October 30, 1997
10:43 a.m.
Elisa's Loft

Elisa couldn't sleep.

There was too much on her mind, and she couldn't get her brain to shut off.

The night before, Goliath had followed along with her and Matt on some calls. It had been a fairly run-of-the-mill shift, but her relationship with Matt was still a little icy after what had happened at the warehouse, and Goliath had picked up on the tension between them, even from the distance he maintained to avoid being seen by passersby. At one point, he had asked her about it over the comm when Matt stepped into a diner to pick up their to-go order and was safely out of earshot. Elisa struggled to tell Goliath the full truth about what had happened, and it soon became obvious from his words and tone that he knew she was leaving some critical details out of her story. It was also clear he was disappointed by her deliberate opaqueness.

Letting him down ate at her, but before Elisa could pluck up the courage to try again and set things right, he was called away by his clan. She didn't get the full picture—just that something had happened at the castle and he had to return home right away. Hours passed, but he didn't return to her at any point in the night, either on the job or back at her apartment, which made her fear he was still disappointed and now avoiding her because of it.

She was fucking up every relationship in her life, it seemed.

Elisa wrestled with that and her sea of other problems for a few hours, tossing and turning under the covers, before she decided it wasn't worth it. The longer she stayed in bed, the angrier she felt about the fact that she couldn't sleep, which only made her insomnia worse. Frustrated, she ripped off her sleep mask and pulled back the blackout curtains in her bedroom revealing bright, late morning light.

She figured a run could help work off some of her anxious energy, so she put on her running clothes and laced up her shoes. Cagney chirped at her curiously, rubbing against her legs all the while. She fed him and then grabbed her keys and drove to the park.

Fall in Manhattan, when it wasn't raining, was a wonderful time to run. The crisp, cool air kept her from overheating but didn't freeze her or require her to wear layers of cumbersome clothing. The sunlight was weaker, bright but not glaring. The changing colors of the trees, and the crunch of the fallen leaves under the impact of her feet gave her a visceral satisfaction that she couldn't explain.

Elisa felt free when she ran.

As long as she wasn't running from someone.

Or something.

Or herself.

The latter was the worst because no matter how hard or how fast she ran, she couldn't outrun her problems. She couldn't outrun her failures. She couldn't outrun herself.

But she tried.

Elisa arrived at Central Park just before noon and felt a rush of adrenaline the second her feet hit the pavement. She ran, and she ran, outpacing many of her fellow joggers at the park, including the guy in a cliché "I love NY" sweatshirt who often frequented the same trails as her. She recalled seeing him in a brief TV interview on WVRN last year. It felt like shoddy journalism at best—mostly a montage of "concerned citizens" reacting to the revelation that gargoyles do indeed exist. She remembered his clip in particular. That asshole had actually suggested the city capture and dissect a gargoyle. Replaying his words in her mind infuriated her, and for a moment, she felt a strong impulse to trip him.

You're better than that, she reminded herself, and resignedly passed him by.

She pushed herself harder and harder until her lungs burned, her heart pounded, and her calves screamed. Her body was begging for her to stop, to rest, but she dug deeper, pushed harder, hoping to outrun the tumult of thoughts in her head, the panicky feeling in her gut, and the tightness in her chest. She ran, and she ran, and she ran, until she knew if she didn't stop she'd collapse.

Exhausted, Elisa finally came to an abrupt halt. Sweat was pouring off her body, she struggled to catch her breath, and she nearly stumbled as her muscles started to seize. She bent over, hands on her knees, as she gulped down air and choked down sobs. She wanted to keep going, to keep pushing, but she'd hit the wall, and it all suddenly caught up to her again, like a raging tsunami, enveloping her until she couldn't breathe. It was just too much to hold in, but instead of crying this time—she was so sick of crying—she let out a primal scream that burst from her lungs, ripped through her throat, and pierced her own ears.

Everyone around her momentarily paused and stared. Rather than offering to help, however, those jogging nearest to her immediately picked up their pace, creating a wider berth as quickly as possible. And those who weren't jogging simply buried their noses further into whatever newspapers or magazines they were reading, or conversations they were having, ignoring her like she was invisible. It was as disheartening as it was unsurprising. But they merely did what any disinterested, self-absorbed bystander does when they see something odd. Pretend hard enough, and it's like it never happened.

