Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peculiar... yes, that's the word. He typed it out in haste, as if the descriptor would evaporate into thin air. As if it could, not after such a chance encounter so deep into the night.

It had to have been 3 AM, that's when he and Gilly usually returned from their beach walks, the natural insomniac that he was. Couple years straight working the nightshift and an entire career in the military will do that to a man. Not that he was complaining, Robbins found the stillness of the late hours to be soothing. Serene, with or without sight. That night was no different, same crisp sea air gently wafting all around him, a familiar, constant companion on his nightly walks. A pleasant compliment that didn't deter from the sweet calm of the shifting sands and the rolling waves. Gilly gently led him along, ensuring he didn't lose his way, though at this point, he could navigate the entire coastline by memory alone.

Though she did get distracted every now and then by the rare oddities hidden in the blankets of sand. A bottle here, a stick there, a sand crab more often than the others. Lord, did she love those things. An irritating lump of garbage drifting a shore from a commercial liner or private yacht or some such nonsense. But all in all, the beach was quite clean. Not that he was the best judge, his eyesight just wasn't what it used to be after all. Good thing Gilly was there to pick up the slack in that regard; she was a great helper and a lovely presence to fill his otherwise quiet life.

And it was curious Gilly that noticed it first, rushing forward out of his grip after an excited whine. At the time, he simply chuckled to himself and let her indulge herself, the old girl needed some excitement wherever she could get it and he was definitely the long leash type concerning her. Of course it helped his confidence that this wasn't the first time she'd done it, sand crabs were pretty common around that particular section of the beach. In fact, it was a signal that they were back at the estate and it was time to retreat inside to feed her and to rest his legs. A comfortable little routine, nothing out of the ordinary or noteworthy about it really.

Which is why, when he caught up to Gilly, who by the sound of it did indeed find herself another sand crab, the gravely groaning of someone in pain shocked him. Well, now he knew it was a someone, not a something, which was his initial thought when the raspy, yet strong cough rattled inside his ears. Just from the intonation, the overall tone, he could make out the beginning of a growl rumbling just beneath the surface. A primal growl, one befitting a tiger, rather than a man.

He quickly brushed the thought aside, it was ridiculous to think of such a fantasy, this was obviously a man who'd washed ashore. And by the sound of it, he was just as old as himself, maybe even older, and he was in pain. Robbins felt a slight tinge of wariness anyway, the careful trepidation a man seasoned in combat would have instinctually.

"Who's there?" he asked, causing the mysterious man to shoot up in a panic, a light gasp escaped his lips as the sand was swiped and pounded under his sudden shift in weight.

He sounded big, about as tall as Robbins himself—coming in at a modest 6'1—if not bigger. He definitely sounded heavier, though by the evenness of the breath, he could tell it was more muscle than fat. The level of nervousness, outright fear in the man's demeanor caught his interest, he wasn't accusatory or authoritative on Robbin's part, he tried to be as gentle as possible when asking.

So to garner this reaction, a prolonged silence, a frozen tension in the air, no attempt for an injured old man who just washed ashore to stand up or shift to a more comfortable position. It was... well, peculiar.

Robbins figured he'd rephrase the question, since nothing was changing in the atmosphere and he knew the man needed help, no matter how strong or apprehensive he seemed. "Are you alright?"

He focused on his condition instead of his identity, which earned him a sigh of relief from the man, albeit begrudging, for some reason. Robbins could only assume the mystery man figured out he was blind and thus wouldn't be able to ascertain who he was even if he wanted to. He seemed quite concerned on that front, hopefully he wasn't talking to a criminal he thought to himself with a bit more of that soldier trepidation he couldn't shake. After a beat, the older man spoke in a voice that threw Robbins for a loop once again.

"I had a little trouble..." He had a thick Scottish accent, something incredibly rare even in the great melting pot that is New York, New York. The most exotic accent he'd ever heard was in Vietnam all those years ago, a couple ladies of the night who only knew enough English to convey themselves as such. But even that didn't come close to this. He could pick up on some of the subtleties of the man's inflections, there was an edge to it, beyond a foreign tongue, beyond masking pain. Something about this man just tickled the back of his mind with the ludicrous assumption that there must be some bestial nature to this person.

But he swatted it away like a worrisome housefly and informed the injured stranger "This beach isn't safe after dark anymore".

A small fib to be certain, but one he felt was necessary to convince him to let Robbins help him. After all, an injured, elderly man who's just washed ashore in the dead of night with clear discomfort at the idea of anyone seeing him as opposed to getting medical attention already proved he's quite stubborn and proud. Fitting for a strong, gravely voice like that, Robbins noted confidently.

Still, he wanted to be sure he checked all the boxes of the Good Samaritan list and figured he would ask the man if he needed a doctor. On the island there was 2; Dr. Winfield, a really standup guy who considers Robbins a buddy, as he's said so several times through the years. And Dr. Paulie, a midlife crisis waiting to happen, but a pleasant fellow all the same, he still upheld the Hippocratic oath which Winfield in recent years has let slip a bit. Robbins didn't chastise him for it though, he had some very interesting stories about some choice patients, some of New York's C-list celebrities and politicians. Both of them would happily do him the favor of making a trip to his estate to look after the injured man.

But that wasn't really the point in him asking, though he'd hoped against his experience in this regard and would have liked to be pleasantly surprised by the strong, proud man kneeling on the cool sand before him. No, the idea was gauging just how injured or how proud the man was in the first place.

Robbins was all too familiar with the credo of men that being honest about one's weaknesses and seeking help is a sign of weakness and should never be allowed. Heck, the Army was once the chief proprietor of said credo, and for good reason he conceded. Can't have a bunch of wussies playing soldier, that'd be sheer madness.

But at the same time, one had to be careful that they didn't go too far in the other direction and allow pride to keep them from receiving something they desperately need from another. However this gravely voice stranger responded would tell him what manner of man he was dealing with, something he realized he was more than a little invested in knowing. Just barely more than usual, but still, his curiosity was starting to be piqued just like Gilly's.

"Do you need a doctor?" Robbins asked as flatly as he could, much to his dismay that investment tainted into the question and made it sound more like an offer rather than a query. Immediately after the words left his mouth, he got his answer.

"No!" of course he frantically declined the offer, though much more politely than he expected, that primal edge much less prominent, but the strength still clear.

Robbins was prepared to go into negotiator mode, level with the man that it would be no trouble at all, there were doctors in walking distance, they would be sworn to secrecy if that was necessary, they could even work on him right there on the beach if he preferred. But before he could start that process, the man made his own proposal.

"Just a place to rest..." his distinct accent making itself known once more. Robbins got his pleasant surprise after all.

The mystery man still felt the need to distance himself, the old masculine credo kicking into effect a bit, as he clarified, "... until sunrise..."

His inflection and tone shift gave Robbins pause, perhaps it wasn't just pride or an effort to remain strong and resilient in the face of hardship. Rather, it sounded more like a resolute fact, when it is sunrise, he will be right as rain, simple as that.

Robbins carefully filed that one away to figure out later, as the man's weight shifted again, sand shuffling underfoot as he reached out and grabbed something metallic. Hollow too. A container of some sort, no doubt carrying something from the ship he most likely drifted in from. An old Scottish fisherman out on a late night expedition, perhaps? Did he get caught up in that storm he heard about on the news earlier that week or was this something a little more nefarious?

He figured he'd file that one away too, as a strong hand clasped a large thigh and sand grains steadily fell from a perch. He was rising to his feet now, and before Robbins could offer his hand to assist.

"If I could lean on you..." the Scottish stranger asked as modestly as he could. The growl returned a bit, rumbling his chest so deeply, Robbins could have sworn he felt the vibrations. Was he ashamed to that extent, loathing the idea of needing a shoulder to lean on, even in this fairly strenuous situation? Or was that pain he was stifling down deep before he got mobile? Another one to file away, pretty soon Robbins would have a whole file cabinet on this mysterious Scottish stranger.

Nevertheless, he silently turned to face his driveway, as the man rose to his full height. As soon as he achieved this feat, he seemed to regret it, evident by the raspy groan he let squeeze out his throat. That nagging idea of a tiger in pain resurfaced, causing Robbins to stamp it back down where it belongs, the deep recesses of his mind to hopefully be buried and forgotten. It was unsettling to even contemplate such a thing. Though when the man's hand finally grasped onto Robbins' shoulder, timid yet desperate, the thought was instantly bolstered.

The stranger's hand was massive, more massive than any hand he'd ever encountered, which spoke volumes considering how many he'd felt throughout his career, both as a soldier and a writer. Many many hands telling such detailed stories just with simple gestures and varying pressures. A mother grateful and honored to meet a kind man willing to help her through a difficult time in her life, an ambitious young man eager to learn from his commanding officer he looked up to, a sleazy reporter looking to uncover some sort of skeleton in the closet of a former soldier turned writer. All stories being told in varying degrees of subtleties, all without the storyteller realizing, but plain for even this blind man to see and appreciate.

So when a hand this massive, this strong, this coarse and rough, grasped his shoulder firmer than he anticipated, a jolt of shock ran through his body. He tried to mask it, as to not scare off the overly cautious man, but found it impossible with the accompanying weight of the old Scotsman. He knew he was heavy, but this was quite unexpected. Robbins was no slouch, by any means.

Retirement from active duty and turning to his typewriter didn't suddenly turn him into an out of shape senior citizen. He still maintained a modest regiment of exercise, mainly for health reasons as his athletic days were far behind him, but he could still arm wrestle with the young men. If he had his sight, he bet he'd give them a run for they money on the court too.

Despite all of that, the second the mysterious stranger shifted his weight onto him, he buckled a bit. So much so, he had to grip his cane tighter than he ever remembered just to stay upright.

As soon as he was able to get his footing back, he was balanced again, but goodness the man was at least twice his weight. Which, last he heard, was a buck 70, not bad for a 6'1 former soldier. Meaning the man currently leaning on him had to at least be 290 if not 300 something. And again, he could tell it was mostly muscle, not fat.

If the guy was a fisherman, he must have been doing it the old school way, with harpoons and hooks. And his catches must've been hammerhead sharks or whales or something. Based off of the awkward sensation and angling of the man's wrist, he wasn't even putting all of his weight on Robbins, which was even more extraordinary. 330 pounds, easy, he revised before being thrust out of his own head.

A guttural grunt emanated from the Scottish heavyweight, rasping at the tail end giving a better clue to his age, but retaining that undertone of a wounded tiger, something Robbins could no longer push down so easily. This man was older than him, he was sure now, but that only caused the mystery to deepen. How could such a man be so much stronger than Robbins, was he an athlete? What sport, he wondered, then quickly filed it away, adding to that ever growing file cabinet.

The hand was still the main subject of his racing mind, for upon closer inspection he could only feel 4 digits, though quite thick, only 4 prongs were on the vice like grip. He even shifted his shoulder slightly to better feel the missing 5th, giving it a chance to reveal itself. But it remained hidden. However, that could easily be explained away, he was sure fishermen lost body parts, especially when their catches involved carnivorous fish, lending credence to the hammerhead shark idea. But really, how many hammerhead sharks are swimming in the waters of New York City?

No no, the only other idea that could reasonably explain the loss of a finger was a casualty of war, thus making him a former soldier. Which, now that he thought about it, made a lot more sense. Would explain the muscular weight, the assuredness of his recovery at daybreak, the downplaying of his injury. Even his overall poise was reminiscent of a man who'd seen his fair share of combat and was familiar on a battlefield, if not comfortable.

He supposed he was getting ahead of himself. There would be plenty of time to explore the questions that made up this peculiar fellow in the comfort of his study. Robbins turned to face the man who he now realized intentionally tried to be more behind him than beside him. He really wasn't comfortable with people seeing him, it seemed. Nevertheless, Robbins thought it good to give an encouraging word, if he was indeed a soldier, he would be used to the type of encouragement Robbins was offering.

"C'mon, then. I've got a fire going" he told him, as the Scottish heavyweight lowered his head close to Robbins' bicep. A fluffy mass brushed up against his sleeve, catching on the fabric a bit. Must be a beard, pretty long one if it reached that far down. That or he's really got his head bowed down.

The mysterious Scotsman turned to Robbins, tentatively, perhaps forgetting for just a moment that he was blind. The idea tickled him a bit, it only happens every once in a while, someone forgetting that he's blind. It's always refreshing, because too many people only see him as a blind man and nothing more. So when that's brushed aside, even for a moment, to focus more on him as a man, it warms his heart. Though in this context, it was most likely nothing more than habit on the mystery man's part, too used to hiding away in a crowd or even in the shadows to not be recognized by anyone he doesn't deem worthy. A careful trepidation a man seasoned in combat would have instinctually, he recalled. Soldier it is, then.

With a resigning, embarrassed sigh, the man responded, "There's little I can offer in return... except my thanks..."

It caused Robbins to blink rapidly in confusion, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind what the man would offer him in return. Nothing about this required compensation, even some of the things he's done for people that would warrant compensation, he'd still refuse it. Must be his version of the old masculine credo creeping back, he supposed. He was never one to have his hand out or keep a tally of favors owed. He did what his parents instilled in him from a young age; do what's right, because it's right and that's all you'll ever need.

It's what compelled him to enlist into the service, carried him through the tumultuous Vietnam war, got him this position in his community and the opportunity to pursue his dream of being a writer when he was relieved of duty. It's one of the things that made him the man he was. So to hear such a comment from a man older than him, it was baffling to say the least. Putting yet another notable aspect about this beached soldier on file, he shrugged it off as a much more honorable idea. After all, if he was in this man's position, he'd be thinking of what to give in return for the kindness wouldn't he? He didn't know Robbins, he probably didn't know many people with the same strong values instilled in him, which is a real shame.

Still, it spoke to the mystery man's character that he'd openly admit that he doesn't have anything to give for compensation, in such a way that he may have tried to warn Robbins to not waste his time on him. It wouldn't profit him anything, so why trouble himself, that sort of idea. What he once assumed was pride has now morphed closer to honor and integrity. An honorable soldier, eh? They don't make those anymore, he marveled to himself.

He took a resolute step forward, finally leading the man into his driveway, his gait careful to accommodate the man's injuries. "That's payment in full".

Gilly trotted around them both, ecstatic. It'd been a while since they had someone over the house, and never someone so palpably intriguing. The man easily managed to keep up with Robbins, silently encouraging him to increase his pace, which got no complaints from Robbins. Through each step, he could feel the Scottish soldier's muscles tense, he was on edge. His grip trembling, it could have easily been blamed on the brisk wind that most found bracing.

But Robbins could tell, every single detail about the old soldier told him that he had little to no experience with this level of decency. At least from people in New York, which was unsurprising, if not disappointing.

This was new territory and as Gilly had made abundantly clear, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Change, even small change, is difficult for everybody, but big changes, significantly large shifts in dynamics and experiences are impossible for most. And the older you get, the more difficult it gets, Robbins could vigorously attest to that.

So to put him at ease, and to regain some semblance of his manners, Robbins finally offered his name, before politely asking for the stranger's name. "My name's Robbins. Jeffrey Robbins. And you?"

He had a 50/50 chance of getting a fake name, a brush off, or his real name, he'd gambled with worse odds before and won. That night was no different, as the thick Scottish accent sounded off once more, revealing the peculiar old soldier's name.

"Hudson", he said, then quickly fumbled to add, "like the river". Robbins had to smile at the comment, it sounded like the name was still something he was getting used to, as crazy as that sounds. He knew it was his real name, didn't have much in the way of proof, but he just knew. An old soldier with honor and integrity wouldn't bother lying about that. He didn't let his hopes get up too high on learning intimate details about the clearly secretive man, he knew better than that.

Still, he couldn't help the smile that lingered as they made it to the glass doors of his study, Gilly mewled happily as he salvaged his keys from his pocket and traced his fingers along the surface to find the lock. A quick flick of his wrist and a gentle push and the warmth of the fire wafted out to greet them. A subtle rumble in Hudson's throat let him know that he was indeed a tad cold and would greatly appreciate a cup of hot tea if he was offered one.

"Oh, mind the rug" he lightly instructed, it could catch one by surprise if they weren't already anticipating it.

Hudson simply nodded as he reached out for the nearest object to bear his considerable weight, relieving Robbins of the burden. He realized, however, that it also had the added benefit of no longer requiring Robbins to keep him upright and allowed him his autonomy back in full. No doubt, this was the primary reason why the massive Scotsman sought for a new perch, but Robbins didn't take it personally. Like he thought, old dogs, new tricks.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll get us something warm to drink" he told him. Hudson nearly tripped over his words to deter him from doing anything more for him than he already had, but Robbins brushed him off.

He turned to him, a warm smirk on his face, "I always make too much tea anyway, you'll be doing me a favor, helping me finish the pot".

Still, Hudson tried to reject the offer as politely as possible, "No really, ye don't need to be troublin' yerself on my account"

"Gilly, keep our guest company, while I do my thing" Robbins instructed, to which she happily obliged with a joyful bark. And as he walked down the hallway to his kitchen, he could have sworn he heard a soft chuckle from the strong, stoic Hudson.

Must be a dog person, that's good, he thought to himself as he turned the sink on, filling the tea kettle that stayed right next to the faucet. It only took a few minutes to brew the tea in the kettle, herbal stuff that one of his friends introduced him to, said it was to calm the nerves. Ever since he's been drinking it, he's found that to be true, and it certainly seemed like his guest could use some calming down at the moment.

In mere moments, Robbins returned with a tray of two cups, a full sugar bowl, the tea kettle, and a couple of crumpets he'd been meaning to finish off for a couple weeks now anyway. A sudden squeak of leather where Hudson sat gave away that he was startled at how quickly Robbins had returned, again earning him an amused smile from the master of the house. With a deft hand, he placed the tray on the coffee table sitting between them and moved the miscellaneous contents obstructing the tray to the corners of the table. He'd done it so many times, sight was a mere formality on the matter.

"Ye were much quicker than I expected" Hudson remarked, as if his surprise was news to Robbins, who simply chuckled a bit in response.

"Is my girl Gilly being hospitable?" he asked as he sat down in his faithful lounge chair. He of course knew she was, but wanted to break the ice further with his mysterious guest. Something told him that Hudson wasn't very good at starting small talk, luckily for him Robbins was a certifiable expert. After all those book tours, interviews, and meet and greets, he just ought to be.

"Aye, she's wonderful and full of love, as any good dog should be" Hudson nervously agreed to what they both already knew, before falling silent. Gilly sat expectantly by Robbins' side, her soft panting subtly accompanying the crackling fire. He took a few crumpets and offered them to her, to which she sloppily accepted as he petted her head gently.

"It's good that you're a dog person, she's very affectionate with people, as you already know. Got a furry companion of your own?"

"Aye. Ye could say that"

"What's his name?"

"Bronx" he replied calmly, before struggling to add more detail. "Like the village"

Robbins put a hand on his chin for a second, taken aback by the phrasing. "Hmm, village huh? We usually call 'em burrows, but I guess village works too"

"Ah, right. Burrows. I... keep forgetting" Hudson replied, trailing off at the end as he settled in the chair. The leather squeaking and groaning as he did.

"New in town, are ya?" Robbins added coyly.

"Aye, very new"

"You been enjoying your stay in New York?" he asked, before quickly reminding himself of the situation that brought this guest to his study. "That is, until tonight?"

Hudson remained silent for a moment, not just because he was sipping his tea, the slightest of grunts as he did. Finally he answered, sighing, "It's... been an adjustment."

The sound of hair shuffling led him to believe Hudson stroked his beard as he continued, "Don't know if I'd say I've enjoyed it, but I don't have much choice in the matter"

Robbins sipped his tea before replying, "Yeah, most people feel that way when they stay here for a couple months. Trust me, you'll find enjoyment even when you're struggling to adjust. Take it from a fellow adjustment struggler" He motioned to his shades, a friendly grin on his face. Hudson simply remained silent, possibly forgetting once more that Robbins was blind and chose to nod, instead of voice his response.

The warm fire lightly rumbled as rain began to trickle on the windows, filling the room with a comfortable ambiance as the two men whittled down their drinks. The delicate rustling of fabric and long hair clued Robbins in that Hudson was taking in the room, bouncing his attention from one thing to the other. Not that he blamed him, his study was full of nifty little things he'd gathered over the years.

The statue of the general on his rampaging stallion, his Army uniform, the assault rifle above the mantle, his grandparent's decorative clock just beneath the firearm. Not to mention the plethora of books adoring his shelved walls. He supposed that someone who was seeing all of this for the first time would be quite intrigued, not knowing where to start first, not at all unlike Robbins felt right now about the puzzling predicament that was Hudson.

A dull clack of porcelain signaled that Hudson was winding down his wandering eyes and was once again at a loss on how to proceed with him, so Robbins figured he'd throw him another lifeline.

"Is the tea to your liking?"

"Oh, aye..." Hudson responded unenthused, "it's got quite an... interesting flavor" he struggled, trying to remain as polite and amicable as he could, though failing to hide the audible strain in his tone.

"That bad, huh?" Robbins chuckled back.

Hudson fluttered about, if the faint sensation of wind brushing against his face was any indication of rapid movement. Hmm, even his scent was peculiar. "No no, I didn't mean to imply that. It's fine, really"

Robbins shrugged as he swirled his cup. "It's alright. If ya didn't like it, ya didn't like it. It's an acquired taste, anyhow" he sipped the rest of his tea down, the warmth softly coursing through his body.

"I don't fancy m'self wantin' to acquire that taste, if ye don't mind me sayin' " Hudson playfully responded, placing the teacup and saucer back on the tray with a polite clack.

"Not at all. I took a gamble that your tastes would be more on the robust side, but perhaps a sweeter softer tea would have been better. I'll take care to remember that" Robbins mirrored Hudson's motion and picked up the tray.

"Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Robbins" Hudson took the tray from him, gracefully placing it on the end table beside his chair. Robbins merely smiled and sat back down, he wasn't the only one that felt a desperate needed to exercise his manners again.

"Just Robbins is fine, Mr. Robbins was my father. Plus it makes me feel older than I am"

"Nonsense, you're still plenty young" he replied a little too confidently, confirming another suspicion.

"Heh, figured you were older than me. I'm 59, so how much are you beating me by?" he motioned an open palm to Hudson, who merely scoffed. Like a horse snorting out its frustration after a long run.

"A considerable margin, let's just leave it at that" Hudson answered deftly, finishing off the crumpets.

"Hahaha, fair enough, Hudson!" he couldn't help but laugh at that. Sure enough, he knew he wasn't going to get very far with the intimate details, but who likes talking about their age when they're older than 30, let alone older than 59? It was an oddly humanizing comment, one that made him rethink the whole horse simile he just attributed to him.

After a smaller bout of silence, Hudson was finally the one to break it. "What is this?" he asked while reaching for one of the many items set aside to make way for the tea tray.

Robbins put his hand out, reminding Hudson that he needed to feel what he was referencing. That had to have been a record, no one's ever managed to "forget" he was blind 3 times in a row after just meeting him. Hudson placed the object in his hand, and immediately he figured what it was.

The small wooden frame, always resting on the coffee table, curious enough to make a guest ask "what it is" instead of "who is it" a picture of. He couldn't help but rub his fingertips along the silky fabric attached to the medal that spoke volumes of his service in the armed forces. One of the few trophies or awards he bothered displaying, all the others felt tokenized, superficial, ultimately meaningless. But this one, with the engraving of his name and George Washington side by side, it meant the world to him, as it would any proud American soldier.

"My purple heart" he responded finally, emotion carefully choked back. "For this" he added, placing a finger on the rim of his shades.

He stood up to face the mantle, hopefully to mask the sentimentality that was welling up despite himself. "So busy trying to herd a bunch of green kids through 'Nam, that I didn't watch my step"

"Shrapnel. You never see it coming..." His grip on his cane tightened just a bit, as he shook his head gently.

" 'Nam?" was his reply, which caused Robbins to turn to his mysterious guest, confusion lacing his features.

"Vietnam" he clarified. Perhaps, in Scotland they don't know it by the abbreviation. But, continued silence was his answer, causing him to sink deeper into confusion. "The war?" he asked expectantly, his eyebrow quirking up. Again, there was no answer from Hudson.

"Funny," Robbins said, tapping his cane on the floor absently, "something about your voice, made me think you were a soldier once" he motioned to Hudson with his open palm, in an apologetic way.

But Hudson finally spoke up, "Aye..." he responded, the gravel in his voice returning in full, rumbling his chest. "I still am, I suppose..." he chuckled a bit, earning him another quirked eyebrow from Robbins.

Nervous, he struggled to move the conversation away from himself again, "Er, what fills your nights now, Robbins?"

"I write novels" he responded, walking along his wall of books. "Or, I did until they dried up" he added in faux irritation with himself, turning back to Hudson.

Hudson rose from his seat, almost rushing to stand, in spite of his injury, "You wrote all of these?" he asked incredulous, causing Robbins to laugh unabashed.

"Hahaha! Wouldn't that be something?" he sighed and wiped a tear prickling at the corner of his eye. "No, but... I did have a few modest successes" he walked over to a portion of the extended bookshelves, his fingers trailing on the wood faithfully holding the wealth of knowledge and stories.

Robbins reached his desired section and instinctively reached out for the book he searched for. His book: Gilgamesh the King. One of his proudest achievements, easily the most famous of his modest successes, and one he'd hoped Hudson would either recognize or enjoy someday.

He only then realized that Hudson reminded him of Enkidu, Gilgamesh's closest friend and ally. Strong, proud, honorable, but a bit ignorant of the broader world around him. Which isn't to say that he's foolish, of course, but his horizons could be broadened a bit and help him navigate the difficulties life challenges us all with.

However, he doubted that Hudson would help kill a heavenly bull and a giant monstrous chimera guarding the gods' cedar forest. That would be a bit too much indulging of fantasy, he thought to himself as he handed the book over to Hudson.

"Here" large tentative hands took the book out of his smaller hand and the thumping of fingers on the hardcover was encouraging. He was showing clear interest in it, that was good.

"What are these... tiny bumps?" he asked, confused. A quick sound of pages flipping over before the next question, "Where are the... uh..." he struggled for a second, "words?"

Robbins kicked himself for going to the braille edition before the printed version. He was just so used to reading that version himself, he forgot that others wouldn't be able to read that one. Though, curiously once again, Hudson appears to have never encountered braille before, adding more files to the mental cabinet Robbins was keeping on the enigmatic Scotsman.

"Why, it's braille. It's how I can read" he replied, tracing his way to another section of the bookshelf, "And write, back when I still had something to write about" he added, again in a disgruntled tone of disappointment. It really had been far too long since the old juices flowed and the muse visited him.

After reaching the section, he pulled the regular version of his book, and handed it to Hudson. "Here's the printed version. This'll make more sense to ya"

A staunch closing of the book in Hudson's possession revealed that he'd put some distance between them. Perhaps the subject matter was a sensitive one? Was Hudson not a fan of Gilgamesh or not a fan of ancient epics? Hmm, shame. Robbins figured Hudson would have enjoyed it, but no matter. Just like the tea, Robbins contemplated his presumptions of Hudson's tastes, which have proven to be a bit elusive to him. Another rarity, he can usually read people pretty well. Robbins shrugged and retracted his extended hand with the book, as the old saying goes, "to each their own".

"Bumps... Scrolls..." Hudson spoke up, his voice more gravely again, if not absentminded. "What's the difference?" he asked, not seeking for an answer.

And it finally crystalized for Robbins, the reason for the sudden distance, the forlorn tone in his voice, the quiet contempt that nearly went unnoticed. Slowly, but purposefully, Robbins walked up to Hudson, who he figured was facing away from him now, and lightly tapped the man's leg with his cane. Just an innocent little tap, enough for it to be warded off and rejected or to be ignored and allowed. Hudson made no moves away from the touch, neither did he voice any complaints, which left the ball in Robbins's court.

As carefully and delicately as he could, he reached out to Hudson's shoulder, where he knew it was. Robbins was all too aware of how this next act would shift the entire atmosphere. For better or for worse, he couldn't know for sure, but it would certainly change, something he was aware Hudson was particularly not a fan of. But still, he felt it necessary to take that one step further with his surprise houseguest.

No, he thought, he's not just that anymore, is he? I want to help him, not just to be kind to a stranger, but to be a friend to someone who could be one to him as well. Maybe. Hopefully...

He had a 50/50 chance of getting through to this peculiar man or to scaring him off to flee into the night never to return. But again, he'd gambled with worse odds before and won. That night he'd already done just that, so with a bold kindness and familiarity, he planted his hand on Hudson's broad shoulder. Broader than he thought it'd be, if he was being candid. The material he felt was leather to be sure, which might explain some of Hudson's unique aroma, but something was different about it. Something he, ironically enough, couldn't put his finger on.

Considering his hand wasn't recoiled from, neither questioned or criticized for its placement, he pressed on. With the gentleness of a father, he gripped Hudson's shoulder, and smiled in understanding before softly saying what they both knew to be true.

"Ya can't read, can ya?"

Hudson stiffened at the accusation initially, the shock of being uncovered so clearly will do that to a man. Truthfully, Robbins thought that would be that, Hudson would yank his shoulder out of his grip, thank him for his hospitality in a curt manner, then rush out without a concern for how he'll get back to his ship, presumably. Ignoring the storm raging outside, the unfamiliar terrain, risk being seen by so many people he would dread to have know his face. Still, Robbins placed his bet and waited for the chips to fall where they would.

And once more on that fateful night, lady luck was still on his side. The Scotsman remained frozen on the spot, daring not to move for fear of change. What change specifically, he couldn't be sure of, but there was a fear of something in his tensed shoulder. Mercifully, Hudson rumbled a low hum, this time Robbins could feel the vibrations emanating from him. A hum of resignation, defeat, acceptance. A humbling sound, to be sure.

Robbins let go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding, as if on cue, the low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as lightning streaked miles away over the sea. Robbins patted Hudson's shoulder before returning to his seat, thankful that his guest had decided to remain a guest despite the uncomfortable revelation.

"Aye... I don't..." he finally said, small and ashamed. "Sorry" he added even quieter.

"Apology unnecessary. You haven't done anything wrong, Hudson"

"But I can't read your book. Surely that disappoints ye"

"Well, not really, no. A bunch of people that can read haven't read it either, and I'm not disappointed in them. Wouldn't make sense to be disappointed in you for the same reason"

"It's just... I dunno..." he could hear Hudson rubbing the back of his neck, his words trailing off and interjected with several gravely hums.

"That's alright. You can learn at your own pace. You'll be running through the novels of your choice in no time"

Hudson slumped deeper into his chair. "It's... too late..."

"Nonsense, it's never too late to learn a new skill" Robbins declared, pointing to Hudson authoritatively.

"But I'm too old to learn"

"Oh hogwash! I had to learn braille when I was almost 40. And I'll learn a new way to read when I'm 80, if I have to" stamping his cane down for emphasis. He was really feeling the fire now.

"Well, who would teach me? I've never told my clan that I can't read" he admitted, desperate to find a reason not to. And Robbins knew it, which is why he took that next step forward, to really reach the heart of the matter.

"I can teach you... but that's not really the point, is it?" he allowed Hudson ample time to admit another harsh truth that they were both already aware of. To his credit, this one came much sooner than the first.

"It... shames me..." he said in a distant tone, his head seemed to be turned away from Robbins again. A reflexive tick.

Robbins toned down his passion and regained that calming demeanor that worked so well moments before. "I understand. But it isn't shameful to be illiterate, Hudson"

He leaned forward on his cane as he concluded, "It's only a shame to stay that way..."

He was content to let the statement hang in the air for a moment. Robbins wanted the full impact of his words to weigh on Hudson, to give the old soldier a full understanding of his beliefs on the matter, the merits of it, the wisdom in it. He'd hoped to hear at the very least a begrudging "I'll get back to you on that one" response, but he instead heard the chirping of birds. A symphony of whistles and calls that communicate the ending of a long night and the dawn of a new day. One of natures most beautiful songs, something he takes care appreciate every morning first thing. A marvelous melody he'd take over the hustle and bustle of the big city any day.

Surprisingly, Hudson was especially responsive to the early birds chirping, shooting out a sharp gasp, before whipping his head around to see the window, the groaning and creaking of the chair was a dead giveaway. Swiftly, he jumped to his feet with a heavy thud, snatched his metal container that Robbins completely forgot about until that very moment, then cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Uh, I must leave" he succinctly announced, making a beeline for the door, his distinctive scent wafting past Robbins as it trailed behind the rushing Scotsman. Robbins's heart dropped at the sudden shift. He didn't realize his last words were also a gamble, apparently he had gone one step too far.

"Now I've run you off with my preaching!" he exclaimed, incredibly embarrassed and apologetic. He did have a tendency to drone on longer than most found comfortable, a habit that's only gotten worse with age.

"No..." Hudson quickly dismissed, almost as desperately as he did when the idea of calling a doctor was brought up. "It's nearly dawn" he said turning to face Robbins once more, a seriousness in his tone that was unmistakable.

"I have to go" he breathed quickly before rushing out of the door and down the hall, much faster than Robbins believed he could move, especially while injured.

Robbins shot up as fast as he could and made his way to the front door, the faint scent of old leather and the sound of heavy footfalls and flapping cloth led him outside, the dew settling down to make way for the sun wet his ankles. But he didn't care, he needed to apologize to Hudson, try to make him understand that whatever his offense, he mustn't pin it on reading and dismiss the notion of learning.

The last thing he wanted was to prevent someone from learning such a vital skill as reading, it meant so much to him, not only as a writer, but as an avid reader himself. In fact, after the loss of his sight, the only thing that really kept him going was learning to read braille. Despite losing the ability to see the world with his physical eyes, he could still use his mind's eye, his imagination, to see not just the world he lived in, but other worlds. Countless worlds, countless people, countless phenomena, the experiences were endless. The limitations were only human's ability of imagination, which he firmly believed had no limits.

It changed his life for the better, after an accident tried changing it for the worse. It helped him accomplish his dream of being a writer, something he was too afraid to pursue until his retirement from active duty. And to be the one to deprive someone else of the ability to have what he's been blessed to have, to unintentionally convince someone to forsake the pursuit of literacy, is a horrific fate for him.

Not to mention that he was growing fond of old Hudson as the night went on. He was a fascinating man, more fascinating than any man he'd ever met before. Possibly more than any man he'd ever meet in future. Such a strong and honorable man, to the point where he appeared to be plucked from the old stories of knights and mages. But also, a man who suffers from a narrow scope, the all too familiar masculine credo, and a distrust of people in general. The more time he spent with him, the more he wanted to know him, help him, befriend him. For it to end this way, so unceremoniously, so unexpectedly, was just too much to bear.

"Wait..." he called out, trying to hide the desperation in his heart. He rushed to the front gate, hoping to catch Hudson on the beach, until he heard a sound so odd, it stopped him in his tracks. His mind had to have been playing tricks on him, for the only way he could describe the sound was an odd scraping on gravel or concrete. Rather, of gravel, because as strange as it sounds, Robbins could hear the distinct sound of the gravel moving, as if it was being forced out of the ground in chunks and shaped into something else. Calcified, as if there was an audible noise that could be attributed to such a word and he was the first man to ever hear it.

He couldn't believe his ears for a moment and at an uncharacteristic loss of words, futilely he asked, "What's that?"

Of course, he never got an answer, even now he's still not sure what he heard on that crisp dawn. But whatever it was, he knew it had something to do with the man who just rushed out of his home like a bat out of hell. A man who he still wasn't sure was out of earshot.

So with more than a sprinkling of hope, he called out that new name he learned, "Hudson?"

And despite the silence that greeted him afterwards, he found he enjoyed the sound of the name more than he thought. But what he'd enjoy far more is that gravely voice responding back. Alas, the waves crashing against the shore responded, the birds flittering in and out of the trees responded, the brisk ocean breeze rustling the trees responded. But the enigmatic Scotsman soldier Hudson did not respond.

So with a solemn sigh, Robbins hung his head in regret and shook. Too late, old man. Couple steps too late. The despondent writer turned on his heel and calmly made his way back to his now empty home, tapping his cane to find the porch steps before they found him.

With a flick of his wrist, the door swung close, leaving him to contemplate his own brashness in the comfort of his carpeted home, which was now wet with dew soaked shoes, he realized. As he made his way to his bedroom to replace his cold damp socks with warm dry ones, Hudson's odd smell still clinging to the walls, he couldn't help but replay the entire ordeal through his head.

How did one ordinary night along the beach turn into a dramatic story like this? It was enough to make his head spin. Would make a great plot for a television show though, with some tweaking of course. Gilly trotted up to him as he sat on his bed, resting her head on his lap to invite his gentle touch. He obliged with a deep sigh, still regretting how things ended with their new friend.

Yes, he supposed he considered Hudson a friend. At best, a friend. At worst, an acquaintance he'd never meet again. But he truly did want to consider Hudson a new friend, and have him reciprocate that sentiment. It was strange, but he found himself feeling like a young lad again, eager to make a good impression with his peers and failing to do so weighing on him deeply. He chuckled to himself, the comical realization finally sobered him up enough to shrug the whole thing off for now. He mentioned to Gilly that it's about time for breakfast and got up to fill her bowl, when he remembered a choice moment from last night, seemingly at random.

Hudson, like the river, he thought as he smiled fondly. It's gonna be a while before I forget that one. The memory also reminded him of the tray he had yet to put back in the kitchen. If he didn't do it now, he'd forget and the next time he wanted tea, he'd have to search the whole house top to bottom. Not a fun task with sight, definitely less enjoyable without it. So he made his way back to his study, Gilly in tow, when she rushed past his leg unexpectedly. He didn't think much of it, she probably saw a squirrel or something in the yard and was preparing to bark at it until it ran up a tree out of sight.

He simply shrugged and grabbed the two tea cups with one hand and the tray with his other, the cups destination was the sink and the tray's the counter, as always. But when the barking inevitably started, he also heard a distant whine. An all too familiar whine, one that accompanied a large vehicle that shouldn't be anywhere near the beach, let alone the island itself. And if he wasn't mistaken, it sounded quite familiar to the jet engines for fighter planes, not a commercial jet. That, on top of the franticness of Gilly's barking and scratching, none of it boded well.

Robbins set everything down and walked to the door of his study, hoping for a moment that it was Hudson who was getting picked up by a jet. He was a soldier after all, perhaps he was lost at sea due to a mission. He ejected from the plane, landed in the water, washed ashore. That metal container was probably from the plane or a package he was meant to deliver to his higher ups. Whatever the case, it would answer some questions, but only raise more as is often the case concerning the mysterious old soldier. Regardless, he figured he'd try his luck again, what's the worst that could happen?

"Hudson? Is that you?" he called out, refraining from opening the door until he was sure.

Gilly's growling wasn't exactly inspiring confidence in the situation either. She got along great with Hudson, there's no way she'd be growling at him now, not unless he's with someone else who just so happened to be less pleasant than him. Upon receiving no answer, he figured whoever just landed in that conspicuous aircraft was not with Hudson. And was probably up to no good, just from the overall vibe he was feeling.

"Who's there?" he asked more sternly.

"My name is Lennox McDuff, sir" another strong, Scottish accent, delivering a clearly fake name. But something was different about this one. His voice was smoother, slicker, sharper. More dubious.

The ominous man began walking as soon as he started to speak, each step confident and eerily calm. "I'm a friend of Hudson's, I'm uh... concerned about him" he smoothed, far too sure of himself. Robbins could hear the devilish grin in his inflection.

Wasting no time, he slid open the door and blocked the opening. "He isn't here. You just missed him" he stated frankly.

There was nothing to lie about after all, Hudson really had disappeared just moments ago and he had no idea where he was going. The shady man had to have realized he was telling the truth, seeing as he was so comfortable in falsehoods, identifying the opposite should be child's play. Though, he wisely kept that little tidbit to himself.

"Then I won't trouble you. Good day" the strange man replied, not a single change in his tone or demeanor as he backed away from the door, allowing the robust scent of old paper and freshly ground metal to assault Robbins's senses. A parting gift, something to remember him by.

Gilly immediately pounced at the opening in the door, snarling more viciously than she'd ever had. Robbins knelt down beside her, rubbing soothing circles on her back and under her chin, hoping it'd be enough to calm her down. He understood her hostility against the dubious man that just darkened their doorstep, there was something about him that just wasn't right. Not just that he was clearly a liar, had use of a military grade jet or possibly even above military grade, walked in the place like he owned it, left as quickly as he came in the shadiest way possible.

All of that was bad, true enough, but there was something underneath it. A quiet wrath, tempered by ambition and purpose. Like a conqueror waiting to seize a kingdom for his own, by any means necessary. A hunger for power that could and no doubt would lead him to hurting many people for his own satisfaction. A chill went down his spine just thinking of what the man would have done if he hadn't believed Hudson was gone without a trace. Robbins just held Gilly tight as she settled down a bit, though she refused to move from that spot until she was sure the man was long gone.

Once again, Robbins couldn't blame the old girl. It'd be downright foolish to take your eyes off of a man like that. But in no time, the jet engines of Lennox McDuff's aircraft hummed to life again and shot off into the distance, leaving no trace of him ever being there, save the sickly feeling he gave Robbins.

"Lennox McDuff", he thought to himself. What a creative alias, though he wasn't sure just how effective it was in the man's day to day. There had to have been dozens of awkward moments over the years where someone would randomly blurt out how fake it sounded or how hilariously on the nose it was. It was also amusing that the more confident the man was in the name, the less believable it seemed, the complete opposite of Hudson. He was a bit awkward with his name, but that just made it sound more genuine, authentically part of him. Hudson, like the river, now that's how you get someone to believe you. Not no, "Lennox McDuff". Who on earth is even named "Lennox" anymore, he wondered in mild frustration.

Despite the unwarranted excitement of the morning, Robbins was pleased to find the rest of his day was uneventful. Though he did get a call from one of his jogging neighbors that confused him. He asked him if he's always had that extra gargoyle on his wall, just out of the blue. He of course told the man that he assumed so, considering no one has done any new construction on his property since he had the driveway repaved 4 years back.

Whatever new statue he thought he saw had to have been there the whole time, he just never noticed it before. He agreed that must be it, then asked if he was going to the HOA meeting next Thursday, which promptly lost his interest in the man, leading him to end the conversation as quickly and politely as possible.

But other than that oddity, it was just another ordinary day, one he secretly hoped he would have interrupted by the ever intriguing Hudson. Not just because he was concerned about his safety, the Lennox McDuff character had successfully earned Robbins's extreme caution, plus Hudson was already injured. But it was because he wanted to undo whatever he messed up for him when it came to learning to read. It was never his intention to discourage him, far from it, and he just wanted to make that clear before Hudson closed himself off completely to the concept.

But after a full dinner and a sleepless night and day, Robbins was fading fast, his eyelids weighing just as heavy as if Hudson leaned on them, encouraging him to just relax and drift into dreamland. He couldn't even begin to fight the siren's call beckoning him, so off he drifted into blissful dreamless sleep. The only thing going through his mind was just how old he must have been getting, it was only 5:30 and he was ready to hit the hay. It wasn't even dusk yet. But once he slumped into the leather-bound embrace of his lounge chair, he drifted off...

A sudden bark from Gilly ripped him out of that warm embrace and shot him forward into reality. She was right behind him, facing the terrace... exactly where that Lennox McDuff character approached him! Perhaps he wasn't convinced after all. Would explain his flat out ominous and abrupt exit; wait for later in the day, when everyone has turned in for the night, then come and "question" the suspect to his heart's content. Certainly would be in line with the dubious quiet wrath at the core he sensed from that man.

Well, if he wants a fight, he's gonna get one, he thought to himself, rising to get his mantle-mounted gun. But something in Gilly's breathing and barking gave him pause. She was reacting to someone at the door, obviously, but she wasn't tense, on guard, or upset even. Rather, she was excited by the sound of it. Something she would only be if it was a friend, or if his assumption was correct, someone they hoped would be a friend.

She jumped up on the arm of the chair to encourage Robbins to be led to the door, and he grabbed hold of her handle, trusting her judgement. She's never steered him wrong before, why start now? As Robbins reached for the door handle, he could hear heavy footfalls that were all too familiar, confirming his suspicion before the Scotsman's gravely voice resonated in his ears.

"It's only me. Hudson" he announced, in a stronger, more forward tone as Robbins opened the door. A welcomed change from his groans of discomfort and trepidation. He was right, it seemed; all it took was a day's rest and he was fine. It made him wonder about the nature of that injury or Hudson's capacity for tolerating pain, but he just filed it away in the now bursting file cabinet he accumulated of the heavyset Scotsman.

"I'm glad you came back" he said, grateful to have the opportunity to make up for his previous transgression. Grateful that the old soldier was alright. Heck, just grateful that he wasn't Lennox McDuff looking to settle whatever imaginary score he could have drummed up.

"I'm afraid I can't stay" he lamented, though he tried to quickly mask it by changing the subject, "But I believe I left something on the terrace this morning. Have you come across a large canister?"

Now it was coming together, Robbins thought as he answered, "No, but a friend of yours was on the terrace. A Lennox McDuff. Maybe he took it"

Hudson hummed a deep grumble as he thought on the name. "I don't know any Lennox McDuff..." he said warily.

"I'm not surprised," Robbins responded, taking reign of Gilly to lead him to his bookshelf. "The name sounded phony. Lennox and McDuff are two characters in a play by Shakespeare" he explained, finally reaching the shelf and trailing his fingers to find a specific text.

"MacBeth" he finished, turning to face Hudson to see if that meant anything to him.

Theatrical individuals such as "McDuff" always use aliases that are relevant to them as people, tracing the alias back to the source can often reveal something about the person the alias was intended to cover up. Or so he learned from his old Lieutenant, who just happened to be into spy novels and got him hooked for a while as well.

Hudson gasped a quiet, but impactful breath at the name. "MacBeth!?" he immediately turned to leave, "I've gotta go Robbins, I..." he stopped himself before breathing a deep deflated sigh.

"I... I don't know where he lives..." he realized helplessly.

"Who?" Robbins asked as he found the book he was looking for.

"MacBeth—MacDuff—" a light thwak of a palm against a forehead sounded off before he composed his thoughts "eh, I do know him!" he admitted, "But he's not a friend!"

Robbins flitted through the pages of his book as he responded. "Well maybe this will help..." He raced his fingertip across the page, mumbling the names inscribed until he hit pay dirt. "McDuff, Lennox" he announced resolutely, tapping the entry firmly.

"And here's an address, just like that" he finished, preparing to read it off for Hudson, who meandered over to his side, unabashed unlike last night. Extreme circumstances, he supposed. Still, another welcomed change.

The old soldier rumbled another thoughtful hum as he inspected the phone book in Robbins's hands, "Magic book..." he remarked impressed, eliciting a wide grin from Robbins.

"Aren't they all?" he asked playfully. Hudson exhaled through his nose, a stifled chuckle that can only be the result of a smile.

Robbins sighed in relief internally, he didn't scare Hudson off with his preaching and Hudson appeared to be really coming around on reading, which was the most important thing for Robbins. Even if Hudson tired of his rhetoric, he at least wanted him to be able to learn how to read and forsake illiteracy, it's a crying shame that someone as old as Hudson has missed out on reading so many stories that everyone else has. He deserved the joy of combing through a good book as much as anyone else and he was glad to know that Hudson was beginning to realize that himself.

"You're not gonna believe this, but he lives in a castle just north of Hudson Heights, in Fort Tryon Park. Apparently he bought Fort Tryon? How does someone even do that?" he asked incredulous at the notion.

"When MacBeth is concerned, you can never rule anything out" Hudson practically growled before rushing back to the door. A tiger on the hunt, Robbins thought. "I've gotta get going, Robbins"

"I understand, just be careful alright? Wouldn't want you to think you can skip away without explaining all of this to me" he said, trying to sound light to mask how close he was to exploding with questions.

Gilly barked happily as Hudson gave her a goodbye pet. "Sorry, I'll do my best to clear things up. But the truth is, I don't know much about what's goin' on," he flung the door open and walked back onto the terrace. "But I do know that if MacBeth is involved, he's gotta be stopped"

Robbins walked over to the door, to see Hudson off in spirit, he supposed. He could hear the flapping of his old leather jacket cut through the night air like a hot knife through butter, leaving him to wonder why he did it. Probably just to fasten it back closed or something.

A subtle shift in the grass and a weak breeze just in front of him, carrying a distinct earthy leathery scent, meant Hudson was turning to face him one last time. "Thank ye, Robbins. Fer everythin' " he said, pouring his heart into the words.

Robbins smiled warmly and nodded in response, "Anytime, Hudson. Good luck"

And with that, a strong stomp rumbled the ground in front of Robbins and the flapping of that leather jacket accompanied it, almost as if he'd thrown it into the sky. But that didn't make sense, why would he do that on his way back to the mainland? He was chilly just from last night's cool breeze, imagine going out on the open ocean, he'll be a popsicle in 30 seconds. Still, the flapping stopped abruptly and just like that, Hudson disappeared into thin air. He wondered how that was possible, but filed it away into a second file cabinet, eager to get some answers to these questions when he returns. Not if, but when.

He knew, without a doubt, Hudson would come back and honor his word to answer some of the questions that have been plaguing Robbins since they met. Two file cabinet's bursting with queries that were begging to be answered, mysteries demanding to be solved. No matter how dangerous or dubious that MacDuff fellow—or was it MacBeth?—no matter how dangerous that other Scottish man was, Robbins knew he didn't have anything to worry about.

Something about Hudson's voice this time around, the power and confidence behind it just convinced him that Hudson could handle anything. And now that disappearing/reappearing act had to be weighed in, something for the life of him he couldn't begin to figure out on his own, plus that unexpected nimbleness of his as well. There seemed to be no reason to believe any harm would come to Hudson, regardless of whatever threat he faced.

Robbins rubbed his forehead, baffled by this swelling of faith in a man he had only met last night. He liked to think that he had more faith in people than most; surviving 'Nam wouldn't have been possible if his squad of green kids hadn't rallied around him and carried him back to base camp. His recovery and subsequent acclimation back to civilian life and life without sight relied on so many strangers helping him when he couldn't help himself. Getting the estate and maintaining it required faith in his real estate friends and neighbors. All in all, he didn't have a choice in the amount of faith and trust he gave humanity after everything he'd been through and the capacity for kindness and empathy he experienced from people.

But he wasn't foolish, for every good and decent person, there were just as many selfish and hateful people in the world, more even. McDuff—or MacBeth, whatever—he was proof positive of that. The only thing Robbins trusted McDuff-Beth to do was cause pain and destruction wherever he went, without a care for anybody but himself.

So how can he have such faith in Hudson to stop him and come back safely, he pondered. Sure he was strong, honorable, faster than he ought to be, and being an old soldier he's got plenty of experience. But that wasn't logically enough to relax completely concerning his encounter with McDuff-Beth, he knew that.

Robbins also knew that McDuff-Beth had access to military grade jets, which meant he probably had some significant firepower to go along with that, and he bought Fort Tryon, something he still had trouble reconciling. The man clearly had capital and all the gall that comes with it, but he also had the nefarious mind to use that capital to outfit Fort Tryon with whatever traps or defenses he could imagine in said nefarious mind. How would Hudson handle that? Could Hudson handle that?

But as he sat back down in his lounge chair, he couldn't shake the faith he had in his peculiar friend. No matter what question he raised in his head, his heart would brush it aside like cloth on a line. Hudson was going to stop McDuff-Beth, he was going to come back, there was nothing Robbins needed to worry about.

So, against his nagging brain's orders, he relaxed and pat Gilly's soft fur causing her to nestle into his touch. He supposed worrying about him wouldn't do much good anyway. Instead, he reached for the television remote he kept on the coffee table and flicked it on, hoping to hear something about Fort Tryon on the news.

Unfortunately, nothing about Fort Tryon came up that night, just fluff pieces on politicians, the rise and fall of The Pack, another fluff piece on the Metropolitan Museum of Art receiving a couple of new artifacts from Europe, weather, crime, sports, and finally health tips. Nothing even remotely related to Fort Tryon, McDuff-Beth, Hudson, nothing. He supposed that was to be expected, if Hudson was so desperate to never be seen or noticed by people, of course he'd prefer to stay out of the spotlight and do things discreetly. Robbins questioned how he even could in this type of situation, but he supposed he'd hear something in the morning. He switched the channel until he got to his oldies music channel, his second favorite channel after the news, and settled in for another quiet night with Gilly, a warm fire, and a good read.

