.

Brood of a New Age

104

Matt stepped out of the restroom and put his combat gloves back on. A few hours of restless sleep was hardly a substitute for proper rest. Captain Chavez had been here around noon to get clarification on a lot of things before rushing off to a press conference the mayor and governor had requested. Matt was excused because he wasn't done here but had to interview the gargoyles involved (as if he would do that in this situation, and Chavez knew that).

He could have informed his superior on the phone. But he rather thought that Maria Chavez (who was a good friend of Elisa's parents) had checked in on the woman she had known since she was a child out of concern. Matt had told her about the night and where Elisa was. He wasn't sure if Coldstone would have let the Chief see Elisa, but Maria hadn't wanted to go into the OR where Elisa had set up camp. She just nodded at his stories. When the story got to the part about Nash and the surgery, her expression became really suffering. As a woman in a male domain, Chavez had to be a cold bitch most of the time. But even though she had been incredibly angry after Elisa's revelation in court, Matt knew that the reprisals Elisa had experienced and was still experiencing were very mild. Elisa knew that too. She had even come out of the matter with Internal Affairs remarkably well because Maria Chavez had probably spread her Godmother fairy dust.

Maria loved Elisa like a niece. That's why Matthew wasn't surprised that after his story his chief put on her ice queen expression again and coolly said that not only Elisa but also he would get a week off after last night's events to collect themselves and see the precinct psychologist next week. He didn't like the idea of talking to a shrink but this was Maria's way of giving him some grumpy fairy dust too. He gladly took the days off. Unfortunately ... he suspected that the Cap had given Elisa the week off in case Nashville (who was somehow her nephew) didn't wake up. She was personally involved in the case and it had been wrong from top to bottom not to remove Elisa from the scene of the accident - but she hadn't really been there as a police officer - but as a relative. Matt's watch rang. Five minutes before sunset. He knew Elisa's watch was ringing now too - even though he thought she was already awake anyway. When had he become such a weirdo like her that he set his timer by gargoyle wake-up time?

Coldstone stood in front of the double doors to the operating room, his pose unchanged from 14 hours ago. Matt nodded to his colleagues standing ten yards away (their tension at being positioned so close to the creature, which was neither fish nor flesh, had eased because he wouldn't move without provocation. Only when Matt stood directly in front of him did he lower his head with the soft whirring of hydraulics hidden in his neck.

"Detective," he said sternly and took another step to the side.

But Matthew shook his head.

"I don't want to go in," he said.

And smirked at the questioning look on the face of the sometimes seemingly all-knowing cyborg.

"I'm superfluous in there. I'm not a relative - you are. You and Coldfire go in. I'll call a colleague to replace Coldfire. The clan needs every member in there if uh-"

He frowned. In the organized crime sector or the GTF, he hadn't had too much opportunity to practice telling family members that their child might die (or not wake up). He felt clumsy because he couldn't finish the sentence because the thought alone hurt him.

But Coldstone put a hand on his shoulder. A hand so massive and expansive that even the shoulder pads of his GTF uniform, which made him look more muscular, couldn't hold all his fingers. Looking up, he was stunned at how normal and alive Coldstone could smile. For the first time, he saw the pure gargoyle behind the metal and machine parts. Charming, grateful, sad and understanding.

"Thank you ... Bluestone. You're a good man," Coldstone said and Matt smiled.

"You too Coldstone. I mean - person. You're a good-"

"-Soul?"

Man and gargoyle smiled. Familiar, but with the broken sadness that sometimes precedes expected great loss.

Coldstone went inside and through the swinging double doors Matt saw Elisa and Luca De Santis standing in the operations room.

He radioed to one of the colleagues closest to Coldfire to replace her at the door. He had no doubt that Coldfire already knew anyway. The head of the GTF turned around and stood in front of the double doors like Coldstone before him. No, he didn't belong in this room after nightfall. Regardless of whether the room was immediately filled with the deepest sorrow or the greatest joy - he was not one of them. But ... he did what he could. He looked around again, down the corridors to the left and right. His colleagues were far enough away. He closed his eyes, collected his thoughts and did what he hadn't done for years.