Limping slightly from a cramp in her hamstring, Elisa staggered back to her car. She got into the driver's seat, put the key into the ignition, and put her hands on the steering wheel. She stared at the back of her hands for a long time. She was wearing her engagement ring, she must have forgotten to take it off before she went to bed. It was pinching her finger uncomfortably, and she wondered if the jeweler had sized it down a little too far. She tugged at it, but it wouldn't budge. Her fingers were swollen from her run, but she figured a shower and some soap should help loosen it. Ready to go, she turned the ignition over and started to drive home, but before long, she found herself going in a completely different direction from her loft in SoHo.

She parked her car in an alley and got out, her body moving in autopilot toward the service grate that led down to the Labyrinth. By the time she navigated her way through the tunnels and arrived at the entrance to the underground shelter, she had decided she was glad she hadn't gone home and showered beforehand as the scent of offal and other sewery smells seemed particularly pungent that day.

She was allowed in without even announcing herself, passing Claw with a quick wave. She walked through the Labyrinth, almost aimlessly, until she stumbled into the kitchen where her brother and his wife were helping to distribute lunch to the residents.

"Elisa!" Maggie said eagerly with her four-month-old son, Theo, strapped to her chest in a carrier.

"Hey, sis!" Talon greeted her. Nita's infant son, Mateo, was also strapped to his chest in another baby carrier.

Elisa eyed the frazzled looking parents and the odd situation they were in—two adult mutates with their own little one to care for, plus an extra baby to look after, and an entire underground community to shelter and feed. She stepped around the large counter and stood next to them. "Need a hand?" she asked, immediately pitching in by handing out brown paper bags with sandwiches and fresh fruit inside.

"Always," Maggie said, relieved. Her striking, feline face brightened with a broad, toothy smile.

Elisa soon buried herself in the work, and for a time, she forgot herself and her own problems as she helped pass out lunch to people, many of whom the above world would consider "less-thans", "others", and "cast-offs". But as she worked, her thoughts shifted to the struggles that forced many of them into the Labyrinth in the first place.

A number of them had been plagued with addictions that had resulted in abandonment, desperation, and homelessness. Although the Labyrinth had strict rules about substance abuse, it wasn't a perfect system, and relapses were all too common. Elisa had been called down a number of times due to drug-related incidents, and no matter what steps Talon, Maggie, or the others took, the frequency seemed to be getting worse.

Elisa couldn't help but look at the faces of those who stepped forward to accept the food. Many of them still showed the telltale signs—sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, open sores. Her pity quickly turned to rage as she thought about the evils that had led to this. Gangs, cartels, the mafia… and all those who stood to gain from the spread of their greed and corruption.

Her fists clenched.

If Brod's drug scheme got a deeper foothold in this city, the market would be even more flooded, and the problems in the Labyrinth that Talon and Maggie tried so desperately to combat could get significantly worse.

Elisa knew she needed to do something about it before the situation exploded, but what exactly, she didn't know. She was stuck. No matter what she tried lately, or how hard she worked, the end result was always the same—one step forward, two steps back. She felt helpless, powerless, lost… and god, she hated that feeling.

She started to feel her pulse race, and quickly closed her eyes. Deep breath, she told herself. Focus on what you can control.

"Thank you, dear."

A dry, cracking voice pulled Elisa out of her thoughts, and she opened her eyes to see a small, elderly woman with the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen standing before her, accepting one of the brown paper bags that Elisa had been holding out to the crowd. Her underlying tone was warm and grateful, but she seemed quite frail. Speaking aloud was clearly difficult for her.

"Of course," Elisa said kindly, placing a gentle hand on the elderly woman's own paper-thin hand. The woman managed a crooked smile—she was missing several teeth—that lit up those glacial blue eyes, then she stepped aside for the next person in line, soon disappearing into the crowd.

The moment was brief, and not that dissimilar to other words of gratitude that Talon, Maggie, and Elisa had received as they'd handed out food, but the exchange had touched her deeply. She felt soothed by the small act of kindness she was able to provide, but also saddened by the insignificant scale of it.