Before he could get lost in one of his new books he'd been working through since last week, a smile creeped to his face. He remembered comparing Hudson to the loyal and powerful Enkidu from the Epic of Gilgamesh, a character he was all too familiar with at this point. He joked that he wouldn't be able to kill a heavenly bull or a monstrous chimera, but with the amount of faith Hudson suddenly instilled in him, Robbins figured someday he probably could rise to Enkidu's level of exploits.

A rapid blink at the idea caused him to chuckle to himself as he stood up to get his book for the evening, that smell of old leather and concrete, he finally recognized, faintly lingering in the spot where the heavyset Scotsman sidled up beside him, calling the phone book magic before scoffing out a smile. Robbins could only conclude with one comment before letting all things Hudson settle in the file cabinet once more.

"What a peculiar man..."

Chapter Text

Luck. Sheer dumb, or more appropriately blind luck. That's the only way Hudson could reconcile everything that transpired from last night to right now.

How else could he explain surviving the firefight with MacBeth's stooges, floating ashore instead of drifting to the open sea to be swallowed by raging waves in the storm, keeping the canister holding the famous Scrolls of Merlin, and coming to the same night? That alone was insanely fortunate, but the only people that came across his beached body was a blind man and his dog, who invited him inside their home, unwittingly giving him shelter that saved him from MacBeth all night? Unthinkably lucky.

And the cherry on top of this sundae, the man, Robbins helped put him back on MacBeth's trail so he can meet up with the rest of the clan and settle the score with the sinister human once and for all. He didn't even know a book existed with the addresses of each individual person in New York, a concept he still wasn't fully grasping, let alone that Robbins would be smart enough to use MacBeth's fake name against him and locate his castle for him.

It was utterly unfathomable, he had to be luckier than a leprechaun, which only meant he probably used up all the good luck fate had leftover for him. That suited the old warrior just fine, he was the type that made his own luck anyway. Not to knock the Fates for smiling on him for once, they were welcome to continue this trend as frequently as they liked.

But Hudson couldn't stop thinking about just how wonderfully everything was working out for him, despite his shameful display with MacBeth's jets and losing the Scrolls of Merlin that morning. Here he was, right as rain, fully prepared to show MacBeth what for alongside his clan, who had to have been worried sick about him all this time, his identity remaining a secret to the rest of the world. It couldn't have worked out better if he sat down for a week and planned it out himself.

A man like Robbins, human or gargoyle, was a rare breed, he knew all too well. Someone so kind, so warm, and so fearless, despite his condition. There's no way anyone else would be so calm and composed after being accosted by the ruthless and devious MacBeth, let alone see right through his lies. Just amazing, what manner of human had he stumbled upon, he wondered as he flew through the sky, wind whistling past his face.

When this MacBeth business was over, he vowed to himself that he'd return to Robbins's home and explain as much as he was able to him. He owed him that for his warm hospitality and invaluable assistance, at the very least. Heck, he'd have happily given him a couple pounds of gold pieces, if he had any to give, that is. It still wouldn't have been enough to repay Robbins for all that he'd done, but it would be a start and it would rescue some of his tattered honor. For as grateful as he was to have met Robbins last night, his condition and demeanor during said initial meeting shamed him.

If he wasn't so old, he would have been perfectly capable of carrying himself to Robbins's abode, instead of pathetically using him as a crutch. He's a blind 59 year old human, what business did Hudson have throwing his weight on the poor fellow, without so much as exchanging names first? He had no excuse, his manners were supposed to be ever-present, not disappear at the first sign of injury. What kind of self-respecting warrior does that to someone they just met?

The old gargoyle grumbled as he shook his head a bit, now was not the time to berate himself, with the fight he had ahead of him. Especially considering the clan may have already begun the heated battle, wondering where he is and getting distracted with sentiment, like amateurs. They were fine warriors, if a bit silly and prone to emotional outbursts, he noted. But when something weighs on them enough, such as a fellow clansmen dropping off the face of the earth for an entire 24 hours after dropping in the sea, they were at half their strength. And if they were to emerge victorious in this particular battle, they couldn't enter it with half of anything. The sooner he got their, the better everyone would be, he reasoned wisely.

So as much as he'd love to brow beat himself, he decided to shelve it for after the siege of MacBeth's castle. A castle that seemed to finally come into view, just over the horizon. His eyes weren't what they used to be, but a gargoyle's sight is best at night, so he was pretty confident in the structure he now focused on. Robbins told him the castle was located north of Hudson Heights, something he found incredibly coincidental and just a wee bit amusing, and he seemed to have just passed the border of His Heights. No other structure resembled a castle other than the one he had in his sights, so he figured he must have the right place.

And when he saw 3 figures soaring towards the castle, swiftly dipping down into the trees just outside the perimeter, he breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't too late and he wasn't going to be a burden to the clan, good.

Hudson began his stealthy descent as well, aiming exactly where his clansmen were waiting in the shadows of the trees. Brooklyn was the first to speak up, Hudson's acute hearing picked up his tense, impatient voice easily.

"Now what?" he spat out, looking to Goliath for an answer, but he never got it. For Hudson's presence was picked up by his clan as he adroitly landed between them.

"Now we go in," he quickly answered, watching the youngest of the 4 beam with happiness at his arrival.

"We were worried!" Lexington said warmly, opening his arms at Hudson.

"There you are!" Brooklyn interrupted, excited and relieved all at once. It was only then that he realized they were missing a head, the trio was now a duo.

Hudson turned to Goliath as he walked up to his mentor, "Where's Broadway?" he asked, the worry clear in his voice. It was bad enough that he was missing in action, but Broadway too?

Goliath's eyes shot open before he quickly replied, "We thought he was with you!", motioning to Hudson.

"I've not seen 'im since the battle!" Hudson nearly shouted as he shook his head, his nerves on edge considering the revelation. He and Broadway were separated from the clan for an entire day, with Broadway still missing. A bad omen, thanks fates, we're back to our regularly scheduled apathy, he thought bitterly.

Hurried steps approached them as Lexington pointed towards the sky, "Up there!" Everyone lifted their gaze to the ominous castle, a plume of smoke billowing from the center of the structure, from a pyre, no doubt.

"Broadway could be in there, right now! We gotta get him outta there!" Brooklyn declared as he started to run. Goliath stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I'm just as concerned about him as you, but MacBeth is in the middle of something, and he has the Scrolls of Merlin. We can't go in with our vision narrowed from worrying over Broadway. Our first priority is stopping him from using the magic spells in the scrolls to do unspeakable horrors" he ordered sagely, earning a proud smirk from Hudson. The lad's a natural.

"Then we'll make him tell us what he's done with Broadway. I'll see to that personally" Goliath snarled darkly before flaring his wings and taking flight, Brooklyn & Lexington, hot on his heels. Hudson wasn't far behind, as they got into their familiar formation and dived straight towards the castle. It didn't take long for MacBeth's minions to notice them and start their counterattack, laser fire from cannon turrets, a new one for MacBeth. Good thing they were lousy shots, as the clan weaved between the gunfire like leaves in the wind. That is, until something caught Goliath's eye.

"Broadway!" he exclaimed, worry clear in his voice. The lad wasted no thought before he swooped down towards his brother, which is exactly what the thugs manning the cannons were hoping for, a closer target.

A quick spray of shots and Goliath was hit, though thankfully it was just a graze, his luck was still in good supply. The lad regrouped to the sky, as Hudson covered his flank and attempted to draw their fire away from him. It worked briefly, and the rest of the clan converged together again, as the boys huffed in frustration.

"We can't get past those cannons!" Lexington bemoaned, clearly upset that he hasn't thought of a way to dispose of the humans and get Broadway back. So it was a good thing that Hudson had come up with a plan for him, while they fluttered about unsure of themselves. Such is youth, he mused before speaking up.

"I have an idea" he announced, before banking right, the boys silently following suit, as they crossed a tower. But Hudson stopped suddenly, hiding behind the tower and grabbed Goliath's hand to keep him at his side.

With only a stiff nod, Brooklyn and Lexington knew what to do and quickly entered the fray again, while he and Goliath dropped down much lower and flew to their separate targets in perfect stealth. While the younger ones drew the humans' fire, spinning them around in circles, Goliath and Hudson snuck up on them and took out the turret cannons simultaneously. Hudson rammed into the turret seat at full speed, slamming the thug operating it into the console, a loud pain-filled grunt was his response. The turret began to spin out of control, firing shots randomly, the poor kid was scared silly. Good, Hudson chuckled to himself as he flew directly above the out of control turret, avoiding all the lasers blasting out of it.

Within seconds it blew up, launching the dull thug over the side of the platform and hurtling towards the hard ground below. The fall would have killed him, so Brooklyn swiftly stepped in and saved the man's life. Though gratitude would be the last thing the lad would get from such a lowly criminal, so Hudson trailed behind him to pick up the human's slack.

"Good work, lad" he said warmly, as Brooklyn looked over his wings at Hudson, the human scrambling in his arms like a frightened cat. At the height, the recent brush with death via explosion, or the up close and personal sight of a gargoyle, Hudson wasn't sure, but he could guess it was a mixture of the 3 shocking events.

"Thanks," Brooklyn said flatly before tossing the panicking human into a tree, an extremely high pitched shriek trailing behind him. "Now let's go rescue someone who actually deserves it" he finished, rushing to where Broadway was.

Hudson couldn't agree more as they cut through the air, Lexington in tow, before dropping down to where Goliath already was. As well as the dangerous man behind this whole plot, the one and only insidious MacBeth, who conspicuously had his back turned to Goliath. Something wasn't right about that, Hudson remarked inwardly, his hand still clutching his sword, ready for whatever MacBeth's dubious mind would devise to throw at them.

"Release Broadway" Goliath commanded sternly as he approached MacBeth with a calm and collected demeanor. The lad's got a plan, has he?

MacBeth swiftly swung around, with laser gun drawn and tongue sharp, "Heh. Or what?" he scoffed.

"Or I'll burn the scrolls" Goliath gruffly replied, serious as a heart attack. And if the bone chilling tone of his voice wasn't enough to show he meant what he said, he angled his arm over a nearby flaming pile of debris, the Scrolls of Merlin clutched in his tense grip.

A panic shot through Hudson's entire being at the sight of the all too important and priceless artifact just inches away from fiery oblivion, like so many relics of the distant past. He was petrified on the spot, almost as if the sun had suddenly poked out from the clouds. The lad wouldn't do that, he wouldn't, he had too much reason to see the Scrolls returned to humanity.

The preservation of history and his immense respect for that honorable goal, the safe return of a priceless item to the people under the protection of the clan, the very real possibility that they would one day need the magicks hidden in those scribblings to save their hides when all hope is lost. Not something Hudson was comfortable with, personally, but with all the sorcery at their enemies' disposal, it certainly wouldn't hurt for them to have a few spells of their own to even the odds. And as noble as the boy was, he still had entirely self satisfying reasons to see the Scrolls returned safely, namely satisfying his curiosity concerning what exactly the illustrious writings entailed. Secrets from one of the most famous figures in history, lost to the world for centuries; revealed to him in an instant.

Not to mention the lovely Detective Elisa Maza would be very grateful to her favorite gargoyle for completing this task successfully, perhaps so grateful she'd spend all night with him so he can make all over her and she in turn could make all over him. Hudson couldn't help but roll his eyes at the notion, those two really thought they were slick, but he noticed from the first time they met how they looked at each other, the crazy kids. Great at protecting the earth shattering secret of their existence, terrible at hiding a simple crush. He'd have laughed if it wasn't so annoying.

Goliath would have to be crazy to let the Scrolls burn, all because a deplorable cur like MacBeth put him in a difficult position. Surely, he wasn't serious, Hudson ruled tentatively. The lad's tone and posture really didn't leave much in the way of interpretation, which makes for a great bluff to use against MacBeth, but it also caused his breath to get caught in his throat. So hopefully MacBeth would just buy the bluff, saving everyone, including himself, a lot of unnecessary grief. After all, nobody wanted the Scrolls of Merlin more than the selfish, power hungry MacBeth. Surely he wouldn't gamble with their wellbeing—

"Go ahead. They're worthless" the man in question interrupted casually, causing Hudson's eyes to shoot open wider than dinner plates. "No magic at all—"

"No!" a familiar baritone voice bellowed, drawing everyone's attention to the rotund gargoyle shackled in front of them. Hudson thanked the lad for speaking up, his heart couldn't take anymore of this.

"They are magic!" Broadway continued vehemently, "But you can't burn them Goliath, you can't!" he pleaded, his passion captivating Hudson and by the looks of it, his fellow rookery brothers as well. He never expressed such intense interest in anything other than movies and food, so this was quite a turn from the norm for Broadway. Goliath still had his eyes trained on MacBeth, the Scrolls in question still dangerously close to the raging flames beneath them.

"It's Merlin's life, in his own words. When you read them, they take you there..." the lad trailed off for a second, like he was in a lovely trance. His eyes wandered to the distant sky, as if he was lost in a memory, a profound feeling or an epiphanal moment of some sort, one that brought about such a positive change in behavior, no doubt. Hudson could relate.

Though he pressed them down to deal with the matter at hand, his thoughts were resurfacing, reminding him of the profound words from the kind Robbins. The reverent passion that Broadway expressed was near identical to Robbins's when Hudson made the mistake of making excuses to not learn how to read. A deep respect, even mystified fascination of stories, drove Robbins to, how did he describe it, preach at Hudson the wise words that it's not shameful to be illiterate, only staying that way was. Doing nothing to change the current state he was in would be shameful, something he only realized when Robbins so masterfully put it.

Hudson really did appreciate him opening his eyes to his folly, and he would have said so right in that moment, if he didn't realize the Sun was about to end the conversation for him. He remembered Robbins's panicked and apologetic demeanor at Hudson's hurried exit, and he hoped his bold dismissal at Robbins's accusation that he was at fault would have been enough. But now that he thought back on it, Robbins was obviously worried when he returned tonight, saying he was glad he returned and before he left for the castle, made him promise to come back and explain everything that was happening.

At first glance, these instances didn't appear to mean much, but Hudson had been around for a while, he knew when someone was trying to confirm something or make sure things were smoothed over without trying to come off as such. Robbins must have been worried sick when he just disappeared like that, if he was more vigilant, he might have been able to avoid such an awkward and abrupt end to their night together.

He had to be more careful next time, Robbins deserved a polite farewell, at the very least. The man did offer to teach him to read, something he couldn't bear the though of anyone else doing for him, his pride wasn't about to let that happen. But Robbins didn't know any of the clan, he didn't know Elisa, that Hudson knew of, and the man didn't even know what he looked like. The greatest point in Robbins's favor, to be certain.

Also, he was incredibly kind and warm, even after deducing on his own that he couldn't read, there was no way he'd take the lessons as a chance to belittle Hudson. Plus, the man did offer, his deep reverence to reading being the chief reason as to why he did, most likely, which focused Hudson back to the present again.

"It is magic, Goliath. Precious magic" Broadway explained soberly, giving even the malicious MacBeth pause, Hudson noticed. Goliath's gaze finally broke away from MacBeth at the lad's beautiful words. Hudson had to hand it to the boy, he was quite the poet when the situation called for it.

The old soldier stepped forward to Goliath, a resolute calm overtaking his worry. "Aye, lad. T'would be the greatest shame to lose them..." he added as purposefully as he could. Goliath's steely gaze softened as he looked at the helpless relic held in the palm of his hand. A deep sigh of relief blew out of Hudson, it looked like the tensions were down and the mystical Scrolls of Merlin were safe, both from MacBeth's lust for power and Goliath's rage.

MacBeth, uncharacteristically quiet during the entire exchange, held his chin in thought. After a slow, meaningful blink, he reached into his black trench coat, "You're all trespassing" he stated flatly, taking out a small remote control.

Before Hudson could ask what it was for, he aimed it at Broadway, pressed a button that eliciting a loud beep, and continued, "Now take the scrolls and go", a tired lilt creeped in his voice as he pocketed the remote control.

A metallic clank drew Hudson's attention back to Broadway, who's restraints were unfastened sending his wrists falling to his sides. The rotund gargoyle had a question on his face as he flexed his wrists a bit to help his circulation return, everyone in the clan did. MacBeth wasn't one to catch his prey only to turn around and throw it back, with absolutely nothing to gain in return. Surely he still had some trick up his sleeve, something to surprise them with, some weapon to inflict considerable pain or discomfort, a profit to squeeze out of the situation. Something. There was no way MacBeth, ruthless, sinister, self-serving MacBeth would let his enemies scurry back home without so much as a lasting injury to remember him by... right?

Counter to everything Hudson knew about the dangerous and methodical MacBeth, the man simply turned his back on the gargoyles, walking back to his castle without a care in the world. Was it a ploy to get them to attack him, only to trip a deadly trap? Was it a distraction to keep them from realizing he had some ulterior motive in releasing Broadway? After all, last time they met, Demona was his real target and capturing them was merely to bait her. Could this be another instance of that? If so, how? What could he even do to them right now that would draw out Demona, of all people?

None of it made a lick of sense, but there he went, without a fuss, leaving them all to gawk with their maws wide open. Goliath merely looked to Hudson for something, solace, clarity, an opinion, just something. But all Hudson could give him was a mirrored expression of puzzlement, causing Goliath to turn away and open his wings.

"Let's just go home. In case he tries anything, we'll make a couple stops and split up to confuse him" he reasoned just as much to himself as he did them, before leaping above the flames and allowing the dense heat to elevate him into the night sky once more.

The trio reunited, shrugged their shoulders in unison, then followed their leader away from MacBeth's smoldering castle. Hudson watched them and began to follow suit, even ascending a meter above the ground, but his eyes returned to MacBeth's receding form. A fire bubbled in the old warrior's stomach, heating up his chest with a palpable anger. The thoughts he entertained about Robbins reminded him of MacBeth's grievous offense earlier that day, one he couldn't let go unaddressed.

Hudson leaned his body into a barrel roll and angled back down, straight for MacBeth, before he reached the inside of his castle. Apparently, MacBeth sensed him coming back, for he was already turning to his side, staring at Hudson with a sharp gaze as he landed gruffly in front of him.

"Before I depart, there's just one last thing I wanted ye to know, MacBeth..." Hudson growled, looming just inches from MacBeth's face. With the speed of a young man, he drew his trusty sword from its holster and raised it to the human's neck before MacBeth could react. Or at least, before MacBeth cared to act.

"Stay away from Robbins or the next time we meet, you'll be the one danglin' over a fire..." his low, gravely voice teeming with menace to match his piercing, glowing stare and fully bared fangs. A sight few have ever seen and lived to tell the tale, to be certain.

MacBeth, ever the unwavering mastermind, sneered in amusement. "My my, you're scary when ya wanna be" he jested, earning a primal, feral growl from Hudson, one that would strike terror into a dragon.

MacBeth's eerie sneer receded as his eyes rolled nonchalantly, "Aye, ye have my word. No harm will come to the old cripple from my hand" he ended with an exasperated tilt of his head and a raise of his eyebrows, asking without words if Hudson was satisfied. Hudson's eyes narrowed at his flippant reaction to the threat, but supposed that was the best he would get out of the self-absorbed madman.

Hudson angled his blade up to the tip of MacBeth's nose, as he took a step back. "Ye had better honor that word or I'll be takin' that hand..." his warning as chilling as his steel.

The human pushed the blade away from his face with a gloved finger. "Hmph, charming." he scoffed unimpressed, pissing Hudson off even further, but he pressed the rage down. It served no purpose now.

MacBeth turned back around and resumed making his way inside a castle tower, "You've overstayed yer welcome, creature. Get out of my sight" he spat, waving his hand dismissively at Hudson before opening a door and slipping into the shadows inside.

The old gargoyle dimmed his eyes down and sheathed his sword, snorting derisively at the door hiding MacBeth, before jumping on the tower wall it was attached to, then leaping higher from that perch to catch a stronger current. The wind caught him and he rode the current higher and higher, until he cleared over the cobblestone walls of MacBeth's castle. His clan floated patiently for him just a few meters ahead, he could sense an expectant air about them before he even saw their facial expressions. And sure enough when he caught up to them, the questions came flooding in.

"What's up? Did he say anything else to you?"
"Why'd ya stay behind?"
"Are you alright, old friend?"
"You didn't... ya know. Did you?"
"What were you thinking staying behind like that?"
"You were trying to make sure he wasn't following us, right Hudson?"
"Maybe you thought he knew more about the Scrolls than he was letting on. Did he?"
"Come to think of it, when did he rebuild that castle? Didn't it kinda completely burn down last time?"

Hudson pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation before saying, "T'was nothin', lads! Just dottin' some i's and crossin' some t's. Let's go home already, ey?" he said more than asked, as he flew ahead of the pack to emphasize he was done with the conversation. He could feel their confused and suspicious looks peppering the back of his head, but eventually, he heard bemused hums, always accompanying an unfettered shrug and the sensation of eyes on him left.

Save one pair, the most important ones lingered on him a bit as their owner floated gently to his side. "Hudson, is everything alright?" Goliath warily ventured, his tone gentle, but stalwart.

"Fine, lad. Just fine" Hudson replied calmly, not taking his eyes off of the horizon.

"And you're sure?" Goliath quirked a suspicious eye ridge up.

"Absolutely" he replied in the same even tone.

Goliath remained silent for a moment, studying Hudson's aura it seemed, before he breathed evenly. "... Alright then"

Goliath turned his head and laid out the plan, "Let's head to the east, we'll cut through the alleyways for a few blocks, then when we're sure, we'll split up, and do the same thing after a couple kilometers. Then we'll regroup in front of the clock tower, in about an hour". The trio nodded in affirmation and picked up speed as they made their way through the planned route, with Goliath lingering beside Hudson for a beat before catching up with the rambunctious trio.

Leaving Hudson blissfully alone and giving him a chance to order his tumultuous thoughts. He knew he came across as perturbed and irrational to his clan, but he honestly didn't know how to explain what he said to MacBeth. He merely intended on warning MacBeth to keep innocent people out of their feud, bare his fangs, make his eyes glow, then fly off into the night. That's it.

But before he knew it, his blood was set to boil and his rage took charge. He dropped Robbins's name without meaning to, a stupid greenhorn mistake, then came close to slicing the man's throat open with his sword. Once the anger died down, he was at a loss, an embarrassing loss. Sure, he was upset that Robbins got pulled into MacBeth's scheme and he was pretty pissed that the Scrolls were taken from him during the day, a real cowardly move on MacBeth's part.

But there was something else that rose out of the depths and boldly made itself known, without Hudson's consent on the matter. This wasn't like him, he wasn't the type to go into any situation ungirded, driven by emotion, haphazardly, like that.

What would he have done if MacBeth really did have a trap ready for anyone foolish enough to get too close to his castle? What would he have done if MacBeth pulled his gun before Hudson could draw his weapon? Hope and pray he wouldn't blast him to kingdom come? What if MacBeth managed to slip something on him that allowed him to track Hudson, all without the gargoyle knowing because he was too caught up trying to put the fear of God into a man that didn't seem to have the ability to feel fear?

There were a myriad of factors he hadn't considered before approaching his enemy, a fatal mistake for a warrior to make and one he thought he was in no danger of repeating after all of these years of seeing others pay a steep price for their recklessness and brash behavior. So many promising young warriors cut down in the prime of their lives, all because they didn't stop and think before going headfirst into a situation they weren't prepared for.

He thought he'd learned this lesson after he and Goliath returned to Castle Wyvern all those years ago, to find their entire clan shattered into gravel. Though to Hudson and the remnants of his clan, who were frozen in time until just a few months ago, it felt just as raw as if it happened yesterday.

The chaotic fire licking at the stones he called home, the putrid metallic smell of copious pools of blood tainting what remained of the castle, the shattered remains of his people littered across the landscape. He could still feel their fragmented faces between his fingers, the sight etched in his mind forever. But worst of all... was the chilling roar of grief from his ward, Goliath. It's a sound he'll never be able to get out of his head, not even if he tried. He'd never admit this to the poor lad, but his soul-aching wail haunted his dreams, haunted them like no ghost or spirit could ever hope to surpass. Even when he was awake, in his most quiet and still moments, that thunderous groaning creeped into his ears without warning, it was enough to drive him mad.

And while Goliath seemed to be acclimating to life in the 20th century fairly well, sweet little Elisa having a lot to do with that, Hudson found the incident, the agonizing pain, was still too fresh for him. If he had just stopped and thought, he would have been able to figure out what that treacherous Captain of the Guard was plotting, and he could have prevented that horrific tragedy from happening.

Hudson shook his head shamefully. He'd thought he already put that idea to rest, but apparently it was resurfacing. Every night since they awakened in New York, Hudson replayed the events of that gruesome night over and over again, obsessing about each and every detail of it. Every word spoken, every action taken, every second spent, every look from every person, all of it scrutinized and weighed meticulously in his mind.

Like he cracked open an hourglass and was trying desperately to pick each grain of sand up one at a time and discover which one was to blame for bringing time to a standstill. Hoping that once he could find those offending minuscule grains, he could somehow make himself feel better about the tragedy. Somehow. If he'd just done this, if he'd just noticed that, if he'd just said something there, then the catastrophe would have been averted.

But the endless empty nights spent picking through the broken hourglass, examining each grain of sand, weighing each possibility, all of it was meaningless. He was just trying to find a way to make sense of his senseless life, regain a measure of control, but he could never have control of that situation, it was long since past. He was just holding onto the past, any way he could, keeping him from fully moving forward, like everyone else in the clan were doing.

The trio were hooked on all the new things this New York City had to offer, their curiosity and wondrous innocence still blissfully intact after all they've endured. Bronx never was one to dwell on much of anything, he pretty much lived like any beast would, from moment to moment. An envious clarity and focus came with that, and the burdens plaguing Hudson were not part of that package. And Goliath had made considerable strides to force himself into this time, this city, the lovely lass Elisa helping him along as best she can of course. Even the hideously insane Demona was moving forward, in her own vicious, unrelentingly maddening way, he supposed. Laser rifles, steel clan, and all that.

But then there was him, the old, decrepit, barely useful, living relic of the clan, clinging to a past that ended horrifically to avoid the present that began unwarranted. It was almost too pitiful for words, he was painfully aware of how futile the effort was, but for the longest time he just didn't have any other course available to him. It was easier than embracing change, but it was ultimately worse.

So Hudson resolved himself, shortly after his long night protecting Goliath from that she-beast Demona, that he was going to move forward, like everyone else had. After all, he was stronger than he thought, if he could handle a powerful psychotic gargoyle armed with a laser rifle while an injured Goliath rested on his shoulders, he could handle anything. And so he took the necessary steps to embrace his current lot in life, his fate it seemed was to be a 20th century gargoyle, so everything before that century had to be put to rest. Especially that infamous night.

And for a while, it seemed like he truly was moving on, but old habits die hard, and the older you are, the harder they die, it seemed. When the difficulty of committing to change pushed back against him especially hard, Hudson found himself periodically returning to the broken hourglass, sifting through the sand trying to come away with some new understanding. But he reminded himself before he got too invested that it was a futile gesture and would only make adjusting more difficult. And this was another one of those times, but he's a stubborn old fool, so here he was sifting through grains again. He was being too hard on himself, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

Leave the hourglass be, Hudson old boy, he told himself as he noticed Goliath signaling with his hand that it was time to split up, sending each gargoyle scattering in different directions. Hudson just kept straight, figured it was as good a direction as any to keep prying eyes from following him back to the clock tower. He'd lose them in an alleyway or a cluster of trees, then make a beeline back home, simple as that. He knew MacBeth wasn't following them, the look in his eye, the deflated tone of his voice, both assured him that he wasn't interested in continuing this game anymore that night. Which brought him back to the subject he'd been mulling over, his sudden shift in attitude when he remembered MacBeth troubled Robbins.

All his struggles with adjusting and changing, it never felt like a fight he could win, until the blind human sat him down and laid it all in painfully clear terms. He learned to read two different ways, and seemed genuinely ready to learn a third if he must, meanwhile Hudson was shaking like a leaf at the notion of learning one method. Shameful, he grimaced to himself, Robbins had the habit of bringing his shame to light, yet in spite of that, he couldn't deny it was... refreshing to have his issues dealt with instead of danced around or ignored.

That was his primary issue with coming to grips with his illiteracy, he realized. It wasn't just shameful that he never learned, it wasn't just mortifying for him if his clan knew of his ignorance, that was all secondary. The main reason he bucked against the idea of learning to read was it really would be moving on and accepting change, the one thing he's struggled with more than anyone else in the clan.

But the wise Robbins helped him to see the folly in his resistance and recognize the greater shame was to remain locked in the past, trembling in the face of adapting and accepting the hand the Fates had dealt. Yes, it was all thanks to his chance meeting with such a sobering and insightful man that he realized the error of his ways and saw for the first time a clear path forward. Hudson took into account how much Robbins had effected him in so short a timespan, it really was remarkable. But he didn't know it was to such an extent that the mere idea of someone like MacBeth approaching him to get at Hudson would send him barreling forward blinded by smoldering rage.

It was just so revolting to him, threatening a sweet and kindly blind man who didn't do anything wrong and didn't know anything that would put him in danger. Yet one encounter with Hudson and he was accosted by a venomous snake like MacBeth. It made his blood run cold, he really was a danger to the blind writer, wasn't he? Hudson supposed he shouldn't see him again, for Robbins's own safety.

But as soon as he thought it, he reflexively bucked against it. MacBeth was searching for the Scrolls, that's why he pursued Hudson and that led him to Robbins, it had nothing to do with Hudson himself. Besides, MacBeth couldn't get anything out of Robbins, save Hudson's fierce ire, and there was no reason for him to return to Robbins's abode now that he knew Hudson was protecting him specifically. And as long as he was careful, like he was being right now, weaving through the trees of a park he was passing over, then none of their other enemies could find out about Robbins.

And as he stopped his journey briefly, perched on a tree like a bird, a soft heat blossomed in his chest. He could return to Robbins's after all, a pleasant smile pulled at his cheeks as he moved in the shadows of the trees. What a curious sensation he was feeling, he took note of, like a small weight was lifted from his shoulders. Maybe that was it, the fact that he feared he would never be able to see Robbins again thanks to the threat of his enemies discovering his connection to Hudson and using that against him. Perhaps that subconscious realization pushed him over the edge, which only confused him more.

Why would such a thing elicit such a response from him? Hudson couldn't figure that one out and frankly he was tired of flying in circles, both mentally and physically, so he just dropped the whole thing and soared above the clouds in the direction of the clock tower. His fingers trailed through the blanket of clouds, the condensed water drops pleasantly wetting his rough skin, forcing the clouds into thin ribbons of billowing white, dancing out from his touch. He'd never get tired of that, he thought as a peaceful grin curled his cheeks up.

Pretty soon, he noticed the converging of four figures, flying in the same general direction as him, queuing the old soldier to dip down and join them as they approached their new home. Lexington was the first to notice him filing back into rank, he gave him a friendly wave as Hudson settled in with his clan.

"I think we're safe from anyone who would want to tail us, lad", he spoke up, eyeing Goliath.

"Better safe than sorry, old friend" Goliath replied warmly, nodding at his mentor, reminding him that he did still remember his old lessons. Hudson smirked proudly before facing forward again.

"We'll give the scrolls to Elisa so that she may return them to the museum" Goliath informed him, before pausing thoughtfully. "But... I can read them to you first, if you'd like" he finished, carefully eyeing Hudson from above, a wary note to his words.

Hudson couldn't help but scoff at himself. Didn't he just criticize the lad for not knowing how to keep his personal secret well hidden? Now here he was, effortlessly uncovered by the very same man. But strangely... he wasn't reeling from this revelation, nor was his pride stirred at the notion of his clan knowing all along that he couldn't read. Rather, he just felt a bit embarrassed that he made a big fuss about it in the first place. Huh, when'd that happen?

"Ack, no thank you" he replied quickly, shaking his head "We'll read them ourselves" he shrugged nonchalantly, shocking everyone else, their jaws hung open like ale steins hung upside down.

"As soon as we learn how" he finished resolutely, eyeing Broadway from the corner of his eye, who beamed with understanding. Goliath let out a quick sigh of relief before chiming back in.

"Wonderful! I can begin teaching you both tonight, if you'd like" he offered as they swooped down to the balcony of their clock tower. Broadway nodded vigorously towards Goliath before rushing inside, leaving Goliath to smile serenely down at Hudson. But he just slapped Goliath's massive shoulder affectionately before going inside.

"Appreciate the offer lad, but..." he trailed off as soon as Bronx rushed to him, reminding him of sweet, affectionate Gilly, his smile widening slowly as the slew of memories brought that soft warmth back to his chest. "I already promised someone else that job" he continued, turning his head to the puzzled Goliath slowly approaching him.

"Someone... else..?" he repeated, as if doing so would make the words make sense. Clearly it didn't help any, causing Hudson to stifle a chuckle before walking to the fridge and pulling out an iced tea, another reminder of that wonderful night.

He finally realized with amusement the reason why the revelation that the clan knew he was illiterate didn't bother him at all. It wasn't a shame to be illiterate, especially since he planned to make an effort to change that status, thus there was nothing to be upset or offended about. Robbins's words really did effect him, more than he thought they had, and after a quick swig of the sweet drink, the old soldier decided to admit what he already knew in his heart about the wise blind writer that had managed to captivate him.

"Aye. A friend"

Chapter Text

Unexpected was the sound of Robbins's doorbell that afternoon, but not entirely unwelcome. After a full night of novel devouring with soft musical accompaniment, he was lulled into a false sense of security. That somehow he'd imagined the past 2 days, a mysterious Scottish soldier washing ashore, an equally mysterious, but far more chilling pursuer, an ominous air of danger and menace surrounding the whole ordeal, a sudden disappearance and reappearance act.

The apparent purchase of Fort Tryon, for the life of him he couldn't wrap his head around that one, it's like buying the Statue of Liberty. Just for a moment, a fleeting naive moment, he thought his overactive imagination had kicked in and he'd gone and created an entire tv show episode with him as the co-star.

But the old writer knew better, he had Hudson's thick accented voice stuck in his head, two teacups drying in his kitchen, the scent of old leather and stone still lingered in the easy chair across from him. It was real, all of it, including that curious feeling of confidence and faith that overrode all the doubts rattling around in his mind. Hudson was going to stop McDuff-Beth, he was going to come back, and Robbins was finally going to get some answers that would clear all of his confusion up. And that was that, as illogical as it seemed.

However, a doorbell was the last thing he expected to hear, seeing as Hudson just came right up to the study doors and knocked on the glass. An action befitting a straight forward, blunt fellow like him. So it couldn't be Hudson at his front door, which begged the question: who exactly was ringing Robbins's doorbell? Unlike the two file cabinets bursting at the seams with mysteries he couldn't answer alone, this query was all too easy to answer, which brought Robbins back to reality as he turned the knob and cracked the door open.

"Yes?" he answered politely, a twinge of that soldier trepidation in his voice.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Robbins! I've got your newspaper right here for you" a young, cheerful voice exclaimed just a bit too loudly for the veteran's tastes. The uncouth crinkling of plastic didn't help either, as Robbins opened the door wider, putting on his best fake smile.

"Oh, is it that time again already?" he laughed airily.

Of course, who else but the National Library Service for the Blind would send an overly bubbly youth to shout directly in his face? One would think they'd remind their workers that the handicap they service can't use their eyes, but their ears work just fine, so screaming? Not advisable. Which isn't to say he was ungrateful for their service, they were a great resource for people that shared his unique challenges. But, just like most governmental programs, tact wasn't their top priority.

"Yes sir! Here's your New York Times Weekly! Would you like me to read it to you?" the bubbly young voice offered as she handed the plastic wrapped package to Robbins.

He gingerly took it from her hands as he groaned a reply, "God no". But he regained his composure and attempted to salvage the situation. "I'm not ready to read it quite yet, and I'm sure you've got other deliveries to make, so..."

The sickeningly cheerful voice got more distant as the woman spoke, "Alright then, you have a good day, Mr. Robbins!" her footsteps almost as forceful as her volume. Robbins waved politely as he closed his door, before finally slumping his shoulder against the polished wood. Gilly sniffed at the newspaper, bumping it lightly with her nose as Robbins pinched the bridge of his nose in mild irritation.

"Mr. Robbins, Mr. Robbins. How many times do I have to tell them, it's just Robbins?" he grumbled under his breath. He swiftly bent down to Gilly's level as he thrust his hands above his head. "Just Robbins! It's not that hard, is it?" he left the question hanging, awaiting his companion's astute reply. All he got was a sloppy lapping of her tongue on his face, to which his irritation instantly evaporated as a wide grin lifted his cheeks up.

"Whatever, let's see what we got, shall we?" he said as he walked back to the study, his cane lightly tapping in front of him to ensure his path was clear. His feet glided in front of his worn leather chair as he ripped the newspaper free from its plastic constraints. With a satisfied sigh, he plopped down into his chair and unfurled the paper, raising his feet to the coffee table in order to have a semblance of a flat surface to place the paper on.

As his fingers danced around the familiar grooves and patterns, he could hear Gilly trot over to the opposite chair and leap on top, settling in for the afternoon. Or night, was more accurate, seeing as he'd just checked his talking watch a half hour ago. There were many benefits to living on the coast, the amount of time it took for deliveries to reach him was not one of them, though he wasn't one to complain about such a thing. He'd learned firsthand that patience was indeed a virtue.

"Now, let's see if there's anything about Hudson or MacDuff-Beth or Fort Tryon" he said more to himself than Gilly, as his finger tips traced the top of the first page. Again, he got another unexpected, but welcomed surprise. The headline read: "Mystical Scrolls of Merlin stolen then mysteriously returned", as shocking as a headline could have been, the blind writer supposed. He wasted no time diving into the story, it practically forced his fingers to trail over every line until he reached the end.

The last he'd heard about the Scrolls of Merlin were their discovery and subsequent relocation to New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art, a very intriguing development for Robbins, seeing as he was such a big fan of mythology, particularly European. Merlin was among his favorite characters in mythology, learning that he could have, in fact, been a real live person was breaking news enough.

But to learn that his hand written scrolls that were lost to time were discovered in some distant cave in Wales, it was such a shock he nearly fell out of his chair. Knowing that they were going to be in New York, right where he could have them read to him by the very archeologists that unearthed them, it was a dream come true. Of course, reading them himself would have been the ultimate dream, but he doubted Merlin wrote a braille edition of his scrolls. Nevertheless, it would have been incredible to know what was transcribed in the mystical Scrolls of Merlin the Wizard.

So, of course Robbins understood the temptation to steal them, beyond monetary value or the fanciful notion that real authentic magic spells were written on them, the all consuming curiosity would be too much for a man to bear. But it wasn't like the archeologists were hording the Scrolls for themselves, they were literally going to put it in a museum in one of the most densely populated cities in the world. The knowledge would be accessible to anyone and everyone who wished to know, which means there was no need to steal them for the only good reason Robbins could think of.

Leaving only the bad reasons, money and "power", though he supposed he shouldn't be too hasty in writing off the power motive. As far fetched as it seemed, Merlin's existence was up for debate right now, and it was entirely possible they could confirm him to be a real person. Which meant if Merlin the world famous wizard was or could have really existed, then so could his magic powers and spells. If he wasn't just a fantasy character, then surely the things he did weren't all fantasy, right?

Robbins shook his head in amusement, before continuing the story. He must be going senile, thinking honest-to-God magic is real, for even a minute, simply ludicrous. He delved back to the current story, which started on the very ship carrying the Scrolls across the ocean to New York. Apparently a group of mercenaries armed with cutting edge technology raided the ship and violently took the Scrolls from the archeologist's very hands, a Dr. Lydia Duane. Poor woman described her account as "the most frightening experience of her entire life", and according to her the mercenaries were "brutish, impetuous, and downright barbaric". Quite the inditement.

Her partner, Dr. Arthur Morwood-Smyth, claimed as he saw the mercenaries make their getaway via carrier jets, they struggled against the storm, though at the time he could have sworn he saw some kind of hang gliders or odd personal propulsion fliers interfering with the carrier jets. But admittedly, he was distraught and caught in a wild thunderstorm, so he must have been mistaken. A strange detail to add, Robbins noted, especially as he continued the story, which was conspicuously lacking in details. As in, it felt like the journalist writing it just, kinda forgot a giant section in the middle.

They went from the aftermath of the theft, wrapping up with a brief summary of the police report, then it picked back up with a young detective finding an anonymous tip of the Scrolls location. The blind veteran felt gypped, to say the very least. Who were those mercenaries working for, why did they decide to give the Scrolls back, or did someone steal them back from them? If so, where were they in all of this, why didn't they come forward and accept a reward for the safe return of the Scrolls, and just who unsealed the first scroll and what did they find when they opened it?

So many unanswered questions, some of which the very author of the article featured, like a git, but so very little in the way of answers. A feeling that was all too familiar to Robbins at this point, much to his chagrin. But suddenly, the wheels in his old noggin began to turn, synapses started firing, and connections were lining up like constellations.

The entire incident at sea happened not 4 miles from the coast, where Hudson washed ashore. The thieves used carrier jets to steal the Scrolls, the kind of equipment that only the military would have. Just like MacDuff-Beth's aircraft Robbins could still hear hissing in the back of his mind. The mercenaries were described as "brutish, impetuous, and downright barbaric", and while "brutish" and "barbaric" were up for debate, Robbins could very easily pin" impetuous" to ol' Lennox.

The canisters containing the Scrolls of Merlin were metallic, same as the canister Hudson asked about specifically before he left again. The sudden return of the Scrolls by an anonymous tip, something firmly in line with Hudson's shadowy, secretive nature. It all lined up, in theory, anyway.

A quick smack to the forehead brought the old blind man back to reality, as he breathed a sobering sigh and flipped to the next page of the newspaper. Come on, the Scrolls of Merlin had nothing to do with Hudson and MacDuff-Beth, there was no way. It just couldn't be... right? Robbins tried to bat away the idea, but it held so much weight he couldn't just ignore it. There must be some rational explanation to all of this, he reasoned within himself.

Sure, MacDuff-Beth has a similar aircraft and attitude as the mercenaries. Sure, the incident took place less than 4 miles off coast which means Hudson could have been involved and washed ashore on the beach. Sure, he had a metal canister that was very important to both him and MacDuff-Beth, and the Scrolls of Merlin were sealed in metal canisters too. Sure, MacDuff-Beth clearly has the capital to finance a like this and even discover a way to open the first Scroll of Merlin. And sure, the timing of all of this is incredibly suspicious.

But all of it was circumstantial, surely there was no hard evidence that could be added to the pile. More likely than not, he was just overreacting, his vivid imagination that served him so well once upon a time was just flaring up again. That must have been it, he nodded while moving on to the next story, one that hopefully left little room for interpretation.

Unfortunately, the headline "Unexplained destruction at Fort Tryon, clear signs of gunfire and explosions sighted" cancelled that carefully built up wall of rationality. This was what he was waiting for, the direct continuation of the mysterious Scotsman soldier's mission that led him to clash with the dangerous and unpredictable MacDuff-Beth.

And already, it was cause for celebration that the headline conspicuously lacked the words, "death", "bodies", "killed" and "murder". Which meant his unexplained faith and certainty that Hudson would be okay was now justified. Nothing about a bearded Scottish heavyweight lying face first in a pool of his own blood, thank heavens.

However, just like the Page 1 story, this story was also lacking in details and answers. For starters, it neglected to mention that Fort Tryon was apparently owned by a Lennox MacDuff, who Lennox MacDuff is, why the city allowed a private citizen to buy a historical landmark and public space, or where he was now.

All they mentioned on that was that it was being used for a private endeavor for some time which nearly left it burned to the ground at the beginning of this year. So it's the second time it nearly burned down in the same year and people wonder why its uncommon to allow private citizens to purchase historical landmarks? Robbins scoffed at the rhetorical question as the article went on.

There were multiple eyewitnesses that heard automatic weapons firing and saw the smoke clouds late last night and early this morning which brought it to investigators' attention, who wasted no time to check on the damage. Upon entering, they found the remains of a battlefield, "walls with scorched holes blasted into them, towers partially destroyed, a massive fire cauldron, and a bizarre chemistry set". Another odd detail to include, Robbins noted, the dilapidated remains of laser cannon turrets and the mysterious markings of a unique aircraft were much more intriguing.

Immediately upon reading that, Robbins linked it to the only other story in the paper that was worth talking about, and found it ridiculous that the two journalists didn't find the obvious connective tissue between their two stories. The aircraft remains, the automatic weaponry, the apparent owner of Fort Tryon, his goofy fake name, the signs of a battle, the timing of the whole thing, the disappearance of MacDuff-Beth after a battle. The two events were clearly linked, how did these rank amateurs get this past an editor, he nearly shouted out, but caught himself as he went back to the first story.

"Calm down, old boy. There are some details they couldn't be privy to that you are" he said instead, rereading the Scrolls of Merlin article once more, to see if he'd missed any details. But he couldn't help the excitement welling up in his gut, the energetic twitching of his feet, the smirk bubbling to the surface. This was beyond his overactive imagination, it was reality, fate handing him the event of the century on a silver platter.

Hudson, the old Scottish soldier, was wrapped up in the Scrolls of Merlin, along with MacDuff-Beth, the sinister terrorist, ending in a climactic showdown at Fort Tryon where both managed to get away from the other. Ending with the Scrolls returned to society, MacDuff-Beth going into hiding, and Hudson returning to the shadows with the public none the wiser.

It was almost too good to be true, like an action-adventure story brought to life, and Robbins was unwittingly smack dab in the middle of it all. All he did was offer his home to an injured stranger, he never dreamed it would be a national hero holding the Scrolls of Merlin the entire time. Oh my God, the Scrolls of Merlin were in his house for an entire night and he didn't even know, he gasped. Damn, if only Hudson could read ancient Celtic, he'd have his fanboy curiosity satiated before anybody else.

And then it occurred to him, the strange chemistry set of the Fort Tryon story, could it be what he was thinking? Swiftly he flicked back to the article and scanned his fingertips across the paragraphs, until he got to the section in question.

"As for the makeshift chemistry set, investigators couldn't make heads or tails of it. Rubbing alcohol, oil paints, hydrochloric acid, nitric, and several other bizarre choices were gathered together by a table in front of the massive cauldron. Authorities have assured that no bomb or lethal poisons could have been made from the materials, and have assumed that it had no connection to the attack". But Robbins knew better, to the layman there was no connection, but to a historical scholar and fan of ancient texts and archeology, it was as clear as day what was going on.

In the Middle Ages, seals were created using a mixture of beeswax & resin, or for the more wealthy or socially elite, a soft metal seal, called a bulla. Usually, the metal chosen was lead, but again, for the most wealthy or socially elite, gold was the preferred material. And Merlin would certainly qualify as socially elite in the 5th century, meaning his Scrolls had to have been sealed with ancient gold.

To attempt to break that seal like it was a regular wax one would result in the destruction of the parchment the Scrolls were made of. Not to mention there could have been some additional tampering Merlin did to ensure his writings were not misused by unworthy readers. Perhaps an ancient poison or some incendiary concoction to guard against the more persistent thieves, Merlin was a clever old wizard after all. Or, at least the 5th century author of the Scrolls, who was rumored to be Merlin, was clever.

So one would really need to know their Middle Ages customs and history to know the proper way to unseal the Scrolls without incident. And it would most certainly entail a special chemical mixture to nullify whatever safeguards were in place and also keep the parchment in tact. Such a specific concoction would have to be researched extensively, then the raw materials provided and finally, once the scrolls are secured and the specific seal is verified, the mixing of the concoction would be next.

Someone intelligent, knowledgable of historical customs and details, with the resources to accomplish the task, and the gall to follow through on the attempt. Someone like the nefarious MacDuff-Beth. Meaning his little chemistry set that no one could make sense of, was secretly the strongest piece of connective tissue with the Scrolls of Merlin theft.

Robbins was practically shaking at the influx of revelations, the story just kept getting more and more enthralling the deeper he dug. And what's more, it seemed only he was aware of just how many details were lining up, no one else, including the journalists who wrote the articles, knew the true tale. Only he was privy to such incredible information; him and the main players in the conflict, of course. It was too much, he couldn't contain the story in his mind, couldn't reign in his wild imagination running a narrative in his head without permission, he couldn't sit there another second with all that he pieced together about to burst open his brain.

And just like that, a shock ran through his system. He recognized this sensation, he'd been here many times before. This exhilarating feeling he hadn't felt in years, the unfocused energy that found release through the rapid bouncing of his knee, the all encompassing need to reach for that trusty recorder he abandoned on the corner of the coffee table. It was the blessed muse, visiting him once more after she abandoned him all those years ago, singing her sultry tunes in his ear. Guiding his every action to embark on a new journey, one he'd always wanted to go on, but never had her sacred blessing. Until now.

"Ya know, Gilly?" he called out suddenly, perking up his furry companion. "All this fuss about the Scrolls of Merlin has got the old juices flowing" he set the newspaper down, trading it for that wonderful lifesaver that made his modest successes possible. The tape recorder nestled comfortably in his palm, like shaking the hand of an old friend after years of separation.

"There may be another book in me yet" he added, virile clear in his tone. He quickly gathered his speeding thoughts, scarcely knowing where to begin this new epic he was embarking on. A title would be good, he chided himself, focusing his scattering ideas on the simple task. It was always like this, he wanted to rush into the actual story before doing the mundane but vital groundwork first. He couldn't very well call his great new story "To Be Determined: A Jeffrey Robbins Epic", now could he? After a few seconds of ruminating, he latched onto a perfect title, as well as the beginning line or the preface, he wasn't sure yet.

With a gruff clearing of his throat, he parted his lips and pressed the worn record button. "The Sword and The Staff: A Book of Merlin. Frontier's piece" he couldn't help the giddy smile that affected his voice. It really had been far too long since he'd felt like this. He cleared his throat again, in an effort to stifle the overwhelming excitement for the journey he was embarking on.

"The written word is all that stands between memory and oblivion. Without books as our anchors, we are cast adrift, neither teaching, nor learning. They are windows on the past, mirrors on the present, and prisms reflecting all possible futures. Books are lighthouses erected in the dark sea of time..."

Robbins rapidly blinked after he finished and clicked the record button again to stop the tape. That... may have been the greatest opening to any book he'd ever written. And it just flowed so naturally off the top of his head, like he was reading from an author that inspired him instead. But much to his surprise, it was all his brain child, a result of his creative juices lying dormant for so long before being violently electrified back to life. He laughed a bit and rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses.

"Heckuva opening line, don't ya think, Gilly?" he asked with mirth. She simply whined a relaxed growl in response, causing him to chuckle some more.

"I think that should be the preface, no sense trying to fit the rest of the story to it" he reasoned before hitting the record button again to quickly record that fact. Now the question became which of the many ideas his brain was teeming with to place first?

Would this connect directly to Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae, which features Ambrosius Aurelianus's history and an incubus father? Or would it be better to use the Welsh poems of Myrddin, a man driven mad after witnessing the slaughter of the Battle of Arfderydd until he was granted sacrament by the Saint Kentigern, as a base? Or dare he be so bold as to create a brand new origin for Merlin, one that borrowed story beats from the others, but with a Robbins twist to make it fresh and exciting?

The first hurdle had finally presented itself, a challenge that Robbins was definitely looking forward to tackling as he gathered the books necessary for his research. It was gonna be another long night of vigorous study and he wouldn't have it any other way.

But just as he finished pocketing his tape recorder and began pulling out his braille copy of The Winchester Malory: A Facsimile, Gilly perked up and hopped down to the glass doors, barking merrily all the way. Robbins heart skipped a beat, as he made his way to her. He hesitated to even ask who it was, he already knew it was Hudson. No one else approaches his study without invitation, evident by the slightly vexing newspaper girl earlier that day.

"Robbins, it's me, Hudson. I've returned" the familiar gravelly voice spoke up pleasantly.