"Dear God," he whispered. "This is Menachem. Yes. I know you haven't heard from me in a long time. But you're the expert when it comes to lost souls. You help those who are oppressed and despised and those who have no place. ...Please ... You parted the seas through Moses, sprinkled manna and let water flow from a rock so that my people did not starve and die of thirst on their forty-year journey. I know I have no right to ask for anything," he whispered, grinning desperately at the ridiculousness of his actions and the simultaneous seriousness of his intentions. "Please, waking up a boy made of stone is a piece of cake for you."

At that moment, he heard a crack.

.

Elisa and Luca - although they were standing at different ends of the room because Goliath and Grace were also standing at different ends of the protective stone circle they formed with their bodies - stepped back when they heard the echoing crack in the barrenness of the room. The typical crunching of granite scraping over each other and the splintering of stone was quickly drowned out by the swelling howls, rumblings, snarls and roars from numerous throats. And as if in a chain reaction, the still cold statues stirred, the wall of backs and wings trembled, shook, broke apart into a dozen wings and half as many bodies that bent out of reflex and then immediately blew up their stone shells with a twitch of all their muscles. The humans shielded their eyes and heads from the thousands of shards of stone clattering against the tile-covered walls as Coldstone and Coldfire watched impassively and allowed themselves to be bombarded.

Then the deafening roar stopped and all the gargoyles, still with their backs to them, seemed to freeze again at the sight before them, even though they were now flesh. Neither Luca nor Elisa could bear the uncertainty and fear for a second longer and both humans pushed through the wall of bodies next to their loved ones. Only to find two statues on the stretchers. Despite a few hours of restless sleep, despite the food she had eaten and the half-hearted washing she had done, Elisa felt the last bit of strength draining from her body. And she would have collapsed if Goliath hadn't scooped her up with his arm and brought her to his chest. But not really to comfort her. She felt that as his trembling breath brushed against her hair. He was shaking all over without allowing himself to do what others did. Crying and whimpering.

Grace turned, weeping, wrapping her arms around Luca's neck.

"It was all for nothing," she whispered and instantly Luca's tears came too. And he let them while he and his beloved, who could never really be his, sank to the floor.

Brooklyn laid his head on the cold stone in front of him and sobbed over the statue of his child.

Whimpering and crying like he hadn't done in decades. This despair, this deep hopeless feeling of being at the mercy of a cruel fate, tore open a memory he had thought long forgotten. From the fourth or fifth year of his Timedancer journey. Alone, in the wilderness, unsure of his current mission and indifferent to the whole purpose of everything because he was just generally fed up with it. As so often, injured and weakened, but above all alone. When he had first been gripped by that paralyzing, air-cutting pain in his soul that people might call depression and that made the defiance, frustration and anger at his misfortune of previous years seem so much weaker and more ridiculous. Again and again over the years, these three feelings had taken over, or had played hand-in-hand, sometimes even when Katana and then Nash had been by his side. But he had always got over it quickly. He had been able to endure the next mission, the next quest, because he had had his mate and his hatchling.

And now... whatever or whoever had taken his child. And his brother. Brooklyn lifted his head and stroked Katana, who was slumped in front of the headboard of Nashville's bier, pressing her brow arch against the soulless statue's again and again, barely audibly pleading with him in Japanese to wake up. His gaze went to Coldfire, who clutched Katana's quivering shoulders, her steely features expressing as much pain as she could. Behind them, sunken on the floor, Grace and Luca wept and whispered in Italian. Hudson also stood at the head of the stretchers, one of his hands on his sword, the other on Nashville's stony hair. A silent tear ran from his eye where Broadway and Angela both lay in each other's arms on the other side of their circle, crying louder, trying to find comfort in each other. Coldstone had his arms wrapped around both of them and looked down bitterly at Lexington and Nashville. And finally, his gaze went to his clan leader. Goliath had the whimpering Elisa in his arms, but his whole, mighty body shook under his own grief. Even his tail, which was wrapped around both Lexington's and Nashville's ankles as if he might lose them (as if they hadn't lost them both already), trembled. Energy he dared not let leak out out of respect or because a tantrum from him could have broken the statues in front of them, if only from accidental wing or tail slaps. Or ... they would have broken faster.