Nevertheless… being there, helping those in need… it was still something.

With the extra set of hands, Talon, Maggie, and Elisa were soon able to finish doling out lunch, and then they took a few minutes to talk and share a meal together.

"Thanks for your help, Elisa," Talon said. "Nita normally helps with lunch, but she needed to go to a job interview this afternoon, so we were short one… not to mention the added challenge of having two babies to look after." He chuckled in a half-amused, half-exhausted sort of way.

Elisa juggled Theo on her lap while Talon looked after Mateo, giving Maggie a moment to eat in peace.

"I can't believe he's going to be a year old soon," Elisa mentioned as she looked over at Nita's nearly ten-month-old child who was greedily shoving small pieces of bread, cheese, and chopped-up apple into his mouth. It seemed like only yesterday she'd helped Dr. Sato deliver Mateo in the Labyrinth, and yet, in other ways, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"They grow and change so fast," Maggie said, her voice melancholy. "Mateo is crawling all over the place and even starting to take a few steps. He's giving all of us no end of grief."

"At least Mateo doesn't zap us every time he needs a diaper change," Talon said ruefully. "Toddler Theo is going to be a nightmare."

They all laughed at that.

"How is Nita dealing with the prospect that she'll have a toddler soon?" Elisa asked.

"She's rollin' with it, but she wants Mateo to go to school with other kids eventually and have as normal of a childhood as he possibly can. Which is why she's currently looking for a job and trying to get back on her feet," Talon said.

There was a moment of silence as they all reflected on the fact that such an option only existed for Mateo. Theo and the other mutated children in the Labyrinth would never have normal childhoods. It was a cruel, unspoken truth that everyone knew in their hearts, but couldn't quite bear to acknowledge aloud.

But, then again, normalcy was overrated.

"It's kind of early for you, isn't it? Normally you're still asleep this time of day," Talon mentioned, breaking the silence.

Elisa shrugged as Theo chewed and slobbered on his fuzzy gray fist.

"I just couldn't sleep today," she said as she smoothed her nephew's furry head, laying the black spots and rosettes in his fur down. Markings that matched his father's if you looked closely enough. Elisa mused that the combination of Maggie and Talon's mutated DNA resulted in a child that looked somewhat like a snow leopard cub, except he lacked the distinct fluffy tail.

"You look like you haven't slept in a while," Talon said gently. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Like I said, it was just a rough night," Elisa said defensively.

Talon and Maggie shared a look.

"Are you and Goliath—" Talon said.

"We're fine," Elisa snapped.

"Okaaay," Talon said, recoiling a little at her tone.

Maggie observed Elisa, and noted the shadows under her eyes, as well as the way her leg bounced agitatedly. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Elisa's knee, causing her to cease immediately. Elisa hadn't realized she'd been doing it, and she chided herself inwardly for letting Maggie see that particular tic. It was bad enough when Matt had pointed it out during their ill-fated stakeout.

"Elisa… a wise woman once told me that it was okay to accept help when needed," Maggie said with a gentle smile, referencing the time Elisa had helped her during those painful first days of postpartum depression and anxiety following the trauma of Theo's birth.

Elisa met Maggie's gaze, saw the compassion in her golden eyes, and immediately looked away, unable to bear her own hypocrisy.

"If there's anything you need, some way we can help, you know we're here for you," Maggie added tenderly when she didn't receive a response.

Elisa could hear the kindness in Maggie's voice, and knew both her brother and her sister-in-law meant well. For a moment, Elisa even considered telling them, letting it all out. All of her fears and concerns, her anxieties. The weight of her worries and failures...

Bursts of images and snatches of sound started to swirl in Elisa's mind. Jack Dane's contemptuous laughter as Matt dragged her away from the warehouse. The look on Captain Chavez's face in the awful aftermath of her blunder. The seemingly endless list of people she'd disappointed lately, including the nameless and faceless ones she would never meet but still felt duty-bound to protect and serve. The frail, elderly woman who'd thanked her with those sad, hungry eyes along with all the other inhabitants of the Labyrinth. Her clan. Her city. Her protectorate that she couldn't truly protect.

And then there was Goliath… he was so disappointed in her lack of honesty and communication with him that he hadn't even come home last night.