Robbins mentally added, also no one else forced him to ask "who is it?" before telling him who they were, which was baffling. He'd have thought it made more sense to announce and identify yourself to a blind person instead of forcing them to go through the trouble and nerves of asking themselves. It was quite annoying, now that he thought about it.

The blind writer gladly opened the door, letting the cool of the night seep into the room. "Welcome back, soldier. Gilly missed you" he remarked coyly as said dog was scrambling around the friendly visitor energetically.

"Aye, and I missed her" Hudson laughed in a low, comfortable inflection. "Who's a good lass?" he cooed, petting and scratching her lovingly, eliciting a joyful high pitched growl from the old girl. Man, she really did miss him, Robbins noted as he turned back to the study.

"Well, make yourself at home, I'll get us some tea" he instructed as he headed down the hallway, then popped his head around quickly to add, "Ah, a different flavor than last time, of course".

"Thank ye, Robbins, but ye don't need to trouble yerself. Really" Hudson replied politely, following behind him with heavy footfalls.

"Really, it's no trouble at all" Robbins assured, using the walls to guide him to the kitchen. A gentle, yet firm grip got ahold of his bicep, the rumbling of a barrel chest quietly sounded off by his side. That familiar earthy leathery scent wafted around him as Hudson spoke up again.

"At least let me help ye this time" he chided lightly, his doting touch helping Robbins along as he let go of the wall, merely tracing his fingers along the surface.

"Somethin' tells me if I don't let ya, you're gonna be restless all night" he teased, ending in a warm chuckle.

"There might be a grain of truth to that" Hudson grumbled a bit, as they maneuvered around an end table.

"Besides, it's a good opportunity for you to see the rest of the house" Robbins motioned to the living room the hallway connected them to. A careful hesitation in Hudson's grip and breath caught his attention as the old Scotsman formulated his response.

"Oh, well... I think it'd be best to save a tour for another time, if'n ye don't mind" he said, that experienced trepidation of a soldier just as clear as his manners.

Robbins shrugged. "Fair enough. Another time, then" His fingers reached the turn in the wall, which revealed their destination to him. "Guess the kitchen'll have to do".

Hudson's grip loosened completely as Robbins glided over to the counter closest to the sink, where the tea kettle was waiting patiently. A light turn of the knob and the faucet began filling the kettle as Robbins gathered the rest of the ingredients he required.

"It's quite lovely" Hudson complimented, his voice trailing off as he made his way through the modest space. He was no doubt studying the decorations littered across the walls and cabinets, knickknacks from over the years; some inherited, some he picked out, but most gifts he'd received from thoughtful friends and endearing family. All of it arranged in a way that was at least pleasing to the touch, if not the eye.

"Thanks. I'll pass your regards on to my interior decorator, she'll be glad to hear that" Robbins replied while ripping the tea bags free from their packaging.

" 'Interior'... 'decorator'..?" Hudson asked, steeped in confusion. Guess the concept is a bit more modern than the old Scotsman is, he reasoned before answering.

"The kind young lady who fixed this place up to look like it does. I'm good friends with her parents and they decided to do me this favor some time after I got back from 'Nam" he explained as he placed the tea kettle on the stove top, flicking the burner to life.

"So you've... never actually seen yer home b'fore?" Hudson asked carefully, as he picked up a knickknack, most likely the porcelain duck with floral patterns the girl insisted pulled the whole shelf together. She said it "drew the eye in", so it would make sense for Hudson to inspect it.

"Not with these" Robbins placed a finger on his dark glasses. "But I've run my fingers along every inch I could reach and gotten a fair lay of the land" he finished while quirking an eyebrow. The tea kettle finally began to whine, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. He shut off the stove and brought the tea kettle to a cup with a tea bag already waiting inside.

Robbins offered the first cup to Hudson, who took it very carefully, almost nervously, before Robbins offered him the sugar bowl, spoon already supplied. Once again, there was a nervousness to the older man's actions, as he opted to let Robbins hold onto the bowl and just used the spoon hastily before gently pushing it back to signal he was finished.

Robbins couldn't help but furrow his brow at that, while slowly filling his cup, using the sound to let him know how full it was. An uncouth slurp came from Hudson's lips as he sucked down the tea, followed by a low hum, a pleasantly surprised sound. At least we're doing better than last time, Robbins noted as he applied his sugar, which incidentally was much less than Hudson's whopping 6 spoonfuls.

"It really is quite nice" his gravely voice emphasized, a sad lilt to the end of his sentence. Robbins sighed in annoyance at the all too familiar inflection and placed the tea cup on the counter with a loud clack, startling the Scotsman.

"Now don't you go and start feelin' bad for me, Hudson. I've already made my piece with this a long time ago" he warned, serious as a heart attack. "Besides, for a few choice actions, sight is overrated" he said smirking, lifting his teacup up.

Hudson let out a deep sigh as he leaned against the refrigerator. "Forgive me, Robbins. I've never met someone like you before. To be honest, I don't quite know how to act sometimes" the sound of dry calloused skin rubbing against each other, which let him know Hudson was rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tic.

Robbins took another sip of his tea before continuing. "Just don't heap loads of sympathy on me or play pranks and we're good" he offered amicably.

Hudson smacked his lips. " 'Pranks'?"

"Ya know, practical jokes. Mess with me on account of, well, ya know" Robbins motioned to his glasses in a lazy gesture, the memories of more than one dumb kid messing with him before he moved to the island flashed across his mind. And even more dumb adults who got way too comfortable around him were guilty of the same thing. It was enough to drive him crazy.

"Ack, I'm too old to be playin' jokes. I'll leave that nonsense to the lads in my clan" Hudson waved off dismissively before taking a big gulp.

Robbins carefully waited before he responded to him, knowing this would lead them into the meat of the conversation. The purpose of Hudson's follow up visit. He promised to shed some light on the past few days and with the knowledge Robbins had already accumulated on his own, it was time for some definitive answers.

"Your clan. Is that what you call your... group?" he asked trying to sound nonchalant and failing.

"Aye. It's a special group" Hudson answered deftly as he finished off his tea. "Very secret"

"How secret we talkin' here?" the blind author asked, setting his tea aside.

"So secret that only 10 other people than you in the world knows we exist" the Scotsman responded while stroking his beard, as the ruffling sounds indicated. Robbins was taken aback at the comment, how could he not be, only 10 other people in the world knew the man standing before him? Surely, it had to be an exaggeration.

"Are... are you serious?" he asked incredulous.

"Of course" Hudson replied calmly. "I told ya, I'm too old to be playin' jokes"

Robbins struggled to gather his thoughts into a coherent sentence. What does this new information mean exactly? Why would Hudson's very existence be such a big secret, why would his team—or clan—or whatever, why would they be so secret? What did this mean for him, was he going to be brought in for a debriefing to some secret headquarters? Is that why Hudson promised to return, because he knew he would have to bring him in? It was all too much, he felt like the room was spinning.

"So... so then..." he struggled, while putting a stabilizing hand on his head. "You're... you're... Scottish secret agents?" he strained out stupefied. It sounded absolutely ridiculous and laughably outrageous, but... he really didn't have a better guess. Hudson was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again.

"Aye, somethin' like that" he said, shifting his weight. Robbins knew it wasn't the whole truth, but it was the closest he was gonna get.

And it explained quite a lot. Hudson's secretive behavior and pension for remaining in the shadows, MacDuff-Beth was some kind of international criminal with serious resources, definitely not a task suitable for normal Interpol or CIA operatives, the Scrolls of Merlin being returned with little explanation, heck, Hudson's strength, agility and his admission that he was still a soldier. All of it fit neatly into the reveal, though there were still details missing, left over puzzle pieces that didn't match the empty spaces. Still, it was the best he was gonna get, Robbins reminded himself.

"Fascinating... That explains why you went after that McDuff fella, and it was you and your team—er, clan, you said?—your squad that caused that commotion at Fort Tryon" Robbins said, working his way through it all. "Though it seems like that McDuff character is nowhere to be found, he even kept his name outta the newspaper" he scrunched his nose up at the name.

"Or was his name MacBeth?" he asked, lifting his head up to Hudson.

"Aye, t'was MacBeth" he confirmed.

"That can't be his real name though, right?" Robbins scoffed derisively.

"It does sound a wee bit far fetched, but..." Hudson trailed off a bit, lost in thought before he continued. "Stranger things have happened..."

"I bet; you being a secret agent and all" Robbins added, figuring that trailing off had to do with some collection of wild moments during his tenure as a... Scottish secret agent. That still sounded so goofy to him.

Though it did bring a very pertinent question to the forefront of his mind, one of many. But it might have been the most critical question he would ask that night. If Hudson was a secret agent under the employ of an organization that was so secret only 11 people, including himself, knew of Hudson's existence... then doesn't that make him a very obvious loose end? And the immediate follow up question... just how does an organization like Hudson's tie up loose ends?

For the first time since he'd met Hudson, Robbins felt a nagging fear, gnawing at his spine, causing his throat to dry and his palms to sweat. But he was no coward, whatever was coming next he would face it head on. Whether that was being taken to a secret facility to be interrogated and subsequently threatened into silence or being placed under surveillance for the next couple of years then having his name on file to refer to when something suspicious happens concerning him... or even Hudson having to put him in some underground prison for the rest of his life.

Whatever came next, he was going to face it like a man. So with a resolute clasping of his hands together and a steadying breath, he let it out.

"So... what does all this mean... for me?" he asked, his true emotions barely hidden under his stoic visage.

For a moment, Hudson didn't say anything, he merely petted Gilly eliciting soft breathing from the lovely girl. He probably expected the question to inevitably pop up before he arrived, he was probably dreading the answer, though not as much as Robbins himself was. But as he knew already, Hudson was an honorable soldier, no doubt respected by his men and depended on by his superiors. There was no way around this, both men knew that. So with a heavy sigh, Hudson finally spoke up.

"Well, that's just it. I've... been thinkin' aboot what we ought to do" he said, coming closer to Robbins, who's heart was caught in his throat now. "And I think it'd be best..." Hudson continued, reaching out to Robbins, the blind writer knew the feeling of a hand hovering closer towards him. He'd felt it too many times to ignore the telling sensation, it made his hair stand on end. Was Hudson going to... tie up the loose end, right here? In his own home? After calmly sipping on tea? No, he wouldn't do that, he had no reason to... right?

Hudson's hand landed on Robbin's shoulder, halting his train of thought from derailing into pure panic and fight or flight mode.

"It'd be best if we kept my nightly visits a secret" he finished, a definite air of mischievousness in his voice.

"Visits"? Robbins immediately latched onto the word, it didn't sound like a past tense usage of it. Rather, it sounded more like... a future tense. Did... did Hudson want to make his visits a regular occurrence? The large calloused hand currently planted on his shoulder definitely seemed to support that idea, though Robbins was still reeling from the thought of Hudson doing something... unspeakable to him, without warning. Though, Robbins was never a slouch when it came to recovery, as he found himself retrieving his bearings and formulating a response.

"How do you know I haven't already told people about my strange Scottish visitor on a mission to get the Scrolls of Merlin back from a Shakespearean terrorist? You have to admit, it'd make one helluva story for the neighbors"

Hudson's hand still lingered after his challenging comment. He knew he was gambling again, but he just wasn't buying it. There had to be a shoe ready to drop.

"Well, we..." Hudson began, searching for the words. "Secret agents have a sense about people" he finished, his hand retracted smoothly as he positioned himself next to Robbins.

"I know what manner of man I'm dealin' with the moment I see 'im" Hudson picked up Robbins's teacup and drained the rest of it. "And you, Robbins... are a careful man. Ye wouldn't tell anybody aboot me, if ye didn't know I'd be okay with it. Especially after MacBeth's little visit" he surmised, the thickness of his accent made itself known once more.

He placed the cups in the sink and turned the faucet on, clearing out the remnants of sugar-based foam from the porcelain as he continued.

"No, ye'd wait for me to return before ye made any permanent moves. Sense somethin' aboot me that'd tell ye what course of action ye ought not take. That's what you'd do" he finished, drying his hands with a nearby towel while settling beside Robbins again, as if they were old friends.

Robbins crossed his arms, feeling just a little embarrassed at how quickly he was figured out. "And what makes you so sure, secret agent man?" a playful edge to his tone.

"Because you and I know somethin' that only comes with age" the Scotsman said confidently. "We know how to wait" the smile clear in his voice.

Robbins sighed deeply, a resigned smirk on his face. "Damn, you really are some kinda secret agent, aren't ya?"

"I wouldn't lie to ye, Robbins. You can trust me" Hudson chuckled in a deep voice. And he believed him, he really did.

Just like last night, that baffling faith swelling up inside his chest towards this honorable old soldier beaming at him. Hudson had that strange effect on him, it seemed, instilling trust and confidence in him with seemingly no effort. That unshakable feeling that Hudson was a good man, a trustworthy, gentle man, worthy of faith and loyalty.

He realized that even though seconds ago he had that horrible idea of the massive Scotsman "taking care of him" with his bare hands, he didn't prepare to fight him off like he would have if it were, say Lennox MacDuff. He didn't feel the need to because he knew, deep down. Hudson wouldn't hurt him, he seemed incapable of doing so. And now the old veteran just felt silly for thinking otherwise.

"Then, can you explain what happened? At Fort Tryon?" he asked, wishing to distance his embarrassment in leu of answers to the many questions he still had. "I don't need every detail. But... if you can shed some light on just a little of what happened... I'll be satisfied"

Hudson poured more hot water from the tea kettle into their cups, plopping new tea bags into each one before slipping his arm between Robbins's and leading him back to the hallway.

"Aye, I could do that" he answered warmly, as they made their way into the study once more.

Robbins took note of just how massive Hudson's arm was, the muscles taut and built up over decades of routine battles, no doubt. It had to be the strongest arm he'd ever come across, and that included the absolute monoliths of men he met in the army. Former amateur wrestlers, some professional boxers, even one or two bodybuilders that felt their patriotic pride stirred and joined the cause.

Then there were a few friends of friends and miscellaneous members of his extended family that were particularly welcoming and embraced him in vice-like grips. Men who broke concrete and molded steel everyday, ditch diggers and furniture movers. Even younger men that had the privilege and opportunity to bulk up their bodies at gyms on a regular basis.

None of them compared to Hudson's powerful arm gently holstered in his own like a sling. Once again, he knew the man was massive and his hands were quite large and powerful. He even correctly surmised that his mass was mostly muscle and that unexpected swiftness he displayed the first night they met was indicative of impressive leg muscles if nothing else.

But he couldn't have expected what was currently leading him to his old study chair, it was startling to say the least. But Hudson was gentle, careful in his touch, almost to an insane degree, showing great control of his strength. He expected nothing less of an experienced soldier, strong enough to defeat the mighty MacDuff-Beth; still it was something to put on file.

The powerhouse in question nudged Robbins's knee with his teacup, letting him know exactly where it was and clacking the sugar bowl next to it, making it easy for Robbins to apply sugar to the drink and begin consuming it. Quite thoughtful, he remarked to himself with a small quirk of an eyebrow.

Hudson placed his cup on the table before he patted his lap, signaling Gilly to hop up if she wanted, and within seconds he heard her land gruffly on her guest's lap. Hudson merely chuckled his comforting laugh as he petted her absentmindedly. The stage was set, everyone was in their positions, the night was quite young; it was story time and Robbins was ready to hang onto every word.

"Ye've heard of the Scrolls of Merlin already, haven't ye? They were found some time ago, in Wales and they were being transported to a museum here in New York. The, uh, rumors said that they'd be full of magic spells and sorcery, something that entices the wrong creed..."

"MacDuff-Beth" Robbins added, bitting off the name with contempt.

"Aye, that creed. Knowing it would draw the attention of someone like that, my clan and I went in secret to the ship, just in case the escorts were not enough to protect the Scrolls. Fortunately, we were right to be paranoid, as ye already know. These two flyin' machines came swoopin' in like shadows in the night and made short work of the escorts. What did the lad call 'em? Carrier jets?"

"Yeah, that's right. Military grade stuff, they don't come cheap" Robbins helped again.

"Aye, that's a fact. Which narrowed the list of suspects down, though not by much. The thieves came out blastin' everythin' in sight, like a buncha hooligans, then they snatched the canisters the Scrolls were sealed in and made a break for it. I didn't let 'em get away so easily..." Hudson's mischievous grin seeped into his last sentence, before he continued his tale with vigor.

"I tussled with one of the mongrels just as he was takin' flight again. He tried flingin' me off the metal bird, but I wasn't gonna let 'im lose me. Not when I was so close to takin' back the Scrolls, and take 'em back I did. Or at least that boy's half of the Scrolls, my clan went after the other half in the other machine. But as soon as I grabbed hold of the canister, the blasted hoodlum hit a switch and shocked me with some kind of sorcery. I lost my grip and fell into the drink, but I didn't lose the Scrolls, thank heavens" he said with a sigh of relief at the end.

Robbins threw up his hands and nearly choked on his tea at the retelling. "You were knocked off of a carrier jet... in mid-flight, during a storm at sea..." his mouth hung open stupefied as his brain buffered. "And survived?" he blurted out louder than intended.

Hudson's corse hands went to rubbing again as he struggled to answer. "Well, uh... I was just lucky he didn't get that high up, I suppose. And the storm was over, right enough, so I was very lucky indeed. And then when I woke up, I met you which was..." the Scotsman trailed off, Robbins felt his eyes linger on him for a moment before the sensation died down.

"Well, I'd say the fates really smiled on me that night" he finished shyly, taking up his teacup for a sip, but halting to add a bitter footnote. "For once, that is..."

Robbins couldn't help but snort a quick laugh before focusing back on topic. "Alright, so you're a very lucky man. We met, talked for a while, then when dawn broke you disappeared. Was that—?"

Hudson interjected frantically, "Aye, I needed to... to, uh..." he nervously tried to piece together an excuse, but Robbins wasn't sure why. He already told him he was a secret agent, what more needed to be kept secret beyond that? So as was becoming habit of them, Robbins offered him a lifeline to keep the ball rolling.

"To check in with your team?—er, your clan, rather?" he swiftly corrected. "On a secret radio channel?"

Hudson slapped his palm to his forehead again, a light thwack peaking just above the crackling fireplace. "That's it. Ye figured me out, eh?" he smiled, no doubt grateful he didn't have to come up with that on his own.

Robbins simply smiled back as he nestled back into his chair. "I've had time to work it all out. But after you checked in, you disappeared for the rest of the day. So what happened there?"

"Ah, that..." Hudson said, a hitch in his deep voice as he stroked Gilly's fur. "I was gatherin' my strength back. To prepare to battle MacBeth, though at the time I didn't know it was MacBeth who was the thief. I assumed it was another schemin' man with dark ambitions. But ye got me sorted, right enough when I returned, which I'm still grateful for" he said genuinely, causing Robbins to blink rapidly in surprise.

"It was nothing, Hudson. Anything to help a fellow soldier out" he assured. Hudson exhaled through his nose, that same stifled chuckle that always followed a softened expression.

The Scotsman picked the story back up, "When I left here last night, I met back up with my clan at MacBeth's Castle—er, Fort Tryon, that is. We made our way into the fortress and battled his hired help, while he held one of the lads of my clan hostage. He and I went missing at the same time, only he managed to hold onto his flyin' machine"

Robbins gulped down the lump that was forming in his throat. "He's... okay now, though. Right?" he asked hopeful. MacBeth was no pushover if his flunkies could send Hudson floating in the ocean, he could only imagine how a younger man at MacBeth's direct "mercy" would fare.

Hudson grunted affirmatively as he slurped down the rest of his tea, then he answered. "Oh aye, right as rain, he is. After we handled MacBeth's hoodlums, we went for 'im directly, as he was readin' the Scrolls. Goliath, our clan leader, he managed to get the Scrolls back from 'im and sought to trade 'em for the lad's life. But MacBeth claimed the Scrolls didn't hold magic spells, just a diary of Merlin's life. Which meant they were of no use to—"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on..." Robbins interjected, waving his hands. "You mean to tell me, the Scrolls of Merlin... are actually detailed memoirs of his life? Written by Merlin himself?"

"Aye, that's what Goliath said"

"So you're saying... Merlin... was a real person?"

"I suppose I am. It certainly seemed to convince MacBeth and Goliath well enough and those two are quite learned when it comes to history"

"A real diary of Merlin's life..." Robbins couldn't help but marvel at that revelation. The newspapers failed to mention that groundbreaking detail. "My God, that's... that's unprecedented" he breathed out, a steadying hand propped up his head.

It truly was unprecedented. The initial findings on the Scrolls of Merlin were all in support of the idea that Merlin himself, or at least someone claiming to be Merlin who was alive during the 5th century, wrote the Scrolls on authentic Middle Ages parchment with era appropriate ink and sealing.

And the archeologists that discovered it claimed that a mysterious wind came out of the chest housing the scrolls as soon as it was opened, and with that wind a mirage that they swore bore a striking resemblance to a bearded man's face. At first Robbins just thought they were embellishing the discovery of the Scrolls, what better way than to propagate a mystical event surrounding them?

But now, he couldn't help but give credence to the tale, to the writing on the Scrolls. It was insane and too good to be true, but... Merlin the Wizard very well could have been real and now his memoirs were ready to be put on display in a museum not 2 hours away from where he lived. Him, an avid fan of all things mythological and a writer about to embark on his next great work all about Merlin himself. How incredibly extraordinary was this development? He couldn't begin to figure it all out.

"How could anyone not see the incredible value in the Scrolls?" he asked breathless.

Hudson snickered a bit. "Ye sound just like the lad, Broadway. He begged Goliath not to burn the Scrolls, because they were precious magic. He was really concerned about preservin' the Scrolls, and I agreed with 'im. Together, we managed to convince Goliath to not burn the Scrolls, which allowed us to return 'em to the rightful owners" Hudson finished, placing his cup on the coffee table with a light clack, Gilly shuffling in his lap as he did.

"And MacBeth just... let us go. Without a fight. The Scrolls, Broadway, all of us. He just let us all go and... disappeared. I'm still tryin' to wrap my head 'round that one. But when it comes to MacBeth, the questions are never answered in full" he mused aloud, a heavy weight burdening him, it seemed.

Perhaps he realized just how ironic that statement was coming from him, the secret agent who's apparently only known by 11 people in the world, including Robbins. Or maybe he felt responsible for MacBeth running free somewhere else. Perhaps he felt he could have put a stop to MacBeth but didn't for whatever reason. Maybe it was a combination of the two or neither one, the point was the tale of MacBeth wasn't over, but this particular chapter was. Robbins rubbed his temples, his eyes shot wide open at the sheer quantity of details he hadn't gotten from anywhere else.

"Incredible..." he breathed lightly. "Simply incredible..." he said staring off into space. What a story that turned out to be.

"Well, it weren't nothin'. We gave the Scrolls to our ally, a de-tec-tive, and she got 'em where they were supposed to go. And now, they're safe in a museum" Hudson wrapped up, focusing his attention back on the lazy fur ball nestled in his lap. Robbins was grateful for the breather, he needed it like he'd just come up for air after a 10 minute dive in the ocean. Slowly, he sorted through the information Hudson had graciously bestowed to him and finally reached one of many conclusions to come.

"So you and your, uh, clan, singlehandedly got back the Scrolls of Merlin from that terrorist... and ya didn't take an ounce of credit for it?" he inquired, an impressed lilt to his words.

Hudson stayed quiet for a moment before answering definitively, "It's not our way".

Robbins could hardly believe it, though he pressed on. "Well, on behalf of all of New York, Merlin fans, and the world at large, thank you Agent Hudson" he sincerely praised, whilst standing to his feet and giving Hudson a deeply respectful salute.

The Scotsman fumbled a bit, then cleared his throat. "Oh... well... ye don't need to thank me..." his gravely voice bolstered as he continued. "I was just doin' my duty, protectin' the castle and such" Robbins filed that comment away for further study, seeing as his file cabinets were running dangerously low on queries.

And speaking of those queries, one of them remained suspiciously unanswered. "But that still doesn't explain how you disappeared just before MacBeth got here. And it doesn't explain how you reappeared without warning then disappeared without a trace all over again to confront him. Care to explain that one?" he requested full of hope.

"That's a secret I'll have to be keepin', Robbins" Hudson answered back, a cheeky cadence to his voice.

"The kind where if you told me, you'd have to kill me? Hahaha" Robbins pressed lightly, hoping to bank on some secret agent humor.

But strangely, the Scotsman fell completely silent, a tension entered in the atmosphere. The loud squeaking of the leather bound chair across from him and Gilly landing on the floor revealed that Hudson had risen to his feet as well. Heavy, yet careful footfalls closed the distance between them as those familiar giant hands laid on Robbins's shoulders, a gentle warmth present in the touch.

"I... I could never kill ye, Robbins..." Hudson whispered softly, the gravel in his voice softened immensely, which shocked Robbins to his core.

Did... did Hudson not realize he was joking? Because he thought it was fairly obvious he was, on account of the laugh. But that earnest inflection, that soft, delicate touch to comfort him, the desperation coming off his whole demeanor... he actually thought Robbins was being serious. The poor guy, Robbins thought as he reflected the gesture back at Hudson, his hands resting on a metallic material. How unexpected, a pauldron or shoulder protector of some kind attached to his leather jacket, probably forgot to take it off before he got there, he reasoned.

"I was just kiddin', but good to know" Robbins assured trying to regain the light mood. "I won't press anymore. Just promise me you'll knock first before you come in. Otherwise, I won't be able to sleep or shower in peace ever again, hahaha"

"Ye have my word. I'll always knock" Hudson replied, his earlier tension completely gone, thankfully.

"Good" Robbins said letting him go, which gave Hudson the chance to do so as well before it got awkward.

A subtle thump against the rug beneath them and a slight breeze carrying Hudson's scent told Robbins his guest had just turned to the glass doors of his study. "Ack, it's gettin' to be late. I best be off soon" he said, his reluctance barely concealed as he walked towards the doors.

"Well, I don't wanna hold you, so I'll just ask one last thing" Robbins sighed, his diffidence barely hidden away as well, it seemed.

Hudson shifted in place. "Ask away" he said curiously.

Robbins began walking to the glass doors as he ventured on. "I know I offered before, but I realize that might have been presumptuous of me. And now that I know what you do for a living, it might not matter much at this point" he realized aloud, before shaking his head a bit. "But... I still wanted to ask... officially".

Robbins lifted his hands and placed them on his chest before continuing. "Would you like me to teach you how to read?" he sheepishly offered, fully prepared to be turned down. "Or would you rather find a teacher whose eyes still work?"

After all, it would only make sense for Hudson to use some of his vast, vast resources as a secret agent to find the best tutor suitable for him. And it would make sense if someone who still had all their faculties was chosen to teach him this vital skill, they'd be able to follow along with him and he them quite easily.

Now that he thought about it, he was incredibly shortsighted in suggesting he'd teach Hudson to read, he simply imposed on the man because the thought of someone not learning to read at their age was a reality he wouldn't let stand. So as much as he'd love to help Hudson out on that front, he realized he was far from the best or only option for him. It'd be fine if Hudson declined—

"Fancy that. I was just fixin' to ask you that very question before I left" the Scotsman declared, ripping the blind writer out of his thoughts once again. "Robbins, I would be honored if ye would teach me to read. There's no man better for the job" he said so impossibly earnest, it actually stunned Robbins for a minute.

Finally, after he found his voice again, "Well, I consider it an honor to be chosen as your teacher" he said warmly as he extend his hand to Hudson, to seal the deal.

But curiously, Hudson didn't take his hand. Despite the secret agent holding his arm to and from the kitchen, clasping his shoulders multiple times, and even taking his tea earlier. Though, now that he allowed himself to circle back to it, in the kitchen with the sugar bowl, he didn't take it from Robbins, he carefully used it without needing to. And his tea, once again, he took it very deliberately, making it impossible for their hands to interact.

Then when they returned to the study, he purposefully took Robbins's cup and placed it down on the table, using the porcelain to nudge the blind writer indirectly. All of it was carefully planned and meticulously carried out, all for the supposed purpose of... keeping their hands from touching.

Further adding to the strangeness, Robbins already knew roughly what Hudson's hands were like, at least one was missing a finger as a casualty of combat. His fingers were thicker and bigger than average, which matched Hudson's entire physique. They were corse and dry, but warm and gentle when he needed them to be. Hudson even grabbed onto his shoulder to lean on their first time meeting, so he had to know that Robbins knew what his hands were like already.

And most importantly, Robbins thought they had reached the point where that kind of thing didn't matter. They had become fast friends, much faster than either thought was possible at their age, he wagered. Hudson was this infinitely intriguing person, every passing moment he was learning more and more about him, yet he continued to come away with even more questions he was eager to find answers to.

He was a proud, honorable soldier, with a wealth of experience and confidence, hiding a childlike innocence and endearing old fashioned reservations. He was a dog person, a kind, gentle, warm man that didn't back down when his faults were laid bare. He was Hudson, his peculiar friend.

And Hudson was aware Robbins knew all of this about him, he could feel Hudson's desperation earlier to make him understand that he would never harm him, he had to be feeling what Robbins was feeling toward him. A few strange details on his appendages weren't enough to upset their newly secured applecart. So then... why would Hudson not take his hand? A very strange question, one he knew he'd have to hold onto for a while.

Awkwardly, he recoiled his hand and moved it to his neck, to help downplay the uncomfortableness. "Uh, come on by whenever you get a chance and we'll do a little here and there. It won't take long once you really start practicing" he encouraged, as Hudson opened the glass doors leading to the terrace.

Hudson turned back to Robbins. "Are ye sure I won't disturb ya? I know it's quite late whenever I come 'round, I wouldn't want to intrude—"

"Nonsense!" he practically shouted, interrupting Hudson. "I'll have you know I'm a proud insomniac, sleepin' when the sun's down is nigh impossible for me. And Gilly's already accustomed to your nightly visits, you wouldn't want to go and disappoint ol' Gilly, would ya?" he jokingly asked, kneeling down to tussle the old girl's fur and wrinkle her features in a faux sad frown.

A light hum escaped Hudson's throat, mirth clear in his tone. "Perish the thought..."

"You're welcome here anytime, Hudson. I mean it" Robbins replied, resting his hand on Gilly's head, who had to be grinning like crazy based on her breathing.

A quick breeze wafted that old leather smell his way as Hudson took another step onto the terrace. "Thank ye, Robbins. Fer... well, everythin' " he caught himself, knowing he'd said it before. "I'll come back soon, fer the lessons" he promised, his excitement clear in spite of the gravel in his throat.

Another quick motion of his leather jacket flapping taut in the wind, seemingly flung skyward, and then nothing, just like before. Gone, without a trace. How very peculiar, one of these days he was gonna figure out how he did that trick. Or at the very least, he'd tell him to stop doing it without warning, that disappearing act was starting to freak him out a bit.

Robbins snorted a low chuckle as he ruffled Gilly's soft fur, the dog licked his cheek in response, the cool night breeze wafting over the two of them as they set out on their nightly walk on the beach. He fished his trusty tape recorder from his pocket as he walked from his terrace to the peaceful sandy shore.

"Hear that, Gilly?" he asked in wonder, as the waves crashed in the distance. "We're gonna have a secret agent as a regular houseguest from now on"

Chapter Text

New sensations engulfed Hudson as he made his way back to his home, the wind whistling its familiar tune in his ears while he made his descent. He couldn't believe it, after suffering at the hand of fate so severely and continuously, he'd begun to feel something he hadn't truly felt since they were released from the Magus's spell.

He felt... happy. Truly happy, in the core of his being. Of course, he loved his television programs and Bronx was his faithful companion, he thanked whatever gods existed that they allowed him to be spared the terrible Massacre of Wyvern Castle all those centuries ago. And the lads were an ever present source of paternal pride, yet palpable frustration for the old soldier.

But there was always the looming uncertainty of the clan's fate and the disconnect from this world they were cruelly thrust into to damper these small blessings. It was still too big, too bright, too loud, all at once and all the time, Hudson couldn't remember the last time things were even relatively still and calm.

It seemed like things were always blowing up, honking incessantly, yelling uncouthly, flashing brightly, and about a thousand other things he just never cared for. Even in his youth, he scarcely remembered being entertained or intrigued with energetic and dramatic things, and that was before everything became so sickeningly vibrant and unbearably spunky.

But possibly worse than that was the fate of his clan, their place and purpose all but stripped completely away from them. The castle was gone, the last piece of their heritage, their identity, snatched away from them by the most vile human Hudson had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

The comforting pursuits and simple pleasures that gave them strength to continue on in life were replaced by startling unwelcomed changes. Gone were the days of gazing at the pristine landscapes of beautiful Wyvern Hill, gathering food and supplies straight from mother nature's bounty, the quiet therapeutic laps around a home that was teeming with gargoyles of all ages and colors living in harmony.

Now there was only patrols in a land with tainted air and littered streets, stealing food from grocery store trucks and greasy street vendors, living off of whatever scraps the young trio and Elisa could scrounge up, and this era's one saving grace: television.

What had they become, he bitterly asked himself from time to time. A once proud leader of a great people, now the most useless member of a dying race. Gargoyle warriors hardwired to protect and defend, reduced to skulking in the shadows of a massive ever-changing landscape and fight humans who viewed them as monsters even more than the humans of the past. Humans that were aware of their existence, formed an alliance with them, defended them during the day, and some who even befriended them.

Their treatment wasn't ideal—far from it—but compared to their current situation, it was definitely more preferable. Now if a human caught eye of any of them, there would be an automatic hunt initiated, every human would join the cause and see to it that the flying beast was brought down and eliminated. Their first encounter with the treacherous Pack was proof of that.

But as he touched down on the balcony leading into his humble abode, he realized that was one of the main reasons why he was experiencing this welcomed change in mood. The new human in his life, the unexpected friend he miraculously met, didn't have that problem. Without sight, there was no chance he would find out that Hudson was a gargoyle, thus no chance that the stigma of being a gargoyle would be applied to him.

There was peace in that, security, blessed assurance that with Robbins, and his lovable companion Gilly, Hudson was completely and totally safe. No traps, no hunts, no hostility, so long as Hudson kept his true nature a secret, which was child's play.

This world that seemed hellbent on reminding him that he was not wanted here and would never belong, suddenly quieted down a little when he was with Robbins. Somehow the worries that weighed down on him were lessened, just a bit. Such an odd effect the blind writer had on him, an effect that remained even now, when he was miles away from his presence. Hudson didn't know what to make of that, just like so many things surrounding Robbins, but he was eager to experience it again and get to the bottom of it.

Gently, he glided past the stairs and landed softly on the stone floor. A familiar joyful bark resonated through the Clock Tower, eliciting a grateful smile on the old soldier's face as Bronx rushed to his side. He ran his hand over the friendly beast's scaly head and reached his sharp nails behind his ear to give him a soothing scratching.

He envied Bronx as soon as they were made aware of their situation in this new world, he didn't have the capacity to worry and wonder and lament like everyone else. He was only concerned with the immediate, simple things: what to eat, where to sleep, who to play with, what to gnaw and scratch at absentmindedly. No earth shattering revelations or responsibilities, no hard questions to answer, no concept of the fates thrusting him to and fro at a whim. Just the simple pleasures of a happy beast in the company of his clan.

But now, he ventured what he was feeling was a fraction of the stress-free, simple happiness that Bronx had so easily secured. And if this was just a fraction of how Bronx felt all the time, then Hudson was right to envy him, indeed. He calmly made his way to his rugged, disheveled recliner, Bronx steadily beneath his softly scratching fingers, and clasped his wings across his chest. A deft hand snatched the remote from its resting place on the arm of the chair and he clicked it on as he plopped into the warm seat. Wait, warm?

"Welcome home" an eloquent, baritone voice called out softly, catching his attention. A familiar towering figure approached him with a steaming pot of something hearty and a smile just as warm.

"Ah, thank ye, lad. Been waitin' long?" Hudson asked, taking the spoon Goliath offered him to taste the savory concoction that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be beef stew. One of the old soldier's favorites, especially as the nights began to get colder and colder. How thoughtful of him, he mused as he sampled from the pot.

"Not long at all. I've just been catching up on a fascinating novel and nearly forgot to make supper. You've arrived just in time to give the taste test" Goliath received the spoon back as Hudson smacked his lips to swirl the flavors all around to better judge the quality of the dish.

"A wee pinch of pepper and ye've achieved culinary perfection, my boy" Hudson remarked, an appreciative smirk stretching across his face. Goliath nodded as he returned to the kitchen area and searched for the pepper shaker.

"So, how did your outing fair?" he asked over his shoulder as he traced his fingertip over the spice rack.

"Just fine" Hudson answered immediately, before musing on the response. "Better than fine, truthfully" he drifted as memories of Robbins and Gilly looking up at him just before he took flight played in his mind.

"Oh?" Goliath perked up interested, halting his task to look at Hudson as he continued.

"We talked for a good while. He made tea and we drank the whole pot. He was quite interested in me and..." he trailed off, only now realizing that he was rambling. "Let's just say, I've got a very eager teacher to help me read" he concluded, covering up his embarrassment from going on and on.

Goliath approached him with a bowl of stew in hand and offered it to his mentor. "That's wonderful news, Hudson. I'm glad for you" he said, excitement barely hidden behind his gentle demeanor. The boy had made it a point to ask Hudson what he thought of Elisa and the other humans of this world, prodding and prying for an answer that would give him hope for human and gargoyle relations.

Hudson had never lied to him, but he wasn't completely open about his opinion of humans either. Elisa was a dream come true, a human that loved them like friends, if not family, but she was Goliath's companion more than anything. The trio of course had a youthful wide eyed admiration for the impressive humans of this era, mostly through television programs and the like, all of them eager to meet them and earn their trust. But Hudson was an entirely different sort.

Humans had proven to be much too dangerous and untrustworthy for him to judge them positively. Sure, there was Elisa and the heroes on television, but there was far too many that were selfish, deceitful, petty, and greedy that outweighed the few good apples in the bunch. While he was nowhere near Demona's insane levels of contempt for them, he wasn't particularly fond of them either. He would protect the innocent, he wouldn't seek to cause harm or discomfort to them, but he wasn't exactly eager to meet and trust more of them. Elisa was an exception and he was sure there would be others in the coming days, but he wasn't going to be the one to find those exceptions.

But then, in a radical twist of fate, he washed ashore and stumbled right into the greatest exception and saving grace of humanity at large, Jeffery Robbins. He wasn't sure how, he wasn't sure why, but suddenly every reservation he had about humans was changing and Goliath was right to be excited for this brand new, completely unprecedented development.

"Thank ye, lad. I'm glad too" he finally replied as they slurped down the delectable stew. And he meant it. For the first time in a long time, he could honestly admit that he was glad. Not in passing, not excluding whatever extenuating circumstance, he was just... kinda glad. A bit more at peace than he'd been since waking from his centuries long stone slumber.

A pleasant discovery, he added as he flicked through the channels to find Celebrity Hockey. Broadway forgot to return the channel back, evident by the black and white grizzled detective program that greeted him when it flicked on.

"I've been meaning to ask you, what is so appealing about this particular television program?" Goliath inquired between spoonfuls.

"I like when they slam and crash into each other. The B-Players are the best at that, look at 'em" Hudson replied without taking his eyes off the screen. The ruthless B-Players were currently displaying their bloodlust as they slammed an unsuspecting member of the opposing team into the glass, causing him to sprawl out on the ice like a rag-doll.

Hudson chuckled as he wiped his mouth of excess broth. Goliath simply looked between his mentor and the rowdy display he was enthralled with and raised his brow in confusion.

"I... see" he mumbled unsure, then took another spoonful of stew. Just as they settled into a comfortable silence, the clock face door flung open with a rusty squeak. In clambered the trio of young boys, brimming with energy and rambling on passionately about some new discovery they've made no doubt.

Ah, youth, he mused. Eager to discover the unknown and answer the various questions of life, all as fast as possible. Only later realizing that the unknown was known all along and the questions already have answers because they've been asked thousands of times before. And when they aren't doing that, they're off on flights of fancy and foolishness, bickering and joking which was unbecoming of serious warriors, which they were supposed to be striving to be.

He shook his head and admonished himself for his cynicism, the lads had a heaping helping of reality at their young age and it was honestly a miracle they could still be so full of joy and wonder after everything they've been through. He was far too quick to forget that and he needed to be more respectful of them, as the future of the clan, if nothing else.

"Hey guys! Whatcha watchin'?" Broadway called as he descended the stairs, his heavy footfalls clearly heard from across the space. His brothers split from behind him and entered the common area in their own ways.

"Celebrity Hockey, what else?" Hudson replied cheekily while turning up the volume. With those three back home, there was bound to be an increase in background noise.

Goliath got up and picked something up from a shelf. "Lexington, Elisa came to visit earlier and left you this package" he informed while handing a gray grocery bag to the smallest gargoyle.

"Lemme take a look" he hummed bemused, taking it from Goliath's massive hand and scurrying to the table.

Brooklyn hopped over to the kitchen area, the beef stew still steaming a bit as he wafted the scent. "There's enough food left, I hope?" he asked expectantly.

"We just ate" Broadway quickly added, confused.

"Uh, correction: You just ate. I still haven't gotten a bite yet" Brooklyn replied dryly, fishing for a bowl in the cabinet.

"Well, who's fault is that?" Broadway asked, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Yours," Brooklyn spat, squinting at his brother. "Considering watching you eat an entire cart of corndogs made me want to hurl" he continued louder, a frustrated edge to his tone.

"They were just sittin' there!" Broadway defended even louder, his arms waving above his head incredulously. "What was I supposed to do, let 'em go to waste?"

Just before Hudson was about to shout for them to keep it down, Lexington interrupted everyone with a gleeful cheer. "Aww sweet! Elisa got the 8-PIN cable and a 25 megabyte floppy disk! Now I can finally get to work on Coldstone!" he announced, causing everyone's eyes to shoot open in shock.

Coldstone... the name instilled dread in his heart every time he heard it, and judging by the rest of his clan's reaction, it had a similar effect on them. The abomination of sorcery and science that was Coldstone was always a topic of serious reflection for the entire clan, spoken of in deathly serious tones and frightened whispers.

A stark reminder of so many painful truths: Demona's corruption and unforgivable betrayal of the clan and the very nature of a gargoyle, the horrors of man's science and the depth of depravity of the human mind, the defiling of their clansmen's remains and the subsequent internal torture they are subjected to constantly, the tragic sorrowful night all those centuries ago that still weighed heavily on them all, a stark reminder of how guarded they have to be at all times. And for Hudson, a testament to his failures as a leader, as an adviser, and as a warrior.

When he was Clan Leader, the three gargoyles that form Coldstone were under his charge, same as Goliath and Demona. They were his responsibility, he was meant to teach them and guide them in the way they should go about their lives. Instill in them the values of honor, justice, strength, and wisdom, nurture their talents and affinities, see to it that each and every one of them became honorable warriors and respectable gargoyles.

Instead, he merely focused on a few and hoped the rest would learn by example or implication, Goliath and Demona were his priority as soon as he knew who he'd groom to take his and his mate's place. It wasn't that he didn't care about the other children, nor that he didn't teach them or guide them. He just didn't do enough, he knew that he didn't do enough because he was told so by his mate, the best Clan Mother any young gargoyle could ask for.

His Queen of the Night would often pull him aside and tell him to focus on the other young ones in Goliath's generation. They needed more attention, more guidance, more love. And while he was willing and eager to give more love and attention to them, it was guidance that they lacked. Because of this, the tragedy of Coldstone was allowed to germinate into its First Act.

He saw that the two lads were yearning for the same lass, he saw it as plain as day. But he thought they would work it out among themselves, the girl would make her decision after seeing the boys grow up and shape up into the men they were going to be. One would gain her heart and the other would bow out gracefully and pursue another girl, one who was destined for him and he for her. That's how it always shook out, why would this trio be any different than the dozens that have gone through the same circumstance?

Foolish old man, he berated. He knew there was something different about the raven haired one, he could see it in his face, hear it in his voice, it was all in his body language. He wanted that girl and he was willing to do anything to get her, he didn't understand honor or justice at all, and instead of pulling him aside and teaching him, Hudson opted to let them sort it out among themselves. And thus, the Coldstone tragedy was able to reach its Second Act.

For soon after Hudson abdicated as Clan Leader and bestowed the position onto Goliath, the raven haired lad finally made his move. In an act of deplorable jealously the likes of which Hudson had rarely seen before or since, he deceived his white haired rookery brother into believing an outrageous lie.

He caused him to believe that Goliath desired his love and she was never truly his love, but a betrayer of his trust just like Goliath. Knowing Goliath and Demona were already positioned as the new Clan Leader and Clan Mother, the power couple that would remain united and keep the clan with their union, not to mention they had just conceived an egg together, this deception cut that much deeper.

Unfaithfulness was nigh impossible for a gargoyle, they mate for life, always had and always will. So for this lie to be credible, the white haired lad had to be incredibly stupid, which Hudson knew wasn't true, or his raven haired brother had to have manipulated Goliath and his rookery sister into appearing unfaithful. Not just once either, this had to be a carefully calculated, multi-step plot to garner the effect it produced. All in an attempt to create disharmony within the clan, culminating in a battle to the death between his rookery brother and his Clan Leader, and in the chaos claim his rookery sister as a prize for a deed heinously accomplished.

It made Hudson absolutely revolted to think of someone in his clan capable of such unbelievably depraved levels of evil. Thankfully, the battle ended thanks to their rookery sister talking sense into her rookery brothers and all three of them intended to apprehend their deceitful raven haired brother, who couldn't even stand tall and accept his failure like a man. Instead he tried to run away, a pitiful display on all fronts, thank goodness Demona anticipated such an act and easily intercepted him.

He was captured and brought before the entire clan to be judged in full view of all those he dishonored with his horrendous actions. There he knelt, snarling and protesting, like a raving lunatic, that she belonged to him and his brother didn't deserve her and Goliath wasn't fit to lead anyway.

Never in all his years had Hudson seen a gargoyle so corrupt and deplorable as the raven haired lad, and it broke his heart. He knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he had failed the boy. If only he'd taken the time to entreat him, if only he hadn't been complacent about his nature, if only he had at least taken his white haired rookery brother aside and warned him about his brother, maybe this entire ordeal could have been avoided.

Alas, he was a foolish, careless leader and here was the result of his tutelage, hissing at him like a venomous serpent. Goliath stood before him and laid out his sins plainly for all to know, whatever his punishment, everyone would know to watch their clansman from this day forward and report back to Goliath the progress or regression of his redemption. And Goliath being the fair and just lad Hudson raised him to be, knew that he had no choice but to punish him. Still, he loved the boy, Goliath lived for his clan regardless of whatever they did, to this day he lives for his clan, he noted. So he looked to Hudson, his mentor, his elder, his predecessor, for advice on the appropriate punishment.

Hudson immediately told him to banish his rookery brother, his offense was far too serious to do anything less. Goliath was the new Clan Leader, any action deliberately done to put his life at risk was enough for banishment. But to pit his own rookery brother against his Clan Leader in order to steal away his rookery sister, who was already committed and bonded to another? It was the sickest, most vile of motives. And it nearly worked!

No, the lad had to be banished from Wyvern Hill, left without a clan, without a castle, and without an opportunity to bond with any of his clansmen. It was what he deserved, short of straight up execution, and Hudson knew it. He believed that his own rookery sister Demona knew it.

But Goliath was hesitant to go along with it. The role of leader was still new to him and he had yet to think of himself as one who truly could make such a harsh decision. He pushed back against an extended banishment of a decade, which Hudson made clear was the minimum punishment that would fit his crimes, and instead opted for a single year banishment.

The old soldier knew it wouldn't be enough, he knew that the very notion of a year banishment was little more than a slap on the wrist, he knew that everyone else would bring Goliath's position as Clan Leader into question because of this decision. Yet, he had reservations about challenging the lad on this. It was his first major decision as Clan Leader, he had to show solidarity or it would be even more disastrous. He appointed him leader, he couldn't take it back at the first sign of trouble, no matter how desperately he needed to.

He could have pushed for more years, 5 would have been a good compromise. And perhaps 5 years of isolation would do his rookery brother some good and they'd work on his sense of honor and justice when he came back. All of them stupid, selfish reasons to allow a heinous act to go grossly under-punished. Against his better judgement, Hudson allowed Goliath to pass the verdict and off the raven haired lad went, only to return in a year's time. And because of this second major failure, the Coldstone tragedy entered into its Third Act.

The boy returned to Castle Wyvern exactly a year later and there were no more incidents regarding him. But it wasn't because he had reformed and redeemed himself, no. It was only because a much greater sin dwarfed his almost immediately after he returned, for it was the year of the horrifying, nightmarish massacre of their entire clan. All of them, the raven haired lad, his white haired rookery brother and his lovely rookery sister were slaughtered in a grisly display of cruel savagery and left to litter the castle ruins. Tainted by death, traumatized by betrayal, stripped of innocence. And as gruesome as it is, Hudson would have preferred that to be the end of their tragic tale. But the fates had other plans.

For the Third Act had merely begun for the trio at their untimely deaths all those years ago, the continuation was to take place in this time. This new world filled with wicked science to blend with dark sorcery, culminating in the macabre fate those poor children are suffering from now. Trapped in a prison constructed from the defiled remains of their bodies and fortified with machinery from the most devious mind on the planet, Xanatos, and cruelly bestowed sentience to comprehend the depths of despair they've been dragged to by Demona, their own rookery sister. Will the betrayals never cease, Hudson wondered more than anything else concerning the souls trapped inside Coldstone.

Upon hearing of their situation, a startling realization struck Hudson harder than any blow he'd ever felt. If Goliath banished his rookery brother for more than a single year, if he had just sentenced him to 2 years, he wouldn't have been present for the Wyvern Massacre and he wouldn't be part of the Coldstone tragedy. Most of the suffering all of them had to endure wouldn't be, had Hudson pressed for a harsher punishment. He never brought it up with Goliath, and he never would, but it was always rattling around in his head when Coldstone was brought up. Another one of his substantial failures had come back to bite him. Hard.

And of course, if he had just stopped and thought, he would have been able to figure out what that treacherous Captain of the Guard was plotting, and he could have prevented that horrific tragedy from happening, thus no Coldstone, no New York, no Xanatos, no Magus's spell, no new world. The events of that gruesome night replayed in his head again, every word spoken, every action taken, every second spent, every look from every person, all of it scrutinized and weighed meticulously in his mind.

If he'd just done this, if he'd just noticed that, if he'd just said something there, then the catastrophe would have been averted. But that was him picking up that blasted shattered hourglass again, and that was a path he'd already treaded enough for one lifetime. Still, because of his failure as a warrior to spot the treachery and to be there to protect his clan—his children— from slaughter, Coldstone was able to be brought into existence. A whole lot of strife could have been avoided if not for Hudson's continued failures in every aspect of his life, nobody was more aware of this than he himself.

Now, by Goliath's recollection of his time inside the mind of Coldstone, his brother and sister are tormented daily by the raven haired lad and the very circuitry that makes up their vessel. Together, but robbed of the ability to feel each other, robbed of peace even in their own minds, robbed of their home, and robbed of everything that made them gargoyles. No castle to protect, no ability to join their clan, no hope of ever becoming one soul in one body again.

Or so Hudson thought until Lexington offered to work on Coldstone with his gifts from Elisa. The little lad hadn't noticed the startling silence that had enveloped his clan, but Hudson certainly had. None of them were expecting this development, not even his rookery brothers it seemed, and Hudson had no way of knowing, but he assumed they were all doubtful of Lexington's chances of reviving Coldstone and excising the raven haired lad's soul from the body.

Hudson was ready to dissuade Lexington from even trying, after everything they'd been through with Coldstone, he figured it would be best to just let them finally rest for good. He was sure that's what they'd desire the most and more importantly, he seriously doubted Lexington could perform a perfect ideal repair of Coldstone. The boy was brilliant, no question, but he wasn't a fae.

However, Goliath was the first to find his voice again. "Lexington, are you... are you saying you will be able to restore Coldstone's mind?" he ventured, cautiously optimistic.