Because gargoyle statues of the deceased decompose very quickly after a few hours or nights. There were reasons why people had never found the remains of gargoyles. Even if they died as flesh, they gradually fossilized and crumbled. Only the largest chunks remained intact - which is why it had been impossible to collect only fragments of Coldstone for resurrection - after a while you couldn't tell which piece belonged to whom. If that was possible ... the clan stacked wood beforehand and incinerated their loved ones. Here they had to crush the bodies of their dearest ones and scatter not the ashes but the granite dust in a wind ceremony so that they would glide forever on the wings of the wind. Oh dragon, he would have to hold a wind ceremony for his child and his brother! Brooklyn raised his head and shrieked his rage and agony to the sky. He saw the large mirrored window that he hadn't noticed the night before, but he didn't give a damn who was watching.

.

When Brooklyn shrieked - a sound so loud and shrill and yet full of the sorrow of life, even David Xanatos felt a tear roll down his cheek. Fox didn't see it. She clung to his neck, sobbing, and he marveled at how passionate this strong woman could be. He wanted to break down himself. They were an asset, they were entertaining, even if he was at odds with Goliath or Brooklyn over differing opinions and morals, if they distrusted him in large parts or if he just observed them. But they were so much more than exotics that he could boast about inwardly, knowing that he was the only one with these co-residents. He had no idea how important the clan had become to him. How dear Nashville had become to him, as if he really was his nephew.

If only he had intervened more. If only he hadn't just stood by and let things happen, trying to leave the gargoyles alone as they wished and believing endlessly in his financial and mental superhumanity, which he sometimes assumed could shape the world around him according to his will. He WAS capable of anything! Why hadn't he been able to prevent this? There was so much he could have done. He could have ... packed the gargoyles in crates months ago while they slept and shipped them to a peaceful desert island far from any shipping routes. They would have felt humiliated and betrayed (again! - they wouldn't even have been surprised that David Xanatos was still that encroaching, transgressive megalomaniac). But they would have been SAFE. Even if the worldwide TV coverage changed the general consensus - what did that do for his Manhattan clan? What did it do for his family? The thought of Alex looking for Nashville and especially Lexington all over the castle but not finding them made more tears roll down his cheeks and over his beard. How did he explain to his one-year-old baby that his favorite uncle was dust in the wind?

Or what ... David Xanatos lowered his tear-blurred gaze to the mourners below and the two statues. They were still intact. Even if some of them crumbled away by the time everything was ready, there would still be enough left. Demona COULDN'T be the only sorceress in the world who had mastered the spell to capture souls using a combination of science and sorcery. Or how about a new lesson for Alex from Puck. Transmigration 102? Yes ... he was David Xanatos. He would find a way. Nashville was young - he would get used to being half machine. And Lexington as a cyborg? He'd probably love to be able to pull a wire out of the back of his head and hack into any computer with that. Just as he was about to explain to his whimpering wife that David Xanatos always found a way, he saw a pale white glow under a thin layer of stone where Lexington's eyes were.

.

Everyone's heads jerked up instantly as a rumbling sound came from Lexington's still stony mouth, blowing dust into the air. Then cracks began to spread across his body at breakneck speed.

"HE'S WAKING UP!" shrieked Angela and the circle of Gargoyles closed again with Grace and Luca. Elisa slipped out of Goliath's arms and a shrill disbelieving snicker came from her throat. A displacement activity of her overtaxed brain. Lexington's hands and arms broke free of their day shell as he bent them into claws and yanked them up, causing the stone to crumble from his flying skins as well. His growl turned into a shrill screech typical of smaller gargoyles and Coldstone just managed to shield Elisa from the stone splinters with his rigid wing because this time she was standing too close and didn't turn away out of astonishment. Then Lexington lay on his stretcher, coughing because he had inhaled his own dust.

"Maaaan. What train hit me?" he croaked, blinking around the gathered clan members, disoriented but grinning. "I'm so woozy and light-headed. I feel like ahhhh!" the shortest gargoyle of the clan shrieked and reflexively tried to cling to the stiff padding of his stretcher because something was trying to pull him down by the ankle. Not just anything - someone! Namely his clan leader. Goliath almost pulled him off the stretcher, but only to squeeze him in a rough bear hug that robbed him of the air he had just struggled to gather.

