"It's Never Too Late (To Fall in Love Again)"
An original Gargoyles story by Mona
Disclaimer: Characters from Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are property of Disney and used without permission. Original characters are the author's property. The songs mentioned are property of their authors/perfomers. The first flashback is from the Gargoyles episode "Hunter's Moon: Part Three", but what happens directly after is mine.

Author's Note: Yes, I know this story does conflict with Greg Weisman's Master Plan. Robyn Canmore was supposed to head the Bad Guys, and meet Dingo. They'd get married and have kids. But to me, Dingo seems like the confirmed bachelor. And even if it wasn't, I just can't see Robyn as his "sheila." And look at all that Robyn has in common with Macbeth. This story is meant as a tribute to Valentine's Day, on which the first chapter will be posted. If you don't like the idea of Robyn/Macbeth, stop reading. There will be some romance between David and Fox Xanatos, and between Broadway and Angela. And what Gargoyles romance story would be complete without some Goliath/Elisa? The Goliath Chronicles never officially said how much time spanned over the thirteen episodes, but they seem rather fast-paced, so I'll assume a month or two. This story takes place after "Fetch" and "Father's Day," but you can understand this one without reading those other two.

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends; as for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." -- I Corinthians 13: 1-13.

Prologue:

(Paris, France)
(September 28, 1980)

The yellow moon illuminated the city of Paris, shining in the black sky like a round lightbulb.

"Tonight is the Hunter's Moon," Charles Canmore announced. "Our moon, my children. Your great-grandfather died fighting the Demon. My father sought in vain for her all his life. Tonight, it finally ends with me." He pulled on the red-streaked mask.

"Just because our ancestors hunted gargoyles doesn't mean we have to," Robyn, the middle child, commented.

"It is our destiny as Canmores, Robyn," her father explained quietly.

Jonathan, the youngest, clutched the Hunter's arm. "Daddy, don't go! You'll get hurt!"

"Don't worry, Jonny," Charles said soothingly. "I've trained all my life for this."

Jason, the eldest, pointed to the sky. "Look!"

In the air was a winged creature. To others in Paris at the time, it was a giant bat brought on by too much wine. But to the Canmores, she would always be The Demon.

The gargoyle removed a small statue from the base of one of the many statues at the cathedral. There was the thin, red beam of a laser. She spun around and gasped.

"It's over, Demon," Charles hissed, brandishing a laser pistol.

Below, the three children waited.

Suddenly, the Hunter tumbled from the roof, screaming. He hit the ground with a painful thud.

Robyn and Jon rushed over. Jason was rooted to the ground.

The gargess flew by, laughing maniacally.

Jason's bones felt chilled to the marrow. He ran to his brother and sister. Robyn had pulled off the mask. Their father's skin was pale, blue eyes closed.

Jon began to cry, burying his face in his sister's chest. She patted his back as she tried to fight her own tears.

"How can this be?" Jason asked at last. His throat felt blocked, as if he had a lump. "This must be a bad dream."

"I wish it were," Robyn whispered. "I wish we could wake up and Dad will be in the kitchen making pancakes, and there'll be no monsters --" Her voice broke as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Jason headed toward a payphone. His feet felt like lead. He didn't want to pick up the receiver; it would be like admitting the impossible had happened. He stared at the phone for a few minutes, then picked up and dialed.

"May I help you?" came the emotionless voice of the dispatcher.

"Notre Dame Cathedral. My father...fell--" He choked out.

The ambulance arrived within minutes.

"How did this happen?" asked the coroner.

"He fell off the roof," Robyn replied, voice dripping with frost. "What does it look like?"

"What the heck was he doing on the roof?" A paramedic wondered out loud.

The coroner turned to his chart:
Certification of Death:
6 Place du Parvis
Name of Deceased: Canmore, Charles
Date of Death: September 28, 1980.
Time of Death: 10:00 PM.
Treatment administered: None. (DOA)
Person Identifying Deceased: Canmore, Jason.
Body to be released to: Canmore family.
Cause of death: High fall.
Manner of death?

The last one puzzled him. The coroner looked at the body. The position indicated that he definitely didn't jump. It looks more like he was pushed. But why would anyone push a guy off the roof of a church? And what was he doing up there in the first place. He scribbled 'undetermined' in the manner of death blank.

"I can't believe he's gone," Jon whimpered.

The first step of grief was usually denial, and the second was anger. Jason was fast approaching step two. His hands curled into fists of rage. "He won't have died in vain. We'll make sure of that."

(Right after Hunter's Moon)

"Welcome home, Goliath," Elisa whispered as she descended from Castle Wyvern's battlements. The policewoman hummed as she exited the Eyrie Building and got in her car. An old Carole King song began to play on the radio: "Welcome Home." It was off to her apartment, to feed Cagney and catch some Z's. Then she'd see her friend Jason before the night shift began.

(Six hours later)
"The question is less about Jon," Jason Canmore commented. He was still lying on the hospital bed.

Elisa nodded. "What is it then?"

"It's where do we go from here. I've concentrated so much on avenging my father, that I never thought of what would happen when all was said and done. Robyn and I had to pay heavy fines. We sold our equipment. The airship, too. Or what was left of it -- Jon smashed it pretty well."

