April grumbled. "I wanted to set one of the Shredder's trucks on fire."

"Arson is wrong." Elisa chastised.

"But turnabout is fair play!" April contested.

"Eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."

"Well, a truck for an apartment seemed like a fair enough trade."

They were outside on the balcony, looking out over the Upper East Side, at the skyscrapers in the distance. Elisa zipped up her leather jacket against the cold. April had bundled herself in a heavy blanket, wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl.

"I…" April cleared her throat. "I don't think I've thanked you yet."

"For what?"

April rolled her shoulders, looking up at the radio antenna of a distant tower. "For trying to save my life."

Elisa gave her a funny look. "I was the one who brought you into danger in the first place. You did a pretty good job rescuing yourself, I think."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to ask a stranger to help look for me either." April pointed out. "I can't imagine how terrifying that must've been. I mean… Goliath's a nice guy, but good god. He's scary. How did you know that you could trust him?"

Elisa's eyes followed a plane as it drifted through the dark, wing lights blinking green and red. "Mains froids, cœur chaud." Elisa said, her breath coming out in white puffs in the night.

April understood it, but it didn't quite connect in her brain. "Come again?"

"It's French. 'Cold hands, warm heart.' " She explained. "It means, 'Just because someone looks scary or strange, it doesn't mean they aren't a good person underneath.' "

"You could've just said, 'Don't judge a book by its cover.' " April readjusted her blanket.

Part of her didn't want to say what was on her mind–didn't feel it was needed. Another part of her felt like it was owed. Eventually, the latter won out, and April spoke quietly. "I feel like I judged you a little too quickly. I treated you like a threat when you were only trying to help, and I feel like crap for it. I'm sorry."

"Well, I owe you the same apology." Elisa rubbed her hands together against the cold. "I misjudged you, too. I thought you were just some kid looking for trouble. I doubt I would've understood the kind of sacrifices you've made without Goliath's clan being in my own life."

They were quiet for a few minutes, watching cars pass and planes sail across the black, like fireflies. Inside, the conversation was bustling; stories swapped, memories relived, jokes told. If it weren't for their wings and shells, it would be just like any other pair of families getting to know their new neighbors. It was a warm sort of background that made them feel at ease, in spite of what they knew would come tomorrow night. As comforting, and as temporary, as a fire to keep the cold night away.

"I've been meaning to ask you, April." Elisa broke the silence. "Where is your father?"

April shrugged, and mumbled. "He's busy working. Where's yours?"

Elisa wasn't expecting the question to hit her like it did. It was such an innocent slap to the face, a cutting word with no malice aforethought. She looked down at the street, lacing her numb, cold fingers together. "He died on 9/11. We never found his body."

April looked over, eyes wide. A puff of white escaped her lips. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. If I knew, I wouldn't have… oh, god…"

Elisa closed her eyes and shook her head. "Don't be sorry. He died doing what he loved doing; saving lives."

"Was he a cop too?"

"Yes." Elisa said quietly. "He was. So w–so is Derek."

"You stuttered."

"Hm?"

"You almost said 'was.' "

Elisa didn't say anything for a few minutes. Her face gave away nothing. But behind her shield, she felt her heart ache. For the first time, she let herself acknowledge the hole that had worn there, growing darker and deeper.

She relived the night she found out he quit. The very last conversation they'd had was an interrogation. A psychoanalysis. A guilt trip. What if that was the last conversation they'd ever have? She had so much more to say, so much more that she wanted to ask him, wanted to tell him. Like how sorry she was. How much she loved him.

At least the last conversation she'd had with their father, it had been something important. But then again, that day, they were fighting side by side. All three of them. No argument, no desynchronization. They had a duty, and they were doing it together. And now, she was doing it alone. There was no one left at the NYPD that she could trust implicitly.

She had to wonder; did she do enough to save either of them? Her father, or her brother? Would she be able to do enough to save these people, when things came down to the wire tomorrow? Was tonight the last night some–or any–of them would ever have together?

What if tomorrow was the day they died?

She felt an electric pulse zip up her skin, shocking her out of her thoughts. She realized that April's arms had wrapped themselves around her, the blanket draped around both of them.

She looked down at April, thoroughly surprised. She realized that she'd let her shield slip. That she'd seen a glimpse behind her barrier.

"I-I…?"

April gave her a squeeze. "I figure it isn't much. But someone I care about a lot believes in the idea that hugs solve everything."

"Who?"

"Splinter."

Elisa, not quite knowing what to do with her arms or hands, awkwardly patted April on the head. "You know? For a punk kid, you're alright."

"Yeah, well… for a cop, you're not all bad." April let her go, and turned to go back inside. "It's getting cold. You coming?"