"Mo mhac!" (My son!) Goliath shouted in Gaelic he hadn't used in a long time and in the deep, hoarse voice he only used in the most emotionally grueling situations. Lexington, moved and a little disturbed by Goliath's affectionate demeanor, stroked his agitated clan leader's muscular arms comfortingly. He croaked in surprise as other clan members gathered around him, stroking his back, head and flying skins while Goliath refused to let him go. Elisa kissed him on the arch of his brow and despite Lexington's massive dizziness that made the whole room spin and his nausea from lack of blood, he felt what little blood his stone sleep had been able to regenerate rise to his cheeks because everyone was making such a fuss over him. As if they had thought he would die. He giggled as Coldstone pressed a hand to his bald head and as Angela kissed him and Broadway put his wings around Goliath to enclose him at the same time.

"All right now, guys. Over the couple pints of blood. Two or three energy drinks, a proper meal and tomorrow night I'll be ready for whatever mischief comes my way," he joked, exhausted but happy that everything had gone well. At his request, Goliath finally loosened his grip.

"Hey, Nash. How-" he began.

His gaze fell on Nashville's stretcher. And thus also on Nashville.

Lexington's smile disappeared and gave way to stunned disbelief. And he felt another hand. Brooklyn's gentle hand on his skull. His brother and Second smiled, but as he did so, a tear escaped from his healthy eye.

"We're glad to have at least you back with us, little brother," he said in a husky voice. Lexington stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds, then he looked at Nashville's statue again. And kneeling at its head was Katana, her cheek against Nashville's head. She smiled with the same pain in her eyes.

"Really glad," she echoed, and began to whimper and stroke the statue again.

Lexington expelled the air he had been holding in a gasp, drawing in another breath.

"Wha- no," he shook his head and looked at Goliath, who placed him on his stretcher as if he were still fragile.

"No, how long? How long have I been asleep? How much longer?"

"Four minutes," Coldfire answered immediately thanks to her built-in watch.

Another gasp that could be a precursor to hyperventilating from Lexington. His large eyes flicked back and forth, not looking at anyone, but because the thoughts in his still sluggish head were racing. He carelessly stroked his skull, scratching himself.

"That- okay. That's a long time. I-I-I mean not long yet! He-he can still wake up. He WILL wake up. I'm fine, he'll be fine too."

Frantically, Lexington tried to reach for Nashville, but the dizziness caused him to misjudge the distance between the stretchers, miss and fall face-first from his stretcher to the floor. Onto a floor full of dried bloodstains. His blood? Nashville's blood! Angela and Hudson simultaneously bent down to help him up, cooing supposedly soothing words, but Lex pushed their hands away.

"No," he groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, then onto Nashville's stretcher. He was squatting wide-legged on Nashville's back, whose arms and wings hung down the sides of the stretcher, limp and rock-hard at the same time.

"No!" Lex cried, gasping in a fit of panic. "No, no! It's not too late. I- he'll still-."

"Laddie," Hudson said, and he felt the rough leathery hand of his clan elder on his back. "He's in a better place now."

"...This is my fault," Lexington said shakily. "I - it wasn't enough blood. I should have given more-"

"How much more should you have given him? It was just too late. The sun was coming up. He was too weakened."

Sobbing, Lex lowered his head onto Nashville's back. "I'm so sorry," he whimpered.

He felt hands on him, comforting, soothing. He knew one of them was Katana's, another was Brooklyn's. That was so unfair. They weren't supposed to comfort HIM. They weren't supposed to caress him, they were supposed to caress their child. They had been through so much. In all times, in all lands. And they lost their hatchling in New York in 1997? In what was supposed to be one of the most stable times? That must be a bad joke. A cruel joke of fate. Or ... Nashville or whoever had really caused a divergence that had unforeseen consequences. The stream of time was a wild river that tolerated interference poorly. They had tempted fate ... and lost their most important one.

