Six months had passed since the terrorist attacks, and curiously enough, Goliath had never sought to discipline her or even spoken to her about leaving the castle. She wondered if the detective had ever mentioned it to him, though she couldn't think of why she wouldn't have. She'd said herself that she felt no debt toward her for pulling her from the rubble. While her initial reason for delaying telling him was to spare him some grief during a traumatic time, it had been months and it puzzled her to no end that he seemed not to know. Then again, there was always the possibility that he did know, and was choosing not to engage her over it for some reason. It was maddening to her and she half wondered if agonizing over what he knew or didn't know was actually meant to be her punishment.

There was one thing for sure though. Xanatos knew and he didn't like it. He was constantly after her, questioning her, and trying to trick her into betraying the secret of how she'd managed to leave the tower. The only thing was, she couldn't really explain it herself. The child of Oberon had opened the gate of the holding cell. That was obvious. But what was really irking Xanatos was that her implants should have been alerting him like mad once she left the building and they hadn't been. In fact, the GPS tracker never even showed that she'd left the building. She couldn't explain this herself, other than to guess that in the stress and strain of the moment, Xanatos had mistakenly turned off that function as well. Xanatos refused to accept that explanation though, and assured her that as soon as Dr. Chatoorgoon was able to get into the city, he would get to the bottom of it.

Even though she had not been secluded to her rooms as anticipated, it had turned out to be a pretty solitary time for her anyway. The clan was very busy for the months after the attacks. They'd helped with the tragically futile rescue attempts, and the equally depressing clearing of the street so the humans could return to their homes and businesses. But even after that phase, they were gone most of their waking hours, trying to make up for the terrible loss of officers among the police force. Angela always remembered to come and find her and tell her that they'd come home safely, but beyond that, and her Tuesday night sessions with Brooklyn, she hardly saw any of them.

A few weeks into October, while walking around the castle, she discovered that she was still able to visit Hudson in his sitting room. This space had always been out of bounds to her because of the television, but now, she could walk in without collapsing into unconsciousness. This was another puzzle as it was unthinkable to her that Xanatos would have made such an oversight, but she also doubted that Goliath meant to relent about exposing her to media access. It was another situation where questioning the change would only mean losing the privilege, so she kept quiet about it and became a frequent companion to Hudson. It annoyed her that the others seemed to neglect him so, particularly since he seemed to be less and less well each night. Owen was right. There were times when he seemed not to remember where he was and what was going on, though he never seemed to forget who she was. In fact, her presence seemed to comfort him when he got frustrated, so nearly every night she went down to the sitting room with a book and sat with him and read to him. She turned the sound off on the television, but left the picture on so they could see if anything important had happened. As she was still unsure as to whether or not she was meant to have this access, she set Bronx as their lookout, and he alerted them to when the others had returned so she could sneak back downstairs.

While she spent most evenings reading history and literature to Hudson, she spent much of her waking hours in the daytime catching up on a new subject of interest; neurology. This surprised Xanatos and made him a bit suspicious when she began to complain of a lack of recent information in the castle library.

"If you are attempting to get around your implants, don't bother," he warned her, "That research hasn't been approved, much less published. You are all the research that exists right now."

"I am well aware of my guinea pig status," she replied sarcastically, "I'm not interested in overriding the implants as much as I'm interested in the subject in general. You did say I could request reading material, as long as it wasn't on world events and the like. Why can't I read about neuroscience?"

Against his better judgment, he relented, and provided her with several of the most recent textbooks on neuroscience and surgery. She poured through them, cover to cover, but was unsatisfied.

Xanatos was even more perplexed when he came in one morning to smugly inform her that Dr. Chatoorgoon had finally come to examine her and perhaps provide some insight on how her implants had failed.

"Has she?" she replied with uncharacteristic excitement, "How fortunate! When can I see her?"

"Doctor, do you perform other kinds of neurological surgeries?" she asked as Dr. Chatoorgoon ran a small, beeping device along her neck and shoulders.

"Currently, my work is mostly in research. I don't see a lot of clinical patients anymore."

"But you've performed them before?" she asked as she shot a glare at Xanatos, who stood in the corner trying to figure out what she was up to, "Have you performed any spinal surgeries?"

"Certainly," she replied, although she was clearly distracted by the notes she was taking, "When I first began my career, I performed surgical corrections of tethered spinal cords and various forms of spina bifida-

"But what about a severed spine?" she interrupted, "Can you treat that?" The doctor glanced at Xanatos questioningly, and he shrugged in response.

"With a severed spinal cord, the treatment usually focuses on preventing further nerve damage and developing ways to help the patient live with paralysis."

"You can't heal paralysis, can you? A severed spinal cord is permanent?" she asked.

"There is a great deal of ongoing research in regenerating damaged nerve tissue, but fully repairing a severed spine is currently impossible." She nodded in response, seeming unsurprised, but still interested in this information.

