE CAN'T DISRESPECT US AND NOT EXPECT SOME RETALIATION!"

"Hudson, calm down," Brooklyn yelled. "You're scaring him!"

"So what," the older gargoyle demanded, eyes still glowing as he turned towards his friend. "Robbins has done so much for him, and for this country, and the lad doesn't seem to care about any of that!"

"I DO care," Elijah snapped as the two gargoyles turned back to him as he sat up, too upset to care about the possibility of being injured [which was probably dumb, on his part]. "Don't accuse me of not caring about what he's done for this country because I DO care about that! What I will NOT accept is your pitiful excuse that he's done everything for me! He didn't raise me for the past fifteen years! He didn't call for birthdays or Christmases or any other holiday! He didn't do anything to be a part of my life until after my parents died, and now I'm just supposed to love this… this stranger that I don't even know?!"

"He's your family," Hudson countered, eyes still glowing angrily.

"He is NOT MY FAMILY," the boy screamed, face full of rage as he stared the gargoyle down. "HE WANTED NOTHING TO DO WITH ME UP UNTIL A MONTH AGO, AND HE THINKS JUST BECAUSE HE KNOWS SOME TRIVIAL FACTS ABOUT MY DISABILITY AND CHILDHOOD THAT HE'S SUDDENLY GUARDIAN OF THE YEAR?! HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW MY PARENTS DIED, BUT I DO, 'CAUSE I WAS THERE WHEN IT HAPPENED! SO YOU CAN THREATEN ME ALL YOU WANT WITH YOUR SWORD AND YOUR CLAWS AND WHATEVER, BUT DON'T TELL ME I'M NOT JUSTIFIED IN MY ANGER TOWARDS HIM! HE COULDN'T EVEN COME UP HERE HIMSELF TO APOLOGIZE AND FIGURE OUT WHAT WAS UPSETTING ME!"

"Because you won't talk to him," the gargoyle yelled in exasperation, the younger one standing nearby, frozen with fear.

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO HIM! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL HIM THAT I'M THE REASON HIS BROTHER DIED?!"

It got so quiet after that, Elijah thought that he had turned off his hearing aids. Hudson and Brooklyn stared at him in shock, the former's eyes returning to their regular color, the angry glow fading away. The teen, realizing what he had said, instantly slumped back against the headboard, his fists unclenching as the impact of what he had said hit him. There was no way he could spin a story convincing enough to explain why he'd said what he had just said; they may be monsters, but they were smart monsters, who might tell his uncle what he said, which would mean-

The door to his room opened, and the three occupants looked up to see Jeffrey Robbins standing in the doorway. Even though the man still wore his sunglasses, one look at his face told Elijah that he had heard every word of what he said. Sure, he was shouting, and the two gargoyles were not being quiet either, but the blind author was probably waiting outside the door, ready for his turn to talk to his nephew. It looked like he had wanted to come talk to him himself, but the gargoyles had beaten him to the punch. The man simply stared in his general direction with a neutral expression, his dog by his side.

"I sneaked out," Elijah started, unable to look at anyone in the room, staring down at his hands instead. "My… my friends wanted me to join them for a late-night swim but my parents wouldn't let me so… so I sneaked out and went down to the beach anyway." He took a shaky breath, a few tears in his eyes. "I… I was there an hour or so when our neighbor, one of my friend's mom, came in her car to tell me that my parents were in the hospital and that the police were at my house. My p-p-parents found my room empty, and left to go find me. Some guy t-boned them when they had the right of way, and the car-" He could not say it; he knew how many times the car flipped, but he could not say it out loud as the view of his hands became blurry with tears. "Our n-neighbor brought me to the h-h-hospital, where they were both having emergency surgery… They didn't make it. My last view of them was all of them bloodied and bruised and cut from the wreck, and… and they died. B-Because of me…"

He finally started crying, closing his eyes as he pictured his parents' unresponsive forms when he was allowed in to see them after they died. Everything had seemed so right with the world earlier that day, that he almost wished that the neighbor had never shown up to get him, allowing him one last night of happiness before his life came crashing down. He had cried in the hospital, but had not cried since then, not even at the funeral. Not until now.

His Aunt had taken him in, but with all of her kids she was unable to adopt him, so he was sent to live with his only other living relative in New York, only staying in Texas long enough to see the funeral and watch his parents' estate and goods be sold to cover some debts. He even let most of his own stuff get sold and given away, no longer feeling worthy of what his parents had bought and given him. He only brought his books, some photos, and a few mementos and gifts from friends and neighbors along with his clothes when he moved here. But none of that mattered at the moment; he was too consumed in his grief as he continued to sob, too upset to care if anyone saw.