"I think I'll be out here a little while longer. Thank you." She faced out, towards the city. She heard the door slide.

While she was wandering in her memories, she heard the door slide again. She turned, and it was Goliath. He had to turn sideways and duck to make it out onto the balcony. She lifted a hand to him, and he inclined his head in return.

Suddenly, she felt very self-conscious. Especially now that she knew just how keen a gargoyle's ears could be. "How long were you standing there?" She asked.

"Long enough." He stood beside her, arms at his sides, wings folded into a cape as he stared into the skyline alongside her.

There goes that secret. "So," She asked. "How are you holding up?"

"I have not been asked to lift anything particularly heavy lately."

"It's a modern expression, it means–"

Goliath chuckled, a deep, rough sound like an amused tiger. Elisa looked over at him. She pursed her lips to button down a smile, and she playfully swatted him on the arm. That only made him laugh more. But then his face slowly dimmed, and his serious countenance returned.

"This coming battle troubles me." He said truthfully.

"It worries me too." She confessed. "I feel sick to my stomach about these… these kids risking their lives."

Goliath sighed. "I understand how you feel. I do not want to risk my charges either. They are all the family I have left, and the thought of losing them leaves a shadow on my soul."

She exhaled, another stream of white breath carried into the cold. She could taste snow coming in the air. "I know. It makes me feel like I didn't just fail as a cop, I fail as an adult if I let children get into trouble like this. But I can't stop it. What am I supposed to do, ground them? It feels wrong to include them, but we can't exclude them at this point. We can't protect them, but we can't just let them roam either."

"In our age," Goliath said, "All members of the clan, except the very young and the infirm were expected to defend the castle. It was our home, and all had a part to play in protecting it. When evil comes to one's threshold, it does not discriminate between children and warriors. It only seeks to kill, in the swiftest and deadliest means possible."

"Yeah, well this isn't a castle. It's a city." Elisa pointed out. "Ordinarily, you'd be right if we were defending. But this is an attack we're planning. An assault on an enemy fortress. What role do children have in an adult's war?"

Goliath's face was hard to read. Elisa looked up at him, brows furrowed, cheeks and nose tinged pink by the cold. "We can't let them be child soldiers, Goliath. It's wrong."

He looked over at her. His face was long, his shoulders heavy. But he could see his own countenance mirrored in hers.

How he longed to be able to fully trust someone again. Anyone, really. To finally be able to take down his walls. He worried that the very act of gazing on his soul would scorch him. That her eyes would burn him if he let her see inside.

And yet, in a way, he could sense the same barricade around her own heart. Someone equally disinclined to trust, still beginning the steps of yielding her defense to others. He had to wonder… did she long to trust someone too? Of Elisa Maza, he knew precious little. But the brief flickers he'd seen of her true mind told of a very human woman, intimately familiar with pain, loss, and solitude.

And now, he finally knew what she had lost. He felt only a little hurt that she hadn't entrusted him with it. But, considering it, he understood why. He understood all too well.

It was a gamble–an experiment–but he steeled his resolve and stretched out a small bit of trust. He closed his eyes, lost in thought. "Do you have children, Elisa?"

"No." She shook her head. "A few boyfriends, but no commitment that lasted."

"By the Gargoyle Way, children are raised by the entire clan. No one parent may lay claim to any one child. I had many mothers and fathers, just as they once did. I may call them 'our sons.' The truth is that they have no fathers left, save Hudson. I took on the mantle, when I became leader. They are my younger brothers. But I cannot be their brother any longer. The burden demands that I must be more than that, for their sakes. For all their sakes."

Elisa could understand that. With her father and mother both out of the house for so long and so often, sometimes it felt like she was the one who raised Derek and Beth. She knew what it felt like to be the oldest of the family. The responsible one. The secondary parent. And now that her father was gone, it felt like she had a duty to step up and take his place in their family.

Goliath hadn't told her this part yet. He wanted to pull his words back, keep them close to his chest, behind his walls. But he couldn't. He wanted someone to hear this.

"When we routed the Vikings, the man who betrayed us advised me to take our clan out in force to quash our enemies. I… made a terrible, prideful mistake. I thought that I could frighten those cowards away, without any help–without endangering anyone else. Hudson and I were caught in the sunrise. We returned home at dusk… and found our loved ones in rubble. Including my mate, my angel of the night. Every day, I dream of what we had. And what we have lost."

Elisa could only listen, and empathize. Had. There was something in how he emphasized that one, single word that carried a terrible, terrible weight. Something in it seemed to take her by the hand. It led her to those same cold, black cliffs at the edge of an island, at the edge of a continent, at the edge of a millennium long past. She found herself reliving the moment with him. In her mind's eye, she saw that rubble and ruin, and found herself desperately searching in it for her own father.

