.

Brood of a New Age

101.

Despite blue lights, Matt and his team arrived at New York Presbyterian Hospital about ten minutes after sunrise. Outside the main entrance and the emergency admissions entrance, there were already OB vans and reporters eager to ask Matt all of their questions. The few security guards and police officers who had already arrived could barely keep out the vultures of the media world and the curious. And already among the onlookers were demonstrators. Quarrymen as well as PIT members or sympathizers. How had everyone gotten wind so quickly of the newest patient here? Had the whole clan flown at arm's length to the ambulance? Matt called for more officers to provide perimeter security. No telling what would happen if Quarrymen stormed the emergency room today. The situation was unique and too tempting. An entire gargoyle clan defenseless and petrified on a plate. A single person with a heavy tool could wipe out the entire Manhattan clan. Matt refused to comment, leaving all but two of his colleagues to support the team in the ambulance's reception area. It would look like an anti-terrorist squad storming the place with their heavy uniforms otherwise. A single finger point from the pale nurse in the emergency main room led Matt, Chung and Morgan past equally anxious, pale or wisping nurses, patients and doctors. The mood was very depressed. An all-dampening shroud seemed to be over everything. That was not good.

He looked into every room whose door was open, numerous small partitioned-off exam rooms for less serious emergencies. In one of them he saw a woman whose foot was being examined by a doctor. And he would have left her there because he was looking for his partner and the clan had the woman not been so incredibly dirty and dusty that she simply had to come from the scene of the accident.

He told Morgan and Chung to wait in the corridor and entered the room. The doctor and the miserable-looking woman looked up.

He nodded to the doctor but looked at the woman as he spoke.

"Good morning, I'm with Matthew Bluestone from the gargoyle task force. I'd like to talk to you."

The doctor who had been sitting on a rolling stool stood up and turned to his patient.

"As I said. Stay here. Even though the bullet didn't hit an artery, we need to fix two or three metatarsals in surgery. In the next few minutes, an orderly will come with a stretcher for you.

"Thank you," the woman said, looking up at Matt with a weary expression as the doctor pushed his way out the door. There was a wound on her forehead that had already been taken care of, with a few stitches. Matt quite noticed that her eyes not only scanned him throughout but paused on the patch that marked him as a member of the GTF. But Matt for his part saw that while the woman was not wearing the hood or top of the Quarrymen, she was wearing the pants and the combat boots. Well- one combat boot. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to ask the Castaway follower a few hurried questions. He hadn't had a chance to do that during the previous night of chaos, and now he had to do it despite his worries. About her role at "The Granary" and most importantly if she knew where Castaway was. If she had seen if he was buried, if she had seen if he had escaped, if she knew where he could go if he left his house permanently. After that, maybe he would leave Morgan with her because he also didn't want an injured Quarrywomen in the same hospital area as the clan. These lunatics were capable of anything and the situation was too inviting as said. But the woman took a deep breath herself, sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the stretcher. Then she carefully stood up, stretched out her arms and realized, through clenched teeth, that her foot could still carry her.

"You're supposed to stay lying down," Matthew said, quite perplexed.

The woman, despite the deep circles under her eyes, despite her hair continuing to dust, her skin on which reddish-brown and gray dirt had hardened into a solid mass thanks to a lot of sweat, showed a hundred-thousand-dollar smile that nevertheless contained a fair amount of sorrow. "Well, doctors and nurses are the worst patients themselves. Follow me."

She began to limp slowly past him and out of the room, grunting in pain. Matt was keeping up and it would have been easy for him to stop her but this Quarrywoman wanted to show him something. His heart leapt. Was Castaway here already? Had he been pulled out of the rubble and brought here while Matt had been gone? That would be fantastic.

Morgan was right behind them; as a simple nice guy, he couldn't bear to see an injured woman struggle like that.

"You should really put your leg up! Or, get in a wheelchair."

The strange woman didn't turn around, and you could hear in her voice that she was gritting her teeth as she limped down the hallway and turned a corner.

"Do you want to see your missing colleague and the clan or not?" she said rather brusquely.

Matt was stunned out of his wits.

"You ... you're leading us to them? But you're-"

The woman braced herself with one hand on the handrail in the corridor, but turned and looked at him wearily.