But she couldn't find the words, and she just couldn't break down that wall. She didn't want Talon and Maggie to pity her, or worse, think less of her for not being strong enough to shake off or conquer her struggles.

"I'm fine, really," Elisa lied, putting on a fake smile.

She didn't stay long after that.

Using work as an excuse to leave, she gave Theo back to Maggie, and made her way back through the Labyrinth to the surface world. In truth, she still had several hours to kill before her next shift started. After walking away from the only thing that had anchored her that day, she suddenly found herself adrift and aimless again. Elisa shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket and stared down at her feet mindlessly carrying her back to her car, one step after the other.

Now what?

She could go home and take a much needed shower, or… she could head back to the West Side and discreetly observe some of Brod's warehouses for any new activity. The temptation nagged at her, but she had been told to steer clear for now due to the harassment and trespassing complaints against her. She was on thin ice as it was.

She cursed under her breath. Why did everything have to be so hard?

Elisa finally arrived at her car parked in the alleyway. She slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. She leaned back into the seat, her hands on the steering wheel as she let out a long, heavy sigh.

The Labyrinth had only been a temporary reprieve. A distraction. Now that she was alone once more, she couldn't help but sit and stew again over her faults, her failures, her shortcomings.

Her weaknesses.

The face of the old woman who had thanked her suddenly floated into her mind. The things she must have been through and seen, evidence of a long, hard life, were etched on her face. And those crystal-blue eyes… eyes like…

Like Jason.

Elisa's breath caught as she thought of Jason Canmore. It had already been a full year since the events of the Hunters Moon, which had culminated in Jason being shot by his own brother while throwing himself in front of Goliath.

Sometimes she thought about how things went wrong with him. How she could have reached him sooner. Before the fight at the dam. Before things escalated to the point where he was now a paraplegic locked away in prison.

She had tried, she reminded herself. The afternoon after the attack on the clock tower, she'd gotten into an angry confrontation with Jason when he had come back to the Clocktower to see for himself if the gargoyles had survived. She had been rummaging through the rubble, looking for anything salvageable with little success until she finally discovered the picture of her and Goliath together on Halloween. It was singed, but mostly intact. She'd clutched it so tightly her knuckles ached. When Jason happened upon her, she'd confronted him about what he'd done, the damage he'd wrought, the betrayal to her, and tried to steer him from his vendetta, but her words fell upon deaf ears.

If only I'd tried harder, maybe things would have been different. Maybe I could have gotten through to him, made him see sooner, before… Elisa winced. She could still see Jason's crumpled body on the floor of Saint Damien's Cathedral. Broken. The scent of scorched clothes and flesh had burned in her nose as a wisp of smoke had risen up from the gaping wound.

The guilt of that failure haunted her.

In fact, it had only grown. Though she kept meaning to visit him, it had been a few months since she'd last taken the time to see Jason at Rikers and make sure he was okay. Such neglect weighed heavily on Elisa, especially since she found it unlikely anyone else would bother to visit him, even his own siblings.

Her hand subconsciously wandered to the keys hanging from the ignition. Her fingertips grazed the cool metal, making the keys jingle slightly from the delicate jostling. I should go see him, she thought. She stared out her windshield and down the alley to where the daylight was pouring in between the shadows of the brick buildings. I can't abandon him to rot in prison, not when he needs me.

But now a different, competing wave of fresh guilt also washed over her.

Goliath.

Elisa was fairly certain Jason still had feelings for her, and she didn't want him to think he stood any chance with her romantically. But she couldn't desert him either. She knew all too well that too much time alone with your thoughts was a dangerous thing. Multiply that by a factor of ten for a man trapped in prison. Confined to a cell, cut off from his family, his country—he'd have ample time and reason to crawl into his own mind and pick away at the mental scabs until they bled, scarred, and festered. He'd made some terrible mistakes, without question, but he had also been the victim of childhood trauma and lifelong conditioning as a result of a vendetta that went back generations. As much as he was a perpetrator, he was a victim, and one who was trying to right his wrongs and pay for his crimes. She couldn't bear the thought of him going through such anguish alone.

That was it then.