She blinked tears out of her eyes. To Elisa's astonishment, Goliath's eyes were wet too. She was a little surprised. Gargoyles were so different from humans. The thought hadn't occurred to her, whether or not they could shed tears.

He murmured, "I would do everything, anything to keep them alive. But were it possible, I would do even more to make certain they lose no one else. Because I feel responsible for the tragedy."

"Goliath… I'm sorry." She reached out, gently, and put a hand against Goliath's wing. To her surprise, it was almost like velvet to her compassionate touch. He looked up, a little surprised to feel her hand there. Their eyes met. Shield and stone faltered in their hearts. In that moment, they both mourned the loss of their families and their worlds, together.

It was a quiet moment between them. To try and break the tension, Elisa asked, "If it's alright if I ask, how old are you?"

"My years number two-score and seventeen."

Elisa did some quick math. "That'd make you twenty-eight and a half. You're my age."

The screen door slid open again, and both human and gargoyle turned to see who came out onto the balcony. Hudson and Splinter, side by side, regarded them.

"Hey." Elisa hurriedly tried to put her smile back on, leaving it hanging on her cheek a little crooked. "Party get too loud for you?"

"They certainly have spunk." Hudson grumbled.

"I think they'd be flattered to hear that." Elisa snorted.

"I hate spunk."

Splinter's laugh was dry, like an amused cough, crackling like a bundle of old twigs. "There is wisdom in youth that the old have forgotten."

"Aye, and I've no taste for being reminded of it." Hudson chuffed, kneading his brow ridge. He cast his eye into the living room. Casey and Brooklyn were each attempting to balance a Coke bottle on the ends of their noses. Their friends were either cheering or egging them on–it was difficult to say. "So, now that we've all gathered, and our wards are amusing themselves…" He took a heavy breath before folding his arms under his caped wings. "I feel there is a certain matter to be discussed."

"It weighs upon your mind as well." Goliath's lips were a thin line.

"It does." Hudson answered.

"I don't like the idea of asking them to fight." Elisa blurted out. "Our duty is to keep them safe, and this is the furthest thing from 'safe' that I can possibly think of. If there's any way we can keep them out of this fight, we need to do it."

Splinter grumbled, slowly shaking his head. "Detective Maza," He said softly. "You are an honorable and courageous woman. Your convictions make you strong. Truly, a flame in a dark world. Master Goliath, you possess a strength to move mountains–a strength that is surpassed only by the power of your heart. You are a leader of great wisdom and compassion."

"By your tone, there is a condition to your words." Goliath said cautiously.

Hudson sighed. "Have ye listened to these youngsters?" He asked. "Have ye asked them how they feel about this?"

Goliath and Elisa blinked. No, the thought hadn't occurred to either of them.

"My sons…" Splinter sighed. "I did not ask for them to take up my mantle in facing the Shredder. When I could no longer fight him alone as I once did, they assumed it without argument or request. They took it upon themselves freely. Their father may forbid it, but their honor commands it. We are not asking them to fight–they are demanding that we fight alongside them."

"Goliath," Hudson put a hand on his leader, his son's shoulder. "I'd like ye to think back to when I was rhyderrch. When Prince Malcolm asked for our aid in defeating the villain Culen. Were ye not even younger then than they are now? Did ye shrink from the task at hand, even when my mate was killed in battle? When your angel was taken captive?"

Goliath growled. Not an angry sound, but a dejected acceptance. "No. No I did not."

"Our own rookery-children have seen battle and bloodshed. They did not shrink from it then. They do not shrink from it now. This has gone out of our talons, and into theirs. Even if we forbade it, they would disobey us and face our new enemies on their own. We cannae lock them away and fight this threat without them. Or would ye rather we fight this war alone, die, and leave them alone in the world?"

The statement struck them. It was painful. But deep down, they both knew it was true. Elisa chewed on her thumbnail, Goliath's tail traced circles in the pavement of the balcony.

Splinter's eyes found Elisa's and Goliath's. He said, with a very firm voice, "I would not entrust my children's lives to you if you did not feel this way. As their father, it brings me pride to know that they have chosen their friends wisely." He steadied himself on his walking stick. Slowly, he lowered his head and torso into a bow so deep, it dipped below Goliath's waist.

The gesture gave Goliath pause. This old man, wrought by evil magic into a shape beyond human recognition, was so humble. And yet, still so proud. It kindled a feeling in his heart that he felt at a loss to describe. He placed a hand over his heart and returned the bow.

He rose to his full height. "Then it is decided. We fight together, or not at all."