He felt his bed creak a little as someone sat down on the edge of it, and he recoiled a little when he felt someone take his hand. However, this was not the clawed hand of a gargoyle; this one was smaller, warmer, and calloused from years of hard work and typing. It reminded the teen of his dad's hands, in a way; warm and strong, silently telling him that everything would be alright. In a weird way, it was almost a comfort to hold someone's hand, though he was too old for that kind of stuff anymore.

Elijah, clutching the hand as if his life depended on it, leaned into his uncle's shoulder and accepted the man's embrace as he continued to cry. Surprisingly, the hug was a real comfort to the teen, who started to sob even harder as the blind author held him upright. He had not hugged anyone since his parents had died [though several people hugged him at the funeral], and he wondered if his uncle actually forgave him if he was hugging him. Then he wondered why he was even allowing himself to be hugged and comforted, as if he hadn't done anything wrong.

What are you doing, Elijah thought to himself in the back of his mind. You told yourself you wouldn't cry, or show emotion, or accept pity, or-

Just shut up and grieve, the rational part of him thought.

About five or so minutes later, the teen was all cried out, and he slowly pulled away from the hug, still unable to look at his uncle or any of the gargoyles. Now that he had stopped crying, he was waiting for the hammer to fall; surely his uncle would yell at him or get mad at him because of what he had done. His uncle was smart, so surely he knew that there was no minimizing what he had done. He would not be surprised if his uncle hated him for the rest of his life, so the teen was resigning himself to this new reality when Jeffrey suddenly said-

"Elijah, I'm not mad at you."

The teen froze at those words, still unable to look at anyone. Uncle Jeffrey didn't sound angry, but the boy figured that the man was still trying to process what he had just heard.

"Elijah, please look at me." It took the teen everything he had to look up at the blind man, who sat on the edge of the bed next to him, staring at a spot a little over the Texan's shoulder.

"I… I'm listening," Elijah said hollowly, staring at his reflection in the man's glasses, ready for whatever speech his uncle was going to give him. Eventually, his uncle took a deep breath and began.

"First off, I wanted to apologize for being an absent uncle throughout your life," his uncle started. "I had let a petty disagreement between your father and I escalate out of control, and now, after his death, it is one of my greatest regrets. As for the cause of this disagreement, I will try to keep it short, though I doubt the writer in me will allow me to do so." He stopped talking for a few moments, as if steeling himself to say what he needed to say, then continued.

"After I came back from the war in the 60's, I had to learn how to read Braille and readjust to life without my sight. I stayed with my family for a while, including your father, Aunt Martha, and your grandparents; my dad had remarried years earlier, and Joseph was born from that marriage. I lived with them for nearly ten years, unsure of what to do with my life now that my job opportunities were almost nonexistent.

"Since I had a lot of free time, I started to write, pouring myself into my work, drawing on my favorite myths and stories from my youth. I wasn't even planning on publishing my first book, but it was your father that convinced me to do so. The next thing I knew, Gilgamesh the King was a bestseller, and people were asking for more. I had my old seeing-eye dog back then; I didn't get Gilly until about three years ago.

"I worked in a frenzy, writing stories so fast, the words seemed to pour from an overflowing well of inspiration. The more novels I wrote, the more attention I received. Your father, who was growing up during this period, was happy for me, as well as glad with the attention he sometimes received at school for being the younger brother of a famous author. However, this happiness soon dissipated by the time he reached high school, and he started to grow distant, but I didn't notice... I wish now that I had; I would've changed how I acted if I'd paid him more attention...

"Eventually, Joseph was studying in college, your aunt was already married and starting her family, and I was publishing my fifth book when our mother died; our father had died years ago when I was over in Vietnam. As the oldest in the family, most of her assets, including the house, went to me. By then, I was starting to get too much attention in Galveston as an author, so I sold the family house bought this place up here, and moved away. Your father wasn't happy with my decision, and we argued back and forth as to why I hadn't asked him before doing so, but I was firm in my stance." The blind author hesitated again, he hands folded in his lap before he continued.

"I should have known then that things were going downhill with our relationship, but I was too focused on my writing career to do anything about it, or even care. Besides that, he was still studying in Texas, and I was in New York by then; most of what I had heard about him was from the letters I exchanged with Martha.

"Then, I messed up. Your father was graduating from his university, and I, of course, was planning on coming. But in a moment of confusion with television appearances and book signings, I missed it. He was understandably upset, and I tried many times to apologize without success. However, I soon grew angry a few years later when I learned from your aunt that your father was getting married, and that he hadn't bothered to invite me to the wedding.