"Speaking of 'impossible'," Xanatos interjected, "Can you give us any insight as to how she managed to escape?"

The doctor raised her eyebrows.

"Mr. Xanatos, I suspect you accidently disengaged the GPS that day," she told him with the tone of someone expecting an argument.

"I did no such thing," he insisted. She shrugged, looking at her laptop while flipping through some notes on a clipboard.

"The implants were functional the entire time. I have a full day's worth of scans. The records show the boundaries were turned off mid-morning and the entire GPS function was turned off shortly after. In the past six months, I have no record of any disruption of function. I'm afraid I can offer no other explanation than simple operational error."

"Perfect," Xanatos grumbled, casting Demona another glare. Dr. Chattoorgoon, meanwhile, was examining her paperwork with a furrowed brow.

"It was a very trying day, wasn't it?" the doctor commented absentmindedly without even looking up. Demona looked at Xanatos curiously, then back at the doctor.

"What do you mean?" she asked, "It was a horrific day and an even worse night."

"Have you put any consideration into attempting another treatment session?" she asked.

"I do not consent to any further treatments," she replied sternly.

"Your scans are immensely different than before. Even under considerable stress…you're doing very well."

"If I am doing so well, why should I need more treatments?"

"I don't want to see you backtracking," she explained, "Allowing your brain to go back into old patterns could lead to unfortunate consequences."

"You'll have to talk with him," she said, pointing at Xanatos, "He is my captor and keeper. But I will never give my consent to undergo that ordeal again."

"Why won't you just look after your own best interest, you stubborn thing?" Xanatos complained, once the doctor had left. She chuckled haughtily at his frustration.

"That's a laugh! As if you have the least interest in my well-being?"

"You would do well to trust your friend Xanatos, once and a while."

She gasped in outrage. "Arrogant man, how dare you make such a claim? You are no friend to me!" She slid down from the examination table and shoved her way past him toward the door, but he grabbed her arm, turning her to face him, and pulled her chin up to meet his eyes. She struggled a moment against his manhandling, but there was no point in embarrassing herself. Her human form was no match against his strength and he was going to be heard, even if she wouldn't listen.

"I'll tell you now, what I've told you before; I'm your friend whether you like it or not." Casting him a contemptuous glare, she pulled away and hurried away from him.

Then it was two nights until Christmas, and the bitter weather had driven the clan to spend more time indoors. Xanatos had seen the castle decorated beautifully, but he wasn't home to enjoy it. He'd joined his family in Maine to celebrate the holiday and informed Goliath that they did not intend to return until after Epiphany. Furthermore, Owen was going with him, so they would have the castle entirely to themselves. Christmas was not an occasion traditionally observed by gargoyles, but Elisa and Angela were inspired to have a celebration for the clan, and were preparing a feast for Christmas Eve. Goliath, alone in the library for the first time in weeks, was thinking of another Christmas Eve, centuries before.

Prince Malcolm and his young wife had wanted to visit a nearby monastery to partake in a vigil Mass, celebrating the holy day. It wasn't that far from the castle and the road was easy and well-travelled, but it meant traveling by night, so an escort was requested. Hudson, his mentor, had astutely suggested that Goliath be the one to accompany the prince and gave him permission to choose another companion to go with him while the princess and princess made their religious obligations. He'd been overjoyed at the assignment, for he and his mate had not had time alone together in weeks, and although there was still a pretty blanket of fresh snow on the ground, the sky was uncommonly clear and the wind easy and gentle that night.

He recalled marveling at her beauty as they glided high above the royal couple and their servants, the only sound, the sloshing of the sleigh's runners through the soft snow and the occasional whiny of one of their team. The warmth he felt from her smile seemed to defend him against the cold winter air and he couldn't wait to arrive at their destination, that they might, at last, enjoy some private time together. Having arrived at the monastery, the brothers first greeted the human travelers with great hospitality, but recoiled at the sight of their gargoyle escorts. His mate had fumed with anger at their fear and scorn, but he easily calmed her by reminding her that there was much more pleasure in each others' company than in a dining hall filled with monks. They walked together in the glistening, white quiet, enjoying the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight through the windows of the chapel and the music of the monastic choir chanting through their vespers. Most of the grounds were deserted as the inhabitants were either tending to visitors in the dining hall or preparing for the vigil in the chapel. This fact seemed to embolden his mate to indulge her curiosity and she said excitedly,

"My love, I'd wager there is no one about. Let us have a look in their library!"

She was right that there was no one about, though the dim embers of a recent fire remained in the hearth. Joyfully, they searched the shelves of the library. Many of the tomes were in Latin, of which only she knew a very little, or Greek, of which they both knew nothing at all, but they found a few new books in English which they could enjoy together.

"Look at this, my love!" he called, summoning her to a large, illuminated manuscript, laying open on a large stand amid several desks.

"It's lovely," she said softly, gently turning the bright, colorful pages.