His weakened body shook painfully under his sobs, he blinked against tears and the bright light in the operating room. And just as his pain threatened to be eclipsed by his burgeoning, burning rage, just as the thought formed that he would make the humans who had robbed him of their hatchling pay, that he would swear that if he had to, he was going to give up everything that had made him what he was today, even if it meant crushing the world beneath his claws, if it meant wiping out those who had caused his pain, his gaze fell on something that stifled those thoughts. He looked down past Nashville's left arm and to his hand. His stone hand, STILL clutching the tight, thick knot of Graziella's hair. Heart pounding, not remembering the exact tale that caused him to do this, he reached down and pulled at the tuft. The hair was just beginning to slip out of the stone fist when suddenly something cracked. Lex straightened, wide-eyed, and saw the break in Nashville's stone where his shoulder was.

"Oh, God," Grace whispered, covering her mouth.

"It's starting," whimpered Broadway. Lex could see in the horrified faces twisted in agony because they thought Nashville's crumbling had begun. Lexington would have leaned over him so clumsily that he would have broken his arm. Lex, his heart racing but his head completely empty, lifted his hand and pressed it against the fracture. Which caused more stone to break. Brooklyn grabbed him by the shoulder. "No! Please," he pleaded. He - and the others thought he must have gone mad, breaking his nephew faster on purpose. They didn't know. No one knew but him and-. Hudson pushed past Brooklyn and put his claws on the broken arm, breaking off a shard of stone. Lexington pressed his palms against the enlarged fractures on the statue and along it so that it sounded like cracking eggshells. Underneath - was tissue that did NOT feel like stone. Gray and hard ... but warm!

"What are you doing!" cried Angela.

"He's alive!" Hudson announced. "But he won't live much longer because he can't get out of his skin!" He looked at Katana, who was still kneeling at the headboard, her eyes wide with terror.

"Las, he can't breathe, pierce his nostrils! GO!" Katana blinked, looking at her child. And her bloodshot eyes took on a determined look. She raised her hand and put her pointed claws to her child's petrified nose while Lexington and Hudson plucked stone splinters from Nashville's back. And with a careful push, she had poked two holes in the granite - something that would have cost a statue its nose. But all she did was break through a shell. Everyone heard the whistling wheeze as the statue - the child that everyone thought was dead - breathed after more than five minutes.

"It can't be," Goliath uttered and Lexington, invigorated by new adrenaline, giggled manically. "He's alive! Help him! There's skin under the stone, feel it! He can't move. Everyone must help him out of his skin, come on, he can't do it alone, he's too weak!"

And Coldfire reached for Nashville's head, over Katana, who with a desperate grin and pointed claws freed Nashville's whole nose and pressed a kiss to it. The golden female pressed hesitantly on the boy's stone mop of hair, which cracked, broke, and gray-dusted but SOFT hair of a real boy spilled out from between the fragments. That broke everyone out of their stupor. Lexington slid off Nashville's back, down the stretcher, making room as everyone else scrambled around the stretcher to carefully pry open the stone skin, breaking splinters with their fingernails and claws along the broken edges. Cautiously at first, then with increasing courage and euphoria. It was a bit like children unwrapping their Christmas presents. Elisa, Coldstone and Goliath on Nashville's legs and feet, Brooklyn on one side of Nashville, Broadway, Angela and Luca on the other. Grace had crouched on the ground and freed Nashville's other arm where Katana and Coldfire exposed Nashville's beak, mouth and head. And they felt that he was alive, every inch of vitality a miracle and a gift filling them with such euphoria that they couldn't ask themselves any questions yet. Like why Nashville wasn't moving or that Lexington and then Hudson had known what to do. Meanwhile, the web-wing crouched on the ground outside the circle, smiling. Hudson hunkered down beside him - a rarity for him to be at eye level - and leaned toward him, trying to be quiet.

"Get what the boy has in his hand and stuff it in your waist bag. Don't show it to anyone," he whispered. Lex looked at him, perplexed.

"We'll talk about it later," Hudson promised. Lexington started to move, unnoticed by anyone as he quickly pulled the hair out of his nephew's still stiffened hand and unnoticed as he stuffed the thick tuft into his fanny pack, which required him to throw out all his other paraphernalia - but who cared? Although it wasn't entirely true that no one realized Lexington's act. A shrill, questioning groan could be heard from Nashville's half-exposed half-open mouth, and pieces of stone crumbled from his left, now empty hand as he moved it with seemingly infinite effort in tiny, jerky movements to grope for that piece of Graziella Dracon. Katana giggled with tears in her eyes and stroked her child's newly exposed face. Lexington stood up and saw what for. Not that Katana was currently too shy to share it with everyone else.

