Wings

Story – The Second Chapter

"So what's your story?"

"Hmm..?" Gaby blinked and snapped out of her reverie at the gargoyle's query. She blushed slightly as she realized that she had been staring raptly at him for several minutes now as he crouched near the edge of the roof, just out of sight of the street below. His wings were caped about his shoulders, covering most of his torso, but it was still easy to admire the almost predatory grace of his posture.

She shyly lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Um. . .what was the question again?"

-_-; He paused for a moment and blinked slowly a look of almost amused resignation on his face. He grinned slightly at her part apologetic, part bashful question. After introductions had been exchanged they had once again fallen silent, though it was a companionable silence rather than an uncomfortable one. He had turned to gaze out over the as he pondered his companion, and the unexpected events that had brought him to this rooftop.

"I asked what your story was. Where are you from? What do you do? Why you don't share the same . . . less than complimentary opinion of gargoyles as damn near everyone else in this city. And," here his expression darkened a bit as a slight frown tilted the corners of his mouth down, "just out of curiosity. . .why you were in that alley in the first place."

"I wasn't in the alley in the first place."

When he gave her a pointed look she crossed her arms and made a small moue. She then proceeded to ignore that particular question and address(ed) the first part of his query.

"My story. Hmm. I can't expect that it's anywhere near as interesting as yours, but if you really want to know I guess I'll have a go at telling it.

"I was born in a small town on the western cost of Ireland. I lived with my mother and father in a small house by the sea. We lived there by choice, not necessity. Both of my parents came from money and we could have lived anywhere in the world, in any manner we wished. They chose to live simply, in the country that their ancestors had lived in for centuries. I loved it.

"I was raised on the old legends, the stories of the Fae and their brethren. Of the great Faerie Lords and Ladies in their Rafts beneath the hills, the pooka, the giants. These stories shaped my childhood, and my favorites were of the great protectors, the Gargoyles."

"Woah, woah, woah. . .Time Out. I hate to interrupt you here, but. . . You mean to tell me that there are actually stories that have us as good guys?!?"

Bell like laughter rang out over the rooftops at the pale haired gargoyle's dumb-founded expression, and forest green eyes shone with mirth.

"Of course. I don't think it would be possible for such a wonderful people to be completely maligned. What, did you think that everyone hated you?"

"Sometimes."

The deadpan reply extinguished Gaby's mirth like a bucket of cold water.

Brooklyn was standing at the wall that rose waist high from the edge of the roof. His talons had dug into the brick barrier so forcefully that it was on the verge of shattering, and his wings had unfurled and halfway spread, the tension in them easily visible. The lithe red form shuddered as a hundred unpleasant memories returned and swamped him. The young gargoyle's mind was lost in a land far away and long, long ago.

Consequently, it was no real surprise that the winged guardian started when a small, pale hand covered his own. His head snapped up and dark brown eyes met green ones. Gently and carefully, Gaby took his taloned hand in both her own and raised it to her face, touching it lightly to her cheek where a single tear made a glistening path downward from eyes filled with understanding.

She took a deep breath and continued, still holding his hand in hers.

"My mother told me stories of a great and noble people who watched and protected the keeps of old while the sun took its rest. She told me of great clans defending those keeps that they had taken for their suntime resting places, their homes.

"I was awed and enchanted by the idea of these stone bound guardians. I remember asking my mother where they lived, and could we go there because I wanted to meet one. When she told me that she didn't think that any still lived in these times, I cried. I guess you could say that, for me, meeting you has been a dream come true."

Here she broke off and gave her companion a smile tinged with sadness, then looked away. He didn't really notice. He was still to busy trying to process her last statement. He did, however, notice when her hands left his. Brooklyn watched as the human girl stood and walked away from him, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. When she reached the center of the rooftop she stopped, and was still, her arms dropping gently to her sides. Turning to face him, she resumed speaking.

"As I said before, both my mother and father had money. They didn't use it much; we lived mostly on what my father made as a handy man and jack-of-all-trades, and my mother would sell small homemade dolls and knick-knacks. But they didn't let it just sit in the bank and go to waste. They wanted to be sure that they would never find themselves wanting in an emergency, and that I would always be taken care of. While they didn't care to live the 'rich life' they felt that I should be allowed to choose whatever lifestyle I fancied. Or something like that. In any case, they would periodically go on business trips into the city. It was a six hour trip by car in fair weather, and they were usually gone at least a week, sometimes two. I stayed at home with Aunt Nan to look after me. She wasn't really my Aunt. I don't remember who her real blood relations were, if she had any that lived, but she was like everyone's grandmother."

A fond smile graced Gaby's face as she reminisced about the old woman. She did not, however, continue speaking, and as the silence stretched out thin and brittle the smile slowly faded, leaving pain and grief in it's wake. Her arms rose again, this time wrapping tightly about her middle, as if to hold herself together. Her face turned away from him.