With one swift motion, she turned the keys in the ignition and her car's engine roared to life. She coaxed the cherry red classic down the alley and turned left toward Rikers. He needs me. She thought to herself. And I need to do something. Something real. Something that makes a difference.

It wasn't long before she found herself waiting apprehensively at a round table in the prison's visitors center. The room was a drab gray to begin with, but it was lit with cold fluorescent lighting that made everything look a touch sickly-green and clinical. As Elisa sat there, waiting impatiently, her leg started to bounce up and down again. The guard gave her agitated behavior a few measured glances. It helped that she was a cop, but prison guards have seen it all, so the badge only helped so much. The last thing she wanted was extra attention, or worse—suspicion—so she forced her leg to be still.

A few moments later, a devastatingly handsome, dark-haired man with piercingly bright blue eyes wheeled himself into the visitation room. Even in a wheelchair, Jason Canmore possessed a commanding presence.

"Elisa," he said, her name rolling pleasantly off his tongue in his Scottish brogue. He smiled brilliantly at her, his eyes flashing brighter. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Considering his condition, he did not have high security in prison as he served time for the various crimes he'd been charged with, which was a fairly lengthy list, all things considered. Some of the more serious charges included destruction of government property, operating an aircraft in restricted airspace, and impersonating an officer. However, his case never went to trial; he took a plea deal, which took his disability into consideration. On top of that, Elisa had gone to his sentencing hearing and was instrumental in helping him get a lighter sentence. He still had to serve time, but he would be up for parole before he was fifty. It could have been a lot worse, but since no one had died at the hands of the Hunters last year, there had been a bit more room to bargain.

"You're looking well, Jason," Elisa said as he parked his wheelchair at the table.

"Thanks. It's been a long road…" his smile faltered a little as he said this, but then it broadened again, making his eyes light up. "You're looking well, too."

Elisa highly doubted that considering her run in Central Park earlier, followed by her trip to the Labyrinth, all without showering. She was even still wearing her running clothes under her jacket, and her hair was dirty and pulled back in a tight ponytail, but she smiled politely and accepted the compliment without protest. Besides, what was the harm? She could only imagine how lonely he must be since, as far as she knew, he didn't get any other visitors aside from her. Once again, she felt ashamed for leaving him twisting in the wind.

"What brings you by today?" Jason asked. "As much as I would like to think that it's just to see me, I highly doubt it."

"Actually, I really did want to see how you're doing," Elisa replied, "and to tell you that there's still no word about your brother, Jon. I've been looking, but all of my leads have led to dead ends. I've got nothing. I'm sorry."

Jason looked away, his face riddled with guilt. At least she wasn't the only one. But in searching his features, she suddenly realized there was more to his expression than simple remorse.

"What is it?" she pressed. "Have you heard something?"

"Not exactly," he said quietly. "But I saw his advertisement for the Quarrymen on the telly during one of my physical training sessions…"

"What do you mean his advertisements?" Elisa said, feeling a sense of dread and panic rise.

Jason continued without acknowledging the question, his voice sorrowful and ashamed, especially since he left out the part where his sister, Robyn—also a wanted fugitive—had been with him at the time. "I wasn't certain before because he'd changed his appearance, but then I saw him again on the news when he was being interviewed about that attack on the mayor and that hospital CEO. It's him, Elisa. Castaway is my brother."

Elisa felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

"What?" she said, shocked.

"He looks different, but I recognized his voice, some of his mannerisms. It's Jonny."

"Oh, god." Elisa mentally reviewed every interaction she'd had with the Quarrymen leader, and several things immediately fell into place.

"I dinnae ken where he got the money to change his appearance and fund his new organization, but it's him, Elisa. I'm sure of it," Jason explained.

"I knew he seemed familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it," Elisa replied. "God, it all makes sense now. Why he hates gargoyles so much. How he seemed to have appeared out of the blue. His persecution of me specifically."

"Jon has been harassing you?" Jason said, alarmed.

"If by 'harass' you mean 'trying to kill me,' then yeah, he's been harassing me. He's pretty hell-bent on making my life miserable," Elisa lamented. "Knowing he's your brother would have been helpful knowledge."

She pressed her hand to her forehead in frustration.