"I know ... though I think I'm quitting the club. I didn't realize what shit Castaway was feeding us because I wanted to believe that shit. Because it fit into my little world view without unhinging it. Because it was easier than thinking for myself and reconsidering my first opinion. It was nice to feel accepted and have a seemingly good goal. I was stupid. And scared. And ignorant. Probably-" she shrugged, a sound escaping her that was a mix of a brief resigned laugh and a grunt. "-Probably I still am all of those things. But ... I'm trying to improve. I'm leading you to Nash. I'll even arrange a box seat for you and your colleagues. Makes it easier to oversee the situation in the operating room, believe me. I know my way around, I did my apprenticeship here in this place back in the day."

She limped on. Which wasn't far off. She stopped in front of a door, which she pushed open. A staircase led up. and Matt looked up there a little suspiciously.

"This is a teaching hospital, Fran muttered, leaning against the handrail, visibly at the end of her rope. Matt didn't know what to make of her comment, but he also didn't think this strange woman wanted to deceive him. She was far too exhausted for that.

"You should go back to the exam room now," Matt said, putting a hand on her shoulder in gratitude. "Thanks. Um-"

The woman smiled. A very sad submissive smile.

"I'm Francine Withby. There's nothing to thank. I rather have things to do well."

"Thank you, Fran," Matt said before he and his colleagues climbed the stairs, too puzzled and, yes, a little too touched by this person's apparent change of heart to care about proper formalities.

"Don't call me Fran," he heard her say from downstairs, adding barely audibly. "And I don't know if you'd thank me if you knew what sight awaits you."

.

The room they entered was dark. But a large glass front bordering a brightly lit room, which immediately attracted all three officers, helped prevent them from bumping into the two rows of seats bolted to the floor.

"Wow," Chung muttered.

And Morgan, who, like him, stood close to the glass like kids at the zoo did (though they refrained from touching the glass until now) added;

"That's really not a common sight."

Matt joined them. Now he understood Francine's phrases about box seats and teaching hospitals. They had a perfect view of the operating room below them. And in the middle of the room stood the entire Gargoyle clan. Petrified but not in their usual intimidating poses. And not really all of them were standing. All the gargoyles formed a circle around the two stretchers on which the statues of Lex and Nashville were lying. Nashville was lying on his stomach.

"All in a pile," Morgan muttered.

"Yes, and the weakest in their midst," Matt added.

The bodies and spread wings of the others formed a protective circle around the two smallest members of their clan. Brooklyn, Katana, Goliath, Angela, Broadway and Grace were petrified so close and their wings overlapping each other that their bodies seemed fused into one mass. A stone barrier. And yet- easy for a Quarrymen's hammer to shatter with a few powerful blows. Probably they knew that. Probably they expected it. However, they had formed this circle to protect the most vulnerable in their midst- even if it would only save Lexington's and Nashville's bodies from destruction for a few minutes. This circle symbolized the solidarity and love of the clan. Even though everyone was petrified - it was tremendously moving. And a stirring in Goliath's back, who stood half turned away from them, caught their attention in this image frozen in time.

And there was Elisa.

Crouched down, she had rested her head on her bent knees. Her hair was almost blown clean by the wind of flight, but the rest of her was dirty from the search. Without seeing her face, Matt just knew she was completely devastated. Maybe she was even crying. And she would only have reason to cry if at sunrise the situation of the injured ... had not been good. Once again, Matt's gaze wandered to the two figures on the stretchers. They looked as if asleep with open mouths and bodies that were now stiff and stony but whose lying poses spoke of limp muscle tone. And only now did Matt notice the blood. On the stretchers, on the floor. Gargoyle feet and shoes with different profiles had tramped through there, leaving bloody footprints that spoke of chaos and hectic activity. The impression was reinforced by the overturned steel rolling table with its wildly scattered stainless steel surgical instruments and the pulse oximeter lying on the floor with its cable still connected to Nashville. They hadn't been able to slip the clip over his finger from the front because of his claw. Instead, it was attached to the side of the finger.

Everything seemed so surreal. The rough stone and bloody mess an absurd, almost schizophrenic contrast to the sober, practical, easy-to-clean smoothness of the surroundings. Where at the scene of the accident they had seemed like animals in their natural habitat, busy, purposeful, and visually perfectly adapted, here the gargoyles seemed completely out of place. To see them here in this bright, shiny, almost sterile environment, moreover in these poses that testified to fear for their weakest and love, was stirring. How terrible to petrify - to be condemned to hours of inaction and helplessness, and at the same time to petrify where they were all vulnerable to any malicious or insane human being. A stop button for life. If - yes if - those in their midst would wake up again. Matt saw no major injuries on Lexington's and Nashville's statues (Well, cracks or craters in the stone). But what did that say?