"He's looking at me," she said. "My hatchling is back. Nash-chan, do you understand me? Blink for your kaachan." And really, Lex saw Nashville's newly freed eyes blink lazily. And tears ran down his cheeks, still covered in stone as Katana and Coldfire kissed him. Lexington moved into his field of vision, and Nash's eyes settled on him. Lex pressed his brow ridge against Nashville's.

"Good to have you back, Beaked Wonder," he said lovingly and a little stone broke from the corner of Nashville's mouth as his beak twisted into a smile. Meanwhile, the clan had peeled most of Nashville's reachable body like an egg. And for the first time, even though everyone was visibly happy, uncertainty mingled with their expressions.

"Why ... is he not moving?" Grace asked, waving her hand in front of Nashville's face, who was following the movements with his pupils. Brooklyn grabbed Nashville's arm and lifted it up, his eyes widening as he did so.

"His arm is heavy, like it's still made of stone. And his joints - they scrape against each other as if -"

"-they're still petrified inside," whispered Broadway, who had also lifted Nashville's wing and was moving it gingerly. Angela's claws stroked the exposed leather of his wings and it was chalky but flexible. But really, except for Nashville's panting and fearful groaning, which itself hardly sounded like a vivid sound but more like stone grinding against stone, it was quiet enough for a few moments for everyone to hear the scraping.

"Hudson?" Goliath asked, and everyone looked at the clan elder as he walked around their circle, smiling mildly, and came into Nashville's field of vision, bending down again. He pressed his brow arch firmly against the child's forehead, who had tears running down his cheeks again, perhaps out of fear. Everyone else was hanging on Hudson's lips like Nash.

"Oy Laddie. You can't move very well, can you? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

A blink.

Hudson nodded understandingly.

"Are you in pain?"

After a moment's hesitation, two blinks.

"Is he going to ... stay like that?" Broadway asked, shrill with worry, and was rightly poked by Angela for the insensitive question, though her eyes immediately turned questioningly to the clan elder. Death was something most Gargoyles could handle. The ones from the Middle Ages anyway. But the thought of living but being trapped in their own bodies, paralyzed in a body (even at night!) that was otherwise so overpowering... that was a whole new, intangible concept for each of them. Gargoyles died. They died. But they did not become lifelong invalids. Cripples. That was ... unimaginable for a warrior. It was worse than death.

But Hudson didn't seem to have heard the question and instead flashed the rare cheeky grin that had probably charmed his mate centuries ago.

"You've come back from the dead, Laddie. That's something very special and very rare for a gargoyle. You're scared now, but I experienced a similar situation with a clan member when I was a wee lad. This sister was also unable to move or speak. Everything is extremely difficult for you right now because you are not yet fully flesh. The stony components in your muscles, joints and bones have to dissolve first. That takes a few nights. But you will live and be able to speak and move again. In a week's time, we'll be gliding across the city together again. Are you on board there Laddie? Make an effort and give me an answer. The more you talk and try to move yourself, the quicker your recovery will be."

Everyone held their breath as Nashville didn't move but dust and stone trickled to the ground as a human sound formed with an agonizingly drawn out groan as Nash moved his beak.

"Ooooo-kaaayyy," he croaked and the clan erupted in cheers. Everyone laughed in incredulity, everyone fell into each other's arms, everyone touched Nash again, patted Lexington and patted Hudson on the back, for whom all this fuss immediately became too much and who fought his embarrassment with normality, grumpily reprimanding the younger ones. Elisa fell into Goliath's arms and he gladly returned the embrace, combing his fingers through her hair.

"I'm so happy," he murmured.

"Me too, Big Guy, me too," she whispered with tears in her eyes and looked over Goliath's shoulder to see Matt's face in the small window of the door to the operating theater. He grinned as she gave him a thumbs up. And he nodded when she pointed her index finger towards the ceiling and disappeared.

"We should go," she said, and several of the gargoyles voiced their agreement. One couldn't say that any of them felt comfortable in such a cramped space, on the first floor of a public hospital bursting with people, brightly lit and filled with the smell of disinfectant and the blood of their clanmates.