"I… I will admit, I got mad at him for what he had done, and I flew on my own to Texas and... crashed the wedding, you could say. I doubt you'd find any pictures of me at the reception, but Joseph pulled me aside, and we got into a full-blown argument in another room. I... I'm still ashamed of what I said to him, and I had no right to tell him what I told him on his wedding night, but I let my anger and emotions get the better of me. He, on the other hand, rightfully accused me of neglecting my family and letting my fame get to my head, saying I cared more about money than family. We went back and forth for several minutes, but it ended with him telling me to never contact him or his new family again and leaving to return to his new wife and wedding guests.

"I went back to New York after that, and stayed mad at him for a long period of time, obeying his request to not contact him. Whenever I wrote your aunt, I included no messages for Joseph, though she continued to send me information about him; most likely because she wanted us to make up and be a family again. It was through her I learned about you. I… I even came to your first birthday party, hoping to repair our relationship, but my brother was still sore at that time, and even threatened to get a restraining order if I came unannounced again. I could've fought it, since he had no real basis, but I was still bitter as well, and resolved to not even do so much as call my younger brother. By then, I had run out of new novel ideas, and over time, I fell out of the public eye as my well of stories dried up. I became anchor-less, spending day after day, year after year, not doing anything to try and make things right."

"My… my dad never told me the reason he and you never spoke, and why you never came to visit," Elijah finally spoke up, having soaked in everything he had heard about his family's history like a sponge. "He even pretended not to hear whenever Aunt Martha mentioned you.

Uncle Jeffrey nodded. "We were both stubborn; I guess I still am sometimes. I mean, I was pretty adamant about you meeting Hudson and the others... I guess it's my hubris, you could say."

"Mine too," the boy sighed, thinking about how hard he'd fought to get his way.

"What's a hubris," Brooklyn whispered to Hudson.

"A fatal flaw," the older gargoyle explained, motioning for the younger monster to be quiet and not interrupt.

"But I should have just swallowed my pride and called your father or shown up for one of your other birthdays, risking the lawsuit," the boy's uncle continued, still looking somber and melancholy. "It wasn't fair to either of us, and for that I sincerely apologize."

"I... I-" Elijah gave a huff of exasperation, trying to figure out how he was feeling and keep his emotions in check. All his life he grew up thinking that his uncle was a bad guy, but now he knew this whole other side of the story that changed his whole view on how he viewed his legal guardian, and his dad as well. His dad… "But I should be apologizing to you! I'm the reason you can't try to apologize to your brother in person again, and that you can never try to repair your relationship with him, or-"

"Elijah, stop this," his Uncle Jeffrey interrupted firmly, looking straight at him, frown lines on his face revealing what his eyes could not. "Let's get one thing straight right here and now; I am not upset with you in any way, and you are NOT the cause of your parent's death. Nor are they the cause of their own deaths by choosing to look for you; that lies with the man who knocked their car off the road. None of you had no way of knowing what would happen, so you can't blame yourself for events beyond your control. You did nothing wrong."

"But I sneaked out! They wouldn't have been out driving if I hadn't-"

"ELIJAH!"

His uncle's bark was so harsh and sudden, the two gargoyles jumped along with the teen, and Gilly even looked nervous. Then, to all of their surprise, the blind man raised his hand to his face and took off his sunglasses, which was something he never did, revealing green eyes covered with a pale film that showed their inability to see. Old scars criss-crossed the skin around his eyelids, as if something had blown up in his face. There were a few tears welling up in them, and the teen stared at them in shock, half-expecting his uncle not to have eyes, much less ones that could cry.

"Look me in the eye," his uncle told him, the eyes staring blankly ahead of him. "Look at me! It was not your fault! The longer you hold onto this lie that you've killed your parents, the worse it is going to get for you! What happened to your parents was horrible and didn't deserve to happen to them, but you don't deserve to live with this guilt that you've convinced yourself to carry!" His uncle reached forward, searching for his nephew's hand, and the teen took it, squeezing it as he felt tears well up in his eyes again. "You did nothing wrong; it's not your fault. Say it! It's not your fault."

"It's... It's not m-my f-f-fault," the boy gasped, struggling to get the words out. He was saying it more out of obedience to his uncle, but once he said it a few more times, he was surprised to feel as if a great weight had been lifted off his chest. "It's not my f-fault."