"She has a gun," said Chung, who by now had also spotted Elisa. Matt took another closer look. Really, Elisa's hand was on her service weapon next to her.

"Sure," the GTF leader said. "She's protecting her family. What would you do if you expected someone to walk into a room to kill your loved ones while they were absolutely defenseless?" He felt Morgan and Chung looking at him and shrugged. It was no secret since the court case anyway that Elisa was in close contact with Goliath. It didn't take a genius to put one and one together.

"What do we do? Should we get her out? She seems like she needs help?" asked Morgan emphatically. He had once briefly nursed the hope that Elisa might take an interest in him. If he hadn't realized it after her testimony in court, he now understood that her heart had been somewhere else for a long time. And he did not reproach her for that - in contrast to some other people or colleagues. That's not how love worked. One did not choose whom one loved.

"She needs a warm blanket, something to eat and sleep. And the assurance that no stranger will come near her clan when they are so vulnerable. I'll call in the rest of the GTF. We'll seal off these rooms until nightfall."

"That could cause trouble with Yale."

"We're just sealing off this gallery and just the hallways around this operating room. And honestly, if Yale shows up here and bitches, I don't give a shit." He looked at Morgan and Chung. "Elisa is one of us. And if you're honest ... the gargoyles are kind of part of the team too. For two years without most of us consciously realizing it that way. I can't make you guys do it. Gargoyle bodyguarding does not fall within the GTF's current legally assigned duties. You have long exceeded your hours and no reprimands or admonishments will follow if you just leave now. I ... just hope you will help me ... keep our colleague safe."

Morgan and Chung looked at him with wide eyes. But Chung broke the silence first and laughed softly.

"Man, it's a good thing they didn't grill you harder in court. But honestly ... I see it like you do. I'm staying. My little cousin Terry would kill me if I didn't help gargoyles in need. He loves those guys."

Morgan laughed, too. "He's not the only one. Okay, let's scrape together colleagues who are in on this. Not a scratch gets to the uhh guys and girls."

.

Behind them, something stirred in the darkness, causing all three cops to whirl around, Matt with his hand on his gun.

Luca De Santis rose from the chairs between which he had previously crouched unnoticed. Even in the indirect light from the operating room, he looked just awful.

"I can go then," he croaked.

Matt had last seen him stumbling across the scene of the accident, completely distraught because he had lost sight of Grace. The human confidant of the Italian gargoyles had said he was unable to find her. But now she was standing down there with the others and obviously Luca had been keeping watch. Matt motioned to his colleagues to relax.

"We'll seal off the other entrances and also the entrance to this room. Thank you, Mr. De Santis. Go and get some sleep. I'll make sure they let you back in tonight before the clan wakes up."

"Thank you. But I can't relax. I have to get back to Long Island City. I promised Grace that I would monitor the salvage operation if they found Dante's statue. Or-," he took a shaky breath in and out "-or fragments of it. " Looking at him, Matt only realized how tired he felt himself. They would have to arrange shifts. He needed at least three hours of sleep himself to function. But at least there was rarely a shortage of beds in a hospital.

He stepped up to the Italian detective. "I'm going to radio the emergency personnel on the scene so no one doubts you need to be there. No one will give you any trouble."

"Thank you, Mr. Bluestone. Take care of my Queen of Hearts. And take this. I was only able to smuggle it in because I came in on the Gargoyles' slipstream." Luca pulled from his waistband an oddly modern-looking black gun, which he handed to Matt with the grip turned away from him. Wherever he'd gotten it, it wasn't a standard model.

"Thank you, Mister de Santis. I hope you find him."

"Honestly... it would be better if no one found him than if I had to bring her his crushed head. But Grace doesn't think so. Ah, and don't be alarmed. Coldstone and Coldfire guard the two entrances to the operating room. But since they know you, they'll probably let you through. Ciao."

"Ciao," Matthew repeated mechanically, putting the gun away.

He felt stares piercing his back but when he turned around both Poliszists looked rather amused.

"You and Elisa are truly made for each other as partners. Both secret monger," Morgan muttered.

Matt grinned. "Would you have believed me? Before the gargoyles became known, I was just the conspiracy nut."

"Would he have killed us if we made any moves to shoot down the statues below?" asked Chung doubtfully.