"This must be a rather important book," he commented as he gazed at the desks. Each of them was covered with pages and pages of passages carefully copied from the manuscript on the stand.

"I wonder what it is?" She carefully turned to the front of the book, trying to find a title or some other hint, while he examined the work on the desks.

"Psalterium," she read.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"It's a sort of religious poetry," she explained.

"It must be beautiful poetry if the illustrations are any indication," he commented as he picked through the copies on one of the desks, "But look here! I think I've found a translation!" Suddenly, they heard the loud, jovial sound of several brothers entering the library from a back room. Not caring to start a confrontation or cause problems for the prince, they quickly and silently headed for the main door, which was large, cumbersome, and noisy.

"Who's there?" one of the men shouted at the sound of the door clanging shut, but they didn't answer as they had hurried out into the snow and quickly disappeared, laughing excitedly, into a barn. They embraced one another longingly. They might have engaged in more, but they were startled by a sudden crash. They followed the sound to the corner and found a young novice, mouth agape as he stared in terror. The pitchfork and pail he'd been carrying lay on the floor where he'd dropped them.

"Away with you!" his mate had scolded, "Go to Mass!" The lad nodded quickly and ran for the door and they laughed again as they ascended a ladder into a cozy hayloft. They curled up together in the warm hay and he pulled out the piece of parchment he'd found that contained the translation.

"Well, we have this to read anyway," he laughed, and he began to read the poem to her. It was a lovely text, praising the Creator for the many ways he protects his children.

"For he shall give his angels charge over thee," he read, "To keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone."

He paused here thoughtfully.

"What is it, my love?" she asked.

"That is what you are," he whispered confidently, pressing his lips against her shoulder, "You are my angel. Watching over me. Keeping me from harm and recklessness. I know you are always at my side. I feel you are, indeed, a gift to me, for which I shall always be grateful, my angel of the night." He dropped the parchment, the rest of the verses forgotten as she pulled him onto her and into her tight embrace.

"Oh, my dearest love," she'd whispered, "If there really is a Creator who charged me with the task of loving you, I don't know how He could have found me worthy of such an honor. But as long as I live, I will be yours. To love you is my greatest joy and your love, my greatest treasure."

Goliath was pondering this comforting memory when she entered the castle library herself, carrying several books. She stopped as she entered, seeming to sense his presence, even though he was mostly hidden behind a shelf.

"Are you there, Goliath?" she asked hesitantly.

"Here!" he called to her and she came peering at him around the shelf.

"I haven't seen you in here lately," she observed.

"I know. I haven't had the time," was his reply, "What do you have there?"

"Books on neurosurgery," she explained and he nodded knowingly.

"Ah, yes. Your new hobby that's gotten Xanatos so suspicious."

Her brow raised at the mention of the man's impudent meddling.

"So much concern over what I read!" she chided as she handed him the stack of textbooks, "Here. Try one yourself. They're not nearly as flowery as you normally like, but I find them interesting. Is that all, Goliath?" She quickly turned to leave and return to her room, but he placed his claw on her shoulder, saying, "That is not all. I would like it very much if you would join the clan for Christmas dinner tomorrow." She turned and looked at him curiously.

"Very well," she replied at last and moved to excuse herself again, but he said, "I'm glad. I'd like for the whole clan to be there. We're overdue for some time together." She looked down for a moment.

"It's Hudson that needs your time," she said softly.

"Hudson?"

"Yes," she replied tentatively, "He isn't doing well. And no one seems to notice."

"Thank you for bringing it to my attention," he said, genuine concern showing in his expression "And there's something more…I've been thinking a great deal about the night of the attacks." She froze at these words, anticipating with dread what was to come.

"You stopped me from making a very dangerous mistake, and I never thanked you for that," he explained.

Relieved, she replied, "You needn't thank me for that."

"I wish to thank you. I want to acknowledge that what you did was good and right. You were looking out for me. For all of us. Thank you. " She looked uneasy with his praise, but she said.

"Very well, then. You are welcome."

"Tell me why you left the castle that day?" he urged. She looked up suddenly and met his eyes with surprise. He did not seem angry or even particularly devastated as Elisa Maza had predicted and he spoke in a calm, gentle tone that was neither a command nor a plea. She sighed in exasperation.

"I see Xanatos has been running his mouth," she observed bitterly.

"He discussed it with me, and Elisa told me what happened in the subway station. I must say you are getting harder and harder to comprehend of late."

"I don't know what to say to that," she replied coldly.

"Xanatos advised me not to say anything to you because he guessed that if you thought you'd gotten away with it, you might try again and he could figure out how you got past the boundaries without setting the GPS off. He, of course, is preoccupied with how you escaped, but I'm much more concerned with why. Will you not tell me what you were trying to do?"

"I will not." Goliath looked very disappointed at her response, but he did not press her further.

"I will see you tomorrow, after we finish our patrol."