Lexington tinkered with his laptop as he responded. "I think so. I've been reading up on computers, programming and viruses, how to fix 'em when they break too" Finally, he looked up and noticed his entire clan was slack-jawed and bewildered.

"I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I can at least start looking inside his systems to figure out what's wrong. And maybe, eventually, bring him back online. I mean, it's worth a shot, right?" he chuckled nervously as he walked his laptop over to them.

"Could—could you start now?" Goliath asked, almost pleading.

"Well, setting up for it takes a while and it's gettin' pretty early," he quirked his head toward the clock face, the approaching dawn slowly lighting up the sky "but I'll start work on him first thing tomorrow night"

Goliath placed a comforting hand on his slender shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. I don't intend to pressure you, I'm just..." he couldn't stop the hopeful smile gracing his features. "Eager to see my siblings well again"

"I understand, Goliath. I'll do my best to help our clansmen" Lexington nodded resolutely, before plopping on the ground and tapping away at his laptop. Well, that was that, Hudson supposed.

Brooklyn and Broadway reached the same conclusion, though slower than him, thankfully their earlier argument was a distant memory and the two shuffled off to play with their brother's remote control car. Something that the little lad wouldn't mind in leu of his new project. First it was getting the clock working again, then it was fixing their new used refrigerator, then building a motorcycle out of spare parts the trio had gathered across a week, then of course there was The Pack's helicopter which he outfitted with armor, and now Coldstone. It was sure to be his most challenging project yet, Hudson figured, which meant...

"So that means you'll be home for a while then, lad?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah, I'm grounded until I make some headway on ol' Coldstone" the boy responded throwing a thumb at the backroom where the abomination of science and sorcery stood comatose, their own personal nightmare statue.

"Good, then you'll guard the tower, and I'll have time to..." he stopped himself and turned his attention back to the television. "Take care of business"

"Business? What business?" Broadway questioned incredulous, much too flippant for Hudson's tastes.

"The sorta business that's mine to be mindin', not yours" he chided, jabbing a finger towards the young gargoyle.

"Uh-huh. And this 'business' wouldn't happen to concern the blind human whose house you crashed at last morning, would it?" Brooklyn deduced rather coyly.

"I didn't crash into his house, I washed ashore" Hudson corrected, irritated and turning up the television more.

Brooklyn sidled up to his recliner and leaned on the headrest. "Relax, I'm just surprised you found a human friend all on your own. You, out of all of us" he said, motioning to his rookery brothers, because of course Goliath didn't count. He was ahead of everyone in that regard.

"And just what is that supposed to mean? I'm perfectly capable of makin' friends with humans, same as the rest of ye" Hudson challenged eying Brooklyn accusingly.

"Yeah, that's what's so surprisin'..." Broadway murmured as he went on playing with the remote control car. Hudson scoffed and turned his attention back to the television. Brooklyn returned to Broadway's side to quickly remind him that it was his turn to drive as Lexington tapped away at his computer, a couple computing books next to him as a guide. The clan settled into a comfortable silence, but only for a moment as their leader sat next to Hudson.

"How... is your new friend? Robbins, was it?" Goliath gently ventured, clearly not wanting to come off intrusive but incredibly interested in learning more about the new human in Hudson's life. It was natural to want to know more, Hudson reasoned.

"He's alright... just wanted to know how everythin' settled with MacBeth and the Scrolls" he answered plainly, not taking his eyes off the television.

"I would be interested in meeting him" Goliath offered, a leading tone in his voice. "To express my gratitude for helping you in your hour of need, if nothing else" he added politely.

"We all would!" Lexington spoke up suddenly. "Any human that's willing to befriend us is a human worth meeting!" he nearly shouted in his excitement. And it was obvious why, Hudson realized. After his encounter with The Pack, he's been longing to find true allies. Kindred spirits he called them, which Hudson had to admit fit Robbins beautifully. He was certainly kindred to his old spirit, anyway. Which made the idea of bringing the lads to meet him all at once an even less appetizing prospect.

"I don't wanna be overloadin' him, lads" he gently tried to explain. "Robbins is... he isn't like Elisa"

"Whaddya mean?" Broadway perked up, his interest piqued as well.

"Well, he's..." Hudson realized all eyes were on him now, and suddenly the television was on commercial break and far too loud. He pressed mute as he gathered his flittering thoughts on the blind writer. How do you condense someone as astonishing as him into a few short words? They should have sent a poet, he joked inwardly.

"He's calm. Quiet... serene..." the words came more naturally as he started to let them out. "And wise. Wiser than anybody I've ever met" he admitted, surprised he'd never thought of that before now. Robbins had insight that very few people, including himself, have ever displayed. It was one of the things that fascinated him the most about the human; blind but with a greater insight than any man with perfect vision. A disarming contradiction.

"So he's... frail?" Brooklyn spoke up, breaking the introspective silence Hudson got lost in.

"No!" he laughed in rejection of the notion. As if anyone could describe Robbins as frail, how ridiculous. "No, not at all. He's got..." he searched for the words again, slowly the formed a sentence in his mind as the lads hung in anticipation. God, he was bad at this, perhaps they really should have sent a poet.

Finally, his thoughts focused. "He's got a silent strength... like a great oak stretching to the sky... Or a mountain firmly standing through any storm..." the old soldier trailed off into a peaceful trance. His eyes glazed over as pleasant memories of Robbins scrolled past his mind's eye.

His smile when he first met him, his gentle yet firm grip on his shoulder when he revealed he couldn't read, his impassioned words that challenged Hudson to better himself. His sigh of relief when Hudson returned from stone sleep, his hearty laughter when Hudson accidentally said something humorous, his engrossed undivided attention when Hudson told the story of MacBeth and the Scrolls of Merlin. His bashful demeanor when offering his services to teach him how to read, his hand stretched out expectantly towards Hudson, a hand he wished he could clutch warmly, but knew he never could. Each moment a treasure he valued more than silver.

"He sounds quite interesting" Goliath spoke up, a knowing, gentle smile on his face.

Hudson chuckled a bit. "Aye, he is... I've never met anyone quite like him before..." he said, surprising himself more than anyone else. It was true, he just never considered it until the words entered the atmosphere. He had no one to accurately compare Robbins to, none of the gargoyles in his clan, nor humans they allied with, nor any other being he'd come across in his long life was quite like Jeffery Robbins. And that was... shocking, to say the least.

"Wow, you must really like this guy, Hudson" Broadway interjected, snatching Hudson back to reality and the mask of aloofness he tried to adopt originally.

"Ack, away with ye" he waved off, his face reddening with embarrassment. "I just don't want you aggrivatin' him all night long with yer constant bickerin' and playin' " he chided to hopefully cover up his mounting embarrassment.

"We won't, we promise!" Lexington called out, practically interrupting Hudson's admonishing. His sincerity so clear, he couldn't help but back down from his argumentative attitude.

"Yeah, honest! We just wanna meet the human that's got you so impressed" added Brooklyn, sweet and with a twinge of laughter accenting his words.

"And ye will" Hudson relented. Blast them and their endearing innocent charm. "As soon as you can reign in that youthful energy some" he added quickly, not wanting them to think he was too soft.

The trio nodded and overlapped each other with their promises to calm down as Goliath spoke up. "He is your friend, Hudson. You should decide when it's time for us all to be introduced" the lad assured as he placed a loving hand on his shoulder.

"We just want you to know that we are looking forward to that day" Goliath soothed diplomatically, just like Hudson taught him to be.

"Alright, alright. I hear ye, lad" he softly patted Goliath's hand. "I promise, one day I'll introduce ye to 'im" he smiled weakly.

It warmed his old heart to see his prized pupil respect and honor the lessons Hudson gave him when he was just a hatchling. Truly, when he went too far in self-flagellation of his character, Goliath stepped in and halted the trial. Hudson may have been lacking in some areas and his mistakes were great in severity and number. But the one thing he knows he did right was grooming Goliath and handing leadership over to him, the lad took to it like a fish in water.

His immense strength tempered with a big heart and an old soul made him the perfect Clan Leader, hands down. Far better than Hudson himself ever was, which made him thank the gods once again, only a fool wishes more for himself and less for his successor. Moreover, Goliath had stuck close to the elder in a way that Hudson couldn't to his own elders, their bond was quite a unique one and he cherished it as the rarity it was.

Which meant that if anyone would meet Robbins sooner rather than later, it would be him. As fond as he was becoming of Robbins, Goliath was still his boy and nothing was going to dwarf that connection they had. Everything they'd been through together, the hardship, the triumphs, the countless years of combat where they placed their lives in the other's hands.

Still, Hudson had a reluctant trepidation when he played out Goliath and Robbins meeting. Goliath wasn't at all concerned about concealing his gargoyle identity to humans and Robbins was a sharp one indeed. A single touch of Goliath's hands or an unchecked sound, a throwaway comment, and the blind writer would stumble onto the truth, a possibility that sat uncomfortably in his lap like 3 Bronxes.

The fragility of their relationship was laid bare, an unfortunate inescapable truth: Robbins was under the impression that Hudson was human, just like him. The only reason he helped him, invited him into his home, treated him like an honored guest and friend was because he couldn't see the truth. If he wasn't blind, that fateful night that exhausted his reserves of good luck would have played out very differently. And if he was to ever discover Hudson's true nature, it would surely be an upsetting and frightening discovery, one he wasn't trying to subject Robbins to.

Especially if it wasn't necessary, and Hudson truly felt it wasn't. How would knowing he's a gargoyle benefit Robbins? What was there to gain in telling him? Absolutely nothing. But what was there to lose in telling him? Absolutely everything. It was simply unintelligent to reveal that truth to Robbins, and until he could convey that to Goliath, their meeting would have to wait.

He still felt uncomfortable with hiding the truth from someone he'd quickly taken a shine to, it wasn't really in his nature to be secretive in this way. He reasoned that one day it would be safe to reveal the secret, one day when they've grown closer, when their friendship isn't so new and vulnerable, he'd tell Robbins the truth himself. And if there was fallout, they could deal with it, they could repair whatever damage this revelation would do to their relationship. Hopefully, he added with a deep sigh.

Thankfully this wasn't a problem he had to worry about for a long time, he could just keep the secret and enjoy his friend without a care. At least, for now.

"Sun's comin' up, guys" Brooklyn announced, picking up the speeding toy car and placing it back in its box.

Lexington finished up on his laptop and snapped it shut as he gathered his books and materials, scurrying off to the back room. Broadway quickly cleaned out the pot Goliath cooked the stew in and put the rest of the kitchen materials back in their proper place. Goliath patted Hudson's shoulder affectionately as he walked pass, Bronx following dutifully with a pleasant growl. Hudson flicked the television off as he got up from his groaning recliner and meandered to the clock face door.

Each member of the clan gathered at the balcony at a nonchalant pace, the approaching dawn peeling back the obsidian veil of the night sky and revealing the bright blue gradient beneath. The blazing sun began peaking above the horizon, slowly ascending as its brilliant lights beamed gracefully behind the many skyscrapers that made up Manhattan.

Hudson sighed blissfully at the great approaching light, he'd always wondered about the Sun, that great big golden glow that bathed the sky in warm shimmering light. He'd only seen its likeness in paintings and tapestries, knowing they all paled in comparison to the real thing. But as a gargoyle he'd never be able to see it for himself, a fact that vexed him more than he cared to admit openly.

So as the twinkling mass of light beamed higher and higher above the rooftops, Hudson got into his stance while unsheathing his sword. The majestic beauty of the heavens would once again allude his tired old eyes, merely teasing him with how painfully close it would always get, yet always far enough away to escape his grasp.

And as his skin began to stiffen and petrify, a sensation as familiar as breath entering his body, he settled into his fate. It was just the hand he was dealt being born a gargoyle. In his final waking moment, he realized this was another thing he and Robbins had in common. The sight of a gorgeous sunrise was now forever beyond his grasp as well, something that no doubt weighed heavily on him, despite him refusing to show it.

He supposed there were quite a few sights that Robbins dearly missed, but this one the old gargoyle could sympathize with all too well. As miserable a hand he'd been dealt, the wise human had made the most of it. Hudson supposed he should take a page out of his book in that regard.

That day, his dreams were filled with the scents of Robbins's home, the taste of his peculiar, but pleasant tea, the tactile sensation of combing his fingers through Gilly's soft fur, the sound of his soft crackling fireplace, and the sight of Robbins's smiling face. For the first time in a long time, the constant marathon of his past failures and shortcomings were far away and Hudson was blissfully at peace.

Chapter Text

"Preparing for the new school year just got easier! Everything from backpacks, to notebooks, to pencil sharpeners; all of your back to school needs are 35% off, for the entire month of September!" the store intercom blared for what had to be the 8th time since Robbins stepped inside. "So shop smart, shop cheap, shop OfficeMax" it finished, giving him a small reprieve for the next 5 minutes. Robbins sighed and tapped his foot while waiting in the checkout line, several preschool and kindergarten booklets focused on reading and spelling tucked underneath his arm.

It had been a while since Robbins went this far into the city, not for any reason in particular, he just didn't have any real purpose in traveling so far, nor any motivation. But now that Hudson was counting on him to tutor him in reading, he woke up that morning with a clear purpose in mind. Gathering the necessary materials to start this journey he had proposed to his new friend, the Scottish secret agent. Again, that just sounded off to him, like the title of a lowbrow daytime sitcom or something.

He called his driver, Eddy, for the first time in weeks, to take him into town so he could run his errands. Eddy was surprised at their first stop, OfficeMax. The place they were currently parked behind a mother of 3 or 4 children, twiddling their thumbs waiting for the rambunctious family to get their school supplies bagged and shuffle out of there. The poor woman had kids dangling off her arms while trying to pay the cashier for the materials, Robbins didn't need to see it to know it. Parents these days, just let their kids climb all over 'em, he grumbled in disappointment.

Finally, the cashier called out to the next person in line, and Robbins thanked God as he and Eddy plopped their items on the conveyor belt. She got them scanned swiftly, bagged carefully, and even made time to small talk a bit. A very professional young lady, so much so that Robbins had a little trouble providing a satisfactory answer when she asked him if he was a kindergarten teacher or a kindergarten parent.

He stumbled with his words for a second, which was quite uncharacteristic of him, before sidestepping the question all together. He couldn't very well tell her the truth, now could he? After all, it was a privilege for him to even know of Hudson's existence, seeing as only a handful of people in the world did. Robbins couldn't even think of revealing that secret, even tangentially. So he cobbled together an innocent white lie that would keep her suspicions at bay, something about a friend of a friend's little boy needing help and Robbins was in the neighborhood so here he was.

A flimsy story, to be sure, but the young lady didn't mind and simply told him his total, prompting him to take out his money clip and give her more than enough bills. Before she could even try to make change, he lightly touched her hands when offering the money and quipped a clever comment.

"It'd make it a lot easier for both of us if ya just kept the change. It's not like I'd notice if ya didn't give me exact change back" She gave him an unexpected snort of a laugh before wishing him a pleasant rest of his morning.

"Where to now, Boss?" Eddy asked while leading him back to the car.

"Depends on what time it is" he responded, grocery bag secure in his lax grip. He could hear Eddy shuffle his jacket sleeve to look at his watch before he opened the passenger door.

"10:07"

"Ah, good" Robbins said as he slipped into the fairly spacious backseat of the car. "The Met, then" he instructed while placing the bag on the seat next to him.

"Gonna look at some art?" Eddy joked as he jumped into the driver's seat and shifted into drive, the car faithfully responding and rumbling to life.

"Somethin' like that" Robbins laughed airily. "The Scrolls of Merlin were just recently returned and I wanna know what they managed to translate off 'em"

"Oh yeah, yeah I heard 'bout that. Crazy how that whole thing happened"

"Yeah, crazy" was Robbins's disconcerting reply, the entire story playing through his mind once more. It was crazier than the boy could ever imagine; Merlin was a real person who wrote a diary of his life, which revealed Arthur Pendragon and all of his mythos was real as well. All of his belongings and paraphernalia were found in a cave and brought to New York only to be stolen by high tech mercenaries hired by a maniacal Scotsman with a Shakespeare obsession and the goal of using the Scrolls to gain ultimate magical power.

His plans were foiled by a group of top secret Scottish agents, one of whom washed ashore after climbing on a jet in midair in the middle of a thunderstorm to steal the Scrolls back. He befriended Robbins, disappeared as soon as the sun came up, then MacBeth arrived on his doorstep to steal the Scrolls back from Hudson. Hudson returned at nightfall and Robbins found MacBeth's address—he casually bought Fort Tryon, by the way— then Hudson and his Scottish secret agent team fought MacBeth at Fort Tryon in a climactic showdown.

The Scrolls were nearly burned because they were thought worthless by the tyrant but thankfully Hudson's "clan" kept their leader from making that mistake. MacBeth let them all go for seemingly no reason and they returned the Scrolls to the museum in secret while MacBeth disappeared without a trace. And no one was the wiser, save Robbins who had the entire tale recanted to him by Hudson, who was the entire reason he was making these errands and could inquire about The Scrolls of Merlin at the museum right now.

But of course, he couldn't let the boy know any of that, he was sworn to secrecy by his peculiar new friend. Which, to be frank, was quite a flattering privilege he didn't want to take lightly. The information he had was earth shattering and prohibitive, so much so that the insidious MacBeth used his untold wealth to cover up his involvement despite being the owner of Fort Tryon. And yet Robbins, little old washed up writer Robbins, got the complete exclusive straight from the horse's mouth in the comfort of his own home. It was all a little too much to handle, but that part was the most unbelievable.

How'd he get so lucky, to be the one civilian in the entire city, the entire country, the entire world, to know the real story of the Battle for the Scrolls? It was inconceivable how the stars aligned just so that all of these outlandish impossible things happened with him right on the sidelines to take it all in. And yet, here he was, sitting next to kindergarten reading booklets and alphabet worksheets intended to help a soldier even older than himself learn to read.

Robbins slumped down the leather upholstery as butterflies rumbled in his stomach. The only downside to being privy to such incredible secrets was keeping them secret, he reasoned. Not that the blind writer couldn't keep a secret, quite the contrary, he was notorious for holding secrets so long he'd wind up forgetting what secret he was guarding, thus ensuring he'd never reveal it. But holding a secret that juicy just made situations like this a bit... challenging, that's all.

"Makes ya wonder who got 'em back, as a matter fact, I wanna know who's the nut that went an' stole 'em in the first place. Would have to be one screwy squirrel, ya know?" Eddy continued, unaware of just how right he was.

"Yeah, you're tellin' me..." Robbins said under his breath, thoughts of MacBeth leaping to the forefront of his mind. That slick, sharp voice barely masking a quiet wrath, tempered by ambition and purpose. The robust scent of old paper and shaved metal pulled him right back to that ominous and chilling moment the would-be conqueror invaded his peaceful life.

Face to face with a sinister, unpredictable terrorist with no regard for anyone else but himself, Robbins knew in that moment he could have been another casualty in MacBeth's one-man-war for power. It was only because of how familiar with deception MacBeth was that the insidious madman opted to leave Robbins unharmed, he knew the blind writer wasn't lying to him, perhaps he even knew Robbins couldn't lie to him. There was no deceiving the Shakespearean thug that towered over him, and Robbins thanked God he didn't need to try.

Hudson had disappeared without an explanation and without a trace, making it easy to be honest and avoid MacBeth's wrath, a clear advantage to Hudson keeping secrets from Robbins. It soothed the nagging need to know as much as possible about him, knowing that Hudson was protecting him as much as himself by withholding certain information from Robbins. It made it easier to close those file cabinets of queries and simply enjoy Hudson just as he was, his mysterious new compatriot who was eager to be taught by Robbins. Something that still took the old writer by surprise, a warm sensation blossomed in his chest.

"So Boss," Eddy spoke up, pulling Robbins back to reality. "Ya gonna tell me what's with the kiddie books? Ya ain't got no grandkids or nothin'. You didn't pick up teachin' neither, otherwise I'd have been drivin' ya to school start of this month. So I mean, what's the deal, huh?" he asked curiously, and Robbins had to applaud his deductive skills. Eddy was much shaper than he let on.

"Let's just say I'm takin' a special interest in one very special student" Robbins smoothed, hoping it would be enough to throw Eddy off the scent.

"Oh yeah? One o' 'em, uhhh, special needs kids or somethin'?"

Robbins nearly howled with laughter, but bit back his cheek just in time. "Somethin' like that" he squeaked out. He's got special needs alright, just not the ones you're thinking of, kiddo.

"Yeah I gotta cousin like that. My aunt said it's cuz he kept stickin' forks in electric sockets as a baby"

"Is that right?" Robbins managed to say while stifling his giggles.

"Yeah. Good kid, tho. Real sweet" Eddy spoke genuinely as he whipped the car around a corner. "Just... can't leave 'im alone wit' forks no mo' " he lamented.

"I see. Well give him my regards" Robbins nodded.

"Sure, I'll do that" he assured as he settled the car into a parking spot and shifted gears. "Here we are" he announced as he got out of the car.

He swiftly flung open Robbins's door and gently took his hand to lead him out of the vehicle. Robbins stuck his cane out and gathered his footing as Eddy closed the door back and led him to the front stairs of the museum, and after a short trek, they were met with a gust of warm air leading into the museum's foyer. A welcomed change to the crisp Autumn breeze that chilled Robbins to the bone, regardless of the thickness of his sweater. Was it time to break out the coats already? It wasn't even October yet.

As they entered the spacious great hall, Eddy tentatively released his arm from Robbins's. "You's need me to, uh—" he started uncomfortably.

"No no, don't trouble yourself" Robbins waved off. "I'm gonna speak with the museum staff, why don't we meet back here in an hour or so?" he offered politely. No sense in the kid being attached to his hip in here if he didn't want to be.

"Okay Boss" Eddy began to walk away, but Robbins called out to him.

"And Eddy, you're in a museum. A place dedicated to accumulating knowledge and art from an assortment of eras and cultures. Take the opportunity to learn about something, get some culture" he instructed, motioning to the great wide expanse of knowledge before them.

"Yeah okay" the young man replied, then after a beat of silence. "Think they got a spot about sports or somethin'?"

Robbins sighed in exasperation before throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "Yeah, check the gift shop" he groaned.

Eddy practically kicked his heels together before exclaiming, "Sweet! Thanks Boss". He rushed past Robbins, his footsteps receding fast as an indication of just how excited he was for the least intellectual part of the entire museum.

"What am I gonna do with that boy?" Robbins grumbled as he shook his head in disappointment. He refocused his energy on the main reason he was visiting the museum and called out for assistance in clear view of whoever was working the Help Desk.

A well spoken gentleman directed him to the Medieval Art Exhibit in a timely manner and informed him that the expert he wanted to speak with was on the premises. The gentleman went to fetch the archeologist as Robbins took a seat on the well polished wooden bench just beside him, an old friend faithfully stationed where he always was.

For the Metropolitan Museum of Art was an old haunt of Robbins, a precious sanctuary of culture, learning, and history. He'd been up and down these halls dozens, maybe hundreds of times as a young man. Whether it was copious school trips, lazy weekends with no friends to play with, or later in his life when he took pride in gaining culture and knowledge especially when it concerned mythology and folklore.

Yes, he supposed he was always enthralled with The Met, it was certainly quite the place for people like himself. History buffs, mythology fans, art enthusiasts, culturally conscious individuals. Not to say that Robbins fancied himself an intellectual or anything so pretentious, he may be a writer but it never made him think especially high of himself.

No, for Robbins, the museum was a sanctuary of sorts. A repository of knowledge and relics of the past, a peaceful serene place where no one was in a rush and nothing was a crisis, a stark contrast to the rest of the infamously sleepless New York City. It was a reprieve from the daily grind, a place he could come to and just be at peace, where the air was still and the wide open spaces muffled most sounds into inoffensive echos that filtered in and out of sight.

However, that morning it was conspicuously quiet he noticed. Usually there was a steady crowd of people meandering about, taking in the sights, taking notes for school projects and the like. But today, there was no one, at least not in the Medieval Art Exhibit he currently was stationed. No little kids to marvel at the armor of knights, no artists to examine the ornate paintings of royalty and nobles, no history buffs to examine the everyday items and architecture of the past. It was just him and the distant echos of the museum staff fluttering from one wing to the other.

So it came as a shock when this quiet stillness was broken by a mysterious sound, one that shouldn't have been possible for Robbins to hear. He perked his head up and began turning all around to get a read on where it was coming from specifically, as well as what it was making the sound. Some kind of nondescript melody resonating faintly off the walls, the echos dampening it down significantly. Still, he could hear it rather persistently, though not clearly, as he stood to his feet again. He strained and strained to understand what could be making such an ominous sound, until finally he could pick up some relatively hidden details.

It was an instrument, a string instrument, being strummed in an odd rhythm. The gentleness of the tone and the beauty of the sound instantly lead him to believe it was a harp of some sort. Who would be playing a harp, of all instruments, he wondered. And who would play a harp here of all places? He contemplated walking closer to the vibrating chords, but a tentativeness overwhelmed him for a reason he couldn't accurately explain.

It was just a feeling washing over him, like if he rushed towards the clandestine playing, he'd scare it away or something. As if it was alive, a majestic yet timid creature uncomfortable with sudden shifts and changes to its atmosphere. But if he played it safe and gradually made his way in its direction, would that be alright? The sound became ever so slightly louder with each passing moment and more details along with it.

The odd rhythm became much more refined, identifiable, and expertly done. Robbins wouldn't have been surprised if by the time he made it to the harpist, he would be shaking hands with a master. The melody was mystifying, enchanting... enticing, he had to admit. Like a siren's call beckoning him to come closer and closer, promising a sweet relief or payoff for his blind obedience. A sultry sound that had gotten hold of him, softly whispering a sweet language he didn't understand... but desired to.

Robbins shook his head and sat back down with a staunch thud. He was just hearing things, he reasoned. There was no harp, his wild imagination was playing tricks on him like it often did and he was simply trying to entertain himself in a place he once considered mystical. That's all there was to it. And just like that, the sound died in his ears and the regular ambiance replaced it, like nothing ever happened. Proving to him that it was just a freak flare-up of his mischievous imagination after all.

But he could still hear something that wasn't a product of his own mind; the sound of shoes clacking towards him and the hurried breaths of a flustered woman, papers rustling in her hands as she called out to him.

"Hello there?" she spoke in a posh English accent. "Are you the gentleman who wanted to speak to The Scrolls of Merlin discoverer?" her voice lilted higher when she mentioned The Scrolls, clearly excited.

"Ah, yes I did. And you are, ma'am?" he offered his hand in her general direction.

She shook it with vigor as she introduced herself. "Professor Lydia Duane, at your service, Mr..?"

"Robbins. Just Robbins, please"

"Well sir—Robbins—you've caught me at precisely the right time. I was just taking a break from working on The Scrolls and while I don't normally speak with the press, my partner Arthur is indisposed at the moment so I'm on journalist duty" she explained succinctly and without an ounce of nervousness.

Immediately she asserted herself as an intellectual force to be reckoned with, quick witted, no nonsense, yet welcoming and professionally courteous. Professor Duane spoke like she was Robbins's age, possibly even older, but her voice betrayed that assumption as it had a youthful edge to it. Some vitality, some energy that wasn't present in most older people's voices. Perhaps it was the accent, perhaps it was because she had walked a long way to speak with him, perhaps it was something else altogether, but Robbins got the distinct feeling she was not just book smart but wise as well. A potent combination to be sure.

She also claimed to be on break but was currently rustling through some papers, meaning she took her work very seriously because she wasn't truly on break, merely lessened her workload momentarily to grab a bite or something. In which case she knew her stuff and was proud of her field of study, so she had to have a wealth of knowledge on The Scrolls of Merlin, Merlin himself, and just about everything Robbins could think to ask her. Fantastic, he had lucked out.

"Now, what can I do for you?" she asked politely, a warmness to her tone despite the speed and weariness present. Robbins cleared his throat before continuing.

"Well, ya see, I'm writin' a book about Merlin. And I wanted to see if you could tell me anything about The Scrolls of Merlin, so I can get a better handle of the historical accuracy of Merlin and King Arthur" he explained. "I'm a big fan of all things Arthurian, especially Merlin. He's sorta my favorite mythological figure" he added with a sheepish grin.

She inhaled a strong breath and shot her words out quickly, "Well sir, we still need to cross-reference the information with other findings and documents, establish authenticity through further testing, double and triple check our initial translation of the text, and, well, a laundry list of cataloging and the like" she finished while placing a steadying hand on her head.

Robbins's face fell a bit at the disappointing news, he hadn't considered all of the things that still needed to be done before MacBeth snatched The Scrolls from them at sea. He just assumed that once they got them back, they would work all night to get themselves back on track. Yet another good reason to hold the inconsiderate terrorist in contempt.

"Unfortunately you'll have to wait a few months before the findings will be finalized and ready to be shared with the public" Professor Duane informed, equally as disappointed as Robbins.

"I was afraid of that..." he sighed. "Is there anything you can tell me about the Scrolls, anything at all to help me get started on this book? I'd really appreciate whatever you can talk about" he practically begged.

He could feel Professor Duane's eyes scan him from head to toe, studying him. Sizing him up, for what reason he wasn't sure, but he definitely felt the unmistakable gaze of someone eyeing him, looking for something to discover about him. And it was then, in that tentative moment of study, that he noticed a shift in the archeologist's demeanor, just before she deftly sat on the bench next to him. A change in the atmosphere that would certainly lead them both down an otherwise restricted path. One he hoped would lead him to something that would assist his writing, or at least be a nice little trivia factoid to put with all his other Merlin info.

She inhaled and held the breath, almost as if she was debating if Robbins was worth disclosing this information to. Thankfully, she unfroze and continued down their new path. "Have I any information on The Scrolls themselves, no..." another careful pause that merely drew Robbins closer in. "But there was one other curious thing we took note of in the Welsh cave" she offered.

Robbins blinked rapidly, "Curious thing?"

"Yes, just as I opened the chest containing The Scrolls of Merlin, there was..." she struggled to find the word. "An inconceivable force that reached out of it! This blue vapor shot out of the gap in the chest, wrapping all around me. Like the tentacles of an octopus or the coiling of a snake!"

"Ah, yes. I read about that in the newspaper. Your mystical experience in the cave"

"Why yes, but they didn't print everything. I'm afraid they thought we were quite mad" she laughed a bit. "Can't say I blame 'em"

"Ya mean there's more to what happened in the cave?" Robbins asked incredulously, before she shushed him.

"This isn't a story I can tell freely, so you've gotta keep a lid on it" she whispered, her voice trailing in one direction then another, proving she was surveying their surroundings for prying eyes. But Robbins couldn't understand why she would feel the need to do that, nor why it was something she couldn't tell anybody. But most importantly, why she'd chosen to tell him—a complete stranger—whatever her sorted tale was. And he would have to wait for an answer, because onward she went with her story.

"Anyway, the blue vapor ensnared my arm faster than I could move it back. But move back, I did! I was startled beyond belief! But thinking back on it, the winds didn't hurt me at all. In fact it was more like a cool breeze... "

"A sentient cool breeze..." Robbins bit back. "In the middle of a cave?"

"No, I know it's weird, but it's true! It whipped out in wild arcs, swiftly and enchanting, it encircled us and we couldn't help but shout a bit in response. I mean, it was just so unbelievable, so unprecedented, so-so unquantifiable"

"So magical?" Robbins added jokingly.

"Exactly!" was Professor Duane's dead serious response. "And just when we thought it would keep us trapped there, it branched out and opened up around us. Like it was... letting us go, for lack of a better term" she said as her hands dropped to her lap defeated. Being at a loss for words must be a new experience for her, he reasoned.

"The vapor gathered behind us, towards the mouth of the cave, and suddenly—and I assure you, I am not pulling your leg on this—" she said while tapping his knee "The vapor twisted in the most unnatural way and curled itself into a form. It condensed briefly into an image—or a mirage—of... of a face"

"Merlin's face?" he said flatly.

"I swear to you, the tendrils of vapor accumulated and shaped into the image of a man's face, with fierce eyes and a long flowing beard. It looked exactly—100% exactly—like the countless depictions of Merlin everyone is familiar with"

"... And then?"

"Then... the winds rushed back into the chest and snapped it shut with a loud clank. And when I opened it again, there were The Scrolls of Merlin staring back at me"

"Fascinatin'," Robbins said dryly as he situated his cane to help him stand. "Well thanks for the laughs, but—"

"I know, I know, it's insane! I understand it sounds impossible, I do. But I swear to you, it really did happen" Duane said while grabbing Robbins's hand to halt him. "That cave was without a doubt the cave of Merlin the Wizard, those scrolls were written by his hand, and the artifacts stored there were enchanted. Magic really, truly exists, Robbins" her inflection became noticeably more cheerful.

"Or there was some mild hallucinogenic in the chest and when you opened it you unknowingly pulled a hidden trigger that shot the drug into your faces and caused you to see something that wasn't there" Robbins reasoned, not bothering to hide his exhaustion with the conversation. The woman was brilliant, but she had more than a few screws loose. This was a waste of time.

"Well, we would have discovered something like that in our initial testing and sample gathering, wouldn't we?" Duane countered, surprising Robbins with the logic. "I'm convinced that there won't be a scientific explanation for it. It was magic, Robbins. True magic really does exist in this world" she declared, inspiration clear in her tone.

"Okay, how can you, a scientist—better yet, a professor of anthropology—believe in something as preposterous as magic?" he finally demanded in frustration. His voice reverberated in the empty expanse, bringing his temper back down with an embarrassed cough. Professor Duane was silent beside him, a tense atmosphere enveloping them both thanks to his outburst. But just as he was about to apologize for his rudeness, she exhaled through her nose, stifling a chuckle and a smile clear in her lilt.

"Well sir, if I may," she began calmly. "I've never ruled it out, the fact that magic could indeed be real. There's never been proof one way or the other. I've always had this fascination with the things science couldn't explain. I suppose that's what drew me to anthropology in the first place. Exploring how cultures of the past went about explaining things without the aid of science" she mused with mirth.

"And then when this happened, I just knew that all of my fascinations were vindicated. I believe in magic because I experienced it firsthand. I witnessed it with my own eyes, something incredible and inexplicable by all scientific explanation. And it happened to me, me! Of all people, little old me and Arthur!" she exclaimed, giddier than a child who just caught a glimpse of Santa Claus.

"There's nothing special about us, nothing at t'all, we just opened ourselves to the possibilities of something like magic being real. We were just minding our own business, doing our jobs, when suddenly we were face to face with the most mystical cave in the world. So I think because we were open to it, and we didn't reject it, magic found its way to us. And so, here we are" Duane leaned back on the bench, a content smile clear on her face.

"Magic is real, Robbins. But it's up to each of us to reach out and search for it or open ourselves to the idea of it, embrace the possibilities and we'll have a chance to grab hold of it. Or we could intentionally reject it and continue the way we're going" she snarked pointedly, earning her an unimpressed frown from the blind writer. "So, Robbins, I guess the question isn't 'do you believe in magic', rather, the question is 'do you wish to believe in it?' " she deposited and let him stew on her quandary for a while.

Robbins struggled to accept her radical ideas on magic—honest-to-God magic—she was an anthropologist, a professor, a woman of science, and here she was going on and on about magic winds in mystic caves. It was all just a bit too ridiculous for him. But he couldn't completely shut her perspective off, try as he might. Something about it was enticing; maybe it was just her infectious enthusiasm or maybe it was the fact that Merlin being confirmed as a real person had dealt a significant blow to his perspective on magic.

After all, if the most famous wizard in the world was a real person, there was a good chance that the magical things he did were real too. An idea he had rumbling in the back of his mind ever since he'd read about the Merlin cave discovery. But the notion that magic, if it was real, relied on the individual to be open to it, to not close it off as a possibility in order to give it a chance to reveal itself to them, was very intriguing. The only problem with that is every kid believes in magic and fantasy and all things in the land of imagination, and everyone is a kid for a significant amount of time.

Even if adults were incapable of believing in magic, how in the world would magic remain elusive to children, the chiefest believers of it? Surely they would hold onto their experience of magic for the rest of their lives and thus a lot more people in the world would believe in magic. Not to mention, tv and cameras have been around for a while now, how has no one, in the entire world, never gotten a magical thing on camera or photographed or confirmed by anyone else? There were too many questions that he couldn't reconcile to accept this craziness, which explained his frustration with the woman who posed the question.

Because of course he wished magic was real, who wouldn't? It's magic! The concept that made the impossible possible, the idea that everyone and everything is connected and those connections can be used to do extraordinary things by otherwise ordinary people, the process of speaking an incantation and bending the material world to your liking. All of it is incredible, a dream come true for him, literally. If magic was real, why, he'd be the first in line at wizard camp to learn all the spells he could and he'd help fix up this ol' world.

And suddenly he recognized the distant waining of that illusive harp whispering in his ears again. But this time, he had someone else there with him to confirm if it was real. Quickly, as the ethereal tones wafted in the room he turned to the archeologist.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered seriously.

"Hear what?" she asked, her accent thick with confusion.

"That-that melody... in the distance. A harp" he pointed in the direction of the mystical tones, but as soon as he did, they abruptly died out once more, leaving nothing behind, not even echos.

"Harp, you say?" Duane replied intrigued, as she turned her head to and fro in a futile effort to catch some indication of the harp. The blind writer sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, a grimace contorted his features. Was he actually going senile now? Why was his imagination playing such cruel tricks on him, now of all times? Here, of all places?

"Professor, why're ya tellin' me all this?" he groaned exasperated.

She thought for a moment before answering. "Truthfully? I don't know... but you just have this air about you..." she trailed off, which genuinely made him uncomfortable. "I don't know. Perhaps you being a Merlin fan and a writer made me think you'd want to hear my experience in his cave. My apologies if I was mistaken" she added shamefully.

Robbins stood to his feet as he rubbed his forehead. "I... I want to believe you, Professor. I really do. But I have this nagging cynicism that won't let me go along with you" he paused to carefully weigh his next words.

"I'm sure you had a very intense experience in the cave and Merlin probably was a real person that existed a long time ago. But I just don't know if that proves magic is real, sorry" he laughed a little at the end, wondering how his life led him to such a ridiculous moment as this.

But Professor Duane was undeterred by his cynicism and stood up to meet his eye, so to speak. "I think if you want to believe in magic, if you truly wish to experience it, to find it... one way or another, it'll find its way to you. It's only a matter of time" she said confidently as she lightly thumped his shoulder, a playful gesture.

Robbins rubbed the shoulder absentmindedly, "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for takin' time outta your busy schedule to speak with me Professor Duane. I look forward to the exhibit" he offered his hand to her amicably and she vigorously shook it.

"Yes, of course! I believe it will be quite enlightening and exciting for everyone. Take care, Robbins" the archeologist released her firm grip and patted his bicep before walking back the way she came, papers shuffling in her grip and footsteps reverberating off the walls as she went.

Robbins listened as she faded into the distance, a strange woman with seemingly contradictive ideals, but a sunny disposition and a true heart for her craft. He couldn't blame the newspapers from leaving out her absurd statements about magic being real, but he ultimately felt glad knowing someone like her existed. The blind writer didn't believe her, but it was refreshing to see someone so willing to believe in the mystical and unexplainable. Years and years ago, he wasn't much different from the shameless Professor Duane, he believed magic could be real and some form of it was still out there waiting to be tapped into some kind of way.

And then he grew up, learned how the world actually worked, and those beliefs fell by the wayside, as they were always meant to. Somewhere along the way she picked hers back up or, according to her, she never truly abandoned them in the first place. Add that to an interesting experience in a cave that houses Merlin's artifacts and personal scrolls, suddenly it makes complete sense that she would believe magic is real despite her profession. Robbins supposed archeology attracted eccentric individuals anyway, so she would of course fit right in with the rest of the nutcases.

He shook his head in amusement as he made his way back to the Great Hall. He shouldn't judge the poor woman so harshly, she was still fresh from a crazy ordeal, one she still didn't have all the facts from.

Such as, who stole The Scrolls and who valiantly stole them back, just for starters. For all she knew, The Scrolls spirited away from the thieves and floated into the police station for that detective to return them. Maybe she thought the inscription on the chest meant that The Scrolls could tell who was worthy of reading them and who wasn't or something equally ludicrous. Still, he couldn't blame her, she didn't have any proof of the contrary, so why wouldn't she believe in mystical machinations?

And again, he couldn't be too hard on her considering he was 35% convinced he was starting to go insane himself. Hearing musical instruments no one else could out of nowhere, that was pretty damning evidence of a mind loosing its grip on reality. As bizarre as it is, he'd never had anything like this happen before so he could still chalk it up to another anomaly to go along with a completely nonsensical day.

After descending the stairs leading to the Medieval Art Exhibit, he was back in the Great Hall, where the familiar laughter of his young companion rang loudly, accompanied by the flirtatious giggles of a few girls. Typical Eddy, always chasing skirts who were happy to be chased. Still, he had hoped the boy would at least attempt to take in the sights of the museum, not the patrons. He cleared his throat loudly as he approached and Eddy's laughter quickly died down as he scrambled to Robbins's side.

" 'Eyyy Boss! How'd it go?" he asked quickly, a chuckle tinting his words, as he took Robbins by the arm and walked with him.

"Not as well as your endeavor, I bet"

"Oh them? They wuz just, ya know, admirin' my do" he said with a cocky joy. "I keep tellin' ya, chicks dig the hair, Boss" Robbins could feel the lad reaching for his trusty comb in his jacket pocket closest to him. No doubt giving his perfectly greased and quaffed hair a quick touch up.

"How could I forget?" Robbins rolled his eyes as they were met with the bracing air outside. "Did you at least try to learn somethin' in there, kid?" he asked much like a father would his disappointing son.

"Fo' sho', Boss! I got those girls' numbers memorized"

"You know what I mean, Edward" Robbins said pointedly, causing Eddy to squirm.

"Aw c'mon, Boss, wit' the government name and everythin'!" he whined back.

"You should take your education more seriously"

"I do, I do, honest. But I'm not in school right now, wanted to turn my brain off for a sec, ya know?"

"Never turn your brain off, always keep it on. You'll never know when you need it" Robbins admonished authoritatively.

"A'right, a'right, I get it" Eddy groaned as they finally made it to the last step. "Ya sound just like my old man" he teased.

"Then you should listen to him, too. He has a good head on his shoulders" Robbins replied sternly as he got into the backseat.

"Yeah, yeah..." Eddy waved off as he closed Robbins's door, then went around to the driver's side.

"Where we headed now, Dad?" he asked sarcastically as he slammed his door shut.

"Let's go see Mr. Jaffe"

Eddy's seat squeaked and stretched as he leaned back to look at Robbins. "Really? It's been a minute since ya been there, neighborhood's gone to hell" he warned.

"I'm aware. Let's go" Robbins said staunchly.

Eddy's seat crinkled and groaned again as the car shifted gears. "A'right. But don't think I'm jumpin' in front of a gun for your old butt. I got ladies to call. But I'll call the cops for ya before them"

"My hero" Robbins joked as the car rolled out of the parking spot and they rode forward.

Eddy was right to be fearful though, he had to admit. The neighborhood they were headed to was notoriously bad back in the day and getting worse with each passing year. Now it was a cesspool of gangs and thieves, drug addicts and vagrants, ne'er-do-wells and thugs alike. But as was all too true of most rundown places, there were also good people, honest citizens who were just financially worse off than the average person. Poor people who were just trying to make it day to day, the people that made the neighborhood worth going to. And Charlie Jaffe knew better than anyone it was those people that needed as much help as they could get.

So Charlie kept his grocery store open in the middle of that rundown neighborhood, refusing to be run out of town by the criminal element because he knew he was needed. Without him, the neighborhood would certainly perish, all those innocent people set adrift in a raging sea without a single life line.

Charlie had a big heart, too big for his own good, Robbins acknowledged, but he couldn't just abandon his people to drown while he swam to still waters. No, Charlie wasn't that kind of man, he was far more honorable than the average person, he had a duty to fulfill. A thankless job, to be certain, one that was overlooked and often misunderstood. But faithfully he did it, for decades he continued to provide food to the people of his rundown corner of the city.

And whenever Robbins ventured into the city, he always took time to visit Charlie. To give him some much needed support and appreciation for doing a valiant job. Plus, Charlie had all of his brands in the same place, he didn't have to go store hopping to get everything he needed. And his recent guest had already eaten all of his crumpets, it was time for some grocery shopping.

Eddy rushed through the streets as they got progressively seedier and seedier, litter and wandering pedestrians mounted up as they made their way to Jaffe's General Store, nestled right between an abandoned restaurant currently housing a group of hobos and drug addicts, and an apartment complex housing the downtrodden families his store services. Eddy stopped the car right in front of the store, but refused to turn the engine off, or even take it out of drive.

"Sorry Boss, but I ain't takin' no chances wit' the ride. Go on in, door's right in front of ya when ya step out"

"I understand, Eddy. I won't be long" the blind writer pushed his door open calmly as he stepped out.

"Yeah, heard that one b'fore..." Eddy mumbled under his breath, his mouth right in front of something to obscure his voice even further. Most likely the steering wheel considering he was on edge and ready to move at the slightest sign of danger.

Robbins tapped his cane in front of him until he reached the front door, and just as he pushed the handle bar to pry the door open, he heard the boisterous voice of his old friend.

"Robbins! What a pleasant surprise!" Charlie greeted jovially, his footsteps clacking against the floor tiles closer and closer to Robbins. Before he could return the greeting, his hand was already clutched in a vice grip, tight enough to take his breath away for a moment, but not enough to really hurt.

"Was in the neighborhood and needed to restock on food" Robbins joked as he pulled Charlie into a quick hug. "How's everything, Charlie?"

"Ah, ya know, li'l a this, li'l a that. Never a dull moment down here" he laughed as he patted Robbins's back with strength uncharacteristic of a man 10 years his senior.

"Lemme set'cha up. Ya outta everythin' or just the essentials?" Charlie called out as he made his way down the aisles, gathering a couple items from the shelves as he passed.

"Pretty much low on everythin', expectin' company on the holidays, ya know how it goes" Robbins called back.

"Ah yeah, I keep forgettin' it's damn near October. So much crazy stuff's been goin' on lately, I still haven't caught all the way up" Charlie called back, rustling through an assortment of items as he trekked down another aisle. "And things are gettin' even crazier and crazier now!"

"Ya got that right, Charlie"

"I mean, people runnin' 'round screamin' 'bout gargoyles comin' to life," he began, slowly making his way back to Robbins at the front desk. "The Pack's gone psycho, got arrested, then broke outta Ryker's," he continued, dropping the items on the counter.

"Those crazy robot things that crash landed on Liberty Island in January, that-that-that freaky..." he searched as he snapped his fingers. "Thing tearin' through Time Square in February, not to mention that nutjob that robbed me—"

"Woah woah woah, back up" Robbins interjected swiftly, before Charlie could get going again on something else.

"Oh, didn't I mention that?" he said cheekily.

"I would've remembered if ya did. What happened?" Robbins inquired, leaning in close. Charlie stopped scanning the groceries and cleared his throat before leaning in to spill the beans.

"Strangest thing yet, I tell ya. This slimy jerkoff kept stormin' in here and holdin' me up. Made off with nearly 6 grand—6 grand, Jeff!" he threw up his hands, evident by the quick upward breeze that blew past Robbins's face.

"Jesus, man, I'm sorry you lost so much"

"No no, see that's the thing" Charlie clarified, cutting Robbins's apology off. "This guy would always just waltz in here, stick me up, and waltz back out, like it was the easiest thing in the world. He robbed me 3 times in January alone. And every time it was the same, calmly bust in after hours, shove a gun in my face, yank the money out the register, and on his merry way he went" he finished listing, slapping his hand down on the counter for emphasis. "But, but! Here's the kicker!" he said snatching a bag and placing the items inside carefully.

" 'Round the first of February, the same street scumbag comes flyin' in, sweatin' bullets—at the start of February, mind you—huggin' the wall for dear life, like somebody was out to get 'im or somethin'. I was just 'bout to open up for the early birds on the block, so I didn't have nothin' the guy didn't already take the night b'fore."

"So I says, 'Oy vey, not again. You wuz just here last night, ya meshugana'! Can't ya go find some other poor schmuck to rob?' And he comes up to the counter—shiverin' like a wet cat, I tell ya—and he says, he says, 'I'-I'm not robbin', ya man' and puts the gun—he puts the freakin' gun on the counter and slides it to me" he finished, several stiff taps on the counter to really emphasize that last detail.

Robbins was at a loss for words and could only squeak out a bewildered, "What?"

"That's what I said, man!" Charlie shouted, almost as bewildered as Robbins. "I-I-I says 'Whaddya talkin' 'bout?' but the guy, he says 'Do me a favor, call the cops so's I can turn myself in'! And out he pulls a sack of money, with all the money—all 6 grand!—and-and he plops it right on the counter! Every dollar, right there, like it never got stolen!" he revealed, energetically slapping Robbins's shoulder.

"Wh—well—Why? Why would he have such a change of heart?" Robbins struggled, completely enthralled in the story.

"That's just what I said, Jeff! I-I asked 'Why? Why? What's this all about?', cuz, ya know, I figured he got bored of the same ol' routine, and he was lookin' to mix things up, mess with me a little, and make off with another 2 grand" he reasoned awkwardly.

"But no, no no no, the guy, he keeps lookin' over his shoulder expectin' somebody to bust in any second and tear him limb from limb. He slinks down real low," Charlie followed suit and crouched down beneath the countertop. "Like under the counter almost, and he says—and I'll never forget this—he-he says, 'Cuz six monsters just told me to'!" he finished with a comical imitation of the thief's voice.

"Monsters?"

"I swear to Christ, that's exactly what he said!" Charlie laughed out loud, smacking his knee. " 'Six monsters just told me to'! Can you believe that?!" he placed a steadying hand on Robbins's shoulder as he continued.

"What a wackjob that street scum was—not that I'm complainin'! I'm glad he cracked, I was 'bout to be evicted before he brought back my 6 grand. And I called the cops too, they hauled his sorry butt to jail, and ever since then, things've been real quiet 'round here" he finished, patting a grocery bag to let Robbins know that he was finished bagging his items.

"That's... that's quite a story, Charlie" Robbins breathed with mirth, grabbing hold of a bag.

"Ya tellin' me!" Charlie laughed, moving around the counter to walk beside him. "I ain't sayin' there really wuz monsters, but somethin' put the fear of God into that no-good punk! And man, am I glad it did too!—or they, whatever!" he scoffed as he pushed the door open and held it for Robbins.

"Yeah, it sounds like whatever caused him to return the money is on the side of the angels" Robbins added as he reached Eddy's car.

"Amen to that, brother!" Charlie agreed, placing the groceries in the seat with the reading booklets. "Guess the strange stuff happenin' 'round here ain't all bad!" he shrugged before laughing.

A smile stretched across Robbins face in response as he reached his hand out again. "Suppose so. Thanks, Charlie" the man shook his hand with gusto. "Take care of yourself, now"

"You too, Jeff!" he said, giving him one last powerful pat on the back. "Hey, watch out for those monsters for me, huh!" he joked as he walked back to his store.

"Hahaha, I'll keep my eyes peeled!" Robbins quipped, pointing to his shades. Charlie howled with laughter for a moment before his door bell chimed and slammed shut again.

Eddy was all too ready to drive off though, so Robbins barely heard the front door close over the sound of the car roaring to life. Robbins understood, the kid really wasn't used to streets these mean, much to his chagrin. He loved to put on the tough guy front, what young man didn't, but he wasn't stupid enough to keep up the front for the sake of his wellbeing. So the blind writer wasn't offended by Eddy's behavior, not much offended him these days to be honest, it just made him chuckle to himself.

"You get us to safety yet, Eddy?" he asked with a coy smile.

"Yeah, Boss. I didn't like the look of some guy who was walkin' down the street so I hightailed it. We're good now, tho"

"Good, good" he chuckled. "You take good care of me, Eddy, thank you"

"No prob, Boss. You're, like, my favorite client so it's all good" he replied honestly, before flicking on the radio.