"Maybe."

"And what did he mean by Queen of Hearts? Is he another one like-"

"Elisa. Yes. I guess he's one of those, too. The heart wants ... what the heart wants. And now we get to work. Come on boys."

.

In fact, Coldstone stood outside the double doors to the operating room and raised his head as Matt came around the corner. Morgan and Chung had already seen his impressive physique on camera footage and from afar at the scene of the accident. But this was different from seeing the big gargoyle-machine hybrid standing in a hospital hallway, ready to tear apart anyone and anything that dared to try to get past him. Matt came, a hastily retrieved covered blanket in his arms, to Coldstone where he forgave his colleagues for stopping to mutter soft curses.

"Coldstone," Matt said soberly, knowing that this gargoyle wasn't much of a cuddler - especially not with humans.

"Detective Bluestone." Coldstone returned his nod formally and raised his red eye scrutinizingly to the officers keeping their distance. If he was scanning everyone like this (and he was probably really scanning Morgan and Chung right now) then it was no wonder that the vicinity of this ambulance area was deserted. Anyone who carelessly or curiously peeked into this hallway would instantly retreat. Assuming he had a functioning instinct for self-preservation.

"This is Officer Morgan and Detective Chung. My colleagues in the GTF."

"I know," he said cryptically, leaving open whether he knew them casually from stories or if he was somehow connected to the police computer and was just looking at their files there. Hopefully not the last one.

"We're going to seal off this hallway, the entrance to the gallery, and the other entrance to the operating room. Just so you're not surprised if there are people walking around here soon."

Coldstone nodded. "As long as none of these individuals want to enter the operating room, I will not take any countermeasures against this ... lockdown. The humans will have nothing to fear as long as they keep their distance from the door ... and don't annoy me."

Matt laughed sufferingly. "At least give them advance notice of what to refrain from doing that annoys you. That they have a chance."

"That's what I'm going to do. Enough blood was spilled last night."

"We agree on that. I will also inform Coldfire."

"She's already informed," Coldstone said in a deep mechanical voice that could give you goosebumps because you didn't know where Gargoyle ended and ones and zeros, cogs and screws began.

"I see. Thanks. Will you at least let me in? I need to talk to Elisa."

Coldstones kept both eyes on him. Matt lifted the blanket he was carrying. "I have a blanket for her. And food I can bring her, too."

For several more seconds, Coldstone's gaze hardened on him. Then he gave a single nod.

"I'm sure ... she appreciates your caring."

He stepped aside. Just enough for Matt to slip past him. Before he did, he turned to Morgan and Chung. "You guys take over coordination. No one needs to stand directly in front of the entrances - which I guess is obvious. But I want people positioned in the public entrance area of the emergency department for pedestrians and in the driveway for ambulances. In addition in each corridor. Two people in front of the entrance to the gallery. The business must go on. Only this hallway, which is directly adjacent to this room and the area around the back entrance is off limits. Inform colleagues that Coldstone and Coldfire are not a threat as long as no one approaches the O.R.. I don't want any provocation from our people."

"You got it," Morgan said, eyeing Coldstone again the way Coldstone eyed him, then turning around like Chung.

When they were gone, Matt turned to Coldstone.

"Okay- how does it look in there?"

"Didn't you already see that from the Gallery?" the cyborg asked.

Matt wasn't even surprised that Coldstone knew about it. He was probably constantly scanning the immediate area with his x-ray vision. Maybe he had super-hearing with which he had followed their conversation. Matt didn't care.

"Nashville and Lexington are petrified. That's good, right?"

Coldstone looked at him emotionlessly.

"It's good, isn't it?" asked Bluestone, his voice more urgent. Coldstone gave a very lively soft sigh and somehow sadly lowered his eyes as if he were not a six-foot monster.

"I was killed a thousand years ago. Crushed in my sleep. And me and my mate came back. That was ... what the humans would probably call a miracle. But usually ... the dead stay dead. Nashville and somehow Lexington both lost a lot of blood and the conditions before sunrise were very chaotic. Me and my mate will call on the stars and our ancestors who glide on the wings of the eternal wind not to keep the child or both. We will have to wait for nightfall to see if they listen to our pleas," he said.

Matt nodded. "I'm going to Elisa."

"You do that."

.