Brooklyn, who had just been crouched in front of Nash like Katana, talking softly to him, straightened up and looked again at Hudson, whom they had unspokenly declared to be THE expert on this unusual situation.

"Can we move him?"

The elder nodded. "It will be difficult to move his joints, but don't worry. Nothing will break off. Just move him slowly."

Cautiously, Brooklyn and Goliath turned the child limb by limb onto his back. The others scraped off the stone covering on his chest and lower body, if it didn't crumble off on its own anyway. Everyone winced as the sound of Nashville's body moving reminded them of the scraping of broken concrete at the crash site. Together they managed to fold his wings into a cape over his chest, even the small appendages at the top of his wing bars were crunching. Goliath placed Nashville in his father's arms, and Coldstone bedded his arms securely on his body.

"You okay, champ?" Brooklyn asked with a smile. And smiled wider as Nashville shakily gave a cramped thumbs up. Once again, rounds of kisses and brow bone nudges were exchanged. It was the wrong night to skimp on this. Everyone was so relieved. They had tempted fate and none of them were lost in the process.

Unbeknownst to the clan, David and Fox Xanatos were sitting upstairs in the student auditorium, visibly relieved. The ordeal of the last 24 hours had left its mark on them too, but they were more composed and almost back to being the omnipotent billionaire couple they had been to the world (even often to themselves). If not quite.

Fox had laid her head on David's shoulder and looked wearily but smilingly at " their" clan.

But there was one thing she couldn't get out of her mind and it only took one word for her soulmate to understand.

"Graziella."

He nodded curtly. "Whatever you want, my heart."

.

After Lexington had proudly insisted on walking himself despite his weakness - and had tottered to the side in his quadrupedal gait after two yards, he had let Coldstone scoop him up and was now being carried princess style with his head bright red. Broadway and Angela grinned affectionately but rather gloatingly.

"You'll be rubbing my nose in this forever, won't you?" he asked and his brother shook his head, chuckling. "We would never dare. We'd never mess with our universal blood donor."

When the gargoyles stepped out of the operating room, Matt stood there. He received a general thank you from the gargoyles but knew he was only slowing them down. A family coming out of something like this only needed two things. Rest and companionship.

"I'll take you to the elevator that will take you up to the helipad. You can take off from there."

On their single file march through the first floor, flanked by Matt and two other members of the GTF, they passed more police officers, patients, nurses and doctors. And everyone was more than surprised that none of the humans backed away from them and, although they all looked a little overwhelmed by so many powerful beings, did quite the opposite. Most of the people smiled or looked ... happy to see them. Everyone flinched when one of the people behind them suddenly called out:

"We're glad you're all right! God bless you, Nash!"

Suddenly someone started clapping and others joined in. People also came from various rooms and - after a brief moment of surprise - they also clapped and shouted words of encouragement.

"You guys are cool!"

"The Quarrymen are assholes!"

"You did a good job!"

"My eleven-year-old wouldn't mind being your friend."

"You're an awesome dad, Brooklyn!"

"We're lucky to have you."

"I never doubted you."

"Thank you for your efforts!"

"What - by the dragon - is - going - on here?" muttered Hudson beside Goliath, just as horrified at the behavior of the crazy humans as everyone else. He had his hand on his sword. This was too crazy NOT to have his hand on his sword. What sorcery was this? He was not afraid! He had never been afraid before! But ... it wouldn't hurt to walk faster to get out of this madhouse.

"Detective Bluestone?" Goliath asked irritably after they had dodged a female doctor who had expressed her admiration for Lexington in Coldstone's arms for his pieced-together defibrillator and his knowledge of resuscitation, leaving him stuttering and probably wishing he had wings like everyone else to pull over his body.

The head of the GTF raised his hands defensively.

"I didn't tattle on anything else about your night. But ... I suggest you watch the news in peace once you've settled back in at home."

Had he seen a piece of the daytime broadcast on one of the hospital televisions? Of course - after Elisa's mother had called him to ask if her girl and Goliath were okay and after he had said that he would force Elisa to report back to her human family as soon as she had a clear head.