An old jazz tune played as they rolled along, one Robbins was familiar with and appreciated immensely. The boy didn't have to cater to his tastes if he didn't want to, but he always did. Robbins never really asked why, but he just assumed it was because his father shared the same taste in music as Robbins. Something he'd have to ask Eddy's father himself one day, if he can get them over the house one of these days.

The rest of their drive was quiet and uneventful, which Robbins was grateful for. The ride back to his estate was a long one and he already had his fill of excitement for one day, a peaceful drive back home was just what the doctor ordered. Thankfully, traffic had cleared for the most part and Eddy was able to weave in and out of it pretty easily, which made the journey back home shorter than usual.

Finally, they arrived at Robbins's driveway, the crisp river air wafting that familiar scent around them. Eddy helped Robbins out of the car before gathering up all the groceries and walking inside the house with him. Gilly happily greeted them both as they deposited their items where they needed to go, Robbins instructing as Eddy did the storing. And with that, his mission was a success, he was more than prepared for Hudson's next visit.

"Well, Boss. If that's everythin', I'mma jet home. Got some honey's to chat up, 'member?" he bragged while nudging Robbins playfully.

Robbins put his hand on Eddy's shoulder, holding him in place. "Do me one more favor, kid" he instructed as he walked to his study.

"Sure thing" Eddy said, following Robbins, who was at his bookshelf tracing his fingers along the wood to find his desired book. Within seconds, he plucked it from its hiding place and handed it to his young companion.

"You already got me a copy of this one, Boss" Eddy reminded as he took it from Robbins.

The book was his first novel, the story of the famous Beowulf and his encounter with Grendel, but the story was told from the monster's point of view. It remained one of his proudest achievements, not because it was particularly better written than his other works, merely because it was his first completed work that proved he really could be a writer.

"It's for your cousin" he corrected. "The one with the affinity for wall sockets?"

Eddy shook his head in shock before asking, "Seriously?"

"Read that to him. Let me know if he likes it" Robbins said, patting his shoulder affectionately.

" 'Eyyy, thanks Boss! I'm sure Mikey'll like that" Eddy replied happily before shaking Robbins's hand, a quick energetic gesture, before he said goodbye to Robbins and Gilly.

And with that, Robbins and Gilly were alone again, blissfully content. Gilly brushed up against his shins and growled happily as he bent down to pet her.

"Ya hungry, Gil? Lemme rustle ya up somethin' nice" he cooed, before rising to his feet and walking to the kitchen.

Gilly trotted behind him, her breath excited and even, while he dug through the cupboards to fetch her the fresh bag of dog food Charlie had just given him. As soon as he turned around, Gilly had already brought her food bowl and nudged it against Robbins's foot before barking excitedly. Robbins chuckled and broke the bag open before pouring it into the bowl, Gilly pacing energetically in front of him as he did.

"There ya go, girl. Bon appetite" he motioned to her and she dove right in, crunching and shuffling the bite sized chunks wildly.

As she did, Robbins leaned against the counter, but recoiled a bit as he touched something unfamiliar. He picked up the unknown object and was immediately reminded of what it was and how it got there. When he and Eddy brought in the groceries, Eddy must have set the kindergarten booklets aside to focus on the food. Robbins freed one of the booklets from the bag, handling it with care.

This was the start of his new commitment to Hudson, the beginning of a long journey. He felt a twinge of excitement in his stomach, something he rarely ever felt, but ever since he'd met Hudson when he washed up on the beach, it's come back into his life. Excitement, motivation, fervor, they had dried up along with his stories, his muse had taken them years ago without warning. Leaving him hollow and directionless for the first time since he was a teenager, even after he got home from 'Nam he still had a direction, a goal to achieve. Relearn how to live life without vision, something he managed to do through some internal strength he didn't even know he had.

But ever since he completed his last work in early '89, he'd sunk into a slump, worst one of his life. Day in and day out, he just sat like a bump on a log, wishing something would jumpstart him again. And finally, his wishes came true, in the form of a Scottish secret agent powerhouse. Incredibly strange, yes, but it worked, didn't it? Robbins took out the rest of the booklets and stacked them where he knew he'd easily find them again, before kneeling to Gilly's height to pet her soft coat.

He still didn't believe in magic, but meeting Hudson and being center stage to the battle for The Scrolls of Merlin certainly felt mythical, or as close as he could get to mythical anyway. Professor Duane's words replayed in his head, the idea that magic can find you if you're open to it and actively desire to see it. He had to admit it was tempting to go along with that mindset, just wish hard enough and it'll happen. Especially since that's just what happened with his slump.

Robbins supposed he was a bit hasty to judge the woman, who was he to discount what she and her colleague experienced in that cave? And she did counter his notion that it was a trap purposefully intended to induce hallucination, much to his chagrin.

Perhaps... just maybe... magic could be real, in one form or another... possibly. Robbins chuckled mockingly at himself as he got up to get a drink.

"Nah, that chick was just crazy"

Chapter Text

"Secret agent?!" Elisa choked out between bouts of laughter. "Why would you tell him that?!" she cackled while slapping her knee, tears prickling the corner of her tightly shut eyes.

"I didn't exactly have a lot of options, lass" Hudson answered, staring her down with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Unfortunately, his embarrassed blush wasn't going anywhere, no matter how badly he wanted to appear apathetic in this moment. "Wouldja quit yer cacklin' and help me?" he implored in a hushed tone, grabbing Elisa's shoulders and giving her a light jostle in an effort to silence her uproar. It had the opposite effect.

"Hey, what's funny?" Lex called from inside the clock tower, a childlike hurt in his voice at being left out of the merriment.

"Nothin'!" Hudson quickly called back in a panic, the growing blush causing his voice to crack a bit.

Elisa clutched her stomach as she gasped for air, an open grin plastered on her face, while Hudson led her further away from the clock face entrance of their home. He'd never stopped to think about how silly and ridiculous his predicament was, mainly because he couldn't get over the fact that he'd acquired a human friend at all. But he also had no idea what a secret agent was in the first place, so when he went along with Robbins's assessment of who he and the clan were, he thought it was a convenient cover. A blessing bestowed on him from the ever-surprising Robbins, one of many, he made sure to note.

And now, faced with the reality of needing to bolster this cover, he turned to the one person he knew would be able to fill in the blanks for him and solidify his new identity as a secret agent. However, upon relaying the situation to her, Elisa burst into laughter and shined the world's brightest lantern on how silly the entire thing apparently was. Hudson could do nothing but take the shameful reaction and wallow in the mortifying moment until she'd had her fill, which was excruciating. His pride was in tatters already and he hadn't even received the assistance he needed from the lass.

Thank heavens Goliath was tied up with Broadway's reading lessons at the library, while Lexington was absorbed in trying to restore Coldstone, and Brooklyn, not wanting to spend a moment with the eerie creature without Goliath present, went on patrol. Something Hudson couldn't blame the lad for at all, for it was partially why Hudson had pulled Elisa to the balcony to talk. At the very least the clan wouldn't witness yet another of his embarrassing moments in this bewildering topsy-turvy century. That is, if Lexington's curiosity doesn't get the better of him and bring him in on the oh-so droll joke that it appeared Elisa was finally recovering from.

"Okay, okay... I'm sorry, I'm good" she huffed out, whipping her luxurious hair out of her face as she stood to her full height once more. "What did you need me to do? Call him up and tell him you really are a secret age— pwahahaha!" she lost her composure yet again and went down to the ground howling this time.

Hudson smacked his face in exasperation as he dragged his fingers down to his chin. "Can ye please compose yerself?" he begged, at the end of his rope. Please, let this moment end, for goodness sake...

"Doesn't sound like nothin'!" Lex chimed in again, an offended lilt to his words.

Hudson growled as he panicked again, "It is nothin'! Jus' keep playin' with yer computers!" he huffed and knelt down to Elisa's level, offering his hand, while Lexington grumbled bitterly about no one ever letting him in on the fun and his daunting task wasn't even close to playing. Elisa took his hand lazily and he brought her back to her feet, then put his hands on his hips and stared flatly at the wheezing detective.

"I'm sorry, it's just such a funny image" she finally explained, waving her hands apologetically. "You, in a suit, with a gun, and the 007 music! Hahahaha!" she lost it again, dissolving what little patience Hudson had left.

"Never mind, forget I asked" he sighed, rolling his eyes and walking to the balcony's edge. If she was so overcome in childish jesting at his expense, he'd rather fumble with his cover alone. There was no need to suffer this indignity any longer.

"No no no, wait wait, okay..." Elisa's hands swiftly wrapped around his wrist, stopping him before he perched on the cobblestone railing. "I'm good, it's... I'm good" she breathed out, closing her eyes to steady herself.

Hudson raised an unconvincing eye ridge at her second attempt at composing herself, she was clearly still amused evident by that obscene smile splitting her features, and she'd failed spectacularly already. But he really didn't want to leave without something to help him cover his tracks better and the lass was his only hope in that regard. Plus, she was always making jokes and making witty commentary, it shouldn't have surprised him that she'd be so amused by this predicament instead of taking it deadly serious as the old gargoyle was. And besides, she knew what a secret agent was, Hudson didn't. It could be a silly occupation, especially for an decrepit gargoyle like himself, he couldn't know otherwise.

Besides, he could never stay mad at her, this was Elisa, their precious first human companion, and Goliath's treasure. He'd already prepared for a blow to his pride at the thought of asking her for help in this regard, so in for a penny in for a pound, he supposed.

"You want to know everything you can about secret agents to make your story to this guy believable?" she asked while smoothing her billowing hair, a shrewd smile on her face.

"Aye..." Hudson nodded shortly before a nervous gulp.

"Alright. Then you just need to remember the phrase 'I'm sorry, but that's classified information. I can't disclose any details on that'. That'll get you past the bulk of his questions" Elisa instructed, doing a tough masculine impression when relaying the key phrase.

Hudson put his hand on his beard and combed it thoughtfully. "Class-cee-fied information... anythin' else?"

"Well, when ya talk about patrolling the city, just say it's a mission. If he asks about the clan, say they're your coworkers or fellow agents. And uh..." she trailed off, mentally weighing the words to say for the next point. "Try not to yawn or burp or cough. At all" she chuckled nervously.

Hudson blinked a few times. "Why?" he asked innocently.

"Just... trust me on that one, okay?" Elisa said, putting a friendly, and hopefully conclusive, hand on Hudson's shoulder.

"Alright..." he answered while looking down, trying to keep track of all the information he'd received. "Is that all I have to do?" he asked, setting his eyes back to her.

"It would probably be best if you watched a couple o' spy movies and copy those guys" she shrugged as the crisp night air blew through her hair, trailing it beside her. Elisa quickly put her hands in her jacket pockets and dropped her head down to her shoulders.

"What, uh, channel are these 'spy movies' played on?" Hudson inquired.

"Don't worry about it, I'll rent ya a couple cassette tapes tonight" Elisa chuckled warmly while giving him a quick thumbs up.

Hudson sighed in relief, dropping shoulders he didn't realize were raised all this time. "Aye, thank ye, lass. Ye've been a big help" he smiled at her, fondness clear in his gaze.

"Hey, anything to help human-gargoyle relations" she shrugged, her smile widening. "I'm glad you found a new friend, Hudson"

The gargoyle brought his hand to the back of his head and rubbed absentmindedly. "Well, it was he who found me..." he corrected with mirth, memories of that night flashing through his mind.

The feel of Gilly's fur and her joyful barks, the slightly worn, soft leather of the chair in his study, lit only by the warm glow of the fireplace. The unpleasant taste of strange tea dulled by the sweet treats accompanying it. And Robbins, his inviting smile, wise council, and calming presence, coloring the entire collection of memories in a blissful light.

Elisa giggled in response. "Right, kinda ironic. The blind guy is the one who found you"

Hudson tilted his head. "Ironic?"

"I think I'll let your friend explain that one to you" Elisa breathed as she backed away, the whistling winds no doubt giving her a deep chill she was already fighting off.

Hudson leaped to the top of the railing as he concluded their conversation. "Aye, I best be on my way now. Thanks again, lass" his smile grew a bit as his wings began to spread out.

"Of course, Hudson. Have fun" she called back sweetly, giving the old gargoyle a small wave goodbye before turning inside and climbing down the stairs of the clock face. Hmm, fun... Something he hadn't thought about in a long time. Eons, it felt like.

As Hudson prepared to soar through the sky and begin his journey, he could hear Lexington speak up over the gusts of wind. "No seriously, what's all the laughin' about?"

"Hudson's signing up with the CIA"

"Pwahahaha!"

"Shut it!" Hudson shouted back, the cursed blush returning to his cheeks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the old gargoyle made his way above the towers of steel and glass, he ruminated on Elisa's parting words. "Have fun", she said. Like it was so simple to grasp. Perhaps it was to someone as young and human as her, but for Hudson it was like asking him to thread a horse through a sewing needle.

Just doing something for the enjoyment of doing it alone and achieving a state of happiness from that, it seemed like an almost foreign concept now. After everything they'd suffered through, everything they continue to suffer through, the constant questions about tomorrow that plague and worry him, how could he even approach something as distant and ephemeral as "fun"? Sure, there was television programs, but that was more mind-numbing distractions while guarding their home. It was a meaningless reprieve, a thing to pass the time, little better than sharpening weapons or counting stars during sentry duty. It wasn't amusing per-say, just a distraction. It wasn't exactly... fun.

What's worse is fun was something that came so easy for the young ones, it always was, but Hudson distinctly remembered even when he was young he never had much fun. Never felt it as deeply as they seemed to. He couldn't afford that luxury, there was so much warfare and politics to be handled, he just never had the time as a lad. It was all about survival, building strength, growing in experience, making the hard, but necessary decisions to keep the clan going. Fat lot of good that's done me now... he shook his head at the bitter thought, not because he believed it to be wrong, but because it was a road he'd rather not travel down tonight.

As he moved away from that bleak trail of thought, he reaffirmed that he was never one for fun and merriment. No one of his generation was, no one except... her. His Queen of the Night... A deep sinking feeling weighed him down, nearly causing him to plummet to the streets below. Such was the nature of his heart when thoughts of... her... came to the forefront. She was always joyful, carefree, like a leaf blowing in the cool summer breeze, untethered. In every situation, no matter how dire, she always wore a smile, a dazzling awe-inspiring thing. Her lips always curled in that scintillating way that made his heart flop around in his chest. Even now, a millennia of time away and halfway across the world from her, he couldn't help but feel light headed thinking of his wonder of a mate.

He'd often ponder how she came to be so unflappable, what about her caused nothing in this world to faze her? Was it her confidence on the battlefield, bolstered by her remarkable strength and skill as a warrior? Was it her stubborn belief that no matter how bad things seem, they could always turn around in her favor, and the fact that she was frustratingly always right on that front? Was it her simple desires of a mate, hatchlings to raise, and a land with plenty of food and beauty to spend her days protecting was enough for her? And any additional things gifted to her were just gravy on the biscuit? Hudson was shamed to say he'd never fully figured it out and he'd never gotten a straight answer from the lass herself.

But whatever it was that drove her to be so different from everyone else, she had always held firmly onto fun and happiness itself. One of the many reasons why she filled him with both appreciation and quiet envy. Even in her final hour, he surmised, she was probably completely at peace with a soft smile on her face. Hudson's chest blossomed with a warm, comforting sensation, as he rose higher into the sky without even meaning to. His head, though flush, felt clear, the biting wind blasting his skin dulled as everything seemed to slow down just a bit. He could feel a deep chuckle rising in his throat as he looked through the clouds at the waning moon shining on him with a blessed glow. And for one blissful moment, only one thought was left in his head.

What a woman...

A distant foghorn cut through his ear and brought the world rushing back, his mind now back to its regularly scheduled musings and conundrums. It was a nice moment while it lasted, he sighed inwardly as the welcomed sight of Robbin's island came into view. Suddenly his breath hitched in his throat and a sense of lightness overcame him, as he picked up speed and cut through the air like a falcon on the hunt. This was excitement, he recognized with a bit of a start; Hudson was incredibly excited to start his reading lessons with Robbins. He was excited to see Gilly again, he was eager to talk with Robbins, he was eager to sit by the fire and leave his worries at the door. To be, at least partially, at peace and in safety.

He still hadn't been able to reach a suitable conclusion regarding these feelings the blind human instilled in him, but perhaps tonight would bestow the clarity he sought. So many unanswered questions regarding the man, so many fascinating stories he could share, such wisdom he could skillfully reveal. And his voice, it just had a way of setting the normally tense warrior at ease. That was one of the most peculiar things Hudson wanted an answer to first, just what was it about him that slowed everything down around them to a much more manageable pace? The old gargoyle hoped he'd at least get a clue tonight as the ground quickly rushed to meet him.

Hudson leaned toward the brush of the estate and swiftly angled his legs under him as he slowed his descent. With deft control, the massive gargoyle landed like a cat on a tree branch, high enough to get a lay of the land but low enough to blend right in with the foliage. Once he was sure there was no one around, he slowly glided to the grass covered lawn, cool blades gave way under his weight with a satisfying shuffle. Hudson's steps were light, his excitement much higher than when he first laid eyes on the tiny island home to the new human in his life. The saving grace of the entire race as far as Hudson was concerned. His breaths began to get deeper as he reached the back porch of the modest estate, the old gargoyle mentally steeled himself.

What's the matter with me? There's nothing to be so worked up aboot, it's just a normal, friendly visit. Nothin' excitin' aboot it, he tried to reason with himself. But as soon as he heard the now familiar bark of the wonderful lass Gilly and saw a silhouette reach for that recognizable cane, all his reasoning went out to the crashing sea behind him.

And before he knew it, he rapped his calloused knuckles against the sliding door pane and announced himself. "Robbins, it's Hudson. I'm back" he paused for a beat, finding the words left a strange taste on his tongue. Strange, but not at all unpleasant.

Robbins swiftly slid the door open, a wide grin on his face. "Yeah, I've been expectin' ya"

The instant the door was cracked open enough, his furry companion rushed out and leapt up to Hudson's belly, her tail wagging madly with pure joy. "Good to see ya again, lass" Hudson beamed, melting at Gilly's excitement from seeing him. He rubbed wide soothing circles on her coat, ruffling her features lovingly as he walked inside the familiar room.

"So how's the secret agent biz?" Robbins chimed, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. He must find the cover almost as amusin' as Elisa, Hudson groaned inwardly. Remember what the lass just got done teachin' ye to say.

His hand reflexively left Gilly and raised to his head to rub his nerves down while trying to sound casual. "Oh, ye know... protectin' the cas—" he caught himself, coughed to cover his tracks and continued, "Uh, patrolin' on missions, 'round the city" he mentally kicked himself for managing to fumble at the very first hurdle.

"Any interestin' ones?" Robbins asked, very interested if his leaning forward was any indication. Hudson's rubbing intensified as he struggled to remember what to say.

"Well, uh..." Calcified? Compromised? Wait, that's it! "I'm sorry but that's class-cee-fied information. I can't be talkin' too much, uh, aboot it..." he muddled through, flustered.

"Oh, of course! Silly of me to ask, huh?" Robbins replied, bonking his forehead with the butt of his palm in a goofy gesture before walking further into the room.

Hudson stared at him, stunned. Well I'll be. The lass was spot on with that line, he remarked, a perplexed smirk rising to his face. As uncomfortable as it was being the subject of her laugher and ridicule, it was well worth the information she provided. Had he a need to make a similar trade in the future, Hudson was more ready to partake in it.

"Ya want a drink? Somethin' to eat?" Robbins asked over his shoulder as he stood next to the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Hudson reached out to him and waved his hands a bit. "No, no. I think we should start now, if yer ready that is" he scooted to the chair he'd come to view as his, at least in some small part. Gilly wasted on time in jumping up to his lap, eliciting a few deep chuckles from him.

Robbins shuffled to his chair across the coffee table as he replied. "I'm ready if you're ready. Should be right there on the table, a colorful little booklet with big letters"

Hudson looked down and immediately noticed the booklet in question. "Aye, it's here" he picked it up and looked it over, a frown scrunching his face. "This... seems to be a, uh... book fer children" he noted flatly, making Robbins giggle a bit as he answered.

"I know, I know. But only because they're usually the ones that are learnin' this stuff" he finished pointing his finger up matter of factly.

Hudson looked hard at the booklet, an eye ridge raised unimpressed. "I'm startin' to think this is a bad idea..." he muttered, pinching the very edge of the sickeningly vibrant colored booklet with his claws.

"C'mon, there's nothin' to be ashamed of. It's just us here, nobody else'll know" Robbins said, soft and sweet.

Hudson tried to protest, he tried to counter that it didn't matter if no one else knew, he would know. He tried to explain how much embarrassment he'd already suffered today and he couldn't bare anymore, there's only so much a man can take in one night. But he found the fight rapidly drained out of him, that voice set him at ease, whether he wanted it to or not, he know realized with a start. He believed the human, as much as he thought this was stupid and a waste of time, he believed Robbins.

So the proud gargoyle meekly complied, "Alright..." and pried open the abominable booklet, which immediately assaulted him with crude etchings of random nonsense.

Bees, flowers, children, stars, dogs, caterpillars, those weird things he'd only seen on television, balloons? All of it surrounded a collection of symbols all assembled neatly in a line, a big symbol followed by a smaller one. But the rest was a messy collection of random commotion and Hudson was not amused. But when he looked up to protest, his words got caught in his throat at the congenial vibe Robbins emanated effortlessly, a soft smile revealing jovial dimples on his cheeks. He was cloaked in amicability and Hudson regrettably had no defense against it yet. So he just sighed and looked at the stupid paper to see what he could make out. And to his surprise, he did latch onto a few symbols that were stirring long forgotten memories in his mind.

"I recognize some of these..." he almost whispered, his finger resting beneath his lips in thought.

"I'm not surprised, you can see 'em in neon everywhere in this city" Robbins added, motioning to the mainland.

"Aye, it's... glaring" Hudson added, annoyed.

"Hahaha! Agreed!" Robbins laughed warmly, pointing at Hudson like he'd taken the words right out of his mouth. Hudson couldn't help but smile in response as he continued studying the symbols, to see if any more rang a bell.

While he scanned over the material, Robbins sipped a drink he'd already made for himself, from the faint smell of some sweet flower, it had to be a different flavor from Hudson's previous visits. He was now slightly regretting refusing Robbins's earlier offer.

"So tell me. How does a Scottish super spy with decades of experience manage to get this far without knowing how to read?" the blind author asked, a playfulness in his voice as he relaxed back into his chair.

Hudson paused, surprised to hear the question, more surprised he didn't anticipate the question before now. Of course he'd be curious about that, to claim a profession that apparently requires one to fight criminals and villains, remain in the shadows, and work exclusively at night would raise questions by itself. But add to that Hudson's age and his illiteracy and suddenly there's a blaring inconsistency in the story that threatens to collapse the entire front it's supposed to be building. Hudson inwardly ridiculed himself, this entire situation was why he hated lying. All of his life he'd never been one to lie or attempt to deceive, he couldn't speak for gargoyles as a whole, but it wasn't in his nature to mislead. He might be a failure in nearly every aspect, but he was honest and forthright, especially about being a failure.

So crafting a lie such as this was already out of his wheelhouse, but he assumed that it'd be easy to keep it going. Robbins was blind, all he had to do was never let them touch each other, especially their hands, and he was in the clear. But with the secret agent lie came all of these other complicated questions to account for, and it would be lie after lie after lie, until he wouldn't be able to keep track of the story any longer and it'd all fall apart. The mere thought of it rushed dread back into Hudson's heart, the intense worry of losing Robbins after the Fates so graciously allowed them to meet would drive him mad if he let it. So Hudson made a choice, right then and there. He would, whenever possible, remain true to his nature.

With a steadying, but shaky breath, he clasped his hands together and carefully spoke. "I... I never needed to. My... Queen of the Night, she was the one who shouldered that responsibility for me"

The sudden shift in the atmosphere caused Robbins to drop his smile and falter to create his response to this revelation. Hudson sighed, this was to be expected, after all.

"Oh... I didn't realize..." the human strained, sympathetic and sober. "How long were you married, if you don't mind my askin'?"

Hudson took another steadying breath before answering, that familiar sinking feeling overtaking him. "Many years. She was... my partner. And she always took care o' these things fer me. I never thought to ask her to teach me, and then..." the gargoyle stopped, hesitant to reveal so much so quickly.

The somber mood became even more serious, causing Hudson to admonish himself for being a melancholy burden on the always jovial and stress free Robbins. What right did he have to bring down the atmosphere like this? He should have kept his mouth closed after all, he could have just used the "class-cee-fied" line that Elisa offered him. It's worked once before, why not try it again? But he knew, he had to be honest as much as he could to keep the lies simple and straightforward. Otherwise, he'd go mad worrying about how it would all fall apart down the road. So, as much as it pained him, it'd be better to be honest and dampen the mood as opposed to his true nature being discovered.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Hudson" Robbins finally spoke up again, very uncharacteristically sullen as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His condolences, however late in time to the tragedy, were sincere and welcomed.

"Aye..." was all Hudson could say in reply for now. Those bitter sweet memories of her danced before his eyes once again, leaving traces of hope and dread in equal parts, as despairing silence enveloped the room.

"Well, as the old Alfred Tennyson quote goes," Robbins perked up, bursting the bubble of tension in the air. " 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all'. So at least you can take some comfort in knowin' that ya had her for a time. Everybody's not fortunate enough to meet their soulmate in this life..."

Hudson looked up at Robbins, his eyes shot wide open as his lips parted. The heaviness weighing on him, the dread, the melancholy, the self-deprecation, it all lessened in an instant. A sudden, powerful clarity enveloped him and made him feel at peace once more, his understanding broadened and his countenance lightened. Why hadn't he thought of that perspective before now? How was it so clear now, that there was more sweet in those memories than bitter? How was it that, in a few short sentences, a human he'd just met a few days ago made him feel so much more at ease about such a traumatic part of his life? Just how much power did Robbins have over him?

Hudson waved off the shock as best he could and answered, "I... I suppose you're right. Thank ye, Robbins" the blind writer nodded in response, his warm smile returning as he settled back into his chair. It wasn't a big deal, thinking of her always made him feel sad, then happy, then a mixture of both before settling back into at peace. This was no different, not really, it couldn't be. Robbins didn't have any sort of power over him, that'd be ridiculous, he reasoned. Sure he'd never thought of it like that before, but Robbins was quite wise so that makes sense that he'd have a different angle of looking at things. But no, there was nothing incredible about that, surely.

Eager to get the topic of conversation off of himself, Hudson cleared his throat. "What about you? Did you ever find your, eh... soulmate?" he asked amicably, hoping it wouldn't lead them into more somber territory. Because if Robbins was the one who needed to be cheered up in this regard, Hudson was afraid he'd be plum out of luck.

Robbins answered after swallowing his drink. "Thought I got close; twice. But as it turns out, one of 'em wasn't interested in bein' married and the other one wasn't interested in bein' married to me. Either way, I've pretty much always been a bachelor" he replied with a resigned calm.

"Ye mean you've never shared yer life with someone else?" Hudson asked before he could stop himself.

"Not from lack of tryin', mind you. But like I said, not everybody's as fortunate in love as you were, Hudson. So take solace in that" he offered before taking another sip of tea, while Hudson tried to reconcile this new revelation.

It was just incredibly surprising to hear, he'd seen a slew of human men much less wise, kind, and honorable than Robbins get more than one mate. So for someone of Robbins's extremely high caliber of character to not have one mate... it just didn't add up. Was he ugly by human standards? Hudson doubted that, but couldn't really judge on the matter, maybe he was unattractive. He didn't recall blind men being exactly high on the human females' list of suitors. But surely he could have met another blind human and then his looks wouldn't matter, right? Or was it the sole fact that he was blind that would make him undesirable to the human females?

That seems incredibly unlikely, not to mention shallow, but for as old as Hudson was, human customs still largely remained a mystery to him. So as unbelievable as it seemed, he had to take Robbins's word on the matter and accept the fact that he has never bonded fully with another. A fate that Hudson wouldn't wish on the worst humans he'd met, let alone the greatest one.

"Sorry..." he offered sympathetic and somber on his behalf. It didn't seem fair or right for Robbins to have this be his lot in life. Not at all.

But without any bitterness or sorrow, Robbins waved off Hudson. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm over it. Besides, I've still managed to land a wonderful lady to spend my lonesome days with" he said suggestively as he reached down to the floor. "Isn't that right, Gilly?" he asked in a goofy, affectionate voice while ruffling her ears. She barked happily in response eliciting a rumble of chortles in Robbins's throat, his grin widening.

Hudson perked up at the display of affection. "Oh aye, she's a good lass, alright" he agreed, grinning in spite of himself. She reminded him of Bronx, who lay alone by the television tonight, awaiting his return.

"Ah, but I don't want us to get too distracted. Can you tell me what letters you recognize and name 'em if ya can?" Robbins asked, focusing Hudson back on the task he'd managed to completely forget, much to his own surprise.

"Aye..." he scanned his finger over the page, quickly going to the first "letter", as Robbins called them. "I believe this one—the first one, I mean—is A? And then B, then C... or is this one B?" he looked up to Robbins, pointing at the letter.

"Which one?" the blind human asked nicely, making Hudson kick himself for forgetting, yet again, that his teacher couldn't see. He wondered if he'd ever stop doing that.

"The... fourth one" he counted quickly, picking the booklet up.

"Oh, I see. So B and D look pretty similar when they're lowercased, but the capital letters—the bigger letters you see there—those are the ones we'll focus on, just for now" Robbins clarified.

Hudson tilted his head to the side and scrunched his nose a bit. "Why did they make 'em look the same?"

Robbins took a second to answer. "To... make writing them easier, I guess?" he shrugged. "It's okay, keep going, you're doin' great so far"

Hudson's brows furrowed as he peered over the paper to eye Robbins. "I... I am?" he asked, genuinely surprised. They just started and he just got one wrong, surely Robbins was mistaken.

"Yeah, man. Ya know more than ya think. Keep tryin', Hudson" Robbins smiled warmly before motioning for Hudson to continue.

Hudson blinked several times as he cleared his throat to push down the blush rising to his cheeks. "O... okay... um..." he dragged his finger across the page to the fifth letter. "Since we're lookin' at the big letters... this next one must be E or F, I don't remember..."

"Another two that look kinda similar, ha ha. It's okay"

"The next one... I don't know, a broken ring with a hook in it... it's not O, is it?"

"No, O is just a regular ring. No hooks"

Hudson looked further down the page as he answered. "Aye, I found that one down here. That one's easy, it's these other ones that are unnecessarily complicated"

"It's alright, I'll un-complicate 'em for ya. What's next?"

"Hmm... I don't recognize the one after that either, but the line next to that one is L. I think"

"You're thinkin' of a lowercase L, remember we're focusin' on the big ones first" Robbins reminded with a finger raised.

Hudson shrunk down in his seat and smacked his lips. "Aye, right. Sorry"

"S'okay, no need to apologize" Robbins smiled pleasantly as he waved off Hudson's worrying.

"I dunno what that one is then... uh... I've never seen these ones before..." he admitted, tilting his head even more to the side and widening his eyes.

"The big hook with a line across the top?" Robbins asked, drawing the shapes in the air with his finger.

"Aye, and the one next to it. What is that?" Hudson asked, squinting and leaning closer to the booklet, as if the gesture would reveal the answer to him somehow.

"Don't worry about it. For right now, just keep goin', buddy" Robbins laughed a bit.

"... This one is L, I remember that one... the next 2—uh, the mountain peaks—I don't know" Hudson shook his head a bit.

Robbins held his chin thoughtfully. "Well, it's good that you associate it with mountain peaks, that'll help later"

"If ye say so..." Hudson rolled his eyes before continuing. "Of course that one's O... the upside down 'b', I don't recognize"

Robbins perked up at that, pursing his lips a bit. "Huh. I guess that is an upside down 'b'. Crazy I never realized that b'fore" he remarked, lightly scratching his temple.

"The next one, Robbins, I think they made a mistake. They put O again" Hudson put the booklet back on the coffee table and leaned over it, trying to confirm his suspicion.

"They put O again?" the blind writer asked incredulous, before realization dawned on him. "Oh, no no no, that's another letter that looks similar! Look at the bottom of the ring"

"Hmm?" Hudson squinted and noticed a small detail he neglected. "A little line? That makes it different?"

"Sometimes that's all it takes, just a little line"

Hudson stared down at the booklet and crossed his arms gruffly. "That's... annoying"

"Bwahahaha!" Robbins nearly fell out of his chair as he clutched his stomach and keeled over. Gilly shot up from the floor in surprise looking between the two men as Hudson looked at her, sharing in the confusion.

"What's so funny?" he asked defensive, getting déjà vu of his recent embarrassment with the other human in his life.

Robbins calmed down and huffed a few mirth filled breaths. "Haa, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's nothin', keep goin', I'm good" he nodded while clearing his throat.

Hudson's brows narrowed as he eyed Robbins suspiciously. "Ye wouldn't be playin' a joke on me with all this, would ye?" he asked, already offended.

"No, no, it's just... you're quite refreshing, Hudson. This is gonna be a lot of fun"

Fun. There goes that word again, Hudson thought quizzically, before shooting back his retort. "Fer you or me?"

Robbins shrugged as he grinned. "I mean, why not both of us?" he offered, a mischievous lilt in his tone as he tilted his head in a goofy fashion.

Hudson couldn't help but smile, despite his reservations about being the subject of yet another human's joke in a single night. "I got my eye on ye, Robbins. Ye'd do well to remember that" he playfully threatened.

Robbins tilted his glasses down a bit as he answered back. "And I got my eye on you, soldier. Keep goin' "

"Aye, aye" Hudson traced his finger over the page to get back to his place. "This one looks like B, but broken at the bottom... Don't know that one" He shifted to the next letter and immediately popped up in his seat. "Oh, I know this one! It's a snake—uh—S! That one is S"

"Very good!" Robbins cheered sweetly, as Hudson grinned wide.

"Hee hee, I know the next one too. The temple pillar with the roof is T" he said, recalling his Queen of the Night trying to teach him this a few times, while he foolishly had his mind on other things. Unfortunately, only a couple of letters that he could easily identify as common everyday objects stuck.

"Alright, there ya go! What's next?" Robbins asked excited.

"Uh... hmm... this one... it looks like a chain link that's broken at the top, I don't know that one"
Hudson quickly looked over the last few letters, utterly confused. "And the rest... I've never seen before... sorry" he croaked out, embarrassed.

"That's okay, ya got a bunch of 'em on your own! You did really good so far!" the blind writer encouraged while leaning on his cane.

"No, I didn't. I don't need ye to treat me like a child" he snapped. After he'd gotten so cocky about the two obvious ones he knew, reality came crashing back down on him as it often did. Why'd he get so elated about knowing a few letters when he's trying to learn all of them to be able to read fluently? What a joke.

"I'm not, honest!" Robbins pushed back, a laugh hanging on his words. "I didn't think you knew any of this, figured ya knew more Celtic than English. I was expectin' to have to teach ya from the ground up. But you've already got some handlin' of it on your own, that's fantastic, Hudson" he smirked proudly at his new student, giving Hudson pause.

The old gargoyle had been alive for a very long time and dealt with a plethora of individuals, both human and gargoyle. Of all ages, both sexes, from all classes and creeds, one of the few unifying trait of them all, is everyone patronizes the same way. There's a clear inflection, body language, clever choices of vocabulary that gives them away every time. And more than once he had to confront and clear up the assumption that Hudson or his clan could be patronized by anyone. People could think and feel however they wanted about him and his clan, but if they had something to say on that wise, they needed to say it straight and make it plain or shut their gob, pure and simple.

So when he heard Robbins's words of praise, his sincerity surprised him. It wasn't pity, it wasn't politeness, it wasn't some witless excuse to exert superiority over him, it was nothing like that. It was real, genuine praise from someone who actually cared about his progress and wanted him to know that he did better than he expected. It was kindness, which shouldn't have taken him by surprise, but he'd been quick to forget who he was dealing with. He wasn't used to kindness from humans, it always led to something that ended badly. The Captain of the Guard, The Magus (the boy was kind, once. Then he grew up), Xanatos, The Pack, take your pick.

And sincerity? Always in question, always measurements of it, never completely sincere. But this was Robbins, the saving grace of humanity, a man who's shown nothing but kindness and sincerity since the day they met, a man who views Hudson as just another man. His sincerity couldn't be questioned.

"Ye... ye really think so..." Hudson replied softly, more as a realization than a question.

"Absolutely. In fact, I'm sure it'll be a cinch to memorize the whole alphabet by the end of the night" Robbins said confidently, causing Hudson to jolt back in his chair, the squeak of leather giving his composure away.

"Memorize 'em? I—I can't do that, Robbins. There's so many of 'em and—and they're tricky to tell apart"

Robbins tapped his cane on the carpet staunchly. "Hey, if dumb little kids all over the world can do it, you can too" he declared pointing his cane at Hudson emphatically. Like Hudson didn't have any choice but to take the man's word on this one. So he did, reluctantly.

"I... I'll try, Robbins"

"Good man" Robbins swung his cane back around and leaned on it again. "Now, believe it or not, there's a song to help ya memorize the whole alphabet"

"A song?"

"Yep, everybody around here knows it, but I guess Scotland's outta the loop on that one" Robbins sheepishly scratched his temple again. "Anyway, it sounds like Baa Baa Black Sheep"

"Baa Baa Black Sheep?"

"Okay, now I know you're pullin' my leg. That one's from Scotland, I think!" Robbins quickly added.

"I'm sorry, I don't know that ballad"

"Ballad?" Robbins asked incredulous, his features scrunched in confusion, causing panic to shoot through Hudson once more.

"Er, why don't ye sing it, then? Get me all caught up" he offered, hoping to refocus the conversation away from himself.

"Alright then. It goes like this: A B C D E F G~" Robbins held the note for a beat. "Now, if you notice, that's the whole first line in your booklet there" he pointed to the coffee table, where the booklet was resting.

Hudson traced his finger across the first line, replaying the song he just sang. "Yer right..."

"Then, H I J K, L M N O P~" again, he held the note for a beat. "Now, ya gotta be careful, a lot of kids when they first learn this, they lump LMNO as one letter. It's not, ya gotta say it slow. L. M. N. O" he emphasized each letter by tapping his cane.

"L. M. N. O. That's the easy one" Hudson remarked, smirking. Perhaps this could be memorized in one night after all.

"Right, the easy one. L's an easy one too, there's a trick to that one" Robbins put up his hand as he explained. "If you put up your left hand, stick your index finger and thumb out, it looks like a capital L. The word 'left' starts with L. 'Left' hand makes a capital L. It all fits pretty neatly" he said demonstrating the trick.

Hudson imitated the trick, not fully seeing the correlation because Robbins's left hand made a backwards L from where he was sitting. But as soon as he did it himself, the symbol and fingers matched exactly.

"Yer right... Yer quite knowledgable about all this" he remarked, very impressed and not for the first time when it came to Robbins.

Robbins scoffed playfully, "I should hope so, I'm a writer"

"I knew ye were the best man fer the job, Robbins" Hudson said, gratefulness clear in his voice.

Robbins bowed his head humbly. "Thank ya, sir" before continuing. "Now, the rest of the ABCs; Q R S, T U V, W X, Y and Z~. Now I know my ABCs, next time won't you sing with me~" he finished while motioning to Hudson with his hand, like presenting him with the conclusion of the matter.

"That's it?" he asked, half-expecting another 5 or so verses of this thing.

But Robbins nodded. "Yup, that's it. Pretty simple, right?"

"Aye. I think I got it already"

"Oh yeah? Let's hear it then" Robbins adjusted in his seat, sitting right on the edge and clasping his hands together, patiently waiting.

Hudson shrunk back as he timidly asked, "Uh, do I... have to... ye know... sing it?"

"Yup" Robbins smirked a devilish little smile.

Hudson looked at Robbins seriously. "Ye don't know what yer askin', Robbins. I know how to do many things, but singin' ain't one of 'em"

"Told ya this would be fun" Robbins replied, raising an eyebrow cheekily.

Hudson squinted at Robbins, a small smile raising his cheeks. "Yer a mischievous one, aren't cha?"

"When I can be" was his succinct reply. "Let's hear it" he motioned for Hudson to bring it.

The old gargoyle sighed dramatically. "You've been warned..." he cleared his throat and took the plunge. "A B C D E F G~" he started with a voice so coarse and uneven it shocked Gilly up again, no doubt she was looking for the seal being slain on the beach.

Robbins exploded with laughter immediately, "Oh my God, hahahaha!" he clasped his hands over his mouth but it didn't help at all.

"I warned ye!" Hudson shouted back, his face glowing red.

Robbins quickly managed to cobble his composure back together, albeit tenuously. "No no no, ignore me! Keep... keep goin' " he squeaked out, biting his lower lip to hold back his giggles.

Hudson stared at him for a beat, taking in Robbins's absolutely ludicrous face on the verge of bursting with laughter again. Inflated cheeks, shivering like he had to relieve his bladder, choked down breaths that sounded more like one of those balloon things when they release their air. It was positively bizarre... and fantastic to witness up close. Elisa didn't look so amusing when she laughed at him, none of the clan had this expression before, at least none that he enjoyed. For whatever reason, Robbins was the first to accomplish making a face that filled him with goofy curiosity. And it was then that the old gargoyle had to admit, he wanted to break him down again. Pride be damned, this was entertaining for him too.

So he took a deep breath and belted out once more. "H I J K, LMNO P~" he caught himself, "Uh, I mean, L M N O. P~"

Robbins contorted and twisted in unpredictable, outrageous ways as he strained to contain the build up of chortling inside of him."Good... good, you remembered" he squeaked out, at an even higher pitch than before, causing Hudson to chuckle himself.

What was this, why did he want nothing more than to break down Robbins and see him crack and unleash the torrent of laughter he was holding back? He honestly couldn't figure it out. Something about his face, something about his normally far more reserved demeanor thrown out the window at Hudson's horrible singing. There was something intriguing and exciting about trying to cause this man to roll around on the floor giggling, Hudson just had to see it. It was like he was being teased with something, like a race between two of the slowest runners in the world. They were almost at the finish line but they just kept not crossing over it, he couldn't let that stand. It was time to push Jeffery Robbins over the edge.

"Aye, I remembered, but this next part I forgot!" he announced jovially as he took another deep breath and rose to his feet. "Cool R S, Tree U V, Dub-To X, Y and See~" he bellowed with his arms stretched out wide like he'd seen those people in the "musical movies" do.

Robbins exploded with laughter so powerfully he jumped into the back of the chair and caused it to fall over, sending him reeling comically to the ground. Hudson couldn't contain his chuckles as he watched the blind writer try to find his now loss glasses while struggling to stop the laughs from rolling out of his mouth. Gilly, not wanting to be left out on the merriment, started pushing on Robbins's stomach, causing him to abruptly stop laughing for a moment and grunt uncouthly under her weight. Down went Hudson at this development, giggling uncontrollably as he clutched his pulsing forehead. Finally, Hudson's efforts paid off.

" 'Dub-To X'! Oh man!" Robbins managed to choke out as he recovered from Gilly's sneak attack. Tears streamed down his face as he smoothed a hand through over his forehead and into his hair.

Hudson chuckled, "What? I said I forgot that part!" he shouted in faux outrage, sending Robbins reeling again.

" 'Cool R S'! Hahahaha!" he choked out as he managed to prop himself up on the coffee table. "Ohhh that's good!" he wheezed before Gilly knocked him back over, restarting his laughing fit.

"Would ye please compose yerself?" Hudson coyly asked, looking over at Gilly bully poor Robbins with her soft little paws.

Robbins pointed up towards the wall, thinking Hudson was in that direction. "I told ya this would be fun for both of us! Hahahaha!" he howled out while Gilly barked happily at him.

Hudson couldn't stop the tingling sensation all over him as he tried gathering his thoughts. Is this the feeling? Was he having fun right now? Is this how it felt? How it's supposed to feel? As Gilly now paid him a visit and tickled him with her nose, he realized what the fuss was about. The lads had it right, fun was something to be pursued not chastised for indulging in. It was like every problem had shrunk down instantly into a tiny speck and finally he could relish in happiness for once, instead of pity or shame or sadness.

This was it, wasn't it? This was fun, real fun. Not just a thing to pass the time, not just a distraction, it was ointment for wounds. Antidote for poison. Nourishment for the heart. He'd forgotten that, somewhere along the way. Kudos to the trio for never losing sight of this simple truth, and for putting up with an old coot like him this whole time. Hudson swore he'd loosen up around them, let them have their fun, because he wouldn't want anyone to come and ruin this moment for him.

Finally, Hudson managed to get back up to his chair, as a few loose chuckles did their final lap. "Hehehehe! I was close though, wasn't I?" he remarked, while Robbins got his chair back up and leaned against it, out of breath but happier than he'd ever seen him.

"Yeah, but it's Q R S, T U V, W X, Y and Z~" he breathed out as he finished, Gilly rubbing her head on his leg to get his attention.

"And my singin'?" Hudson asked playfully, grinning ear to ear, which made Robbins laugh a little as he retrieved his glasses from Gilly.

"Immaculate, buddy. Just amazin', when are you droppin' your first record again? Hahaha"

"Aye aye, I admit I've got a brass throat" Hudson waved off as he dropped his pretense, laughing at himself for a change.

Robbins huffed out a breath as he dropped back into his seat. "That's okay, not all of us can be Anita Baker" he chuckled a little.

Hudson blinked a few times before asking, "What do bakers have to do with singing?"

Robbins erupted with laughter again, plopping to the ground immediately. "You're KILLIN' me, Hudson!" he cried, as Gilly went searching for his glasses again.

"HOW?!" Hudson snorted out in confusion before he started to cackle again.

Chapter Text

"13... 14... 15..." was Robbins' steady chant, his muscles tensed as he forced himself up on the pull-up bar securely fashioned above his bedroom doorframe. Sweat dripped from his brow, cheeks filled with air slowly released in a long steady exhale between numbers, as his chin tapped the top of the doorframe.

"16... 17... 18..." he continued as he shook with effort to reach his desired rep, a goal that seemed so far away now that he was exerting himself so much. Normally, he had a much more relaxed exercise regiment, one focused more on shaving off excess pounds and getting his heart rate up to a healthy pace. This usually entailed a walk along the beach, a few curls with his 30 pound dumbbells, a couple push-ups, and he was finished within an hour and a half. But today, he woke up with a vigor he hadn't had since he was in his 20s, back when he was still in the army.

"21... 22..."

Back then when he still had all his faculties, he reveled in pushing his body to its limits and he was in a location that strongly encouraged that behavior, which enable him to indulge in working out with a fiery intensity. He was never the bulging, rippling muscle guy, his body type was more lean than bulky, but that didn't stop him from developing as much strength and power as he could. And despite many of his fellow soldiers easily outweighing and outclassing him in the physical fitness arena, he was never considered a slouch. Even when he was promoted to Sergeant, he still maintained the rigorous routine, which made him one of the most athletic sergeants in his unit. Something he still looked back at with a twinge of pride.

"25... 26..."

Then, of course, after the shrapnel blinded him and he was dropped from active duty, he in turn dropped the regiments and routines that went with the army life. A bit too completely, he chastised himself as he grunted to summon the strength to pull himself up again. It was no surprise to anyone that while recovering and learning to adjust to life as a blind man, Robbins fell into a depression of a sort. All the things he used to find solace in and derive enjoyment from fell by the wayside as crushing reality set in. The only thing he held onto was his love of storytelling and reading and his dream of becoming a writer someday. And with literally nothing else he believed he could do, he pursued writing and the rest is history.

"28... 29..."

That became his entire world for several years, learning how to read and write in braille and completing a novel. There wasn't much time to focus on his body anymore, only his mind. So after spending a decade reestablishing his entire life and actually managing to publish a few works, that his doctors gave him the news. He was overweight and falling into the unhealthy habits that he'd managed to avoid in his youth, if he didn't make a serious attempt to change the way he did things, he'd wind up relying on 12 different medications and needing dialysis treatments. He realized they were more than likely being hyperbolic and dramatic to scary him into correcting his diet and exercise, but to their credit, it worked.

"30..."

Thus he jumped back into exercising, though without the vigor and force that he had. Robbins thought the spark would return in full force, that he'd have to be told to slow down by his doctors, that in 2 months time he'd be back to his old physique and the looming threat of overweight ailments would be a distant memory. But much to his surprise, the enjoyment of it all was gone. The need to push his limits, the desire to prove himself, the aggression required to build strength, it wasn't there. It was an obligation now, a thing he had to do that interrupted all the activities he'd rather be doing. That spark of determination that made exercising a worthwhile endeavor was just... gone.

"31..."

So Robbins had fallen into a comfortable lull with it, resigned himself to his limitations. He was well over 50—going on 60—he wasn't supposed to be an amateur bodybuilder anymore. He wasn't supposed to be in the nomination for the next WWF heavyweight star. He wasn't 28 anymore, and accepting that meant he needed to accept the fact that his youthful vigor and athletic energy was gone. Thus, he got used to walks on the beach, 30 pound dumbbells, and a couple push-ups being the best he can do.

And then he met Hudson, and that carefully accepted reality shattered like glass.

"32..."

Hudson, an unrealistically muscular specimen of a man, older than Robbins "by a considerable margin", having enough speed and strength to go toe-to-toe with an international terrorist equipped with advanced technology like MacBeth and beat him. Then the following night he walked around like nothing was wrong, like he hadn't even been touched during the encounter, like he hadn't even broken a sweat. It was incomprehensible. If it wasn't for the Scrolls of Merlin, MacBeth's threat, Scottish secret agents, and the enigmatic mystery that was Hudson's life, Robbins would have focused on it more. But with all of the sensational details thrown his way in the past few days, it's understandable that he's taken this long to really crystalize a coherent assessment of Hudson's shocking physical fitness.

"33..."

The man was a tank, there was no other way to put it. Despite the gut, the missing finger, and whatever awkward movements or habits Robbins could pick up on, Hudson was absolutely a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps that was part of the reason why he had such faith in him when he left to face MacBeth, unconsciously he knew Hudson was unbelievably powerful. And it wasn't from sitting around on the couch all day eating chips, the man had to work incredibly hard to keep up that physicality, he had to. Which meant he could. And if Hudson could, why then couldn't Robbins?

"34..."

The question was all that lingered in his mind when he woke up that day and finally, he felt it. After nearly 30 years of being uninspired, of resigning himself to never getting into that mentality again, or never regaining that essential piece of who he was in his youth, Robbins felt it. That spark of determination, that sense of vigor and aggression, that youthful vitality. It came rushing back after all this time, just like the muse. All thanks to the influence of that peculiar man he'd come to befriend. So there Robbins was, forcing himself to the limits he'd accepted long ago and straining himself as much as he could to break through them.

And with a guttural shout, one that startled poor Gil, he completed his set of pull-ups, "35!"

5 more reps than he'd normally do. It wouldn't seem like much to anyone else, but it was meaningful to him. It was a start, the beginning of regaining that part of himself after so many years thinking it was dead and gone. And it felt wonderful. The tightness in his muscles, the rush of breath heaving in and out, the pounding of his heart in his ears. It was refreshing, to say the least. Well, except for the persistent ringing that began as soon as he was about to grab his dumbbells.

"Perfect timing" he sighed as he rolled his eyes and headed toward the blaring phone down the hallway. With how amped up he felt, it seemed to take 2 second to cross the distance as opposed to the usual 10 or 15. Robbins shook his head at the exaggeration and plucked the phone off its mount before clearing his throat.

"Hello?" he huffed out, the exhaustion of the workout making itself known.

"Robbie, ya old goat, it's been too long!" the smooth, all too familiar voice shouted back, causing Robbins to exhale a weary laugh.

For the person on the other end of the line was a frequent caller, especially since his stories dried up 6 years ago. A man who's invested interest in Robbins' creative career bordered on obsession, calling at random times every month to check in and try to "politely" force Robbins out of his slump. And as welcomed as that effort was to the frustrated writer inside him, plagued with mental blocks, it was unbearably annoying to every other part of him.