Matt first stepped into a room that looked like a kind of airlock where the staff was getting ready for the procedures. Sinks on the walls, strong smell of disinfectant. Another double door, which could be easily pushed open, led into the actual operating room. Matt looked through one of the panes in the doors. Elisa was crouched in such a way that she would be able to shoot directly at anyone who came in here.

This is insane, Matt thought. She can't-she wouldn't... but truth was that he trusted her to do anything when it came to the gargoyles or Goliath in particular. The trial had proven that as well. It was madness to openly and honestly admit her relationship with Goliath. Oath and swear on God or not- If Matt had been in her shoes that minute, he would have lied. She hadn't. Which proved several things. Number one: That she was a much more decent person, guided by honor and principle, than he was. Number two: She was also a little selfish because not only was she tired of living her life in lies after two years and denying her connection to the clan and her love, but she didn't care what the longer term consequences were for the clan, Goliath or the rest of her family. So she threw the truth in the face of the world. Of course, she was the one who would have to suffer the most from the fact that everyone knew. But honestly, Matt couldn't blame her for saying it. Who wanted to have to hide their love, the biggest part of their family, forever? And how long could she have kept it a secret from the captain? Torn between two worlds. At some point, her life as part of a gargoyle clan would have collided with her profession- In a disastrous way. So she had made a clean break. Which didn't mean she wasn't still torn-just like Goliath.

To reduce the risk of being blown away, Matt knocked on the double door.

"Elisa," he called out. "It's me, Matt. May I -."

"Come in," she croaked, and he was glad she was obviously receptive though she still didn't lift her head from her knees. At least she took her hand off the gun beside her.

Bluestone opened the door and walked into the O.R.. Up close, the wall of petrified gargoyles seemed so overpowering, so massive, that he was surprised the floor didn't cave in under their weight. Elisa did not look up as he stepped to her. Slowly he sat down next to her, stretched and put the blanket around her shoulders. This made her look up. Where Francine had looked crappy and tired and Luka had looked ghastly and tired, Elisa looked like a fucking corpse. She could have won any Halloween contest for the most gruesome make -up. The dark shadows under her eyes were so prominent that she looked ten years older, her skin was not sallow from the thin layer of dust and dried sweat but really pale. Her eyes themselves were bloodshot probably because of the dirt at the accident site but also because she must have been crying. Her tears had drawn streaks through her terrible "make-up". And worst of all ... was the blood on her hands. She even had it on her clothes and a few drops on her throat. Her first reaction of amazement at the blanket over her shoulders gave way to a tired smile that turned into an infinitely exhausted giggle. And that giggle turned into quiet sobs. She turned her head away and wiped her cheeks. Matt put an arm around her shoulders.

"It's okay. Just let it out. It's been a shitty night. Nothing wrong with letting it out. There's no shame in it," he cooed, feeling strange seeing his partner - whose back he thought ( still thought) was infinitely strong - broken like that.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her and leaned against his shoulder.

She sobbed for minutes and Matt left her without trying to start a conversation.

The first thing Elisa did then was request a glass of water. Matt got up, went into the airlock room, poured some water into a plastic cup and hoped the taps there poured only water and not a hospital-pre-surgery-room-special-mix. Obviously it was normal water, because Elisa emptied the cup in one go. Or she was too distraught to realize she was drinking disinfectant. Matt sat down next to her again and braced himself for another round of silence. But in contrast to her sometimes tight-lipped nature, Elisa spoke.

"That was a really ... shitty night. Did you guys find Castaway?"

"No. And his computer coincidentally had a short," Matt said, knowing Elisa's question was just the prelude to her own story.

She sniffled and wiped away some snot with the back of her hand like a child.

"Too bad ... Things didn't go overly ... well here either." She took a shaky breath (the kind of breaths Matt had heard in excess the past few hours). "I mean ..." said Elisa visibly struggling to keep her voice strong. "I mean it all went well. We were able to get Nashville, Lex, Broadway, Brooklyn, Grace out from under the rubble without burying them under collapsing concrete. All nicely gathered in one chamber and miracle upon miracle - Travis Marshall, a Quarrywoman, who is now thinking about changing hobbies, Glasses AND Margot Yale were also there, the last two thankfully passed out. Even Graziella was there. She was hurt and is probably in another operating room right now but after that ... shit."

Matt's eyes snapped open. "Marsh-and Yale? AND Graziella? The girl you told me about? Tony Dracon's daughter? What was she doing there?"

"Well, we actually left her at her residence after she informed us that Nash was being held captive."

"So at least now we know about this Dracon loophole."