"I'm sorry. I would have told you sooner, but you haven't been by, and—" Jason stopped talking as he caught the glint of the bright blue stone on her ring finger. His eyes widened with surprise.

"Is that an engagement ring?" he said quietly. "Are you getting married?"

Elisa flinched and reflexively covered the ring with her other hand. She'd forgotten about the damn thing.

"Yes, though, we're in no hurry," she lied. He didn't need to know her commitment ceremony to Goliath was in less than two months. "We may wind up being one of those couples that's engaged forever."

She wasn't sure why she lied about that. What did it matter if she got married this year or the next? She and Goliath were already a done deal. Who was she trying to protect? Jason… or herself?

Jason looked heart stricken, even more than when he first got his prognosis, which made her instantly regret coming to see him. She was supposed to be helping, but based on his expression, it was clear all she was doing was hurting.

"I can see why you haven't visited much lately," he said sadly.

Elisa fiddled with the ring and looked away, unsure how to respond to that.

"Are you happy?" he asked sincerely.

"I am," Elisa replied honestly, looking back at him.

"Good. You deserve to be."

Guilt tore at her conscience. She desperately wished she'd never kissed him... not only because she was already mated to Goliath, unbeknownst to either of them at the time, but because she knew in her heart that she was in love with Goliath. Rather than facing those feelings, however, she'd stubbornly entrenched herself in a state of denial and reciprocated Jason's kiss, in her own apartment, no less, fueling his hope in a way that was unfair to both of them. And to make matters worse, Goliath had seen the whole thing.

Despite her foolhardy attempts to deny her feelings for Goliath by kissing another man, there was a part of her that had desperately wanted the normalcy and stability that she presumed Jason was offering her. But she clearly had a type, and it was just her luck that she would find herself attracted to a man who only brought another kind of chaos to her life.

God, what was I thinking?

She shifted uncomfortably. Even if there hadn't been someone else, she knew kissing her partner, even a temporary partner, was an idiotic move. One that could undermine so much of what she'd built at the NYPD. For a man, it was no big deal. But for a woman—and a black-indigenous woman—a fuck-up like that could jeopardize her reputation, her standing, even her entire career.

But I was lonely, she proffered.

More like a lonely, indecisive, coward, she countered herself. And reckless.

That was what she regretted the most at that moment. Her recklessness with another person's feelings. She looked at Jason, and saw the weight of the consequences etched on his face.

"I still plan to keep visiting you when I can," she said, trying to soften the blow.

"You don't have to. I'll be okay, Elisa."

"I meant what I said before—I'd still like to help you, if you'll let me. I'm your friend. I care about you." She put her hand gently over his, trying to comfort him as she had in the past, but this time he pulled away.

"But you don't love me," Jason said, sadly, resignedly. "And associating with me will only hurt your career… your relationship. That's no way to start a marriage. You should go."

"Jason, you're trying to turn your life around, and you have no support to do so. You need help—I can give you that. I won't abandon you like everyone else in your life!" Elisa said passionately.

"It's not abandonment if I set you free," Jason said as he released the brakes on his wheelchair and rolled back away from the table. "You shouldn't visit me anymore. I don't think your fiancé would appreciate it if you kept visiting' a man who's in love with you… even if he is a cripple."

His poignant words, spoken with so much self-depreciation and longing, hit her in the gut like a sledgehammer.

"Jason, wait!" Elisa pleaded as she stood up in protest. But the instant she did so, she became self-conscious about the disparity in their height given that he was still confined to his chair. Towering over him, and being able to stand so effortlessly and unassisted when he could not, felt like she'd lobbed a cruel insult at him.

"Thank you, Elisa… for being a friend, and for believing in me when no one else would. I'll never forget it… or you," He turned, and started to wheel away from her toward the door. Just before he crossed the threshold, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. His face remained angled away from her, keeping her in his peripheral vision and making it difficult for her to read his expression.

"Move on with your life. Don't come back here."

Without another word, or even a second glance, Jason rolled out of the room.

Elisa stared at the door through which he'd exited for a long time. Though she'd barely moved a muscle, she felt like she'd fallen from a great height and had the wind knocked out of her.

Why couldn't she do anything right?