You can't force the juices, you have to let them come in their own time, with the proper inspiration. Sometimes it can come from nowhere at all, sometimes it visits in dreams, sometimes it's found in another random work. And sometimes a Scottish secret agent washes ashore carrying a myriad of mysteries and questions that disrupts your normal routine and ignites that creative spark that you thought was long dead. However it happens, you don't force it, the muse visits in her own time. So to have a crass and sleazy editor call him up every month asking why he hasn't started his 13th book yet, was aggravatingly counterproductive. Which was why Robbins was dreading the rest of this delightful conversation he'd tumbled into.

"Fabian, is it that time of the month already?" he asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Now, now, don't be like that, Robbie. We're still friends, ain't we?" Fabian asked, a far too amicable tone in his voice.

"It's not that I don't enjoy your calls, but well, hmm..." Robbins dryly replied, hoping it would keep him from ever making such a claim again.

"Robbie, ya cut me to the quick!" Fabian cried, faux offense made dramatically clear. "It's my duty—and honor—to check up on ya and see where you're at in your creative process. Maybe even help ya get the juices flowin', if need be" he said, clearly leading.

Robbins sighed as he wiped the residual sweat from his brow, "And I'd appreciate it that much more if you were just a little less blunt about it".

"C'mon, it's part 'o my charm!" Fabian chuckled before coughing directly into the microphone, Robbins could smell the cigar smoke seeping through the speakers.

"Charm's a mighty strong word for you" Robbins said, clearing his throat. "Foible's more like it" he smirked.

"Ooh, someone's sharp today. Must mean ya got somethin', right?" Fabian surmised, causing Robbins' eyes to snap wide open. "C'mon, admit it. Ya finally got outta your slump and started on your 13th masterpiece" the editor practically sang, a smug but excited tune.

Robbins fell silent, floored by Fabian's sudden uncovering of his newly inspired project. In all the years he'd known him, Robbins didn't remember Fabian being so incisive. In fact, the opposite could be argued based on their history. The guy seemed like a typical corporate suit, business sense replaced common sense and creativity was just another resource to pillage and package into a product to keep the profit flowing. That was how he carried himself anyway.

But achieving such a clear read on Robbins when he hadn't let slip any details on the Merlin book yet, was a clear indication that there was more going on with the cigar enthusiast on the other end of the line. Perhaps being an editor at a publishing house like The Beacon Publishing Group should have clued the blind writer in on how insightful a man like Fabian could be. For all his faults, Robbins couldn't deny Fabian was good at his job, in all the years they'd worked together, Fabian made everything smooth and easy for him. And they had managed to make a fair amount of money together with no complaints or issues from any of the many people involved. Still, to be read so quickly by someone he'd failed to hold in high regard... it was a humbling experience, to be sure.

"C'mon Robbie, don't keep me guessin', the suspense is killin' me over here!" Fabian shouted eagerly, yanking him back to the present.

Robbins cleared his throat awkwardly and began to explain, "Well... actually—"

"Actually?" Fabian interrupted, impatient & ecstatic.

"As of late, I've been, uh... researching for a new story"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh!" Robbins could hear him nodding.

The blind writer leaned against the wall as he continued, "Yeah, it's only been a few days since I even began planning. So I don't really have much in the way of a timeframe for ya" he half-mumbled.

"Details, details, what's it about?!" the editor begged enthusiastically. "European folklore, Norse, Indian, African, what?!"

"Uh, European folklore" Robbins quickly answered, "And well, for now I'm thinkin' it'll be another biography of sorts. On Merlin" he dropped innocently.

Fabian slammed his hand on his desk, startling Robbins. "Merlin! Brilliant! With all the press about them Scrolls of his, this'll be a hit just on premise alone! Oh Robbie, that's good! That is good, hahahaha!" he cackled enthusiastically causing Robbins to chuckle along.

"Yeah, thanks Fabian. But like I said, I just started the first steps of makin' it, I'm not even writin' anything just yet, ya know" he warned, trying to reign in the rigorous enthusiasm of the unabashed editor. As if anyone could.

"Right right, I hear ya—But still Robbie!" Fabian shot back, brushing Robbins warning aside. "This couldn't have timed out better! With everybody goin' ga-ga over the Scrolls of Merlin and all that crap, a book about the guy from the same guy who wrote Gilgamesh the King and Grendel will dazzle the masses! They won't know what to do with themselves—eh, except buy the damn thing, obviously" he quickly clarified.

"Well, I guess that could happen, sure" Robbins shrugged, not wanting to commit to such an expectation.

"Oh trust me Robbie, it's gonna be a slam dunk hit! It could even outshine Titania's Oberon! Maybe even The Greene Waters! It'll definitely do better than Robbin Goodfellow!"

"Uh, I don't know about all that, those are some of my bestsellers. I wouldn't get your hopes up too high" he cautioned once again, hoping Fabian would get the message this time.

"Nonsense! All o' your stuff sells, Robbie! Sure, some do better than others, but ya always done well enough for book tours. Not everybody can say that"

"Well yeah, but—"

"But nothin'! You'll do great!" he assured before switching gears, "Now, when can I expect a first draft, huh?" The dreaded question that hung over the conversation like an obnoxious chandelier. Refusing to be ignored and demanding an answer, regardless of how uncomfortable it would be.

Robbins sighed deeply as he passed the phone to his other hand, then rubbed soothing circles on his temple as his thoughts gathered. Another moment of suspense, he remarked inwardly before smacking his lips open to speak. How to delicately explain the sensitive and unpredictable nature of the creative process to someone who has no personal experience with such a process?

"As I said, I just started workin' on the research a few days ago. I'm waitin' on the Scrolls of Merlin to be fully translated before I even start writin' this thing, considerin' they're the inspiration for the story. So it'll be a while" Robbins could only appeal to the logical, quantifiable aspects of the situation and hope that would be enough.

"What's 'a while'? A month? 2?" was his immediate reply. He fought the urge to smack his forehead.

Robbins huffed barely hiding his frustration, "It means a while, Fabian. The Met said it'd be several months before their findings would be ready to be shared" he regained his composure before continuing, "C'mon now, ya know I'm gonna do the best I can, but ya gotta gimme room to breathe. I haven't even asked for an advance or anything, so just relax"

"Okay okay, easy. I can take a hint" Fabian replied before falling silent for a beat. "Tell ya what: how's about I get ya first peek at them Scrolls?" he offered thoughtfully.

Robbins went rigid as board. "What?" was all he could manage.

"You heard me" Fabian said, self-assured grin clear in his tone.

Robbins struggled to formulate a sentence, still shocked at the unexpected offer. "But... but the Met is months away from—"

"Psh, that's for the masses" he waved off before clarifying, "I'm talkin' the premier of the Scrolls findings—or whatever—to a select group of professionals" he muttered confused, before regaining his composure, "Very hush-hush, very exclusive, and much earlier than the regular schmucks'll see 'em"

For a moment that seemed like an eternity, Robbins just stood there with his mouth agape in disbelief. Finally, the words just tumbled out of his incredulous mind, "You're joking, right?"

"Nah nah, I'm serious as a heart attack, Robbie! I got a guy from Simon & Schuster who owes me one, he can pull'a few strings and let ya be part o' the first group o' guys" Fabian explained smoothly.

"You'll be rubbin' elbows with archeologists, historians, anthropologists, professors of mythology and folklore" he lowered his voice"—ya know, nerds n' shit—but you can always pretend to be one of 'em. Ya got the credentials to be a mythology professor anyways" the editor casually assumed as Robbins gathered his thoughts once more.

"You... can get me a first look at the Scrolls?" he stammered for a second, then let it out, "You?"

"I mean, ya won't be gettin' a first look, literally" Fabian attempted to clarify, "Considerin' yer, uh—impairment and all—"

"Fabian, I swear to God, if you're playin' games right now—" Robbins interjected with malice.

"I swear, I can make it happen. IF..." the editor baited before he continued. "IF you can guarantee a speedy delivery on your 1st draft o' this thing. What're ya callin' it again?" he quickly inquired, probably embarrassed he hadn't asked yet.

After a beat, Robbins blinked and answered truthfully. "The Sword & The Staff: A Tale of Merlin"

"Mmm, catchy. I like it" Fabian added honestly, "Alright so, where's my money back guarantee?" he asked with a coy grin hanging on his every word.

Robbins gathered himself back to normal as he formulated his answer. "I... I'll do the best I can. I think I can safely promise a 1st draft of the first 5 chapters by the end of next month. Dependin' on what's in the Scrolls though, they'll be subject to change, but you'll at least be able to see what direction I intend to take the story"

Fabian hummed in thought, "Next month, huh?" he sighed, mentally chewing on the idea.

"Please Fabian, it's the best I can do. I won't ask for an advance, if that helps. We can talk price after you read the first 5 chapters" Robbins offered, trying not to sound desperate and failing.

If Fabian was telling the truth—which, now that Robbins thought about it, how would he benefit from lying about this?—then he had a very real chance to know what secrets the Scrolls of Merlin housed within them. And he would be among the very first to know, among an elite group of archeologists, anthropologists, professors of mythology and folklore, all people he'd learned so much from down through the years. They were the closest thing to idols for him, to be in the same meeting with them talking about his favorite subject in the world, it was more than a dream come true. It would be too good to be true, if Fabian wasn't the genie granting his wish. Which made Robbins all the more desperate to achieve it.

Fabian puffed on his expensive cigar a few seconds more before he finally replied, "... You're lucky you're my favorite fantasy writer, Robbie. October 27th. And I want you to personally come in and deliver those chapters on my desk, not a day later, ya hear me?" he commanded rather than asked.

"Okay?" Robbins answered unsure, as he blinked rapidly at the sudden demands.

"I mean it, my secretary's expectin' to see your ugly mug, don't you be disappointin' her, now" Fabian dramatically declared, causing Robbins' eyes to roll.

"Alright, alright, I'll come in personally. Satisfied?"

"For the first time in 6 years, Jeff" Fabian half-joked before catching himself. "Oh, and Robbie?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't embarrass me when ya get there. I can't go out on a limb like this just for you to cause a scene and get kicked outta the joint" he warned before stamping his cigar into the ashtray on his desk, the light tapping just under his voice clued Robbins in.

The blind writer scoffed, "Now Fabian, you know if nothin' else, I'm gonna keep my cool" Robbins assured smoothly, knowing full well he would geek out when he got there.

"Yeah, yeah, alright" Fabian chuckled a bit, "I'll call back when we're all set for the Scrolls premiere thing, but don't answer! I'll leave it on your machine so ya won't forget or nothin'. Get crackin', superstar"

"Will do, boss. And Fabian... thank you for this, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it, Robbie" Fabian said warmly, before clearing his throat, "Seriously, don't mention it to anybody else, we need to keep this hush-hush. If anybody asks when ya get there, you're a professor of European mythology & folklore at some bigshot college, understand?"

"Oh! Uh, sure, I understand" Robbins blinked back in surprise again, but rolled with the punches. What did you expect, it's Fabian after all, he reminded himself.

"Okay good, I'm gettin' another call, Robbie! Talk soon, good luck!" Fabian rushed before abruptly ending the call. Leaving Robbins holding the phone, his thoughts spilling all over the place.

"Wow... I'm going to be one of the first people to hear the translation of Merlin's scrolls..." he said aloud, trying to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming more than anything else.

Of all the things he could have expected from a conversation with Fabian, this was far from conceivable. An exclusive audience with historian giants all about the Scrolls of Merlin and everything hidden in their pages that everyone in the world wanted to know. Serendipitously bestowed on little ol' Robbins, a lowly and unremarkable writer, by the most unlikely of people in his life. Fabian D. Clark. Sleazy, greedy, and uncouth editor extraordinaire Fabian D. Clark.

The same Fabian that refuses to call him anything but "Robbie" despite his many protests. The same Fabian that tried to lowball him on his first book and admitted it when Robbins confronted him about it years later, as if it was nothing to worry about. The same Fabian that once coughed, sneezed, burped and farted at the same time? That Fabian somehow had connections at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, which just so happened to be the one museum in all the world that got first dibs on the Scrolls of Merlin. That also just so happened to be brought back to that same museum by Hudson the Scottish spy after being stolen by an international terrorist.

And once again, Robbins just happened to be caught up in it just enough to know the full story, the only person outside of the "clan" of spies and elusive millionaire criminal to know the whole story. It was enough to make his head spin.

What had he done to warrant such an insane chain of events to bring him to the point where he was now slotted to be given everything he could have ever hoped for on his favorite mythological character to write a story? Had his luck been used up in the past few days and he'll go back to being joe-schmo when this was all done? He couldn't help but wonder as he struggled to get a grasp on this entire situation. One thing was certain, Hudson was the harbinger of all his good fortune. If he'd never met him, never offered him his home, if he never helped him find MacBeth, none of this would be happening. Robbins just might have remained sitting in his love-seat, lamenting the loss of his creativity, like he'd done for 6 agonizing years.

He supposed it was true what his father taught him all those years ago: Never turn away a stranger in need at your door, they could be an angel in disguise. And while Hudson may not have wings, more and more Robbins was starting to believe he was indeed an angel of some sort. He couldn't help it, with all this insanely good fortune following him since that night, the evidence seemed to be conclusive.

Rather than dwell on that possibility, the blind author knew he had no time to waste, so he shifted gears and rushed to the other end of the hallway to speed down the stairs back to his study. Now that he had a deadline to adhere to, he realized he'd been overthinking his approach to the story. All the possibilities had crippled him a bit, hampered his ability to really kick the thing off. But now, with the panicked rush of a looming deadline hanging over his head, he had the motivation he needed to filter out the surplus of possibilities and stick with a select, manageable few.

The irony of it made him laugh aloud as he pulled out his trusty braille typewriter, placing it next to a stack of paper on his desk. The fact that Fabian was desperately calling for 6 years trying to forcibly inspire him to write to no avail. And only after Robbins had found the inspiration to write again, through forcing a deadline on him, Fabian was able to finally give Robbins the motivation to write. Or perhaps it wasn't irony at all, just a really weird way it all worked out. Either way, Robbins had to admit one thing about his surprisingly competent editor:

"Fabian, I guess you're not all bad" he said happily as he tapped the character on the keyboard, a welcomed chime that he thought he'd never hear again. That cathartic sensation on his fingertips, the smell of the shifting paper as it gets embossed, the slight shuffle of the platen after imprinting a character. It sent a rush through his entire system, that spark igniting every nerve in his body all roaring to life at once. He was back.

Robbins' fingers were a blur as the keys rose and fell in tandem with his commands, their melody akin to a chorus of angels to his hungry ears. The words that were always beyond reach and felt hollow whenever he did managed to catch a couple, were exploding from his mind directly through his fingertips at lightning speed. Creating beautiful and profound connections that lined up as the beginning of something truly exquisite. His smile grew wider as the elusive creative juices once again flowed through him.

"God, I missed this..." he moaned under his breath as the typewriter rang its bell for the final time and he smoothly snatched the finished page out of the slot and placed it delicately to the side, then slipped a fresh page in and clasped it into place before rolling it to the top.

It may have seemed like a chore to anyone else, a Braille 'n Speak computer would be leagues better for those people, but for Robbins, it was the exact opposite. While he couldn't deny the ingenuity and slick features like the refreshable braille screens and the oral explanation of the specific mechanical details of a given page, there was no substitute for the manual typewriter. The processes he had to go through to produce the finished pages was therapeutic, working with each precise, tangible mechanism was part of the experience of writing. Without it, he wouldn't be able to get the words out quite right, there would always be a disconnect with his work. Plus those automated voices creeped him out a little, he'd much rather have the instruments of the typewriter sing to him.

With his old, trusted typewriter, he had time to let his mind wander just a little as he wrote. Problem solve and plan ahead for whatever could come his way while he typed away blissfully. Which his mind often had the tendency to do, he admitted. For just as he started running on instinct, sliding the cursor along its track until it tapped against the left border, then proceeded with the next line of embossing, his thoughts focused on the museum and what that experience would be like.

He'd be in the presence of the intellectually elite, surely he could eavesdrop on any single conversation and glean jewels of knowledge and insight he'd never be able to dig up on his own. How would he measure up to these titans of scholarly pursuits? Could he even hold a candle to the intellectual powerhouses he'd be mingling with? Or would he just blend into the background, trying his best not to freak out and cause a scene, the precise thing Fabian warned him not to do?

Should he be asking questions about the Scrolls or would they not allow that during the presentation? He'd have to bring a new tape for his tape recorder to get everything exact, hopefully they'd allow that. If not, what were his other options? Pray they hand out detailed pamphlets about everything and get someone to read them to him later? Robbins scoffed at the idea, of course they wouldn't do that for an exclusive premiere of highly intelligent and prolific individuals. He supposed the next best thing to a tape recorder would be to have someone take notes for him and transcribe them to braille so he can use them. Maybe a museum attendant or—

And suddenly he frozen in place, breath caught in his throat, before he shot out of his desk chair as realization dawned on him. In all the excitement of getting back to writing, getting a private audience with the Scrolls of Merlin findings and having the opportunity to rub shoulders with the people he respected most in the world, he forgot about one crucial detail. The person who would be presenting these findings on the Scrolls at The Met. It would have to be the discoverers of the Scrolls of Merlin, the people who did the hardwork of bringing them to the States and studying them. And the individual Robbins had already had an uncomfortable conversation with in the museum and dreaded meeting again.

None other than Professor Lydia Duane, the looney anthropologist that tried to convince him magic was real. Robbins groaned as he buried his head in his hands, the realization weighed him down like an anchor. He wouldn't be able to slip past her, he went and made a strong impression already. Had he but known that Fabian would pull this blessing out of his behind, he'd never have gone to The Met that day and talked to that crazy lady. Why'd he have to be so impatient about the Scrolls? He could have waited, like literally everyone else in the city, but no! Once he heard the name Merlin, all reason and logic went out the window. Robbins shook his downcast head shamefully, as he slumped back in his chair.

What am I gonna do? I can't sneak into this thing pretending I belong there if the damn star of the show recognizes me... he lamented with his hand rising to his chin, his knee bouncing energetically as he ran through his options. Maybe I could wear a disguise or something? No no no, that's stupid. Could I just go back to The Met and smooth the whole thing over before the premiere? No, no I got lucky last time. I got no guarantee she'll even be willing to see me again, especially after how our last conversation went... dang.

Robbins huffed in frustration as he leaned all the way back and faced the ceiling, arms plopped on the armrests of the chair. Guess I've got no choice. I'll have to keep my distance. It's the only way, he reasoned, a disappointed frown adorning his face. But I'd need someone to run interference for me, somebody I can trust that's got no interest in the Scrolls at all... and suddenly, a candidate surfaced to the front of his mind, causing him to shoot up to his feet again.

"The kid! Eddy's perfect, he'll be drivin' me there anyway!" he exclaimed happily as Gilly trotted to his side, her paws stamping delicately towards him. "Whew, crisis averted, 'ey Gill?" he said, kneeling down to pet her. Gilly simply licked his cheek and nuzzled his face, causing him to laugh grateful for the affection.

"Yeah, we're gonna be alright..." he beamed, hoping his young companion would be able to put those baseball skills of his to good use and guard him from any awkward encounters with the magic enthusiast.

But he couldn't help but dwell on the peculiar woman he hoped to avoid and the last things she said to him. Try as he might, he couldn't forget them. The questions she posed...

The question isn't "do you believe in magic", rather, the question is 'do you wish to believe in it?'... I think if you want to believe in magic, if you truly wish to experience it, to find it... one way or another, it'll find its way to you. It's only a matter of time...

Robbins hated to admit it, but it was quite an interesting take on the concept of magic. Like it picks and chooses the worthy, not just anybody was allowed to know about it. Only the extremely special and imaginative qualify, the ones who could see the connections between everyone and everything could be granted the knowledge to manipulate those connections and make the impossible possible. Just speak the word and nature, the fabric of the universe, pure energy was ready to move accordingly. It appealed to the imaginative boy inside of him, the very creativity, imagination, and sense of wonder that fueled his entire profession.

And he was willing to admit that recent events have made him question essentially everything he thought he knew, including the existence of Merlin and other mythological characters connected to him and the exploits written about them all. Some he touched upon himself in some of his modest successes, he realized with a bit of a start.

Robbins shook his head as he found himself doing more and more often, then got back to the beckoning typewriter. Every time he thought about Professor Duane, his imagination would run away with him and distract him from what's really important. If the eccentric anthropologist wanted to believe in magic, he'd let her, who cares what an oddball like her believes in? As long as she can accurately translate the Scrolls, she could believe there's mutants in the sewers for all he cared. And if Eddy could run interference for him at the event and keep her away from him, Robbins wouldn't even have to pretend to care.

Though, as he began typing again, he recognized how well her perspective on magic would sound in a fantasy narrative, ya know a setting where magic was actually real. It was very good material and he'd hate for it to go to waste... with a sheepish grin, Robbins began immortalizing the quirky professor's sentiments on the page. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I borrowed a couple things from her. Hell, she might even appreciate it if she ever reads it, he reasoned nonchalantly as he capped off another perfect page—

~...~

"Huh?" Robbins' rhythm broke yet again as he struggled to reconcile the strange sound the typewriter just made. For just as the cursor reached the last space on the current page, the bell failed to sound off. And if that was it, perhaps he wouldn't be so perplexed, once in a blue moon it happens. But that wasn't the end of it. Instead of hearing the faithful and resolute bell chiming, he heard something quite impossible. It took Robbins a moment to place it, but he could have sworn it was a musical instrument. A delicate, stringed instrument that played a quick flourish of a tune where the bell should have been.

Robbins swiveled his head around the room as he focused his ears for the tiniest hint of an explanation for this sudden musical accompaniment to make itself known. Perhaps he left the TV on and it was part of a commercial or something. But he couldn't hear anything from the TV, in fact he could hear the distinct lack of electricity pulsing through the old thing, which meant he didn't leave it on. Nor did Gilly mistakenly sit or lay on the remote and accidentally turn it on.

Perhaps it was someone walking along the beach with their boombox blasting a song. But Robbins couldn't imagine the type of person who carried a boombox, playing a song with that instrument in it, as the point of a boombox was indeed the "boom". Besides, it didn't explain how he could hear only that instrument so close and clear all the way inside his study.

Finally, he reasoned he'd test his typewriter and see if it made the odd sound again. He carefully took the finished page out of the slot and inserted a new blank page, then he clacked randomly at the keys until it reached the end of the line and the signal would ring out. As normal or as that ephemeral flourish, he wouldn't have to wonder as soon as he reached the—

Ding! rang the bell, same as always. Which only caused Robbins more confusion as to what he just heard prior. Was it just his imagination? Was he going senile? Or was it really just a strange one-time occurrence for his decades old typewriter that he'd started using again after 6 years of sitting on the sidelines? Robbins quirked an eyebrow up and slid the cursor back to the left margin and tried it again, typing randomly just to get to the end of the line.

Ding! he heard again, identical to the last line's finish. After a beat, Robbins shrugged and pulled the test paper out of the typewriter, balling it up as he did. Must've been my imagination, he reasoned as he slid the garbage pail close with his foot and dropped the crumpled paper inside. A soft crunch against the other papers assured him he didn't miss before he slid it back to the side of the desk and resumed his writing cycle.

As the night wained on, and the pages piled up, Robbins faded into the sweet haze of creative flow, with nothing but the clacking of keys, the furling of paper, the shifting of levers, and the ringing of that familiar bell chattering in his home. With the curious melody slipping into his study that night completely forgotten.

Chapter Text

"Curse you, Puck!" Demona hissed venomously as she gripped the mirror in her treacherous claws, "This is no time to sleep!" she growled while flinging the fragile mirror over the edge of the building, like it was nothing. And for just a moment, Hudson felt as if the Sun had suddenly risen and locked him in place.

That darkened glass housed in an elegant silver frame was more than just a simple mirror, as the young lass Elisa originally believed. It was the conduit for the very spell that completely altered and shifted her form from dainty and delicate human into that of lithe and strong gargoyle. It was the tool in which the deranged Demona had used for some nefarious purpose in her seemingly eternal quest to eradicate all humans from the face of the earth. And it was the only thing that could repair whatever damage she wrought with it in her mad bid for mystical genocide. The object that unequivocally belonged to none other than Titania, Queen of the infamous 3rd Race, Oberon's Children.

That very same mirror, was what the fiery haired lass casually—purposefully, to distract her former clansmen—tossed over the side of a towering building and sent hurtling toward the cold stone streets thousands of meters below. As if it held no greater significance than an apple core, or perhaps more accurately, a toothpick that she'd used to clear an blockage and straightaway should be cast down and forgotten. How could she be the same daughter that he'd been so proud of at Castle Wyvern? Back when the world still made sense.

"The mirror!" Goliath bellowed in a panic, thrusting Hudson out of his petrification and back to life. Without a single word or exchange of looks, he dove off the roof and rocketed toward the shimmering mirror as it hastened to meet the unforgiving ground.

Stories rushed past in a blur as the distance slowly closed between his outstretched hands and the fragile weapon, hurtling and twirling just beyond his grasp. Taunting him with delicate rotations. His teeth clenched to bite back a panicked shout, the wind whistling in his ears reached a fever pitch, the city lights glimmered from the helpless mirror reflecting them randomly. If he allowed himself any idle observations, he would have been able to notice his own reflection in the mirror as it occasionally looked his way.

But nothing else was on his mind, the rarity of that occurrence least of all, for only one thing in that brief collection of heart pounding seconds filled his thoughts. Do not fail again. Do not allow your weakness, your ineptitude, your love affair with failure, doom everyone. Not again. You cannot fail again, old soldier. There was nothing else he could think, nothing else to focus on, all that mattered was ensuring the mirror was saved. It was sadly, the only thing he could do to help. And by God, he would not allow another one of his mistakes to ruin the lives of his clan. Of Elisa, or any of the other humans under his protection.

It was all on him, everything would be saved or damned by his hand, and all he had to do was grab the blasted thing! Hudson swiped his hand at the mirror as it dangled just a hair's breadth from his fingers. A streetlight rushed to greet him, reminding him of just how close he was to the end of this dangerous dance, mere milliseconds away from the mirror shattering against the ground!

Do not fail! Do not lose! DO NOT GIVE UP! GRAB HOLD NOW!

With frantic speed, he flung his arms open and like the jaws of a mighty dragon, clamped down on his prey, impossibly tight. He managed to wrap his arms around it, safely securing the mirror in his desperate grasp, his wings instinctively shot open and caught the massive gust of wind his rapid descent caused. It was nothing for him to course correct and slow his descent to a safe speed, a deep, shaky sigh escaping him as he tightened his hold on the magical object. For just a moment, Hudson closed his eyes and touched his head to the silver backing of the mirror, his heartbeat throbbing so powerfully he could feel it in his fingertips, his knuckles tense and locked around the mirror's ornate frame. He breathed deeply as his descent halted altogether.

Instinctually, Hudson glided into the shadows of a nearby building, the brickwork giving way to his powerful claws as he created a perch for himself. Regardless of the unwarranted excitement Demona had bestowed upon him, he dared not forget that his existence had to remain a secret to the human masses. That much was abundantly clear. Humans, though Goliath would disagree in part, were better off thinking they were myths to be whispered about in their safe homes and lives. Keep them ignorant, keep them placated, and keep them from going after them like before. Hudson didn't understand what it was about humans, but they were not receptive to anyone different from them.

It was the same in his time as it was in the current century, humans didn't change. Some like Elisa were exceptions to the rule, but on the whole, humans were pretty stagnant. In that, Hudson briefly mused, their two races had common ground, because gargoyles weren't especially fond of change either. He certainly wasn't a fan of it, as he'd made abundantly clear since his awakening in this strange new world. And yet, as soon as he'd repeated the same old mantra he always had playing in his head, he had to stop and correct himself. The trio were mostly well adjusted to the new world, Goliath had been getting along swimmingly thanks to Elisa. Tonight's magical adventure would only help in that endeavor, he imagined.

And Demona... unfortunately, she was completely different from before. Unrecognizably so. She may not like humans, but he would be remiss to ignore just how great a grasp on the modern marvels and societal changes she had. It was almost as if she never went into the centuries long stone sleep as the rest of the clan, like somehow she'd grown and changed with the world, and need not play catch up like everyone had to. Like Hudson still was. The old gargoyle shook his head a little, refocusing his efforts on getting the mirror to a safe place where the others could regroup with him.

With a little effort, Hudson looped his tail through the openings of the mirror's feet, freeing both his hands to climb up the building he was currently hooked onto, his claws digging into the stone as if it were a bushel of hay. In a matter of seconds, he was atop the roof and ready to ride the winds to another waiting perch, the mirror safely back in his arms' embrace. Hudson hopped off the roof, as he'd done a thousand times before, and cut through the air to his next destination absentmindedly looking down below to ensure his presence was still a secret to the humans.

But as soon as he did, his heart skipped a beat as his body went rigid once again. For the sight of Manhattan's populous going about their night as usual was not what Hudson observed. No, this was something completely and utterly unexpected. Like a snippet from a dream snatched from his unruly imagination was stitched atop reality. On the streets below was not a slew of human beings in their strange clothes playing with their strange devices and speaking their strange vernacular. In fact, there wasn't a single human in sight.

For as impossible as it seemed, as difficult to comprehend as it was, they had all been replaced with... gargoyles. Thousands upon thousands of gargoyles coming in a plethora of shapes, sizes, and colors, were all meandering about as if they had always been there. As if this was their home and all was just as mundane and common as every night before.

Hudson rammed into an incoming building due to being absolutely transfixed on the inconceivable scene before him. Thankfully, he latched onto the railing of a fire escape as he plopped down suddenly, the mirror remained clutched between his arms despite the unexpected landing. He barely registered the catastrophic mistake he nearly made and set his hungry eyes back to the streets below.

His jaw was slack and his tongue lay useless in his mouth as words simply evaporated in his mind, his grip on reality was becoming tenuous at best. He couldn't feel the crisp breeze that whipped his hair about, he couldn't feel the metal railing pressing against his side, he didn't even know if he was still breathing. All Hudson could do was stare with eyes the size of dinner plates at the impossibility just beneath him.

Gargoyles. Strolling down the sidewalks in the bright city lights, clad in human garments and fiddling with human oddities. Gargoyles. Hailing a taxi cab and getting inside the vehicle without fear or argument. Gargoyles. Picking up gargoyle children as they try to run to store windows and press their faces against the glass, just wishing to purchase whatever caught their eye. Gargoyles... living in Manhattan... as humans did.

It turned his stomach in the most confusing of ways. He didn't know if he should smile and cry tears of joy or if he should curl into himself and attempt to awaken from this nightmare he must be having. The old gargoyle didn't know what to make of any of this, he didn't trust himself to go down there and investigate just what in the blue blazes was going on. The thought of approaching one of these... new gargoyles set him on edge. What would he say? What would they say to him? Would he be welcomed or shunned just as the humans they replaced would shun him? Would they even understand him if he did approach them? They weren't real gargoyles... were they?

Too many questions, too many variables to account for, too many scenarios that could end badly. No, the wise decision was to remain out of sight and in the shadows. No matter how inviting the light had suddenly become.

Finally his critical thinking kicked in, the shock of the situation giving way at last. It was clear what caused this mysterious change in the world, and he was currently hugging it like a child would his stuffed toy. This pane of glass truly was Titania's Mirror, a magical relic of incredible power, a concept he thought he'd already understood, but found himself wanting in that area. He couldn't help but kick himself for not piecing it all together quicker, he was the one that realized the flash of mystical light was Demona's doing. He just didn't think to ask what that flash of magic was for, it certainly wasn't a beacon to draw the clan to her. Obviously it was for a high level spell such as this, he was just too stupid to realize...

Hudson shook his head roughly. Elisa's transmogrification was bad enough, but now every human in the city had been changed? Gargoyles once again roamed the Earth, in just one night? It was beyond his comprehension. He dared to believe it was beyond anyone's comprehension, even the shortsighted woman who caused all this mayhem.

Demona, that stark raving mad child, was to blame for confounding him so. In her endless pursuit of vengeance, she once again didn't think about the consequences of her actions and created a massive mess that the clan had to clean up. Still, Hudson knew that even she wouldn't have desired for this level of mischief, she wouldn't want humans transformed into gargoyles, she would want a complete eradication of humans.

Something like this would be... sacrilege in her eyes, he imagined. Serves her right, he grunted. He'd told Broadway to be careful what he wished for, but it seems like she was the one who needed to hear that bit of wisdom. Not that she would have heeded it even if she did hear him. Now she'll get to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

Though, bitterly, he recalled on numerous occasions wishing for the world they'd left behind. Just moments ago, he yearned for the days atop Wyvern Hill, back when Demona was Goliath's Angel and the clan was thriving. Looking out at the colorful collection of gargoyles peacefully going about their lives, Hudson lamented that he too should have heeded his own advice. A pained sigh escaped his lips as his brow furrowed, the ghost of tears prickling tired eyes. This should be, he realized in shame, a wondrous turn of events. He has been graced with a secret look into what this modern world would look like had gargoyles not been wiped out. Had his clan not been the sole surviving remnants of a dying race.

It's a beautiful sight, for the prism of reality to be rotated to reflect in its fractals an entirely new and impossible world that could only be seen in the fog of dreams. Never this clearly, this strong, this... tangible. It was a blessed gift to be able to watch this display of fantasy, a clan of gargoyles thousands strong just living peacefully in blissful ignorance. No enemies to defend against, no prejudice or persecution to endure, no need to hide away in the shadows. They could bask in the warm light, without a care in the world. For it was their world. Oh, how his heart ached with envy at such an existence, one he knew he would never have. None of his clan would, he groaned inwardly.

So cheerfully, he should accept this brief glimpse into a future and a lens to gaze back into his past with fonder eyes. His clan certainly wasn't perfect, there were several abnormalities and undesirable elements in them. But it was his clan, and for that it would always be the greatest of gargoyle clans. His extraordinary children, their sweet and promising younger siblings, their loyal and loving beasts. This was the life he wished for them, more than anything else. With less modern marvels, of course, but this intoxicating peace and serenity. They deserved that more than anyone else. But his reverie was abruptly cut short as his glazed eyes refocused on an... undesirable element.

In the streets below, among the crowd of beautiful gargoyles, stood a particularly disdainful young man. Not due to his actions or the way he carried himself, but from his uncanny resemblance to one of Hudson's children. The one he thought of with more grief and shame than any other. The gargoyle standing at a bus stop bore the unfortunate visage of the raven haired lad who had been the instigator of the Coldstone tragedy. Everything about him, the number of horns, the style of his hair, his long chin with sharp protrusions, even his wing shape and skin color, all of it exactly as the raven haired lad.

Hudson's fists tightened as his stomach knotting even tighter than before, as he took in the human turned gargoyle. The sight of one of his greatest failures absentmindedly looking at his wristwatch as if nothing was the matter. But Hudson did all he could not to reel away from him, the familiar thoughts powered by regret and failure plagued him. Even as the man walked past a lass who looked similar to his golden haired sister, the poor girl he lusted after obsessively, Hudson panicked. He nearly leaped from the fire escape to stop the cycle of pain that he truly believed was inevitable to those 3, no matter their form.

But when he saw that they casually walked past each other, exchanging nothing more than a nod, as he got on his bus and she continued on her way, Hudson slowly slinked back down, yet couldn't help his mind running away with him. The constant string of infractions and mistakes he piled on top of himself weighed him down like a collapsing tower. So much pain and disgrace that just didn't have to be, had he only been a better clan leader, a better mentor, and a more vigilant warrior.

The young lass that shared his rookery sister's form continued on, alone and unconcerned with the excruciating history that her mere presence trudged up for Hudson. Probably forgetting all about the raven haired man riding away, never again resurfacing in her life or her mind. A cruel and stark contrast from the real story she unfortunately continued to play a part in.

And the pain didn't stop there, for the third and main player in the Coldstone tragedy had just left a restaurant with a completely different lass on his arm. Hudson realized, even at a great distance, that this Coldstone shared even less with the real Coldstone's appearance than his "rookery siblings" did with their real selves, but there was enough consistency between them to sting. To bring the unbearable memories of clashing with a cobbled together abomination of his beloved clan children back in full force.

The fetching lass on his arm, laughing her troubles away, was the spitting image of another of his rookery sisters. One Hudson had considered for leadership along with Goliath, once upon a time. She was one of his favorite daughters, with her fiery disposition both on and off the battlefield, her light brown skin that always made him think of the lushes coats of wolves dwelling in the forest. This lass wasn't as tall as his daughter, but her deep red wings like dried blood and her brow so similar to his own left him with the strong impression that fate was awarding him one last chance to gaze upon her.

She never did make time to find a mate, the poor lass, too busy arguing with Demona and himself over Goliath's promotion to clan leader, one she found unwise and unfair, to use her own words. She desperately wanted to be the next clan leader, but Hudson saw a lack of foresight and patience in her decision making, which is crucial for a leader, thus she was passed over.

She was unapologetic in her challenge of Goliath when Hudson officially pronounced him clan leader, in the end, they came to blows and she lost the battle. She became bitter afterwards, cold and argumentative, which also kept her from finding a mate. Hudson tried to talk to her about all this, several times in fact, to help her come to terms with his decision... but she never did.

He knew it was borne out of petty jealousy, he'd seen it several occasions before, in time she would concede to her new clan leader and settle down with one of her nice rookery brothers. One that could keep up with her high-strung pace and maybe produce a few high-strung tykes of her own to relax her and round off her rougher edges. He chuckled without humor. Aye, in time...

Still, to see her so unabashedly happy and on the arm of someone who seemed to think the world of her, and who needed someone uncomplicated like her to be with, did his troubled heart well. Finally, a touch of sweet to accompany all this bitter, he huffed. Hudson had realized that whatever happiness and levity he should be getting out of this was distant and minuscule at best, nothing but shame and agony danced in his mind.

This development could be seen by the others as a wondrous change from their current lives, but to him it was a thinly veiled parade of his failures dropped into his lap. A stark reminder that this was, in fact, not what happened all those centuries ago, peace was not in his grasp nor will it ever be, the likelihood of this many gargoyles existing together again was an impossibility.

And everyone down there reminding him of his darkened past were not going to be cathartic releases of his pain, nor bittersweet remembrances of days long past. Quite the opposite, they were the twisting of the knife that had already been buried in his back, by fate most cruel. To plaster everywhere all the things he was doomed to never have, due to his shortcomings and mistakes... it was unforgivable.

But even with all that, his torture didn't stop there. For just as he'd taken all he could stomach of this pitiless display of misery, he took to the skies once more to get to a more prominent vantage point so his clan could easily regroup with him, from the corner of his eye, he saw something. The single most brutal, yet beautiful sight he'd seen that night. In this sea of faces, from familiar to entirely unique, he managed to catch just a glimpse of the one face he dreaded and yet hoped to see most.

The old gargoyle's heart once again leaped into his throat as he completely lost his composure and nearly dropped the all important mirror. A startled shout bellowed from his mouth as he quickly gripped the mirror before it completely slipped from his faltering grasp.

Hudson dropped to the ground with a loud thud, his earlier concerns of being detected a distant and unimportant memory. He wasn't sure how quickly he was moving, for to him it felt like an eternity of wading through gargoyles to get to her, but it just as easily could have been mere seconds. His sense of time, of distance, of all things, seemed to leave him as he moved forward, as if he was in a trance. Whatever the people around him were saying, or more likely chiding at him, were nothing more than white noise wafting past him. He had to know, he had to see, he had to be sure that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him.

With one last parting of the crowd, he found himself frozen on the spot for the 3rd time that night. His jaw hung wide open like a drawbridge as his eyes immediately prickled with misty tears. His mind wasn't play tricks on him, his eyes did not deceive him, there was no mistake. It was her...

The gargoyle woman turned to look at him and it was like he'd traveled back a thousand years for a stolen moment. Her skin was the same peachy-orange that rivaled the ripest of fruits, her hair was the same deep brown of the smooth rocks that eternally bathed in the crashing waves of the sea. Her ears were the same adorable fins as the majestic ballan wrasse, perfect in size and even the subtle movements they made when she was surprised. Her crest was the same delicate, almost human length, with 3 cute horns lined up vertically atop her forehead to her crown. Even her wings were the same, the rarest variation a gargoyle could have, with thin lines of fingers in her inner wing, like dainty threads of silk strung at the perfect angles.

But even as he scanned her over, obsessing over every minute detail that matched the woman of his treasured memories, Hudson noticed the differences. For one, she wore those spectacles that many humans sported in this time, her clothing was equally modern and hid her most intimate of features. Her lips, plump and rosy, were covered in that ridiculous makeup that human women had always been fond of for some reason he couldn't fathom. This woman didn't sport nearly as many tiny scars and indentations that she'd earned over a lifetime of battle, each one with a story that he knew by heart.

And worst of all, the look on her face... it was as if this woman had spent her life worrying and fretting over every little thing. The creases on her beautiful forehead were permanently affixed to her visage. Whereas the spritely woman of his past would never have permanent worry lines adorning her face, she was as untethered as autumn leaves dancing in the wind and as cheerful as a child. Her smile her greatest virtue, a gift from heaven itself bestowed on any and all who knew her. This woman almost looked as if smiling was a chore that she'd eventually get around to, but wasn't particularly looking forward to the event.

There was no question, upon careful inspection. It wasn't her, not really... but it didn't matter. Whether through stubbornness, insanity, stupidity, or the unholy combination of the 3, Hudson swore he was staring directly into the eyes of the one woman he never imagined he would see again outside the realm of dreams.

He was staring at the reincarnation of his Queen of the Night. Every delicate curve and sharp angle perfectly balanced and attached creating the lovely form that danced across his mind every morning as he slept. Haunted his thoughts when he allowed them to wander her way. Her siren's call always just beneath the surface of his consciousness, beckoning him to let go and fall back into fantasy with her. A song that he on more than one occasion obeyed, as much as he hated to admit it.

The tears flowed down his cheeks unchecked as he held his Queen's hand once more in his own. But even that was not untainted by the reality of his situation, for her talons were perfectly filed and even painted white on the tips. Covered in jewelry and trinkets only humans would find especially appealing.

And as she finally opened her mouth, her disapproval of his unwarranted touch clear in her face, Hudson once again admitted to himself. It wasn't her, he knew it wasn't her, it could never be her... But she was close enough.

"Excuse me, sir? Would you mind letting go of my hand?" she asked in a way that somehow felt more like a demand. The worry lines in her forehead sharpened as she yanked her hand away from Hudson's, evidently revealing her question didn't require an answer. Or that she just couldn't be bothered to wait for an answer.

Hudson remained frozen there as his heart sank. Her voice, even her voice, was painfully similar to his Queen's. Even laced with irritation and offense, she sounded almost exactly like his blessed Queen of the Night. It was almost too much to bear all at once.

"I... I... can't..." he croaked out before a sob halted his train of thought. He shut his eyes tightly to staunch the flow of bitter tears, but they refused to obey. An uncomfortable groan left the woman's mouth as she deflated and reached out to Hudson's hunched over form.

"Are... are you alright? Are you hurt?" she asked in a tone completely opposite of her earlier attitude. A tone much closer to his mate's demeanor. Soft, sympathetic, impossibly loving. And it only made the pain that much worse.

Hudson felt his heart ache—burn, with questions he had long thought dead and buried. Questions that plagued him when she first disappeared, but thankfully over time eventually disappeared into the furthest corners of his mind, to be one day forgotten and discarded entirely. But with the image of his affections and pain right in front of him, not in memory or dreams, but in the flesh, so too did the agonizing queries revive as well. Queries that were deceitfully simple, but whose answers were most likely far more complex than he could stand.

"Should—should I call 911?" the woman asked, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder as they wracked with silent cries. Hudson lifted his head and looked her in the eye, startling her into jumping back a pace from him. His questions swirled into a torrent of interrogation in his head as he pinned the woman under his pained gaze.

Where did you go? Why did you leave? Did you try to return to the castle? Did you try to find me? Did you want to go or were you forced? Who forced you, who could have forced you to do something like that? And for what purpose? How could you leave the children without a clan mother, when they needed one the most?

Did you foresee what was to happen to the clan? To the castle? To me? Is that why you left? To abandon a lost cause? To save your skin? To cut your losses and start over? Where did you go? What did you see? Did you ever think of me, of our clan, of our love? Or was it a light thing for you to throw away our life together? Why couldn't you take me with you? Take the clan with you? If you found a new home, would you have told me? Or was I just another shackle you had to free yourself from?

But the one query that cut through the rapids of emotions that threatened to drown him, scared him to the core. It came from somewhere deep inside that he never dwelled, never allowed himself to venture. Despite all of his self flagellation and mental berating, he never went where this question laid. It was too painful, too hard, too heavy. But the truth of it, the harsh unforgiving reality it carried, refused to be ignored.

"Did you ever truly love me?" he heard himself say, like someone else had asked it for him and he was just another bystander in this moment.

The thought peeled away every layer of protection he wrapped himself in and exposed his naked aching heart like prying open an oyster. He hated thinking of her this way. Hated to admit the feeling was so familiar and pure. But there it was, the dank fog that clouded every memory of her. The question that refused to stay dead, even after all these centuries.

He came to the realization long ago, a few years before The Wyvern Massacre, that if she never really loved him, then her disappearance could make sense. As tragic and excruciating as it would be, it could at least be explained, it could be resolved and eventually, through a long, rough grieving period, be dismissed. It wouldn't be a subconscious plague on his mind, like so many things tended to be. But without a concrete answer, he couldn't dismiss it, he couldn't begin to heal from it. How could closure ever be achieved in such a state of confusion? How could healing begin when the wound remained untreated and festering?

And when the woman resembling her struggled to answer him, Hudson stepped closer to her.

"Did you ever... truly love me, my Queen of the Night?" he repeated as he reached his hand out to her, desperate to hold her one last time. Even though he knew it would tear him apart all over again.

The woman shrank back again, her eyes darting this way and that, looking for an escape, no doubt. Before he could take another step, something swiftly and staunchly blocked her from his view and grabbed onto his outstretched wrist.

"Hey pal, do we got a problem here?" the man said, biting off the words forcefully. He was an older, average gargoyle, save the bushy mustache. His horns protruded from his hat and his glaring eyes were set behind a pair of spectacles of his own, and Hudson noticed the hand that grabbed his wrist sported a golden band on his middle finger. He faintly recalled feeling a ring of some sort on the hand of his Queen's counterpart as well.

"I said, do we got a problem, buddy?" the mustachioed man reiterated, even more antagonistic than before, his face mere inches from Hudson's. The man's nose was flared in disdain and righteous indignation was clear in his voice as his grip on Hudson's wrist tightened to refocus his attention on him.

Hudson stared up at the man, who had to be no more than 5 inches taller than him, and saw behind his antagonism a true desire to protect the woman behind them. The look and behavior of a man who would do anything and everything to keep the ones he holds dear safe. A look he remembered seeing on his own face, once or twice, when he still had the fire to protect the one he held dear. He was at fault here, not this man or his poor mate who unfortunately caught Hudson's eye this night. So with regretfully slow shame, Hudson cleared his throat and tried to adopt the most sheepish smile he could muster.

"No... no problem, good fellow. I was mistaken..." he assured, his throat still scratchy with choked back sobs. "I apologize fer disturbin' yer peaceful evening" he quickly finished as he looked down at his side, where Titania's Mirror remained under his other arm. A clear reminder that now was not the time for this foolishness. That all of this was a fruitless, pain-filled exercise in weakness.

"Well, good" the mustachioed man replied, less bristly than before, confusion clear in his tone. He released Hudson's wrist as he continued, "Best be on your way then, sir".

Hudson rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand as he tried to regain some semblance of decorum, "Aye, yer right" he chuckled, an empty sound ringing in his ears.

As his tears were brushed aside, he noticed the man had walked back to his mate's side, her tentative gaze still on Hudson, worry lacing her features. Another clear difference between his Queen and this imitation. Another reminder that his folly was not contained to his own torment, but had spilled over to innocent humans transmogrified into gargoyles and ignorant of their true forms. Just as what had been done to Elisa—he would have kicked himself if he could bend that way—Elisa was still on the roof where they left her!

She was turned into a gargoyle, but like every other human turned gargoyle, she couldn't use her wings! They were mere decorations for them, which had to be why he'd yet to see any of them so much as leap, let alone glide through the night sky. That's where he needed to go, where the clan would certainly return to plan their next move.

Before he started his trek back to the poor lass, he paused to take in the sight of his beloved one last time. There was no doubt in his mind that the clan could defeat Demona and get the elven character she had chained up to reverse his spell and return everything back to the way it was. Thus... this really would be the last time he would see her, outside of his precious memories and the realm of dreams. This was it. He swallowed hard as he struggled to find the words to part with the gargoyle couple forever. But ultimately, he fell on an old, but simple farewell.

"You be sure to take care o' her, ye hear? Don't let her outta yer sight fer even a moment, lad" he said, as serious as a heart attack, shocking the man, who was still unsure of what was happening, into taking a step back. But Hudson's harsh gaze didn't waver, his clawed finger thrust right at the mustachioed man that withered a bit under his stare. The man relented and nodded awkwardly to Hudson, earning him a wry smirk from the intimidating old warrior.

Finally, he shifted his gaze to her, the dazzling beauty that remained a pale reflection of his true Queen of the Night. His wry grin melted into genuine love and appreciation. She wasn't her, his Queen was gone and it was impossible for her to return. No matter how badly he wished it, no matter what questions he still had unanswered, that was certain. And this woman, though not her, still gave him a gift he never thought he'd receive. He got to see and hear the next best thing to his mate, after all these years of wishing for that very thing. And for that, he couldn't help but smile at her.

A softness he reached deep within to access enveloped him as he addressed the woman. "And to you, madam..." he bowed to her, in deep, profound admiration and gratefulness. "I wish ye a wonderful, happy life" he strained as he felt the threat of tears yet again.

Hudson remained lowered as the woman struggled to respond. "Th... thank you?" she squeaked out, caught between flattered and confusion.

With that, Hudson raised back up, huffed a satisfied breath, and looked one last time at the imperfect image of his one and only. Then, without another word, he slowly turned and backed away from the gargoyle couple, the crowd of people swallowing him back up as he drifted further and further from them. They hastily walked away, continuing whatever journey Hudson had interrupted, checking on each other's wellbeing as they ventured through the city. A dull ache gripped his heart as he lost her voice in the crowd, but he steeled himself and refocused on the task at hand.

He turned around and ran down an alleyway, before leaping atop a dumpster, then the top of a fence, then towards a building's wall. His claws dug deep into the rock as easily as ever, with his toes following suit. Once again, he swiftly laced his tail between the spaces in the mirror's feet and began scaling the building's surface, remembering the building they left Elisa atop as he climbed. Red brick structure, grey brick frame, water tower on second level roof, approximately 20 floors... he recited before pondering a moment more. Clothesline with pale green sheets hanging to dry, he added resolute.

Those details added with the approximate distance from the skyscraper where they'd cornered Demona, narrowed down Elisa's position greatly. Now all he had to do was take flight, which at his current altitude, he was more than ready to do. Hudson flung himself from his perch and flapped his wings open as they faithfully caught the wind currents and led him where he desired to go in one graceful motion. He flipped his tail in front of him to toss the mirror in front of him so he could resume his normal hold on it. For a second, he could see his reflection, and he was surprised the mirror didn't crack at his withering visage.

No wonder the woman wasn't happy about him grabbing and gawking at her, he looked horrible. Worse than he'd ever thought he did before. Perhaps it was this brave new world wearing him down, perhaps it was just old age. Maybe a combination of the two. Regardless, he was glad to ignore his reflection as he scanned the buildings below for any details of Elisa's roof. It only took a few minutes to find it and swoop down to make sure she hadn't gone anywhere.

Sure enough, the lass was pacing back and forth on the lower roof, impatiently whipping her tail back and forth. Did she know she was doing that or was it just instinctual, he wondered distracted.

"Oi, lass!" he called out to her, causing her to whip her head in his direction, flashing a quick stern look to him before he landed. "Been waitin' long?" he finished, trying his level best to sound relaxed and nonchalant. No sense in workin' her up, especially in her current state, he reasoned.

"You could say that, yeah" she answered back, crossing her arms and tilting her head a bit, as she always did. But in the form of a gargoyle, she appeared particularly unamused.