"You need to send people there, by the way. There are three mobsters squatting in a cage in the garage."

"Okay. And so Graziella somehow got to Long Island City?"

"Well, she's just as incorrigible as her father ... though many times more stubborn. I don't know how she made it to "The Granary." I guess she thought ... I don't know what she thought she could have done there."

"Kids don't know where their limits are."

"Honestly ... I'm really realizing my limits right now." Elisa's lower lip trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from escaping.

Matthew took her in his arms again to rock back and forth with her a little.

"I'm so messed up, Matt. Nashville got shot and has been bleeding all the time, all the hours down there without anyone noticing. The other Gargoyles couldn't smell his blood from all the dust and he didn't even notice it himself. And when we lifted the last concrete ceiling above them, Lex and Brooklyn immediately ran off with the kids to an ambulance."

She chortled again.

"That's crazy, isn't it? The Quarrywoman they were locked in with was a nurse. She put fluids on Nashville in the ambulance and even started a body to body blood transfusion. That kind of thing obviously works even though it could probably kill humans because of the aftermath."

"Let me guess. Lex was the donor."

"YES!" said Elisa shrilly. "Yes. The only one who apparently has the right blood type and it's the smallest in the clan with the least blood! Don't ask me how it was known that only he could donate, I don't have the nerve for the details. But by the time we got to the hospital, almost three pints of blood had gone from Lex to Nashville."

"Three pints! Damn."

"Yes. But it wasn't enough. The bleeding couldn't be stopped without surgery, and just as fast as Lex gave it, it flowed out Nashville's back! All the gargoyles went after the ambulance and when Goliath pulled open the doors of the car, the blood was dripping down the entry step. Damn Matt. There was so much blood! I've seen SO much blood by profession but this-." She held a trembling hand over her mouth in an effort not to vomit up the water she had just drunk.

"When you have to witness something like this in your own family, it's a whole different story," Matthew reminded her.

"I know," she said softly. "We rushed into the emergency room and there really was a doctor already waiting for us. But you know how gargoyles are ... something like - no relatives in the O.R. or the environment has to be kept sterile is pretty indifferent to them. But I'm pretty sure even without ten monsters breathing down his neck, the doctors hands would have been shaking. If it wasn't for that Quarrymen nurse monitoring the transfusion and assisting him the whole time, that bullet would still be in Nash right now."

Matt nodded. He, meanwhile, had realized who this ominous Quarrymen nurse had been. Whereby one could probably drop the Quarrymen part.

"And the bleeding also stopped after the doctor stitched up the vein-" said Elisa, "-but Nashville was already so weak ... and-and I held his hand and it was like stone. I mean not just heavy and cold but it was ... like it would have been after the sun came up. But the whole time Lex and Nash were hanging together for the blood transfusion and Lexington was completely delirious after five pints! It was such a ... hypovolaemic shock. The doctor tried to pull the needle out of his chest but he hissed at him and tried to bite him. He said the needle would stay in him until sunrise, he'd give every drop to Nash if he had to."

"Little tough guy."

"Just before sunrise, Lexington was as gray as Nash and barely breathing. They didn't pull the needles out of both of them until a few seconds before they were all petrified. Over and over again, they had to reanimate Nash. And now ... I don't even know if Nash AND Lex are going to wake up tonight. I-I-I don't know if they both had a heartbeat when they petrified or if ... Fuck. I'm so fucked up. Matt, I'm so messed up."

He hugged her again while she heaved and sobbed. But then she'd probably cried herself out.

"They're all tough. You can't do anything until tonight. The GTF is sealing off this part of the ER. Not a scratch will get to the clan. But I know you well enough not to even ask you to leave."

"Thank you. Right."

"So I suggest ... we dim the lights down here a bit. You lay down on the blanket here, I'll get a second one for you to lay on, and get us something to eat from the cafeteria."

"Matt, I-"

"You HAVE to eat. You NEED to sleep. And a wet washcloth for your face wouldn't be bad. How do you think Goliath feels when he sees you like THIS tonight? No matter what's going on with Nash and Lexington, you're not making it better by pushing yourself beyond your limits."

She fell silent. A thoughtful silence.

"You look like shit, Maza," he offered as a final argument.

She smiled at him gratefully. "Shut up, Bluestone. And get me that washcloth, that blanket, a pillow, and a damn sandwich."

"AyeAye."

Thanks for reading, Q.T.