"Did Dr. Sato tell you how long you'd be here?"

"He said I'd spend another few days here in the ICU. Then I'd be transferred to the medical floor and stay anywhere from a few weeks to three months. I'm not looking forward to it."

"Who would?" Elisa smiled a little. "Look on the bright side, big guy. The rest of your body is fine. You can still shoot a fly out from between its wings."

The corners of Jason's mouth turned up slightly. "That chase was fun. But no PD in the country would hire a cripple."

Meanwhile, Dr. Sato handed a physical therapist a file. "That's your next patient."

The therapist, Carmella DeZevalda, opened the folder. She was tall, willowy. Her skin was a shade lighter than cinnamon, and had she had thick black hair. "Jason Canmore, age 32. Severed spine between L-1 and L-2, paralysis. How did it happen?"

"Some sort of laser," the surgeon replied. "Entered through the front, sliced through the layers of the skin, nicked the diaphragm, shattered the two vertebra and cut the cord clean through. I repaired the vascular damage."

"When do I see him?"

"When he's transferred from the ICU."

She glanced at the photographs. "He looks like a fighter."

"Most of them are." It seemed like only yesterday the surgeon had dug a bullet out of Elisa Maza, who had recovered. Slowly, but miraculously. "The young ones. It's like a flame that just won't go out."
(Shortly after "The Journey")

Vincent Greggarino, best known as Vinnie, relaxed in the passenger seat of the car as it pulled into the airport. "Thanks for the lift, Chester."

"No problem," Chester Berkeley replied. "You seem like a nice enough person. Good luck in Tokyo."

"Good luck staying here. New York can be rough."

"I know," Chester cut off. "Castaway would have my head if he knew I was driving you here."

"Why the Quarrymen, Berk? I thought you were more into saving trees than the hammer stuff."

"I'm still concerned about the environment, Vin. But those gargoyles creep me out."

"At least they didn't get you fired."

"Yeah," Chester said sadly, stopping the car. Vinnie got out. "Send me a postcard."

"I will." The door slammed shut.

Chester drove away, thinking. He had recently lost his job as an archaeologist due to budget cuts. The Quarrymen second-in-command position was a temporary fix. Those creatures scared him.

There had been rumors of statues coming to life at night, and even gargoyles seen during the day near a Mayan site a few miles from Tikal. But vandals had destroyed the statues and looted the ruins.

He didn't know that four gargoyles had survived the massacre.

(Just after "For It May Come True")

"Morgan?"

"Yes, Detective?" Officer Morgan looked up from the computer. Elisa Maza was standing next to him.

"Have you scanned Castaway's prints into AFIS?"

"Yup. I was just logging the weaponry we confiscated."

"Let me see something." Elisa sat down and clicked on 'Automated Fingerprint Identification System', AFIS for short. She pulled up John Castaway's prints, and clicked a button marked 'compare all.'

"You think Castaway's prints match someone else's?" Morgan asked.

"Don't you think that last name sounds phony?"

"I've heard sillier. Like the literature scholar that was just on Nightwatch. Lennox Macduff."

Elisa almost burst out laughing. Oh, Morgan, you have no idea.

The computer was flipping through the various fingerprint records throughout the country. There was a beep. 'Match Found' flashed on the screen. Elisa clicked 'open'.

A child's fingerprints. Parents were probably members of a program that had the authorities fingerprint their children in case the worst happened.

Morgan looked incredulous. "That's a match?"

Elisa clicked "enlarge" and then 'compare.' A few seconds later, the message '100 match' beeped.

Morgan's mouth dropped open. "Well, I'll be dipped..."

Elisa glanced at the profile. "Yeah, I know."

The name bar read Jonathan Canmore.

(Right after "Generations")

Angela stood on the battlements of Castle Wyvern, looking at New York City sprawled below. "You think you know a person."

David Xanatos looked up. No one else was around, so he assumed Angela was talking to him. "Actually, I don't."

"I thought she had changed. She sounded so sincere."

"Sometimes the best intentions are fraught with disappointment," Xanatos replied emotionlessly.

"Was that Emerson?"

"Xanatos, actually."

Angela crossed her arms. "I've got better things to do than listen to you quote yourself."

"I was quoting my father. He said it when he found out the true nature of my mother."

"What was she like?" asked the young gargess.

"My mother? Her name was Madrigal."

"That's very pretty."

Xanatos gave his trademark satisfied smile. "She said once to me, 'David, you're greedy' -- and meant it as a compliment."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Not much surprised the multi-trillionaire, but he wondered why Angela was talking to him. She usually went to her boyfriend or father for advice. Or Hudson. "That's what my dad said."

"Do you still talk to her."

"On the phone, yes."

"She didn't come to see Alex?"

"No. She likes to keep at least a thousand miles between her and her ex."

The sun was about to come up. Angela opened her wings. "Thanks, Xanatos." She glided toward her daily perch.

Xanatos went inside and sat at his desk. He pulled out a sheet of his expensive custom-made stationery and began to write a message:

Dear Mother,

I have enclosed a photo of your grandson, Alexander Fox Xanatos...

End of prologue