"Apologies, lass. There's quite a commotion goin' on down there" he said as he carefully laid Titania's Mirror against the wall.

"Doesn't sound like a commotion from where I'm standing" Elisa replied curtly.

"No, I don't imagine ye could hear the entire city of humans turnin' ta gargoyles" Hudson answered back, sitting on a nearby box.

Elisa snapped out of her anger and lit up, "You mean, everybody's back to normal?"

Hudson sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Nay, Elisa. Ye and all the humans are supposed to be, well, humans. But thanks to Demona and her magical friend, there aren't any humans in Manhattan anymore"

"And that's... bad?" Elisa asked, scrunching up her nose.

"Fer the love'a—" Hudson stopped himself, before sighing again. "Yes, lass. That's bad. The spell has wracked yer brain too, so ye think you've always been a gargoyle. But the truth is, you were human all yer life until tonight"

"Like Goliath kept trying to tell me" she said, placing her knuckles beneath her chin, struggling to come to grips with the revelation.

"Aye" Hudson merely rolled his eyes. The sooner this spell was reversed, the better.

"But if that's true, then why did Demona make that guy turn me into a gargoyle? I mean, she hates me, why wouldn't she just tell him to kill me?" she reasoned, piquing Hudson's interest.

"A poignant question, Elisa. But one I'm afraid I don't have the answer to" he said as he stroked his beard in thought.

"Right. Guess we'll just have to wait for Demona to explain herself" she joked as she looked in the mirror, studying her looks. "It's crazy... you guys keep telling me I was human before tonight, but everything about me is exactly the same as it's always been"

"No, lass. I'm afraid what ye feel and what ye see is all the doin' of one'a Oberon's Children usin' that mirror ta play with yer mind"

Elisa shook her head in disbelief, "But that's... that's crazy! Look at me!" she exclaimed, gesturing to her whole body. "I've always been a gargoyle, I've always had a tail, I've always had wings, I've always had fangs and claws! This is really me, right down to my ears!"

"Elisa—"

"You guys are the ones that changed! I mean, you're completely different from what you're supposed to be!" she said, flinging her hand in his direction. "How do we know the magic guy didn't cast a spell on you guys?"

"Because lass, unlike you, none of us has ever seen a sunrise" Hudson soberly explained, silencing Elisa. "None of us wear human clothes, none of us have rode in an automobile, none of us have walked down the streets of your city and been welcomed with open arms" he looked up at her as she slowly turned to her side, her eyes widening the more he spoke.

"Why do ye think that is, lass? Because we don't want those things? Or because we can't have those things?" he asked in a more pained tone than he intended. But the encounter with the phantom image of his Queen had left him embarrassingly raw and fragile.

Elisa slowly found her voice again, "Because you're really... gargoyles..." she looked down at her hands, deeply uncomfortable. "And I'm... really a... human" she finally croaked out.

"Aye, now ye got it" Hudson nodded, exhausted with the entire ordeal.

Elisa put her hands over her face as she huffed some panicked breaths. "I... I don't..." she managed between breaths, before swallowing hard. "I need a sec..." she groaned as she dropped next to him.

"I understand, it wasn't exactly easy fer me to see a city of gargoyles so suddenly" Hudson said calmly, patting her shoulder gently. "Take all the time ye need, lass. Goliath and the lads should be back soon. We'll get this all sorted then" he assured as he gave her slender shoulder a light squeeze.

Elisa looked up at him, a small unsure smile lighting up her downcast face, "Thanks, Hudson" she placed her hand atop his on her shoulder. "You're pretty reliable, ya know that?" she added, causing Hudson to blink rapidly in surprise.

"Ack, hardly" he scoffed as he pulled his hand back from her frame and rubbed it against the back of his neck, at an awkward pace.

"You are. Really" she repeated purposeful as she leaned up to look him in the eye. "I'm glad ya came back when you did, I was goin' crazy by myself. And now with this... human thing..." she struggled with the word, as if speaking it was equivalent to lifting a heavy stone above her head.

"I'm just glad you're here, is all" she shrugged as she leaned against him a little, shifting her gaze to the cityscape stretched out before them. Hudson looked down at her hair, as deeply blue as a patch of blueberries, and allowed a small smile to creep to his face.

"Me too, lass" he answered back quietly, as he settled in his new position as lean post for Elisa. The one other touch of sweet to counter all the bitter he'd received tonight, as she had consistently been since he'd met her. As painful and disturbing as having the ghosts of his past resurface in the least cathartic way possible, Elisa remained a bright spot in his darkened mind, no matter her form.

Though he had to admit, being a gargoyle really agreed with her. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed her beauty as a human, she was clearly among the most gorgeous of females in her species. But that was by human standards, which were completely alien to gargoyles, same as gargoyle standards being completely alien to humans. But seeing her here, now, in this form. There was no question that she was breathtaking in every way. It's no wonder Goliath took no time to start flying with her back at the clock tower.

He knew the way they looked at each other when they thought they were being discreet, saw it the second night they'd known each other. The way Goliath held her in his arms and wore that goofy grin like he'd just discovered human women in that moment. He noticed the way her voice raised in pitch when speaking to him, how she had a habit of touching Goliath in ways that bordered on romantic without ever breaching entirely into that arena. And how Goliath never once stopped her from doing so. The lad may have still been thick when it came to the fairer sex, but Hudson had been around far too long not to see the signs.

However, thanks to this unforeseen transformation of hers, he knew Goliath had to pick up on all the signs, and realize his own attraction for the lass. The boy couldn't take his eyes off of her, it took a literal magical explosion of light to snap him out of his trance! He chuckled to himself, rumbling his chest a bit as Elisa eyed him.

"What's funny?" she spoke up, a laugh beneath her breath.

"Nothin', lass. Nothin' at all..." he replied, pleasant and unconvincing.

"You havin' a private chuckle at the human girl who thinks she's a gargoyle, hmm?" she said, playfully nudging Hudson's arm with her elbow.

"Not at all! Fer what it's worth..." he began, shaking his head ruefully, "I'm glad Goliath got ta see ye like this, lass" he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Elisa blinked and went rigid. "You are?" she quirked an eyebrow.

Hudson nodded, "Aye. The lad's never looked happier" he dropped knowingly, before looking back at the skyline.

"Is that right..." she quietly breathed, as her gaze shifted across the roof, her mind running away with her.

Hudson chuckled again, before sighing. There's was an unusual love, but not unwelcomed, least of all by him. Not after a night like this. It had already been a long ordeal and they still had much work to do. Demona was still out there with one of Oberon's Children as her temporary slave, this spell needed to be reversed, hopefully while erasing the memory of it from everyone's minds, they still had to return Titania's Mirror, not to mention what any of their other enemies could be doing right now with the power of a gargoyle. His brows furrowed as he blinked curiously at that thought.

Hudson found himself pondering what the great David Xanatos would look like as a gargoyle. Probably uncannily like the raven haired rookery brother of Goliath. He certainly shared a similar personality to him, he thought bitterly. The Pack and their charming personality corresponding with animalistic gargoyle forms, more furry and fuzzy than his clan. He recalled seeing a certain clan, on his brief travels before Wyvern Hill, looking quite like angels with their feathered wings, but perhaps that was too kind a comparison for The wretched Pack. Maybe something akin to Elisa's brother Derrick—or Talon as he preferred to be called—and his "clan" would be closer to what The Pack would be.

MacBeth as a gargoyle, now that'd be a sight to see, he admitted with a start. He wondered if he'd know he was originally human, considering how intensely he desired to hunt Demona. And considering, if his word was to be trusted, he was the one who bestowed the grizzly, yet accurate name to her in the first place. If anyone could realize he was under this transmogrification spell, it'd be MacBeth, the man who was extremely confident that he would be able to learn the great Merlin's spells from the Scrolls of Merlin. Good thing Hudson could regroup with the clan and they were able to stop him, thanks to... Robbins.

And just like that, Hudson entertained the though of Robbins as a gargoyle, his one human friend suddenly becoming just like him. It was odd, that he'd never thought of it before now, but this spell probably effected Robbins as well. It turned Elisa into a gargoyle without anyone seeing or hearing the spell, the entire city of Manhattan couldn't have heard and seen the green flash of magic earlier either. Yet, here they all were, gargoyles instead of humans. Fae magic at its finest.

Though there's no way he'd see Robbins in the city during such a late hour, Robbins had mentioned he liked to be home around sunset and spend a relaxed evening at home. Who could blame him? Even so, Hudson wondered with more curiosity than all the other humans he'd thought of what Jeffery Robbins would look like under the effects of this peculiar spell.

Hudson took his time and searched his entire lexicon of gargoyles, every shape, size, and color to find one that could most closely resemble Robbins. Using Elisa's new form compared to her human one, he factored in everything he could to get this right. He found it quite strange that he was actually invested in this little thought exercise, but he really was. Robbins... deserves the effort, he supposed as he continued to search through the possibilities.

Finally, one gargoyle came to mind, a strapping lad one generation after Hudson's, as he recalled. He was a tall, powerful and extremely serious warrior, bald and with graying brown skin. His brow was smooth and he had horns that came out from the side of his head and wrapped behind him, almost like a crown. He had Brooklyn's wings, with a dark lavender inner wing, from what he remembered of him. They split from the clan with a few others several years before The Massacre, so perhaps he lived a full life somewhere out there while Hudson slept for 1000 years. One can hope...

Hudson shook his head and admonished himself, this was supposed to be an amusing distraction, not a depressing one. He supposed that if Robbins could look like any gargoyle, he'd probably look like a shorter, thinner, older version of the bald fellow. Whatever that would look like, he rolled his eyes. Gilly, probably would look just like Bronx, just prettier, he reasoned. What a pair they'd be, he smiled to himself as he fantasized about Robbins in gargoyle form with Gilly in beast form by the fireplace.

Flicking through books with his long talons, knocking things over with his obtrusive wings... accidentally breaking his teacup when he stirs in his sugar because of a dramatic increase in strength... his horns tearing through his favorite chair! His claws shredding his precious books as he tries to read the bumps! His tail getting caught underfoot, causing him to trip and fall!

Panic shot through him as he tensed from the awful thoughts. That was the real danger of this kind of magic. There was whimsy in it, enjoyment to be derived, merriment for a time to excuse its presence. But that was just to mask the true dangers and malice behind the spell caster. Magic was not to be used to trifle with the natural order of the world, no matter how tempting, how outwardly amusing, how seemingly harmless. It was a ploy, a trick, to lull people into a false sense of security and keep them from realizing they're playing with fire. The kind of fire that doesn't just burn you, it burns everything around you, no matter how you try to douse the flames. The kind of fire only a Fae could conjure.

Blast that mad woman for causing all this pain and confusion! Why must she continue to drag everyone into her crazed revenge plots, human and gargoyle alike? Didn't she remember the stories of Oberon's Children that he and his Queen taught them all as hatchlings? You can't trust them, you can't underestimate them, and you can't control them. They don't care for mortals, humans and gargoyles are the exact same in their eyes, toys to be played with until something breaks or they get bored and leave things an impossible mess no one can clean up. And now the white-haired elf had gone and done something as reckless and harmful as reconfiguring every human's form into that of gargoyles, it was unforgivable!

If that fanatical Demona's machinations with that blasted Fae have caused harm to Robbins or Gilly in any way, I swear I'll—

"Hudson?" Elisa spoke up beside him, snatching his attention back to the present. "You okay?"

Hudson coughed awkwardly before answering, "O'course, lass" he turned his face away, trying to adopt a calm demeanor as his grip against the crate they sat on relaxed. Any longer and he would have ripped through it without even realizing.

"You started growling under your breath a little there..."

"Oh, sorry lass. Don't know what came over me" he coughed again, as he went to rubbing the back of his neck. Elisa just looked him over, her transmogrification still threw him for a loop, her pointy ears poking out from her hair were really prominent in that little gesture. She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly her attention was stolen as she noticed something in the distance and her face lit up again.

"It's the guys!" she exclaimed, pointing at four distant figures soaring in unison closer to their position. She jumped to her feet and ran over to where they would land on the roof, excitement barely contained, as she practically danced on the balls of her feet as the lad's came ever closer.

Hudson leaned his elbows on his knees and exhaled a long sigh of relief. Or was it exhaustion? He could no longer tell, for as welcome a sight as Goliath and the lads were to his old eyes, especially after a nightmare down memory lane like tonight had been, he knew their work was not yet done. There was a rogue gargoyle still at large, one of Oberon's Children under her temporary service, every human in Manhattan, and possibly the world, was in danger. And like it or not, the clan were the only ones capable of dealing with such a threat, especially since the rest of the humans in the city were currently busy being gargoyles who can't glide, can't fight, and therefore can't defend themselves.

Hudson rubbed his hands over his face, kneading and pulling his loose skin as he tried to get himself ready for... the unexpected. For what seemed like the hundredth time this week. The lads landed on the roof and walked towards him, clearly confused and unsure what to think about their current predicament. At least he wasn't alone in that regard.

Even so, they would face this threat together, defeat Demona once more, and restore order to their castle, Manhattan. Fulfill their duty as gargoyles for another crazy night, before things got any worse.

And free the humans from this terrible curse.

Chapter Text

Being the companion to a blind human had always been full of surprises. When she first met the man who would become her charge, Gilly couldn't have been happier. He wasn't difficult to work with, he wasn't very active save the nightly walks along the beach they always partook in. But that was more leisure than activity, a fun way to pass their time together, not a concentrated effort to push their limits.

The first few years, he preferred her to lead him everywhere, which Gilly never minded, but he quickly got the hang of his cane and his surroundings so even that obligation dropped off. Outside of those instances, her charge was more occupied with feeling through books and newspapers, making tea, and listening to the TV box.

And occasionally, he would tap on his curious typewriter device to stack up papers. Certain occasions led them to riding long trips to cities where he met with hundreds of humans to pose for flashing lights and stamp in their books. A curious practice, but her charge was quite happy with these events, and she was never one to turn down a ride in a car. So she accompanied him on these outings and quietly kept a watchful eye out, though nothing ever happened that required her intervention.

And those occasions had stopped all of a sudden a few years ago, his days of tapping the loud clacking keys of his typewriter abruptly ended as well. A fact that did not fill Robbins with joy, she noted, but he remained in a pleasant, if not disappointed mood.

All in all, Robbins was low maintenance, despite the many different surprises and changes over the years. Their life had become relaxing, soothing, and at times, boring. The surprises had stopped altogether. Only recently had their comfortable lazy life shifted to excitement once more, thanks to the unexpected appearance of Hudson the winged man on their beach.

In all her time, she never met a being quite like Hudson. He wasn't a regular human, that was certain, but it wasn't clear what type of human he was. He had wings, a tail, claws, he smelled of stone and the skin of cows. He was very generous with petting and belly rubs, his smile was bright and warm, with teeth sharply jutting out like mini tusks, he appeared suddenly from the sky near every night.

He was a fascinating person that Gilly was always excited to see, due to his inviting and friendly atmosphere to her specifically and his willingness to play with her. Hudson was absolutely a dog's person, but she quickly realized that he was also a Robbins' person. Though her human was quite friendly and intelligent, the years she lived with him were mainly in solitude.

There were occasional visits from his fellow humans on the shore, fellow humans from his litter, fellow humans that looked through books. But they were few and far between, there was no regular inclusion of these humans in their daily life. They might have been Robbins' people, but they never stuck around long enough for Gilly to be sure of that fact.

Hudson, however, was different. Right from the start, he spent long hours into the night with them, talking about all manner of things, getting comfortable and settling into a routine. He kept returning, night after night, with more and more to talk about, to laugh about, and just recently sing about. Or she thought it was singing, it could have been a shriek of intimidation or pain, Gilly still wasn't sure. But she was sure of one thing, Robbins absolutely loved it. She'd never seen him so uproarious and excitable, she had to check and make sure he was still breathing as well as keep track of his glasses.

Gilly noticed that the longer her charge spent with Hudson, generally, the happier he became. The more energized he was the next day, the more bounce he had in his step. She would even hear him humming a pleasant tune as he went about his day. Hudson even revitalized him so much that he recently pulled out the noisy typewriter he had all but forgotten about, and he was back to stacking papers on his desk.

And aside from the dangerous old human that came to their home after Hudson's initial visit, it's been nothing but good times for Gilly and her human charge. She liked Hudson and Robbins liked Hudson. She just underestimated how much Robbins liked Hudson, it seems.

Because earlier that night, the most bizarre thing happened to her human. There they were, sitting in their usual places, Robbins at his desk playing with that typewriter and Gilly on her seat that she had been sharing with Hudson as of late. When without warning, a streak of light ripped through their home and hit Robbins! The mysterious light covered him on impact, pulsating like a heartbeat, as the human reeled from the impact. Gilly instantly shot to his side, barking and struggling to understand just what was happening to him.

He grunted in pain as he writhed against the strange light, she bit on his sleeve to try and drag him outside to the terrace. Maybe another human would see them and know what to do, if not she'd bark so loud the entire neighborhood would find them. But as she tugged, she felt a tightening of his sweater, a pull that was steady and unnatural. Gilly peered her eyes open and reeled back immediately at the sight that greeted her, for it wasn't her human's soft, but calloused hand. It was a massive paw of a hand with only 4 fingers and a claw on each one. She watched in an increasing panic as her normal human charge morphed, contorted, and changed into something else. Something much different.

Wings sprouted from his back along with a long tail, his feet expanded and his legs completely restructured, his shoes and socks instantly reduced to shreds. Horns sprouted from the sides of his head and wrapped around the back, his ears sharpened as his brow jutted out and lost its 2 little patches of fur. And just as soon as it came, the light had disappeared, unveiling its good work. Robbins was transformed beyond recognition, if it wasn't for his scent remaining largely the same, Gilly would have assumed she was looking at an entirely different human altogether. One from Hudson's particular litter.

But as Robbins came down from the shock of the magic light—there was no other way to describe it—he stretched his new arms and let out a monstrous yawn, like a jungle cat before its prowl, then calmly returned to playing with his typewriter. Like nothing at all had happened. Gilly was at an utter loss, standing there watching him continue his routine in this new body completely unaware of the massive change. Where could she even begin with this surprise?

Tentatively, she dared to stalk closer and get a better sniff of him. Figure out how much different he was from before. So with an incredible amount of care, she trailed her nose up and down his new form, studying every sensation and accent, as well as his reaction to her studying him. Gauging for any unusual responses from her subject. But all he did was call her name in that same voice she'd memorized, a gentle, light-hearted chide that meant he was a bit busy at the moment. Yes, he was busy, but so was she, so on she went.

As she continued down his new tail, sticking out of the seat of his pants and laying limp behind his chair, he giggled and the strange addition to his body wriggled in tandem, like a snake, causing her to jump back a bit. Gilly quickly resumed her investigation and moved to his wings, wide and expansive, ripping through the back of his sweater. Most of the cow skin smell came from them, just like Hudson's, she recognized. Again, Robbins called her name in that same tone, but she kept pressing on. She grabbed onto his pant leg and pulled to give her room to get under his desk and give his new massive feet a thorough study, but she felt his oddly foreign hands pick her up before then.

"Gilly, what's up girl?" he asked sweet and kind, but behind the face of someone she didn't recognize. "Daddy's tryin' to work on his book, okay? We'll do the nightly walk in a little while, promise. But I'm makin' some real progress on this thing so just lemme work, alright?" he said while he pet her, claws gently scratching through her fur, just as Hudson always did.

She took the opportunity to sniff out his face, the biggest change by far. As he tried to protest through small giggles, she investigated those horns that jutted right from his skull and even vaguely tasted like the bones she'd often gnaw on. And just as she instinctually began to nibble at them, strong hands pulled her away from them.

"Hey! No chewin' on Daddy's horns, Gil" he said seriously, raising his voice "We've talked about that, girl. Now go wait patiently and I'll get you a bone you can chew on, okay?" he instructed while placing her back on the floor and scooting her away with his massive foot.

Gilly simply looked him over again, tilting her head in confusion. She never knew Robbins to be forgetful, they certainly couldn't have talked before about his horns that he just developed tonight. Horns she just now, for the first time ever, were gnawing on. Something wasn't right here, that much was clear, but the poor dog still couldn't make heads or tails of any of it. Why couldn't Robbins tell he'd drastically changed from that light? And why did he think she had a history of biting horns he just recently acquired? A history she was supposed to be well aware of?

None of it made any sense, and it got even worse when the typewriter bell rang and he pulled the paper out. Robbins went to trace his fingers over the page and his newfound claws tore through the delicate paper instantly. He sighed in mild frustration before bopping his head with his palm.

"Stupid, always use the side of your thumb to read. Stupid amateur mistake..." he grumbled under his breath as he adjusted his hand to do just that, while putting a new page into the typewriter.

Gilly had seen him do this a million times and he never, ever caused a rip in his papers accidentally with his claws. His claws were never long enough to matter when it came to that delicate action... until today, when his regular human hands were replaced with massive talons just like Hudson's. And her human never used the side of his opposable finger to read, he always used his whole hand or his pointer fingers, not the opposable one alone. This definitely wasn't right, but she had no idea of how to make it right. Her training hadn't prepared her for anything like this.

"... need that other edition for that. Now where did I put that old...?" she heard before Robbins stood up and made his way towards the bookshelf, in longer strides than she was used to. Unfortunately, it appeared as though Robbins himself wasn't quite used to the longer strides either.

He stumbled and shuffled across the room, his tail arcing wide and accidentally slapping against several objects, knocking a choice few over. Gilly rushed behind him, catching the unfortunate few before they could fall to the floor, Robbins simply continued to the bookshelf and scanned his opposable finger across the wood. Her charge continued to think aloud as he plucked a book out, scanned its contents for a moment, then put it back, repeating the process several times until finally he nodded satisfied and moved back to his desk. Again she followed right behind him, to alleviate the damage he unwittingly caused thanks to his newly acquired tail.

Robbins nearly made it back to his seat, but his offending appendage wasn't done making his journey more arduous than ever before. Just as Gilly had put his Purple Heart back on the coffee table, the tail had managed to get underfoot and tangled around his ankle for a second, but that's all it took. Robbins went teetering forward, his head on a collision course with the edge of the desk! Gilly sprung into action, reaching out and biting on whatever she could on him to pull him back in time, and as luck would have it, her jaws clamped down on the cause of all his problems.

"Ow!" he grunted as his momentum stopped just short of the desk, his hands firmly planted on the surface. "Nice save, Gil! I owe ya one, girl" he sighed in relief as he regained his balance.

Gilly released his cumbersome tail, which now sported a memento of her quick reflexes and limited grabbing options. Her human carefully made his way back to his seat, before patting around the surface searching for something. She already retrieved the book he nearly knocked himself out for and raised up on her hind legs to plop it on the desk before him. Robbins' large hands made the rounds again and finally happened upon the desired book.

"There you are! Must've dropped it when I stumbled" he chuckled to himself. "I have no clue what's goin' on today, I'm never this klutzy in the house..." he wondered, scratching his horn absentmindedly.

Gilly couldn't help turning her head to the side as she stared at the altered form of her charge, she remained clueless on how or why he had suddenly become part of Hudson's litter. Her only guess was that Robbins had come to like Hudson so much he'd turned into a Hudson. It was ridiculous, she realized, but there was literally nothing else she could think of to make sense of this. So for now, ridiculous was going to have to do.

Robbins went back to tapping on his typewriter well before Gilly regained her focus and restarted her exploration of his new form. Up and down the recent additions, testing and analyzing until she was sure that there was nothing to be done. Sure that there were no other surprises coming. Her charge didn't seem to mind her prodding this time, possibly because he'd gotten into "the zone" as he called it, but it allowed her to finally finish her data gathering. That is, until she got on her hind legs and leaned against the back of his chair to reach his horns again and soon began nibbling on them.

"Gil," Robbins began impatiently, unknowingly stabbing the offending protrusions into the leather headrest of his chair. "We just talked about the horns, honey"

She barked back, communicating her confusion at which "talk" he was referring to, considering his mind had also gone through somewhat of a transformation. That change was by far her least favorite of the collection.

"Okay, I get it" Robbins said as he spun around to face her.

Gilly gave a light whine in response, a confused lilt clearly saying 'You do?'

"You're gettin' cranky because I put off our walk so long" he reasoned happily, causing her to snort and deflate. "Well don't worry, we can go if ya really need to. Just lemme grab my tape recorder, okay?" he jerked his head in the tape recorder's direction before swiveling back around.

Gilly brought a paw up to her face and let it slowly drift down her muzzle, her eyes lidded and focused on nothing. How was she going to make him realize what had happened to him? Explain anything about this in a way he would understand? Even she didn't understand much about it, a bright light came and shot him, then it made him look like he was part of Hudson's litter. That's all she could offer in a way of explanation.

Maybe Hudson would show up and explain it for them, she reasoned, trotting over to the glass doors across the room. He always came in that way, maybe she could catch him coming this time. But just as Gilly had settled and begun scanning the skies, a bright flash of lightning lit up the sky in a strange light. Before she could determine anything further, it streaked through the sky straight towards her!

She yelped and jumped away onto her chair as the light phased through the glass and straight at Robbins, who'd just gotten up from the desk. Again, he writhed against it and cupped his hands over his head as if he'd been overtaken by a sudden splitting headache. Gilly barked wildly, cursing the light for continuing to torment and distort her human, until she noticed how it was distorting him this time. His talons he used to cover his throbbing head shrank and dulled. His horns receded back into his head, the patch of fur on his head returning to its former glory. His wings shrank back into his body and his legs and feet regained shape. And that blasted tail that caused him nothing but grief, slurped back into his pants with the seat of his pants restitched.

As the light faded, the blessed sight of her human's normal form greeted her. He was back to his usual self, like the initial transformation had never occurred in the first place. Robbins himself stopped feeling pain and went to stretch again, grunting in satisfaction when he was done.

"Alright, Gil, you ready for our walk?" he asked in that pleasant warm tone she knew and loved, smiling that dazzling grin he always had.

Gilly couldn't contain her joy as she barked and rushed to Robbins, tackling him to the floor. She licked his cheeks and nuzzled against him, grateful that the bizarre night had returned to the mundane normality she had grown accustom to. Robbins laughed and petted her, wondering aloud what had gotten into her. He had no idea what she'd been through and she would keep it that way. For as lovely as Hudson was, she had no desire to substitute her Robbins with another Hudson. She wouldn't have him any other way than his normal self...

"Hey, uh girl?" Robbins asked as soon as Gilly settled down on the kisses. "You haven't seen my house shoes anywhere, have ya?" he pondered as he petted her head softly, Gilly's brow going flat in response.

Chapter Text

"—mend!" Puck finished, his only warning before a bright green flash of lightning enveloped them all. An overwhelming and painful tingling sensation shot through him, like a thousand needles stabbing through him and vibrating simultaneously. A pain so all encompassing and overwhelming, he could do naught but stand completely paralyzed until the light left his body, returning him to his original form once again. He supposed he should have felt the restructuring of bone and sinew, but truly the lightning strike was all he could focus on.

It was only an instant, but Hudson knew he'd never forget what it felt like, considering it was the second time he'd gone through the process that night. How a transmogrification spell felt more painful than a direct attack from The Archmage he'd never know, but one thing was clear. The magic of Avalon was indeed like no other science or sorcery conceived by mortal creatures. All the more reason to avoid it at all costs, not like he needed any more reasons at this point.

Magic... he thought to himself shuddering uncomfortably, and not just at his mind clearing like a veil had been lifted from his memory. Or a bank of fog rolling away from a dew sprinkled plain in the cool of the morning.

Though he was looking at his clawed four fingered hand with a renewed appreciation, Hudson could still remember with disturbing clarity how natural it felt to have an extra finger and no talons whatsoever. But simultaneously how unnatural it was to think he was a gargoyle before this return to form, feeling as proud to be human as he always did to be a gargoyle. The thought of being anything else was strange, foreign, unthinkable. And yet, he was something else just seconds before, and it was only strange when someone pointed it out to him. Perhaps one day he'd be convinced he's meant to be human and being a gargoyle was strange. What a barrel of laughs that would be...

Goliath, who'd been knocked on his rear in front of Hudson, had begun to pick himself up, his lavender hide a sight for sore eyes indeed. An instinctual glance to the rest of the clan cast his worries aside. It was official, they were back. Order had been restored and for one more night, their Castle Manhattan had been protected.

"If his efforts you commend..." A spritely voice called out as Goliath stood to his full height, "free Puck" the elven man requested, soaring right up to Goliath, so fast Hudson couldn't help but flinch backwards. Though it was more than just the speed of Puck's movement that caused him to recoil from the impish trickster.

"Let him homeward wind" Puck beseeched, a genuinely humble—dare he say, desperate?—look in his eyes. His small, slender form half-bowed as his hands lay limp and deceptively helpless at his sides.

For a moment, Hudson considered the tempting alternative to Puck's request, what if they kept him chained, became his new captors? He was clearly much too dangerous to just allow to fly free, who knows what he'd do to them once he was free? Puck earned his freedom, that didn't mean he wouldn't use that freedom to liberally toy with them all and start this entire mess all over again. Demona was chiefly to blame, no question, but Puck actively participated in battle against them.

And he effortlessly defeated all of them with power Hudson had never seen, nor wished to see ever again, though he wondered in passing why Puck didn't enchant his sword as he did the other's weapons. Did he just not think much of Hudson as a warrior due to his age? Did he just not find messing with his sword an exciting prospect? Or was it simply because, for whatever reason, he somehow... couldn't enchant the sword?

Hudson rolled his eyes at the ridiculous notion. It was probably only because the peculiar elf—on a whim, he surmised—had decided to sabotage his own spell that they were released from his traps and were allowed to trap him in turn.

And that trap was merely a garbage can Hudson managed to grab in his desperate attempt to find anything that could do something to a Child of Oberon. A being of pure magic and unfathomable power... with the personality and imagination of a mischievous child. He was a threat, a clear, unstoppable threat. Only Demona, a sorceress in her own right, had tenuous control of him and now that she was defeated, this once in a lifetime opportunity to control and secure a Fae was theirs to capitalize on.

They could make him undo all the magical problems that they've faced, free Coldstone to rest in peace, keep MacBeth from ever getting a magical advantage over them, or maybe... just maybe... he could take them back home. Their real home. Back to their time, their world, where things made sense. Where they weren't the only gargoyles in the world. When he still had his Queen of the Night...

The sound of chains rustling loudly in front of him broke Hudson out of his reverie, as Goliath had already taken hold of the restraints and effortlessly broke them with a light grunt. Like he'd just finished drinking a refreshing cup of water, not ripped apart steel links with his bare hands.

"You're free" Goliath said amicably as Puck's grin spread across his fair face, his magic overflowing from his very body as ribbons of sparkling flecks surrounded him. Perhaps the chain diminished his abilities, a terrifying notion that. To know that the Fae, who had been the most fearsome creature they'd ever faced by a long shot, had actually been significantly held back during this entire ordeal. Terrifying, indeed...

In an instant, Puck took to the air like a fish to water and swirled about, a trail of magic glitter followed behind him as if he shed pure gold. As he watched the slender man celebrate his freedom in a joyful display of flight, Hudson sighed deep. This was the right thing, of course, the lad had promised Puck his freedom in exchange for restoring order. A deal is a deal and a man's word is his bond, and Goliath is truly a fine man. But Hudson couldn't help but think what could have been, as tonight's festivities had proven to him. He was never gonna be able to stop looking at everything he no longer had or couldn't achieve. And in this particular case, didn't truly want anyway.

For as distasteful as it was to know this Puck would be out there roaming about to continue his reckless magical devastation labeled as harmless mischief... the thought of detaining him indefinitely and using him to satisfy their selfish desires as Demona just did was far more disgusting. With his advanced age came a begrudging wisdom, Hudson knew that nothing good could come from meddling with reality. Things were the way they were and instead of trying to twist and change everything all around to better fit his personal tastes was an effort in futility. And frankly, it would be highly dangerous to meddle with the natural order of things in such a flippant and brash way. Anyone who did was begging for a Shakespearean tragedy to befall them simply for the attempt to overstep their bounds like that.

Hence Demona's current station in life as a woman who forsook protection for vengeance and the ever disheartening Coldstone tragedy. No, he thought to himself, clenching his fist tightly, there's been enough meddlin' with fate in this clan. There'll be no more, not as long as I'm still breathin'...

As far as he was concerned, Puck, the Mirror and all things magical could disappear from the world right now and he'd be happy. Hell, throw Demona in there too, put an end to that source of grief once and for all, he bitterly added. Then Hudson's eyes shot wide open when he saw Puck suddenly snatch Demona and fly into the Mirror! Faster than he could think!

But before anyone could move an inch, erratic green lightning flashed from the glass, blinding them all despite how quickly they recoiled and shielded their eyes. Then as quickly as it came, the violent light died down. As soon as he peeked his eye open again, he could see yet another impossible occurrence.

The Mirror folded in on itself, like a piece of parchment balling up to be discarded. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, he swore his mouth fell to the floor as he stared in abject bewilderment. The crumpling Mirror got smaller and smaller, twisting and curling into its center, until it became the size of a pebble. Then it twinkled like a star and faded from sight completely, with no trace of it ever being there. And not even the whistling wind of the high perch was present. It was as if everything stopped in its tracks in the aftermath of such a complex inconceivable event.

Everyone stood there staring, eyes wide, jaws slack, minds vacant. Hudson rubbed his eyes and looked again at the space where the mystical Mirror of Titania once stood, just to be sure he hadn't somehow hallucinated that final part. Sure enough, the Mirror, Puck, and Demona were still gone. Vanished into the magical item and crumpled into thin air, along with all of his thoughts. Save one.

He told Broadway at the start of this whole mess to be careful what he wished for, but it seemed Hudson was the one that needed to heed that warning. Was Puck somehow aware of his thoughts in that moment and decided to act on them? Or was it some freak coincidence? The old soldier was positive he'd never learn the answer... but that wouldn't stop him from finding a way to pin the blame to himself.

"Okay," Brooklyn spoke up suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to him. "I know that in light of the insane freakshow that was tonight, this is gonna sound like par for the course, but... seriously, what the heck just happened?" he gestured to the spot the Mirror disappeared, imploring. No one offered an answer, for they too couldn't begin to understand that... disappearing act, for lack of a better word.

"I have so many questions!" Lexington chimed in, his hands clamped around his head and a confused smile on his face.

"Yeah, the first one being: are we okay with this Puck guy takin' Demona..." Broadway struggled for a moment, "who knows where?" he finished, facing Goliath, his brows furrowed and his hands struggling to hold an invisible burden.

"He was prisoner to her first, it's only fair that he gets to be her jailer for a time" Goliath reasoned, though his face betrayed the logical conclusion.

"But Goliath... what if he..." Hudson started, but stopped himself and took a steadying breath. "What if that's the last we see of her, lad?" he asked, causing a powerful silence to come over them. It had to be said, regardless of how complicated their feelings were for their enemy, she used to be clan. She used to be family.

In spite of everything, Hudson had to admit, in his heart... she still was clan. Losing one's entire race forces one take stock of the precious few that are left and hold tight to them, even if the one being clutched wanted them dead. She was still a gargoyle, a daughter of his clan, and the successor of his Mate's position as Clan Mother. And though he'd never give her such an honor again, and knew Goliath could never trust her in that way again, his heart ached to see her as an enemy. An outsider.

In truth, every time they fought Demona, he'd secretly hope—against hope, he realized—that in defeat she would somehow know the error of her ways and come back to them. Accept responsibility and punishment for her actions and work on her redemption so that she could return to the Clan. But of course, that was just another example of the old gargoyle fantasizing about things that would never be.

At least he wasn't the only one this time, as he took in everyone's crestfallen expressions and downcast gazes. Even Brooklyn, who had a special ire against the fiery haired lass, was distinctly displeased at the notion of her disappearing forever. Though there was still a sharpness in his face, a harsh flaring of his nostrils, his brow was similarly furrowed in sadness. A complex mix of emotions displayed with no attempt to mask them, Brooklyn was troubled indeed. But his rookery brothers even more so, Lexington's big eyes shimmered with unshed tears and Broadway hugged his arms tighter around his chest, trying to hold in his emotions. Or guard himself from feeling them. Possibly a mix of both.

And Goliath. Lord in Heaven, Goliath. Nothing tore the lad up worse than his former love. Whatever hopes Hudson held out for Demona, Goliath's outweighed his tenfold. He was painfully honest about her, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his wings and manually take all her pain and angst away. Let the fires of her vengeance smother against his unrelenting love, freeing her from her demons and returning her to the Angel of the Night he still dreamed of everyday.

And every time she attacked them, she saved a special dagger to personally stab into his heart and mock his love, a love she couldn't appreciate from a man she no longer deserved. Slowly but surely, Goliath's heart had scabbed over from all the damage she relentlessly dealt him. And finally, he was starting to realize there was a much more worthy candidate by his side. So his love for Demona diminished considerably, a tragic sight not just for Hudson to witness, but no doubt Demona herself. In spite of her voracious dedication to a hopeless vendetta, he saw her. Every time she returned to torment him, he saw the look on her face, the longing in her glares.

But what she didn't realize and now couldn't realize, was Goliath's love for her was still there. It was never going to completely disappear, it had been a part of him for so long, there was no way he could stop loving her altogether. It was just diminished, less intense, tainted by betrayal and deception. But it was still there, hoping against hope. Just as, he suspected, the 3 lads' feelings toward her were. And just as his own feelings for her were, he admitted.

For this to be the last memory they'd have of her, this debacle of bizarre and impure manipulations of their very nature, their minds and memories twisted without care, the entire human populous thrust into bodies not their own, chaos and turmoil reigning over the entire city... for her to just be spirited away without any form of a final word or closure of any kind, after all of that... the taste was far more bitter than Hudson could bear. For anyone to bear, he imagined.

Even Elisa, who had remained especially quiet since Demona's fate became the topic, refrained from putting on her gentle yet confident smile that was her natural countenance. She had absolutely no reason to feel nothing but contempt towards former clanswoman, and yet, there she was. Lamenting the loss of her same as the rest of them. The lass continued to surprise him with her ludicrous capacity for empathy and understanding, not to mention tact. She could have easily shot back good riddance to Broadway's loaded question, she could have easily tapped her foot and folded her arms across her chest as she sometimes did when Goliath was particularly slow.

She could have done any number of things to express indifference or approval of Demona's undetermined fate. But there she was, sympathetic for their loss. Possibly even sympathetic to Demona herself, if only in part. What a marvel she was, and if nothing else, she was a small moonbeam to their otherwise cloud shrouded night. Mentions of Demona tended to eclipse their usually starry night sky.

But Goliath, as strong of heart as he was of body, looked up at his Clan, determination and authority in his face, addressed the incredibly hard question. Head on. As he always did.

"Then... that is an unfortunate outcome we will have to live with. One we can live with, as we've done every other misfortune fate has thrown our way" he spoke in a somber, yet resolute tone before flaring his wings out. "Come, let's go home" the lad offered, his smile warm and inviting. His tone gentle yet strong. And just like that, they found the strength to swallow down the bitter feelings that had suddenly enveloped them and move forward.

Hudson even managed to smirk faintly, as he always did when Goliath displayed his perfect leadership qualities. He couldn't help it, his pride in the lad was overwhelming at times. He really was the best decision he ever made. Through Goliath's inspiring example, everyone was able to set aside their sorrows. For now, anyway. Demona was a topic that could never truly be shelved for long. But after the complexities and absurdness of tonight, everyone was happy to banish her to the back of their minds for lighter quandaries.

Goliath led the way to the edge of the skyscraper, Elisa slipping her hand in his as she walked beside him. A gesture that would have been seen for the display of comfort and affection it truly was, had she not been wary of the dramatic elevation they found themselves at. The lass was getting more and more used to heights over the course of their adventures, but she wasn't a creature of the air like them. As Broadway so eloquently said once before, if humans were meant to fly, they'd have wings. So until then, Elisa would have to settle for Goliath's wings. Something told Hudson she preferred it that way. Though not everyone caught on to that detail.

"Bet you're missin' your wings now, huh Elisa?" Broadway teased half hearted, effortlessly taking flight. Showcasing just how great it was to have them back in his possession.

"Hahaha, not as much as I missed all my fingers and toes" the lass called back, wriggling her delicate fingers. She was secure in Goliath's grip as he gently floated beside Broadway, who just chuckled at her snappy response. She was as quick witted and affable as ever, Hudson noted with a smirk.

"That's so weird, when ya think about it" Lexington chimed in, slipping between them "What's the extra finger for? We get along just fine with 4, 5 just kinda seems unnecessary" he reasoned shaking his head a bit.

"And don't get me started on the 5 toes" Broadway waved off as he rolled his eyes. "Talk about overkill"

"I missed my beak the most, my face just felt... wrong" Brooklyn shuddered while rubbing said beak. Hudson wasn't the only one with newfound appreciation, it seemed.

"Well while we're on the subject, what's your thoughts on eyebrows, guys?" Elisa asked, pointing to her's.

"Actually, not bad!" Broadway grinned.

"What?! They're terrible!" Brooklyn shouted back, before sheepishly looking to Elisa. "Uh, no offense Elisa" he laughed awkwardly.

"em>None taken" Elisa responded flatly, her hand swiftly planted on her hip.

"But I really don't see the point of those things! Horns are so much better" Brooklyn nodded staunchly before gliding his fingertips along said horn.

Elisa rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the gargoyle holding her. "C'mon, help me out here, Goliath. Eyebrows or horns?"

Goliath blinked a few times and muttered intelligibly as he thought of a response. "I think humans and gargoyles are... perfect the way they are. I wouldn't change a thing about them" he responded, smiling sheepishly at Elisa who could only smirk back at him.

Nice save, boy-o. "Aye, lad. Ye speak the truth" Hudson added. "No sense in debatin' between the two o' em"

"Well sure, but that's not really what we were askin' " Lexington corrected, abashed.

"Yeah, how did you feel being human?" Broadway implored, placing his hands on his chest and balling them into fists.

"I felt strange, of course" Goliath said candidly. "But only now that I'm a gargoyle again do I realize how peculiar being human felt"

"That's... that's right" Lexington replied thoughtfully, the wheels beginning to turn in his head, "As humans we were under the assumption that we were always humans, even though that couldn't be true. And it didn't feel weird when we were humans, it only feels weird now that we're normal and looking back on it" he reasoned, placing a thoughtful finger beneath his lips, which caused him to slightly veer downward.

"My brain hurts..." Broadway groaned with a hand to his forehead, echoing Hudson's silent sentiment.

"The work of Avalon sorcery, it mucks aboot with yer mind. No good can come of it" Hudson warned, unaware that his frown had turned into a scowl.

"Well I dunno, it was kinda cool to see all the humans look like us for a change" Brooklyn said with a chuckle.

"Yeah... really cool" Broadway said, staring off into space with a blissful grin on his face.

"But really weird too, right?" Lexington asked, scrunching his nose up.

"Ya think we can call Puck up for Halloween and have him do this again?" Brooklyn joked.

"Don't even think aboot it, lad" Hudson threatened, shaking his head with each syllable. "If we never see hide nor hair of that glitterin' spawn of Avalon, it'll be all too soon" he grumbled while swiping his hand roughly, causing Brooklyn to lean back nervously.

"Yeah, it was fun at parts, but it was dangerous, just like Goliath said. I liked seeing our kind again but... it's not worth the risk" Lexington surmised, shaking his head with a sigh.

"I guess you're right..." Brooklyn sighed, looking to the side as he deflated.

"Still, I'm gonna miss bein' able to blend in with a crowd" Broadway said, a forlorn look on his face.

"Yeah, back to stickin' out like a sore thumb" Brooklyn chimed in, irritated.

Elisa chuckled, "Don't feel too bad. I'm sure there's gonna be a time when humans and gargoyles can live together in peace. And it'll be all thanks to you guys".

"And thanks, in no small part, to you as well, Elisa..." Goliath added, warmly smiling down at the woman in his arms. She returned the gesture, but with a sharp glint in her eye.

"Yeah, now that I'm back to my old ugly human self" she joked, a coy smirk on her face.

Goliath shook his head ruefully, "Never, to these eyes" he replied, gazing down at her with tenderness. Elisa's cheeks began to tint red, and her confident smirk faltered as she averted her eyes from Goliath's.

"Hey, wait a second..." Lex began. "If we remember being human..." he motioned to one side "and Elisa remembers being a gargoyle..." he motioned to the other side. "Doesn't that mean the other humans would remember what happened too?" he wondered, crossing his arms awkwardly, causing him to drop lower suddenly.

"Somethin' tells me that's not how Puck rolls" Elisa answered, a thoughtful hand under her chin.

"Yes..." Goliath confirmed, "He knew what I wished for and he already had his fun for one night. I believe he honored my request as I honored his" he reasoned, which made Lexington sigh in relief as he regained his altitude.

As much as Hudson's cynicism wished to argue against that point, he remembered all the stories about Oberon's Children that he'd heard throughout his life. And though they varied wildly in nearly every area, there was a reliable constant in each tall tale. That common thread was the almost ironclad rule that Oberon's Children always honored an agreement.

Sure, they could bend and stretch the agreement if they so desired, but considering they only did that to mortals they deemed unsavory or otherwise in need of a lesson in humility, Goliath was correct. By all accounts, Puck would honor their agreement to the letter, unlike what he appeared to do with Demona, who was perfectly unsavory towards him. Thanks to that fact, Hudson too breathed in relief as they continued toward the Clock Tower. Robbins was safe, then. Good... that was good...

"So everything's completely back to normal, then" Brooklyn said more than asked.

"As normal as things can ever be with you guys, yeah" Elisa replied, mirth clear in her voice.

"But then how come Elisa remembers everything?" Broadway wondered, causing everyone to pause and look to her. She perked up and a flash of emotion passed on her face before she regained her composure a tad.

"I guess Puck considers me part of the team" Elisa posited, pulling strands of her hair behind her ear and avoiding Goliath's obvious attempt at eye contact. "Ha, pretty forward of him, huh?"

Everyone exchanged knowing smiles before Goliath spoke up, "He considers correctly, Elisa" he said genuinely, causing Elisa to finally look at him again.

"I mean, duh. It's pretty obvious" Brooklyn chuckled.

"Aye lass, we've really come to rely on ye and you've proven yerself over and over again to be a true friend and ally" Hudson explained.

Broadway nodded rigorously before counting on his hands, "And you're smart, and cool, and funny, and brave, and a good cop, and—"

"Yeah, I, uh, think she gets it, pal" Brooklyn said as he gently put Broadway's hand down, his face flat and feigned irritation in his tone.

"Anyway," Lex spoke up in a vulnerable, delicate voice, "we were all thinkin'... for a while now, actually... that if ya want... that is, well—"

"We would like to welcome you into our clan" Goliath took over politely. "Officially" he added, Lexington nodding excitedly at his side. The lad was right, this was a long time coming, they all had talked about it a few times, much earlier than Elisa would believe if they'd told her.

In truth, when she convinced Hudson and the trio to make the Clock Tower their home, that was when her standing with the Clan was first discussed. A great display of care and consideration and gumption to disagree with the Clan Leader for the sake of the Clan's welfare, it was impossible for them not to consider her for official clansman status after that. Of course the painful wounds of betrayal, grief and deception were still unbearably fresh at the time, so they didn't push the idea forward then, but they all decided to keep the topic in mind for the future.

And sure enough, she continued to pull through for them, remained a true friend and invaluable ally, even risked her life for their's that very night. Both when she saved Goliath in his human state and when she fought against Demona in the city square. She had earned her place in their small clan and they were just waiting for the opportune moment to ask her officially. And after an ordeal like the one they'd all managed to survive, an ordeal wherein she became a gargoyle and they became humans, yet she remained loyal and true? As far as Hudson was concerned, there was no better time.

Elisa sat there struggling with her words for a second before finally asking, "Why does this sound like a proposal?" landing on her default humor, most likely by reflex, Hudson noted.

"Cuz it is one, lass" he answered back, not seeing the humor in her statement. They were proposing the question for her to consider and answer back which would forever alter their relationship from that point forward. What's funny about that?

"To be clan is... well, you already know. As you've shown tonight and every night since the day we met" Goliath chuckled absentmindedly, a flush adorning his face. "I—we would love to have you as part of the clan, if that is acceptable to you" Goliath offered, uncharacteristically anxious if his raised shoulders and darting eyes were any indication.

Elisa's brows furrowed, "No offense, but I kinda already considered myself officially in. So this is really takin' me by surprise. I guess it shouldn't, but I'm embarrassed to say it is" she said rubbing the back of her head with her free hand.

"So you are saying 'yes'?" Goliath asked full of hope, eyes as wide as a child's.

Elisa smirked, "Oh, I am definitely saying yes" she dropped her voice to a whisper, "You know you can't get rid of me".

Goliath reeled back shocked and flustered, "I... would never want to—"

Hands grabbed Elisa instantly and plucked her from his arms, "Alright, Elisa! Woo hoo!" Broadway shouted, a wide grin splitting his face as he swayed Elisa around like they were dancing on the ballroom floor. An energetic, bouncy dance, evident by how much the robust gargoyle floated up and down. His rookery brothers cheered as well and surrounded the dancing couple hovering in rhythm with Broadway's dancing.

Elisa laughed at the sudden outpouring of affection and Brooklyn accompanied Broadway in the celebration, taking her from Broadway and gliding her along like the belle of the airborne ball. The lass took the alien celebratory display in stride, showing no signs of her earlier fear or annoyance with the sudden and precarious position she was put in. In truth, she was clearly enjoying herself, getting into the rhythm of the different dances her partners decided on. She knew her dance forms, that much was obvious, as she perfectly mimicked and followed the lead of each partner. With no floor to support her. Maybe it wasn't heights she was still fearful of, but as she said, the transition from rooftop to open air, Hudson revised.

Even when she accepted Lexington's hand to dance, she calmly dropped from Brooklyn's grip to land softly on Broadway's back to dance with Lex cheek to cheek. It was a seamless transition and she looked absolutely overjoyed, just as the boys did. They clapped, they laughed, they hollered, and they danced their hearts out. And as they twirled her and led her gracefully through the air, Hudson could have sworn she still had wings of her own.

Finally, Hudson sidled up to Broadway, who had decided to have a second dance with her—much to Goliath's chagrin—and bowed to her as he took her hand. Broadway tossed her carefully to Hudson fully, the old soldier easily caught her and chuckled as he spun around and positioned her properly. He figured she had enough of the energetic and flashy moves the boys insisted on doing with her, so he opted for a nice calming sway for her to catch her breath.

"Well, this is fun!" she laughed in his ear, her breath blowing lightly against his skin. "Is this a normal gargoyle thing or did you guys just wanna do something extra special?" she asked.

"Aye lass, 'tis tradition! Dancin' with the new clansman when they officially decide to join the Clan is a proud ritual. It's a sign of jubilation, devotion, and honor"

"Really? Why's that?" she asked, a chuckle hanging in her voice. Hudson quickly inhaled to answer her, but noticed Goliath looming beside them, a slight pout adorning his features, and couldn't help but laugh. All ye had to do was ask, lad.

"I think I'll be lettin' your Clan Leader explain it to ye..." Hudson said knowingly, as he floated above Goliath and handed Elisa off carefully to the lad's waiting hands, a grateful smile directed his way. Hudson merely nodded softly and backed off as Goliath turned Elisa to face him.

"It is because ... you honor us, by accepting our proposal and fill us with joy at your presence" he explained, soft and intimate. Elisa's carefree expression slowly fell to a more serious look as she took in what Goliath was saying.

"And from this day forward, before God and gargoyle, we are Clan. We are devoted to you and you to us. Every challenge, every enemy, every triumph we will face" he slowly brought his hand to cup a handful of her flowing blue hair. "Together" he finished, pouring his very soul into the word.

She managed to tear her gaze away from Goliath's penetrating stare and eyed the trio, finally landed on the Clock Tower's balcony and waving to them. Hudson wasn't too far behind them but wanted to be sure Elisa was fully understanding how important this was for them. It was a rare occurrence in gargoyle culture, which made it all the more treasured.