"The humans seem to know everything," Angela whispered, clinging to Broadway's arm as they all watched wide-eyed as the human who had just been pushed out of the elevator by two orderlies along with his hospital bed shook Katana's hand and said that they were "inspiring". The two nurses tapped Coldfire against her iron arm and although it couldn't have been, everyone could have sworn she was cringing. As did Grace, who was clinging to Luca and had also been told "Bless you, sister". They looked after the group of three for a moment, Katana even with her beak open. Never before had any of them seen such a dumbfounded expression on the Japanese female's otherwise composed features.

"I want to get out of here - now!" she hissed. And they all agreed with her.

Luckily, the elevator to the helipad was big enough for the whole clan, even if it was cramped. Damn it - if it hadn't fit, they would all have taken the stairs. The main thing was to get out of here. Matt and the two other members of the GTF (not Chung and Morgan) nodded to them again. One of the two guys Elisa didn't know so well couldn't keep his mouth shut after all. He grinned stupidly and seemed to think he was really decent when he said: "Detective Maza. Really, after the trial I thought - God, I have to work with a nutcase with a sick kink who doesn't know who she's supposed to protect and serve. But now I think I and many colleagues and civilians were proven wrong. You're pretty cool. Way to go."

Matt lost his smile and slapped his palm against his forehead.

Just before the elevator door closed, Elisa managed to pull up her upper lip and return a mangled, questioning "Thank you".

Then the clan stood crammed together in the elevator. And no one knew what to say. Everyone was somehow flustered.

"Gra-Graaaa," Nashville croaked weakly and Grace patted him on the head from behind.

"I'm here, Bambino. When you get home, you lie down and I'll tell you some of the nicer stories from Fiore's and my childhood." As soon as she said that, her face became terribly bitter. Not because her brother's real name (HER name for him) had slipped out, but because everyone knew that if Luca had come back without news of Dante (Fiore?), there was probably no chance of finding him now. Presumably his remains had been crushed so badly that he had been carted off with the rest of the scree. Nashville sighed in frustration, but nodded absently. Lexington's found Hudson's eyes - both knowing that Nashville hadn't asked about Grace.

"Man-," Lexington muttered after a few awkward seconds. "-this elevator is frighteningly slow for being in a hospital."

"Maybe we're just used to traveling as the crow flies and to the elevator in the Eyrie Building," Angela pointed out.

"That one has music for the waiting time," Broadway said.

"Please - no one start singing now," Coldstone said dryly, making his clan giggle, including Lexington and Nashville.

When it became quiet again, Brooklyn leaned close to his child's beak because he was mumbling something. Then he lifted his head and looked at Coldstone.

"Music, he wants. Do you have a radio function?"

"For the two-ways or the police radio - not for entertainment," Coldstone grumbled, rolling his eyes but already sounding like he would make an exception for the sick hatchling. But Elisa was also standing close enough to Nashville to hear what he was repeating.

She frowned. "He doesn't want to listen to music - he HEARS music."

And as soon as she said that, the elevator doors opened to the helipad on the roof of New York Presbyterian Hospital. And even though they were ten stories above the ground, music blared up to them. Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment. And curious as they all were, they ran to the edge of this part of the roof and looked down. Some gasped for air, some just stared into the depths. After a few moments, Nashville saw Angela smile out of the corner of his eye and exchange a warm look with Broadway, who was also smiling. They kissed. Lexington almost fell out of Coldstone's arms and his eyes seemed huge, but if even he was speechless at the sight, it had to be something remarkable. Luca had his arm around Grace and tears were streaming down her tired face again. But they weren't tears of sorrow, they were tears of overwhelming wonder. Nashville wished he could ask WHAT they were seeing. But he hadn't even been able to ask about Graziella. However, he watched his father closely towering above him. Saw a wry, rather confused but not particularly unhappy smile spread across his face. His mother seemed puzzled too, but she smiled at her mate and her hatchling. He wished he could look down like everyone else to see where the music was coming from. He didn't know the song but it sounded good. And it sounded like hundreds of voices flowing into one another were singing it. Disharmonious and yet in unison. Like a mantra ... or a prayer?

"Let's return home," Goliath announced and took Elisa in his arms where Grace picked up Luca. His father's arms tightened around his stiff body as he spread his wings and jumped off the building with a great leap. The flying wind could not hide the fact that the music and singing suddenly stopped and gave way to cries of joy and cheers from countless throats.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.