Brooklyn didn't know how long she stood there staring off into the distance. Not seeing him, or the rooftops or any part of the city around them. In the soft light from below and above, he thought he could see the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. For a moment he thought that she looked like she would shatter at the slightest touch.

Finally – Had it been a minute? An hour? – she took a deep shuddering breath. And went on.

"The eve of my tenth birthday was clear, and calm. . . and cold. Very, very cold. I remember standing in the open doorway of our home, looking up at the stars and picking out the constellations. There was no moon that night, and because we were so far from any big cities, there was no light pollution to dim them. I stood there shivering, watching my breath fog up until at last Aunt Nan came and brought me back inside. Mama and Papa were on their way home from one of their trips.

"I was told that the road along the cliff had iced over from the cold. In the dark they must have misjudged the curve, and then been unable to correct the car when the wheels lost purchase on the ice. . ."

Here her voice trailed off and silence reclaimed the rooftop for just a moment. Then Gaby turned again to look at Brooklyn and with a small, apologetic smile said simply,

"I miss them."

She gave a small shrug and a weak laugh.

"I know I don't really have much to complain about, I mean, it's not like I was tossed out into the cold to fend for my myself. An estranged relative of my father – a cousin I think, I'm not sure of the exact relation, I never asked and he never said – became my legal guardian. He's a good man, a business man, possessed of a fair mind, a sensible nature, and a strong sense of responsibility. And he had absolutely no idea what to do with me. So he did what any other reasonable man would do in his position. He assumed control of my estate, ensuring that it would be safe and would continue to grow until I reached my majority, boarded up the cottage by the sea, and promptly sent me off to one of the most well respected boarding schools in the world. That's what brought me to America."

"That must have been quite a change."

She sniggered at Brooklyn's comment and responded wryly.

"That's an understatement."

They grinned at each other for a minute, then started as a third voice sounded, seemingly from nowhere.

". . .Brooklyn?. . .Hello. . .Brooklyn? Are you there?. . ."

"Ah, shit."

Brooklyn swore softly to himself as he reached for the button that would allow him to respond to his rookery brother. He had turned it off just before dropping from the sky to investigate the cry for help that had caught his attention at the beginning of the night. The very same cry that had brought him to where he was now. When he had swooped into that alley he had very much been not in the mood to deal with the questions and concerns that a broadcast confrontation would inevitably bring. Especially if he was forced to deal with less than grateful recipients of his assistance. There were plenty of people that would just as soon call the cops on him, as thank him for bothering.

And damned if I didn't luck out this time. Maybe the powers that be AREN'T out to get me.

"Brooklyn!!!" The com flared to life once more, loud, clear, and obediently static free.

Then again. . .

For some reason his fingers refused to cooperate, and even the small piece of machinery was being particularly perverse. The next five minutes or so were filled with soft swearing punctuated by intermittent bursts of sound as Lexington continued to demand an answer. The cursing was brought to an abrupt halt when a pair of small white hands reached up and easily flipped the switch in question.

As their eyes met briefly, Brooklyn was profoundly glad that his skin was red to begin with. In the half-light of the rooftops it would be nearly impossible to tell that his face was a few shades darker than normal.

He shoved his embarrassment aside and answered his concerned friend.

"Hey Lex, cool it. . . I'm fine."

There was a heartbeat's worth of silence, then. . .

"Then why the heck did you take so long to answer?!?!?!"

He winced at the volume.

"Geez. . . Look, I turned off the mic for a routine mugging and forgot about it til you started being a worry wart just now. It wasn't quite as routine as I thought it would be. Nothing bad though. Then when you decided to check up on me, I had some trouble turning the damn thing back on." Brooklyn purposely ignored the sound of badly suppressed laughter. Lexington didn't.

"Um, Brooklyn. . . Is there someone else there?"

The tentative query made him pause, and the answer found waiting for him brought a slow smile to his face. He looked at Gaby. She had stopped laughing and was watching him intently now. His smile widened into a full blown grin.

"Yeah Lex, there's somebody else here. A new friend."

Gaby's smile was blinding.

--------------------------------------------

Argh.

I have several scenes of this story running around my brain. I just have to figure out how to get to them. Don't worry though, I think I already have a good idea of how to go about the next chapter. It will be posted as soon as I remember to finish writing it. ^-^

I've just about decided what Gaby looks like and might give a detailed description in the next chapter. If I'm to put it in the story I'll need a good reason to be giving a detailed description, so I might just put it in a footnote.

Some of these scenes are really giving me conniptions.

Oh yah, there were a couple of things I wanted to add.

Once again, I do not own Gargoyles.

I do own Gaby. (you steal her, I bash you)

All inconsistencies with the Gargoyles Universe that I might include are made possible by a little something called Artistic Licence.

Umm. . .ummm. . .Oh yeah! This fic is rated PG – 13 for language. (if you hadn't already figured that out. Tell me if you think I should raise it)

Well, I think that's about it. Oh! And Please Review. Thank you.

Cíao!

Whyndancer

(good lord did I babble!)