"Good, Elijah," his Uncle Jeffrey told him gently, and this time, it was the author who was pulled into a hug, both of them crying a little as the teen repeated the phrase a few more times, feeling better with each repetition. He also put his apology in his hug, hoping that his uncle could tell how sorry he was, and he felt that his uncle was apologizing as well with his hug. They both knew that they had taken a big step in the right direction in their relationship, and that the road was still far ahead of them, but for now, they were glad to have each other for family.

"Should we go," Brooklyn whispered to Hudson, who shot him a death glare for speaking up. The human family separated from their hug, turning back to the two gargoyles, as if noticing that they were there for the first time.

"I… I still think I should apologize to you guys," Elijah spoke up, quickly drying his eyes and looking at the two winged creatures. "I had no right to be rude to either of you or judge you because you were friends with my uncle... or of how you look or what you are. It wasn't fair for any of us, and… if you'd like, I..." He hesitated before continuing, expecting the worse. "I think I would like to be friends with you two. And you Clan, if that's okay."

The gargoyles did not hesitate, breaking into huge grins and surprising the teen. "Of course we'll be friends, lad," the older one said happily, walking over and shaking the teen's hand. "We figured ye'd come around at some point, but don't feel like we're forcin' ye to be friends!"

"Of course not," the boy replied, relieved that they were not mad at him.

"Good. Though, I should apologize too." He looked over at the baseboard of the teen's head. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

"Don't be. I doubt I would've said what needed to be said if it weren't for that glowing eye thing you did."

"Do you mean this," Brooklyn asked, his eyes suddenly glowing like two miniature lamps.

"Woah," the teen gasped, gaping at them with fascination and apprehension. "You can do it on command?"

"Yeah, but we only save it for battle; it really freaks out opponents," the red gargoyle replied, his eyes returning to normal. "But I'm glad we're going to be friends; it's about time we met a human that's closer to my age!"

"You're 15?"

"I'm 39, but since we don't age in our sleep, one year of growth for us is two of yours, so I'd technically be 19."

"Wow, that's pretty cool."

"It is indeed," Jeffrey spoke up, standing from the bed and putting his glasses back on as he turned toward his nephew's general direction. "If you don't want to read anything tonight, Elijah, then I won't force you; Hudson and I can pick another book, and Brooklyn can go back-"

"Oh no, it's fine," the teen said quickly, suddenly not wanting to be left alone anymore. "I don't mind reading tonight; it's a pretty good book. And you don't have to leave if you don't want to. But… did you still invite the whole clan over?" He then realized how rude it sounded, and he quickly tried to backtrack. "Not that I don't like you guys; you guys are cool, but it's just-"

"You're still not ready to meet the rest of our clan yet," the aged gargoyle asked, and the boy eventually nodded, looking down at his feet, embarrassed. "No trouble at all, lad. We understand."

"Yeah," the younger gargoyle added. "It was a long time before we met any other humans beside Elisa, so we get it if you wanna take your time."

"Thanks," the boy replied, smiling a little, relieved that he was finally being heard.

"Well," the blind author spoke up again, a grin on his face, "let's go downstairs. We've still got that pitcher of ice tea to finish, as well as a book to start." The group agreed, making their way out of the room and through the house.

Back in the library, everyone settled in their seats, having another glass of iced tea each as they prepared to start the new book. Looking around, Elijah could not help but marvel at the sight before him; never had he imagined that he had meet and befriend gargoyles, nor did he believe that he would ever reconcile with his uncle. But, even though it was not what he originally expected, he was glad it happened. For the first time since his parents died, he was feeling happy again, and he knew that things were only going to get better from here.

"Ready," he asked. The three listeners nodded, and the teen opened the book again, ready to enter the familiar world of the mystery.

"The sun sets in the west (just about everyone knows that), but Sunset Towers faced east. Strange!"

And that's it for this chapter!

I hope you enjoyed this installment in the story of Elijah Robbins; I think it's the turning point of Elijah's life, preparing him to move on from his parents' death. As for the part with Jeffrey's history, I came up with it, since all the websites with information about the character doesn't say anything about his past besides his time fighting in Vietnam before becoming a writer. I hope you enjoyed my version of his life.

Also, "Revelations" is an episode title from Gargoyles, so that's another Easter Egg! And, know that there will be iced tea in future chapters, and just know that drinking a lot of iced tea could be hazardous to your health.

As always, feel free to follow and favorite (if you don't already) if you want to be updated on new chapters and stories. And feel free to drop a review with your thoughts and comments on the chapter or story overall!

I hope you all have a great day, and see you next chapter!

-aggiefrogger

I do NOT own The Westing Game or Captain Obvious in ANY way, shape or form!