Gargoyle clans, for as long as the old soldier recalled, were isolated to themselves. Generation to generation the clan would grow and flourish, rookery brothers and sisters would enter maturity and bond before producing eggs of their own to spawn hatchlings of their own. And the cycle would continue as the longevity of gargoyles allowed a single couple to have multiple generations of dozens of eggs for decades on end. Therefore, there wasn't much need to associate with entirely different clans, hence the far reaching clans across the world. Wyvern Hill was all his clan's and very rarely would they encounter any other gargoyles belonging to other clans.

But when they did encounter other gargoyle clans, it was cause for celebration, though not as much celebration as it would be now, considering their freshly obtained endangered status. On this rare occasion, the visiting gargoyles would meet the entire clan if possible, as their usual purpose in meeting other gargoyles was for inter-clan relations or mate selection or refuge.

After a period of time to determine the prospective gargoyle's status with the clan, the Clan Leader would then decide if they wished for the visiting gargoyle to stay with the clan. Officially become part of the clan, instead of being an associate or ally of the clan. Once the decision had been made, the clan would then propose to the gargoyle, usually the Clan Leader or Clan Mother, but a representative of the clan could also be the one to extend the invitation. The gargoyle would always accept (at least Hudson had never seen a proposal refused before, nor heard of such a thing), and it would initiate the Welcoming Celebration.

Wings would take flight instantly as the newest member of the clan was whisked away by their fellow clansmen and taken for a joyful dance. And after a little while, another clansmen would take their turn with the new clansman, until each individual in the clan got a moment with their new clansman. Usually, the Clan Leader would be the last dance partner for the new clansman, taking the time to not only show their appreciation of the new clansman, but to catch them up on whatever role they could play in the clan. As well as to pick their brain on what they thought of the clan, maybe ask the Clan Leader if an eligible gargoyle was spoken for, etc.

And though the dancing ritual was time consuming, sometimes needing to be postponed in the middle because of the fast approaching dawn, exhausting due to the sheer number of dance partners, and nerve wracking for some considering all of the clan had to be present for the festivities, even if they'd already gotten their personal dance with the new clansman; every gargoyle loved the Welcoming Celebration. It was like humans apparently felt about Christmas, he reasoned. All those commercials and TV specials about Christmas certainly presented it as the end-all-be-all of human festivities. He felt it an appropriate comparison in that regard.

Personally, Hudson had only taken part in one Welcoming Celebration, shortly after Goliath's generation hatched. Before humans came to Wyvern Hill to fight their battles and build their castle. One night, he and his mate saw a small pack of gargoyles gliding their way. Hudson knew they weren't part of his clan, not just by their more gentle and elegant forms, but by the simple fact that his entire clan had yet to leave their home for the nightly patrol. He and his mate went to greet them, ecstatic that they were about to be visited by completely unknown gargoyles, a rare and joyous occurrence. They welcomed them with open arms, these gargoyles hailing from Scone, a land on the other side of Scotland.

When asked why they traveled from such a long way to Wyvern Hill, they simply said they wanted to explore the land and see if they could meet more gargoyles and learn more about the different clans and customs of their fellow gargoyles. Touched by the innocent and worthwhile endeavor, Hudson and his mate lead their new friends to their clan, answering all manner of excited questions and asking quite a few of their own. Mainly his mate, the curious and lively lass was always excited to learn more about other gargoyle clans, willing to adopt different customs and practices if they caught her fancy. Though Hudson was far more strict with traditions, he found himself relenting to her gentle coercing more often than not.

After a few weeks of living with them, the Scone clan had become the subject of many discussions between the Clan, with almost unanimous requests to offer them to become part of the Wyvern Clan. Most particularly, from a few young gargoyles that had gotten especially close to the Scone clan visitors. Hudson and his mate felt the same way, of course, they were bright and helpful kids, respectful, kind, and most of all humble. They quickly came to view them as part of their children same as their hatchlings.

And so, it was decided, they would propose to their guests and officially transfer them into clansmen status. As soon as the request was extended, the Scone gargoyles unanimously agreed. And thus, the first Welcoming Celebration of the Wyvern Clan had begun. It lasted 3 nights, and what a majestic time it was. Everyone was smiling and laughing and sharing their unbridled happiness with the whole clan, his mate... his Queen... she danced so beautifully then. Her every move burned into his memory like it were branded there, a well worn picture book hidden deep in his mind. Ready to be accessed every sunrise, whether on purpose or on reflex.

God, did he miss that woman...

"Yeah... together..." he finally heard Elisa whisper low, softly bringing him back to reality. She offered a small smile to Goliath as they finally landed on the balcony, the sky getting lighter by the second.

Perhaps that's why Hudson didn't press her on her peculiar response to the lad's heartfelt declaration to her, regarding such an important step in her relationship with the clan. But he knew there was something going on behind those chocolate brown eyes of her's, that she refused to allow to meet Goliath's. Still, whatever reservations she was having was Goliath's business, not his. Unlike her dance with the other members of the Clan, their delicate little dance had been going on for a while now and it was far from over. Goliath had been quite forward with her all night, he noticed, no doubt thanks to the transmogrification spell that made her the perfect female gargoyle.

It was clear whatever barrier the lad set between them, consciously or not, had been broken down. And based on how he refused to let her go even though the Sun's arrival loomed ever closer, the barrier was never coming back. How they navigate the waters of their relationship was going to change, but in what way was up to them now.

Hudson snorted a laugh as he settled on the stone railing, the one good thing to come of Demona's machinations and Puck's mischief was the boy finally acknowledging his feelings for her. The complete opposite effect Demona wished for wound up being the only thing that would last of this night. The irony was too much to not cause him to rumble out a few giggles.

The old soldier shifted his attention out to the skyline, the blue of the sky revealing the beginnings of the sunrise, the approaching dawn. That ever elusive celestial body teasing him once more with its golden light. Still, sleep was going to feel so good after all the running around he'd done tonight. Magic always had a way of making a night unbearably long, he found.

"It's almost dawn..." Broadway stated, a twinge of disappointment in his voice. Hudson wondered why for a second before understanding lit up his features.

They were human. In all the insanity of tonight and the excitement of Elisa accepting their proposal, he'd forgotten completely... Humans don't turn to stone at daybreak. Humans can walk in the light of day. Humans... can see a sunrise and watch that gorgeous golden ball all the way to sunset. And for the first and only time ever, they finally could too. Hudson finally could. That lifelong dream, that impossible hope against hope that somehow, someway, he'd be able to experience this glorious unattainable sight.

Finally, in the most unlikely and random way possible, he finally could see the Sun in real life, not an imitation in the world of dreams. Experience its warmth envelop him firsthand, as it rides across the sky with its gentle elegance and radiance. Watch the magic of day for the first time, absorb the great golden light bathe the world in its warmth and life... and he was turned back into a gargoyle just before the heavenly Sun made its momentous appearance. It was within his grasp for one fleeting moment, and just as fleeting it was snatched away from him. Forever.

Perhaps Brooklyn had the right idea in calling Puck back to transform them one more time. He shook his head a little and chided himself for such a selfish and reckless thought. But he couldn't help it, he was so close to seeing the Sun for himself, after a lifetime of being denied the sight. Only for it to be offered by fate itself and in a heartbeat shot down once more, fate's cruelty on full display yet again.

He felt so dejected and unraveled that he didn't even bother unsheathing his sword to adopt a fearsome pose to sleep in. He didn't feel the least bit fearsome, as the bitterness of the entire ordeal bared down its full weight on his exhausted shoulders. Not even the bright spot of Elisa's official welcoming into the clan could lift his spirits now, the horrible realization that he'd been mere minutes away from fulfilling a centuries long dream had taken all the joy out of that. Much to his silent shame.

So with a bitter sigh, he hung his head sadly, before his petrification began. "I would have liked to see the Sun... Just once..."

And the negative thoughts just kept on coming, sinking him deeper and deeper into misery. Hudson was lamenting not just the lifelong lot he had as a gargoyle, to never know the Sun's blazing beauty save paintings or poems depicting said beauty. But he was still holding back the absolute torrent of grief and heartache from tonights events. Each failure and loss that haunted him had been given life mere hours ago, he was subject to the visceral nightmares he often indulged in while he was stone. The Coldstone tragedy, the many gargoyles of his clan cut down in the prime of their lives, the world he longed to return to... and her...

His beautifully tragic Queen of the Night, with all the bitter unreconciled questions surrounding her. All of it twisted and contorted into a shape he barely recognized. Tainted by callous magic, disrespecting the honor, the memory, and the very real calamity of it all. He had managed to set his trauma aside for the mission, there was a much more pressing matter that needed to be tended to. Demona had to be stopped, the Child of Oberon had to be neutralized, order to Manhattan had to be restored. But now with all of those distractions dealt with, and the initial relief and brief joy of Elisa becoming clan... all he was left with was this mess of emotions swirling inside of him.

And the final straw in this bushel of hay was the realization that he could have finally been able to see the sun rise on an oddly beautiful world and bathe it in golden radiance... if they'd had the wherewithal to ask Puck to hold off on their re-transmutation until after sunrise. But just like most things in the old soldier's life of hardship... there was no way to fix this oversight on his part. This was his lot in life.

He shook himself gruffly as the barest hint of the Sun finally rose past the many peaks of Manhattan's glass towers. Hudson wanted to kick himself for all of his wallowing in self-pity, how pathetic he was whining about something he was never meant to see anyway. But he just couldn't help it. The onslaught of emotional battery left him raw, like he was slowly turning into an amalgamation of exposed nerves as opposed to solid brimstone.

Alas, the all too familiar sensation of petrification was in fact stone sleep officially setting in, giving Hudson a firm push back into the land of dreams. Tired in every sense of the word, he found himself awash in a numbing sea of melancholy. This magical misadventure had torn him asunder thoroughly and as the old soldier sank into that dark sea of dolor, he feared his aching heart would never truly mend.

Chapter Text

Timing was yet another one of Hudson's strong points, Robbins realized with a start. For just as he was hitting a roadblock with his Merlin book and frustration began to mount, a familiar rapt against the glass caught his attention. Normally Gilly would be barking up a storm and nudging Robbins to get up and greet him, but the old girl was busy in the living room catching up on her naps. She had very little to do as of late, thanks to her master's encroaching deadline and penchant for neglecting almost everything else in leu of getting one more page done. Regardless, that ever elusive flow had abruptly abandoned him and he believed he was due for a break soon anyway.

Cue the gentle yet firm knocking on the glass doors to his right, announcing his peculiar student's arrival. Robbins couldn't help the warm smile that stretched across his face as he rose to his feet and walked to the doors.

"It be me" Hudson spoke in that gravelly thick accent that Robbins had come to enjoy.

"I figured" he chuckled softly as he cracked open the doors with a light squeak. "C'mon in, Hudson" he motioned to the study while stepping aside. A low grunt accompanied by heavy footfalls and shuffling leather was his only response, which struck him as odd.

"Everything alright?" he asked as Hudson paced across the room, his steps seemed heavier than normal.

"Aye, everythin's fine" Hudson replied, a sigh hanging on his words. And judging by the slightly muffled sound, the Scotsman wasn't even facing him at the moment. Robbins raised an eyebrow at the sudden tension in the air.

"You sure about that?" he tried again.

"Aye, nothin's wrong. Let's just get started" Hudson quickly answered, the sound of pages flipping at a lazy pace trailed behind it.

Robbins stayed still for a moment longer, raising both eyebrows before walking to his chair as if eggshells were scattered across his path. "Sure thing..."

He had to admit, this wasn't exactly what he was hoping for when he imagined Hudson arriving tonight. Their visits were usually filled with amicable curiosity, comfortable laughter, occasional awkwardness, and an endearing reluctance to say goodbye. Sure they didn't always talk about the most comfortable of subjects, nor was every moment a 100% joyful one. But there was always a sense of warmth and, oddly enough, familiarity. Robbins was comfortable with Hudson and he believed Hudson was comfortable with him to an extent. There was still the matter of the larger man making a dedicated effort to not touch Robbins more than expressly necessary. Overall though, Hudson had begun to relax a bit.

But this atmosphere, it was like the night they first met. And that made Robbins clear his throat to combat a forming lump inside it.

"Alright, where'd we leave off?" he asked, not expecting an answer. "We finished the phonetics and did a few words. Why don't we try some simple sentences this time?"

Hudson shuffled erratically in his seat, "Yes... let's do..." a brief silence passed between them, "that" he finished flatly.

"There should be some 3 word sentences on one of those pages, see if you can find 'em"

"Sure" Hudson said low as the chair groaned under his shifting weight. He must have leaned forward to see better.

There was nothing but the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional rubbing of calloused hands against rough skin in the room. Robbins waited for Hudson to initiate the next part of the conversation, it seemed obvious now that Hudson had something on his mind and the more Robbins prodded, the less likely it would be for Hudson to take his mind off of it. Best to just let him work it out in his head and talk about it if he wanted to than for Robbins to try and pull it out of him. No matter how much he wanted to.

"But before that..." Hudson began, as if on cue.

"Hm?" Robbins encouraged.

Hudson's hands shuffled over his skin again as the Scotsman grumbled a little bit. "Robbins, do ye... recall anything strange happenin' last night?"

Robbins blinked a few times as his eyebrows raised.

"Um, not really, no" he answered, confusion clear in his tone.

"Nothin' outta the ordinary at all?" Hudson rephrased, "Not even a small thing that was just a wee bit odd?" he pushed, almost frantic.

Robbins simply shook his head. "Nope, not a thing" he leaned forwards a bit before asking his own question. "Why do you ask?"

"N—no reason" Hudson stammered out as he shuffled in his seat. "Just curious, is all" he mumbled as he stroked his beard, evident by the combing sound. Robbins gave him a flat look behind his dark glasses as he let his guest gather himself a bit before he investigated the strange line of questioning.

"Did, uh... somethin' strange happen to you last night?" he offered, trying to sound innocent.

"Ye have no idea..." Hudson sighed deeply, a light obscuring of his voice led Robbins to believe he'd propped his hand under his cheek. He sounded tired. No, "exhausted" was more like it.

Robbins could only imagine what could have Hudson, Scottish super spy (still sounded so weird to say), incredibly strong and capable soldier, exhausted like this. Was it some kind of black ops mission that sent him all over the country in a single day? Or maybe it was a harrowing undercover assignment he'd had to put together and complete in a short amount of time? Perhaps it was simply his age and long hours on top of the stress of the job getting him down. Whatever it was, Robbins knew he'd never get the answer to these questions, for one very simple reason.

"But it's not somethin' you can talk about, right?" he answered as he sat back in his chair.

"Aye. 'Tis class-cee-fied information" was Hudson's predicted response, "Can't be discussin' it with no one outside my clan" he added, a hint of remorse in his tone.

Robbins smirked a bit before motioning towards Hudson, "I understand". Which, he did. Truly.

"Need to know" is need to know, he knew his place. While he would speculate and let his imagination run away with it privately, he was fine being left in the dark about the specifics of these matters. Something told him deep down he didn't really want to know anyway. It was definitely better this way.

"Found 'em" Hudson spoke up, bringing Robbins' attention back.

"Good, now try readin' em"

"Puttin' me on the spot..." Hudson huffed, a quiver in his voice that he masked by clearing his throat. "Alright, here goes..." he gulped before taking the plunge.

All things considered, he was doing well. Robbins had to take into account the rate in which a child or adolescent would progress with these lessons, then how an adult fluent in a completely different language would progress, then somehow apply that to Hudson's progress. And despite how convoluted it seemed to get, Robbins had to conclude that his peculiar student was doing fine, if not great.

They'd gone through the alphabet and half the phonetics that first night, the next night he had everything memorized and they'd finished the phonetics. Which included the more advanced ones, like "ph", "th", "ch", etc. Again, the next night he had successfully memorized all of what they covered, so they moved to small words. Hudson had been able to grasp those rather quickly, barring a few confusing arrangements for him. The silent "k" in "know" was particularly frustrating, but simultaneously entertaining for Robbins. And now, with the short sentences, he was doing alright. "See spot run", "Sam went home", "Sue likes cake", he was nailing those in a relatively short time.

But as soon as he flipped the page and started on the slightly more complicated sentences, Hudson got uncharacteristically silent. Not that being silent was unlike him, far from it, but the air of the silence was full of tension. A step beyond careful trepidation or thoughtful deliberation. No no, this feeling in the air, accompanied by Hudson's occasional gulping and smacking of his lips to begin speaking, but never actually saying anything, it could only be one thing.

"No need to be nervous, Hudson" he finally spoke up, startling Hudson a bit if his sharp inhale was any indication. "Just take it one word at a time, same as the other sentences"

"I—I ain't nervous, Robbins!" he replied gruffly, before settling back into the cushions. "I just... don't know what I'm lookin' at for some o'these"

"Oh? Describe what's confusin' you" he offered gently.

"Well, see this one here, it's got a 's' and a 'k' together an' I don't think we went over that one" he began, tapping the paper rigorously. "And then over here there's 2 p's together! What's that aboot? Do I just go 'puh-puh' or one long 'pffft' sound?!" Hudson struggled, the light breeze coming from him indicated a lot of frustrated pantomiming which made Robbins stifle a laugh.

"Not much of a description but I'll make due" Robbins chuckled out as he placed his hands on top of his cane. At least some of the usual atmosphere had returned.

Hudson groaned under his breath before slumping back. "Oh, right... sorry Robbins" he offered, a low grumble resonating in his apology.

"No, the fault's mine. It'd be much easier if I could just see what you're talkin' about, huh?" Robbins forced himself to chuckle back. After a beat he took a breath and continued in a low voice. "Ya know, it's not too late to get a better teacher"

"No!" Hudson shot back, his deep voice bouncing off the walls causing Robbins to go rigid. That was sudden. "No. Robbins, yer..." he stopped himself, smacking his lips before continuing. "I can't trust anyone else with this. I've already come so far with ye, I intend to finish what we've started" he finished, forceful and assured. The complete opposite of what he'd been all night.

Robbins smirked to himself, "Fair enough". He let silence reign between them for a moment, just to let it all sink in.

That immediate rejection of the notion that he should be replaced was... well, it warmed Robbins' heart, he wouldn't lie. It seemed like Hudson had more he would have said, but that all too familiar masculine mask held him back from really letting loose everything. Robbins understood that, it was difficult to break away from that conditioning, Hudson was no exception to that. He was human, just like everyone else. Still, to even want to express anything more than what was already understood between them was a strong step forward that Robbins appreciated. He felt the same, he just made the offer to be polite and let Hudson know he's not trapped with him.

Robbins cleared his throat, another lump dissolved, before he focused back on the business at hand.

"So uh, the 2 'p's would just be the one 'p' sound. We never drag out the 'p' sound, or the 't' sound for that matter" he clarified as Hudson hummed along, stroking his beard once again.

"As for the other one you said, 's' and 'k', it's more often than not a combination of the 's' sound and 'k' sound. Just 'sss' and 'kuh' together".

"I see..." Hudson said after a minute of silent study, the earlier shakiness in his voice gone.

"Now, why don't you give the 'sk' sentence a try? See how ya do" Robbins encouraged, motioning to the booklet.

But Hudson remained silent for a moment longer, his gaze seemed to linger on Robbins before darting else where in the room. It was a curious feeling, Robbins noted, the feeling of someone's eyes on you, especially when they knew you couldn't stare back. It wasn't exactly a comfortable feeling, nor was he entirely sure that Hudson was doing it at first, but over the course of a a few seconds, the sensation became clear. Hudson was eyeing him and Robbins had no idea why. Had he said something strange accidentally? Or was he still a bit nervous about reading those sentences?

Just as Robbins took a breath to ease Hudson's worries, the Scotsman broke the silence himself.

"Do ye... miss it?"

Robbins immediately closed his mouth and blinked a few times. "Miss what?"

Hudson shuffled awkwardly in his seat before answering. "Yer, uh... yer sight" he ventured, that nervous tension present again as Robbins sat there stunned for a second.

"Well—" he began, half coughing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" Hudson back tracked, his voice raised higher than normal.

"That's quite the question, Hudson" Robbins barreled through, wringing his hands together.

Hudson waved rigorously in front of Robbins, "I'm sorry, ye don't have to answer that!"

"Now, hang on—"

"Just forget I said anythin'!" he cried, grabbing Robbins' shoulders firmly.

Shocked, Robbins took considerable effort to calm himself as he placed his hands on Hudson's pauldrons and lightly pushed him back.

"No it's okay, it's okay. Relax" he soothed as best he could, standing as he guided Hudson back down into his seat.

"No, it was tactless of me to even—"

"Hudson" Robbins cut him off, not wanting him to go down that road. "It's fine. Really"

And it was. He should have expected the question at some point because everyone asked him that eventually. Some took much longer to ask than others, but the question was on everyone's mind when they met him. How could it not be? If he was honest, he used to have the same question burning in his mind when he saw other blind people, before his vision went dark on that fateful day. So he didn't mind anyone asking the question, especially not a friend who obviously had something weighing on him and this was his roundabout way of asking for help.

"It's a valid question. I just wasn't expecting it, is all" Robbins assured as he stepped toward his crackling fireplace.

Hudson got back up, "Ye really don't have to answer, I just—"

"No, I'll answer it. I don't mind" Robbins stood to the side to face Hudson, as best he could of course.

"I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't miss being able to see. It's such a fundamental part of being a normal guy. I mean, I got a list in my head a mile long of all the things I wish I could look at. It can get pretty melancholy at times, thinking about everything beyond my reach... especially the things I used to take for granted" Robbins couldn't help the smile that showed his teeth as he went to that special place in his mind where he hid all his favorite sights like a photo album.

"Like the bubbles in boiling water. Or the waves of the ocean crashing into the shore. The sun setting over a gorgeous landscape. A beautiful woman dancing her heart out under a dazzling spotlight..." he sighed deeply, a content smile on his face. "God, I could go on and on about all the things I miss lookin' at. The imagination just doesn't compare to the real deal, ya know?" he shook his head a bit before reaching a hand out towards Hudson, who he knew was hanging on his every word.

Robbins recoiled his hand back. "But as soon as I start slipping into that mindset, I try to pump the brakes" before Hudson could ask the obvious question, he provided an answer. "Because I can't let myself be shackled to what I don't, or rather, can't have. I have to be thankful for what I do have so I can move forward and live my life" he clarified, his smile settling down into a small grin.

It was a hard lesson to learn, but he'd done it years back. When he was first blinded and learning to live again it was easy to slip into harmful longing. But he persisted and over time he achieved a better grasp on those thoughts and emotions. Then when he'd broken up with his now ex-fiance, those feelings came back in full force for a while. And before he could get them back under control, he hooked up with his now ex-girlfriend, who distracted him long enough to break it off and send him spiraling back down the rabbit hole of everything he misses. But again, he persevered and refocused himself on everything he still had, and now he was at peace.

Not to say he was never unhappy or had bad days, those would always come. But on the whole, Robbins couldn't complain. He had a great deal to be thankful for. Gilly, the house, his work, his neighbors and acquaintances. Not to mention his health, his mind, his family. And now... Robbins looked back in Hudson's direction, his smile growing just a bit wider as he chuckled under his breath. The point was, there was plenty he could whine and bemoan about, but there was even more to be grateful for and enjoy. What was that one Charles Dickens quote that applied to this...? Ah, that's right.

"As a wiser man than me once said: Reflect upon your present blessings—of which every man has many—not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some" he stated with some authority. It was a quote that had stuck with him through the years and helped him maintain that focus. But there was one other quote that he hung onto even more...

"But to go back even further: He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has" he supplied, satisfied with his memory. He still had it when it counted. Hudson sat in stunned silence for a moment before he plopped back down in the chair, the leather squeaking as it received his weight.

"Wow..." was all he could muster in his dazzled state. Robbins couldn't help but giggle in response. Hudson was so easy to impress sometimes. But he was grateful he could help by sharing these words of wisdom that guided him through many troubled times in his life.

"Yeah, Epictetus has quite a few pearls of wisdom like that", Robbins informed, hoping to pique the Scotsman's interest in the lesser known Greek philosopher.

Robbins himself had no knowledge of him until he looked into James Stockdale, a fellow Vietnam vet, and his incredible story of survival. He'd quoted the philosopher in his book and Robbins of course had it in his collection. But after looking into him for himself, Epictetus had become Robbins' favorite ancient thinker. He figured if Hudson ever took to reading like he had, Epictetus would be a nice figure for him to look into.

"Epic is right..." Hudson finally spoke up, absentminded by the inflection of his voice.

Robbins doubled over, "Hahahaha! Good one!" he chuckled before rising back to his full height. That took him off guard. Again. "I gotta remember that" he sighed pleasantly before walking back to his chair.

Hudson squirmed a bit in his chair, opening his mouth then promptly closing it again to fidget some more. He really wasn't himself tonight...

"What if...?" he spoke up again, awkward and unsure. "What if ye tried to focus on the things ye have now and forget about the things ye don't have... but the past keeps..." shuffling and stifled moaning, "showin' up outta the blue?" he finished plopping his hands down to his knees, a sign that he was at his wits end.

"What... what would ye do then?" a low pained breath escaped the man, likely without his consent.

Robbins nodded slowly. "Huh..." was all he could say at the moment, as he wanted to really take the time to weigh his words.

It wasn't that he didn't know what to say, on the contrary, it was painfully obvious what Hudson was struggling with and what he needed to do to fix it. It was honestly a little cute how much he tried to hide it and failed spectacularly. Though Robbins figured he'd keep that detail to himself. He wasn't sure what Hudson meant by his past resurfacing out of the blue, but if his demeanor and tone was anything to go off of, it seemed to be a matter close to his heart. A ghost from his past must have come back into his life unexpectedly or something must have irritated an old wound without warning. That was his best guess and he wasn't going to hold his breath on Hudson disclosing the details anytime soon.

His Scottish friend was firmly stuck in the stereotypical masculine credo, to be up front with others about your weaknesses or struggles is forbidden. Keep everyone at a distance, never open up, hold everything inside until you go numb. Damn the consequences to your mental, emotional, and physical health, let pride rule your every move to maintain your status as a "real" man. It was nauseating.

How could anyone truly live like that? Especially once they got to his age and in Hudson's case, even older? But Robbins supposed he had no one to truly blame here, save society itself, but what good would come of that presently? As he discovered himself long ago, the only way to help someone out of that mindset is to gently guide them into a different perspective. Forcing someone to open up never ever ended well, for anyone. This way, if done right, the person wouldn't even realize they were abandoning their old mindset, they would just assume they're naturally maturing into a healthier person. Which, to be fair, is true.

However, focusing on what the person needs is far better than pointing out what they've been doing wrong this whole time. Instead of turning them around and showing them how far away they are from where they should be, a simple nudge in the right direction works far better. And Hudson had given him a convenient vehicle to take him in that direction, so Robbins settled into the driver's seat and shifted into gear.

"Well, I guess I'd just have to lean on the people around me for support" the blind writer dropped, waiting for Hudson to engage with the response.

"Support?" was the question he was met with, and it broke his heart. It sounded like Hudson had never even heard the concept before. Robbins held back the sympathy welling up inside him and continued.

"Yeah. I mean, they're part of what ya got now and should be rejoicing about" he explained, before gesturing towards Hudson with one hand. "For example, when my ex broke up with me, I was a wreck. All I could think about was how much I wanted her back and the future we could've had together and how all the things I'd missed out on wouldn't be so bad if I just had her... how cruel life was now that she had left..."

Robbins pointed at Hudson before continuing. "But ya know what broke me outta that funk?" he led on.

"What?" Hudson asked mesmerized, shuffling closer to Robbins as if he was literally being drawn in. Robbins smirked to himself.

"My niece came to visit me. She demanded I get ready for a day out with her and the rest of the family, and she didn't give me no chance to say no" he relayed full of mirth, a giggle peeking through his words.

"Next thing I knew, we were out to dinner, havin' a blast. And for the first time since my ex left... I was alright" he waved his hand quickly as he looked to the side. "Don't get me wrong, it still hurt, my imagination still ran away with me concerning her, but... I was better about it. It wasn't all I was thinkin' about. It wasn't my focus, it wasn't this big thing that would suck me up and hold me hostage" he closed his hand into a fist. And slowly, he opened it back up again.

"It became... manageable. Smaller. Less horrible and painful" he huffed out a satisfied breath. "Until finally, I just kinda got over it" Robbins finished with a nonchalant shrug as he leaned to the side, his smirk widening.

Hudson fiddled with his hands a bit before speaking up again. "When did ye... get over it?" he asked, struggling with the words a bit.

"I don't know exactly, but it didn't happen overnight, lemme tell ya", he leveled with him. Hudson needed to know that it was a process, not a flick of a switch. "Still, thanks to my family, some of my friends, and giving myself a lotta time to heal... it just doesn't hurt anymore".

"And ye couldn't have... 'gotten over it', without yer family?" Hudson wondered, a reservedness in his voice. Like he hoped his intentions weren't completely laid bare, despite them being out in the open the entire time. Still, Robbins didn't acknowledge that sentiment and let him cling to the illusion. Anything to get this through to him.

"No, of course not. I figure some guys tougher than me could'a done it alone, sure. But it would've taken 'em much longer and it would've been far more difficult. And that's the thing:" he leaned in closer to Hudson, his arms out to this sides. "Why make things more difficult for yourself when ya don't have to?"

Hudson opened his mouth to speak, but no words dared come out. Robbins knew he had him there. Onward he pressed.

"It's okay to recognize when ya need support, it's why we have/ family and friends in the first place. Otherwise, what're they there for? Decoration?" he joked, hopefully to take the tension away without downplaying the message itself.

The feeling of Hudson's gaze boring into him stopped and the sound of his calloused hands rubbing together took its place. He was looking down at them in thought, most likely. Good. He'd gotten through to him.

"Support..." the Scotsman repeated low. "It's easier fer some to ask for than others" he said plainly, an anonymous admission in his mind, no doubt.

"Yeah. But not impossible, right?" Robbins smiled. "It takes wisdom to know what you need, it takes courage to go and get it" he said, gently placing his hand on Hudson's shoulder. The lack of rejection or discomfort was all he wanted in response. But he could feel the stiffness that Hudson had been carrying this whole time dissolve as the man finally relaxed.

"Aye... Suppose yer right aboot that..." he replied, stroking his beard before speaking up again. "Who said that proverb?"

"Yours truly" Robbins grinned proudly. "Like it?"

Hudson let out a soft laugh. "I do, it's... perfect" a strong hand like a lion's paw dropped onto Robbins' shoulder, returning the gesture. "Thank ye, Robbins. Ye always give me somethin' good to consider" Hudson said, smile clear in his tone as he gave a firm squeeze to Robbins' shoulder.

"No problem, happy to help" Robbins said as he took his hand back and dropped it onto the coffee table. "Now, whaddya say to some 'sk' and double 'p' sentences, huh?" he grinned with a twinkle in his eye.

Hudson popped up to his feet. "Ack, I was hopin' ye forgot aboot that!" then dropped back down in his seat with a gruff landing.

"No such luck, buddy!" Robbins laughed back.

Hudson joined in for a moment before collecting the booklet in his hands and finally pushing through the sentences. He did great, as always. Robbins never had to worry about him, at least on that particular front. When it came to his emotional and social development, he was a surprising collection of unresolved issues and harmful habits. One would think that the super secret spy organization he works for would be on top of the mental and emotional state of their agents, but apparently not.

It was a sorry state of affairs, this poor old soldier who constantly put himself between those that would do the world harm and the innocent populous who would never know he existed, was suffering in silence. Not even leaning on his fellow agents, his "clan" as he called them, for support. And if Robbins knew him as well as he thought, Hudson was already functioning as support for them, but selflessly keeping his own needs and pain to himself. Which is noble in one sense, but in another practical sense, was making everything worse. And of course Hudson couldn't see it that way. He was too busy being that patriarchal pillar of strength and hardness, unable to let anything out to disturb that image.

It was an unsustainable system, something had to give and unfortunately, Hudson would be the one buckling under that insane pressure. He needed help, clearly. He basically came right out tonight and asked for help, as directly as he could. After all, change is difficult, especially when you're older and already set in your ways. Old dogs, new tricks, that familiar adage. But when change is so desperately needed, one had to try.

Though he freely admitted, he wasn't a professional shrink or anything, Robbins would certainly help him where he could. Give a word of wisdom or two, nudge him in the right direction, try to set his mind at ease at least for a little while. Heck, he'd already been doing it before tonight, but this moment really highlighted how much support Hudson was in need of. Support Robbins would gladly supply for as long as it was needed. For the one present blessing he was most thankful for was currently struggling to pronounce the word "skipped".

Chapter Text

As the last hints of sunlight fade under the horizon, the Manhattan Clan wake in unison with a satisfying chorus of roars and shattering brimstone. For another night, they live and breathe as flesh and blood. Fortunately that fact remained a precious secret shared only among a few lunatics who benefitted more from keeping said secret.

And of course, the one human that Hudson was glad knew their secret, Elisa. She was waiting patiently behind them, leaning against the clock face, a gentle smile gracing her features before she called out to The Clan. Her clan now, Hudson recalled, sporting a smile of his own.

"Hey guys, sleep well?"

"Hey, Elisa!" Broadway greeted rushing to her with his brothers in lockstep. "What's—?"

"What's our surprise?!" Lexington asked, a giddy expression on his face.

"Yeah, what'd ya get us?!" Brooklyn joined his brothers and leaned in towards her.

"Gettin' right to it, huh?" Elisa replied with a chuckle as she crossed her arms.

That was right, Elisa had told them the night before, just as dawn approached, she had something planned for tonight. And when she was inevitably met with questions of what it could be, she simply replied that it was a surprise. Of course the lads couldn't help but stew on it all day as they slept.

Though as Hudson watched silently, he noticed Goliath was beginning to crowd her, albeit at arms length. As opposed to the Trio, who were practically on top of Elisa, bouncing in place with excitement.

Hudson smirked as he approached the boys, "Alright, lads. Reel it back. Elisa will reveal yer precious surprise in'a moment, I'm sure" he said, pushing them inside the tower.

"Yeah, but what is it?" Lexington reiterated, Hudson rolled his eyes as he pushed a bit harder.

"I believe the answer to that question lies before you," Goliath spoke up, pointing at a table that was not there the night before.

"Happy anniversary, boys!" Elisa announced, "I finally found a table big and sturdy enough for you guys," she gestured to the gift.

"Well gee, thanks Elisa, but," Broadway quirked up an eye ridge. "What do we need a table for?"

Brooklyn immediately let out a laugh, drawing everyone's attention. "You're joking, right?" he asked, a rhetorical question, as Broadway crossed his arms challenging him.

Brooklyn pointed at his brother's face, "You and Bronx are competing for who can scatter the most food around the tower, including all over the walkways" he put up another finger, "Lex keeps leaving his tools on the floor when he's tinkering, which—lemme tell ya—is a joy to walk across early in the night", he put up a third finger, "If we wanna watch TV, we all have to stand around Hudson's recliner like a bunch'a hobos or pop a squat on the floor like it's huddle time at Yankee Stadium".

Brooklyn pointed his hand to the side, "Not to mention the storage room is literally just a room hiding a messy pile of our stuff, it's a nightmare trying to get anything outta there. That includes the all too important Grimorum Arcanorum which we'll need handy one of these days. So you're stuck diving in a pile of junk while Coldstone ju-ju-just stares at you. Like at any moment, he could start blastin' or clawin' or-or-or stranglin' the life outta y—"

The lad had finally stopped his diatribe, probably because everyone was looking at him with the same shocked, and frankly, ashamed expression on their faces. Or maybe it was because he caught himself demonstrating the strangling he feared Coldstone would deliver to an imaginary victim's throat.

He chuckled a bit, more self-conscious than genuine amusement, before he finished. "Uh, let's just say, I've been waiting for something to save us from turning into complete cavemen".

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Elisa nodded while putting her hand on her hip.

Hudson had to agree, every point Brooklyn brought up was accurate, their living conditions were less than refined. And that was the kindest way he could put it. Hudson could only speak for himself, but he never took the time to clean or organize anything because he rarely thought about it. That just wasn't a worry for him, it never was.

For one thing, he was used to a bigger "castle" to call home, thus the ability for things to get junky became less and less likely due to the sheer amount of space they had to fill with their belongings. That isn't to say they had a lot of possessions at Wyvern Castle, most of their belongings were shared with the humans. Weapons, food, books, trinkets, all of it mostly belonged to the humans, The Clan just borrowed things for a night or two.

Only a select few items were truly The Clan's: Demona's jewelry, Goliath's token of her love from before his leadership, Hudson's pauldron and gauntlets, the clothes on their backs. All things that they could wear or otherwise didn't need storage space for. Everything else that was borrowed was simply returned to the humans' storage and they took care to organize it in whatever way that suited them.

Which brought him to the second point, back at Wyvern Hill, the only belongings they had were things they wore or could be placed in pouches. But now? Now they were gathering a surplus of things; from pots and pans, to televisions, to remote controlled toy cars, to their own helicopter, to a collection of magazines and newspapers that get added to every week. Not to mention all the miscellaneous junk they just seemed to be collecting, things that were better suited for the trash more than likely. They've never had this much stuff before.

Frankly it was odd that they'd acquired so much in so little time compared to the majority of their lives before waking up in this annoying new world. They'd strayed from the gargoyle way, and while Hudson understood why it was necessary, he most certainly didn't like that they had to. Just another compromise existing in the wrong time had earned them...

Regardless, the disarray of their domicile was in no small part due to these 2 important factors, but there were other factors that couldn't be ignored. Including the simple fact that they were 5 bachelors living together in a relatively small space. Cleanliness and organization was not going to be abundant, regardless of their individual quirks or gripes concerning it. But they were also the sworn protectors of the entire isle (or was it an island?) of Manhattan, that was froth with villains and ne'er-do-wells of all types which kept them busy nearly every night.

So the amount of time they would need to significantly clean the entire tower up was unreasonable because of their duties. Suffice it to say, a new dining table was a welcomed addition to their messy lives. What other additions to their humble abode would be made in the future, only Elisa knew. She would no doubt have the whole place sparkling clean and orderly if she herself took a few days away from her duties as a dee-tec-tive. The place needed a woman's touch...

Hudson couldn't help the pang of grief he felt thinking that his Queen of the Night would have whipped the place into shape. There wasn't a mess that could withstand her cleaning expertise. He could remember the bloodstains that dirtied the castle walls from a particularly difficult battle, being wiped away by her and the hatchlings with water soaked cloths and flower oil.

One night was all it took her to complete transform a bloody mess into a pristine castle once more. He never told her how impressive that was... probably because he didn't pay it much attention. And she never shined a light on it either, too happy to help than to take credit for anything.

Gods, did he miss that woman.

But the bigger concern at the moment was just how long had Brooklyn been holding all of those complaints in? He never struck Hudson as a tidy person, just like his rookery brothers, he assumed they were rambunctious young warriors. More concerned with chasing fun than bad guys, which he'd recently found endearing, but that still left little room to expect a serious concern for sanitation. Hudson opted to hold onto that question, but made it a point to look more closely at Brooklyn from now on. The boy was more than he appeared to be.

"Thank you for such a thoughtful gift, Elisa," Goliath said bringing everyone back to the focus of the night, "But if I may, what anniversary are we to celebrate tonight?"

Elisa scoffed as she shook her head. "What anniversary, he says" she smirked as she continued. "How about the day you became official New Yorkers?"

The clan of gargoyles looked between themselves before collectively sounding out an epiphanal "ohhhhh". Had it really been that short a time?

"Was that truly only a year ago?" Goliath marveled, echoing Hudson's question. "It feels considerably longer than that".

"Yeah, guess that's what happens when you're dealin' with evil plots and criminals, all night every night," Broadway shrugged as he opened the different bags spread out on their table. By smell alone it seemed like Elisa managed to get all of their favorites.

Lexington placed a hand on his forehead. "It's crazy... a whole year in New York and it still feels..." he struggled for a moment, pantomiming with his hands.

"Foreign. Bewildering. Strange. Disorienting," Hudson supplied, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"All of the above," Lexington sighed, while jumping in a chair at the table. "Still, it's certainly got its perks," he continued, taking a container out of the bags. Hudson recognized it as a "takeout box", Elisa often brought them when she had the time before her shift.

"And how!" Broadway happily agreed, cradling a steaming ham sandwich.

Brooklyn continued laying out the takeout boxes, opening them to see what contents waited inside each one. "How'd you get all'a this stuff up here by yourself, anyway?" he peered over at Elisa.

"One bag at a time," she answered while dividing up plates and eating utensils, "I had all day to set up so I got to take my time and prevent anyone from getting suspicious".

Brooklyn smirked up at her. "Nice".

Goliath descended the stairs and reached the table. "Well, let us eat with haste, the night has only just begun. Our patrol will be—"

"Nuh-uh, lemme stop ya right there, big guy," Elisa spun on her heel and held Goliath back. "Anniversary Etiquette 101: You get the night off" she waved at him as she continued setting the table.

"But what about our duty?" Hudson spoke up, "Manhattan won't patrol itself".

Elisa sidled up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, there's this crazy new thing called police that usually handle that. You may not have heard of them, they've been here way before you guys took up your duty. And even they take the day off when their anniversaries come up" she took a chair out and motioned for Hudson to sit. "And we get paid to do it, so you guys are definitely sittin' tonight out".

Hudson suddenly found himself sat down in the seat Elisa offered, place setting before him. How does she do that? Goliath shifted his confused look from the lass to Hudson and all the old soldier could do was chuckle to himself and admit defeat. Goliath was gonna have his hands full with her, now that she's officially Clan. She's already making an impressive Clan Mother.

Goliath wisely picked up on Hudson's example and took out the seat at the head of the table. "Well, uh... if you are certain our protection is not expressly necessary for one night..." he tried, Elisa taking a box and setting it before him.

"I am very certain. Sit on down, get comfortable, we've got plenty to do inside", she instructed, taking a small bag that had yet to be opened and distributed.

"What'd ya have in mind, Elisa?" Broadway said through a mouthful of food.

"Funny you should ask..." she said, turning her back to them as she fiddled with the bag. "I seem to remember making a certain older gentleman a promise to help him out with his clever—but more so hilarious—cover story," she shot a mischievous look over her shoulder at Hudson. He made sure to display how unamused he was with a playful glare.

Elisa rose to her full height and presented what she was concealing. "I never forget my promises". She handed Hudson a short stack of rectangular containers, akin to books, with pictures of a man in a suit with a gun on the front. Hudson was only confused for a second before the lads hollered in excitement at what he'd been given.

"WOAH! James Bond movies!" Broadway exclaimed, snatching a few for closer inspection. "Aw man, I've seen the trailers for these on TV!"

Okay, so they were movies. But why did Elisa give them to him and not the boys? "Who is this James Bond fellow, lass?" Hudson asked, a confused chuckle hanging on his words.

"Only the greatest secret agent in human history," she said grinning and crossing her arms in front of her.

"Oh, aye?" Hudson perked up.

"Yup. I didn't forget what I promised you. I was just waitin' for the Blockbuster to have all the ones I've seen before. Plus, it timed out perfectly with your anniversary, so yeah". Elisa explained before shifting her hands into her pockets.

"So, I'm to be studyin' all these then, 'ey?" Hudson tilted his head to the side, smiling up at her.

"Don't worry, we're all gonna study 'em," she opened her arms up as she continued. "I figured dinner and a movie marathon would be a good way to celebrate indoors".

Hudson petted the woman's cheek with a gentle touch, her bronze skin softer than sheep's wool. "A fine idea, lass" he said, holding his hand against her beautiful face. "Thank you. Fer all o' this". She breathed out a quiet giggle as she patted his hand and leaned into his palm, a silent reply.

"Cool, sounds good to me," Broadway chimed in after swallowing an entire chicken leg and reaching for another.

"I heard these movies have a ton of gadgets and stuff. I can't wait to see 'em, maybe I could try copying them in real life!" Lexington beamed, his wide eyes practically shining in the warm light. Hudson had no doubt the lad could build whatever he fancied, given enough time and material. These movies would do nothing but stoke the fires that Lexington forged his ideas from.

"Are ya gonna stay and watch with us?" Brooklyn asked as Elisa stretched her arms out, grunting in satisfaction.

"I'd love to, but I got paperwork that's been pilin' up," she sighed, rolling her stiff shoulders. "LT will have my head if I don't have 'em all filed by morning". Hudson looked up quizzically before he remembered what LT stood for. Lieutenant, Elisa's police commander.

Goliath walked towards Elisa before she could get to the stairs. "Forgive me if I am mistaken, but... is this not your anniversary to celebrate as well as ours?" he asked, causing Elisa to turn around and raise her eyebrow.

"How do ya figure?" she asked warily, putting her hands on her hips.

Goliath motioned between his chest and hers, "This marks the 1st year that we met. The 1st year of our friendship, the 1st year you are officially part of the Clan" he finished, placing a hand on her slender shoulder. "And according to Anniversary Etiquette, the whole clan is to refrain from working. Which must mean you also would have the night off, correct?" he smirked deviously.

Elisa could do nothing but shake her head in playful offense. "You sly devil, you" she giggled.

"Just following your logic, my lady" Goliath replied bowing, missing the blush that flashed across her cheeks.

"Elisa sits next to me!" Broadway declared, popping up by her side and slinging his arm across her shoulders. The suddenness of the action caused her to stagger beneath his considerable weight with an awkward "oof".

Goliath quickly raised back up. "I was the one who convinced her to stay, Broadway. Should she not sit with me?" he challenged.

"Do I get a say in this?" Elisa asked raising her finger.

While the two argued over seating arrangements, Hudson focused back on the bounty of food displayed before him. His assumption was correct, Elisa managed to remember all of their favorite foods and brought plenty of each to ensure each member of the Clan would be satisfied.

For Lexington she brought the most tender and juicy pork roast he'd ever seen, a pile of potatoes mashed into a smooth paste with a glob of butter melting on top, carrots seasoned in some sort of sweetened sauce, a delicacy Elisa called "stuffing" and string beans that appeared to be roasted. It smelled divine and judging by how enthralled Lexington was, its taste matched its smell.

Brooklyn was gifted with a collection of chicken parts fried golden brown, roasted corn on the cob dripping with butter, something Elisa called "mac & cheese" which appeared to have bits of bacon baked into it, a large bowl of beans that had also been baked with an assortment of sweet spices, judging from the aroma, and leafy greens boiled in vinegar among other seasonings. A truly hearty, mouthwatering meal to be sure, one that Brooklyn rigorously—yet carefully—devoured.

As for Goliath, Elisa was sure to treat him with the largest slabs of beef she could find, steaks that dripped its savory juices with the most minimal of provocation, garlic roasted potatoes, an assortment of vegetables and shrimp all stabbed into a stick Elisa called "shish kabobs", grilled asparagus drizzled in honey, grilled pineapple slices, mushrooms that had been stuffed with cheese and meat. It was hard not to stare at it all, Hudson's mouth watered from the mere sight of it. And Goliath was very pleased with his meal, evident by how he savored every single bite.

Broadway had no "favorite", of course. He had yet to find anything edible that he did not enjoy, a fact that he proudly declared every so often. So, Elisa wisely elected to bring him all the standard dishes of Manhattan; pizza, hot dogs, cheeseburgers, corndogs, onion rings, french fried potatoes, something called "tacos" that was very cheesy, submarine sandwiches, a whole bag of other things that Elisa simply called "Chinese food" which seemed to mostly consist of rice dishes and fried cylinders called "egg rolls".

She also made it a point to bring new foods for Broadway to try, a whole bag she labeled "kosher" and another of "Thai food". Needless to say, the lad was in heaven.

As for Hudson himself, he couldn't complain at all with his meal. Elisa the sweetheart had to have asked Goliath about his tastes because he never mentioned beef stew to her before. Yet, here it was, smelling gloriously and begging to be tasted, consisting of chunks of potatoes as big as his palm and a surplus of thick mushrooms. Accompanying the stew was another rare blessing of this era, a basket of garlic bread toasted to perfection, a plump helping of haggis, along with pea pods steamed in the same sweet sauce as the carrots, seared scallops with a tender lemon scent, and several flaky Scotch pies filled with rich mutton and onions.

And for dessert, all the ingredients to make Cranachan, the ambrosia of the gods, along with a thick slab of sticky toffee pudding in its moist creamy goodness. Hudson had no clue where Elisa managed to get half of this stuff, but she must have really searched for these delicious reminders of home. Words failed him as he dug into the feast laid before him, each and every bite was utter joy distilled into physical form. It was euphoric, he nearly broke down and cried, it was all just so good.

A quick look around the table (he was so thankful for the table now that it was here) told him that he wasn't the only one caught up in the sheer majesty of this bounty. Brooklyn, for one, had failed to stop the tears from flowing as he slowly chewed on the crunchy chicken breast in his hands.

The normally multitasking or otherwise talkative Lexington was dead silent aside from pleasurable moans every so often, especially when he slipped a carrot into his mouth. Broadway the ever voracious typhoon of gluttony was the source of most of the sounds, he ate so much Hudson feared he stopped breathing.

Goliath was completely enamored as well, which wasn't a surprise at that point, but still noteworthy. The lad was slowly chewing a particularly large bite of one of his steaks, before adding a fork full of grilled pineapple. His face when the two flavors melded together was priceless, like he was a hatchling again watching the ocean's waves crash against the shore.

And off to the side silently watching the fruits of her good work, Elisa sat between him and Broadway, her chin nestled on her elegantly interlocked fingers. The proudest of grins plastered on her face. Hudson couldn't even pretend to be mad at her, the lass exceeded all expectations. She earned her victory this night.

"Elisa... you have truly outdone yourself, lass" he complimented after swallowing a particularly satisfying mouthful. Everyone else could only hum or moan in agreement, causing Elisa to let out the loveliest giggle.

"Thanks. Glad you're enjoying it, Hudson. Yours was the most challenging to put together", she confirmed. "Ready for the movie?" she presented one of the secret agent movies in her hand.

"Aye, I think so... but don't be upset if I happen to shift my attention back to my supper every once in awhile", Hudson said without an ounce of dishonesty.

Elisa giggled again as she went to the television. "No worries".

"What's the first one called?" Broadway finally spoke, confirming that he had finally taken a breath.

"Live and Let Die", Elisa replied while pulling the TV closer to the table. "And it's not the first one, per say, it's just the oldest one they had at Blockbuster", she explained, grunting as she went.

Brooklyn was by her side, taking over the repositioning job. "Sounds... dramatic", he squinted.

"Buddy, you ain't heard nothin' yet" Lex spoke up, as he shuffled through the movies, reading them in an overly dramatic voice. "The Man with the Golden Gun, The Spy Who Loved Me, Moonraker—what even is that?" he chuckled to himself, "—Never Say Never Again".

Brooklyn finally got the television in place but immediately shook his head wildly. "Wait wait wait, Never Say Never Again?" he repeated.

"Yeah. It's like never say 'never', but you already said 'never' before. So this time, don't... don't do it again" Broadway snickered causing his brothers to burst into laughter, he quickly followed behind them with a loud bellow of his own.

Elisa gasped in faux offense. "How dare you. I will not stand for this blatant besmirching of the James Bond franchise".

Brooklyn handed Elisa the remote as he replied. "Ya gotta admit these titles are kinda ridiculous", he said tilting his head towards her.

Elisa put a hand in his face and turned away. "All I can hear is the sound of besmirching and I will not respond to such disrespect", she said matter of factly, a grin threatening to break her stoic mask.

"You mean, you'll never again respond ever again once again?" Lexington chimed in, causing Broadway to snort another laugh and nearly choke on his onion rings. That sent Lexington and Brooklyn to their knees cackling.

Hudson chuckled lowly as he smacked his palm to his forehead. "Oy, play the thing already" he called out, trying to sound exasperated.

Elisa flicked the television on just as a news broadcast played. The caption gave everyone pause, cluing Hudson into what was drawing everyone's attention. The headline read—Hudson realized with a start that he could actually understand what the words said—"A werewolf on the loose? Citizens claim these sightings are real".

"Please turn it up" Goliath requested and immediately Elisa obeyed, giving the anchorman his voice back.

"—night and the woman claimed the creature took her groceries right out of her shopping cart".

A woman popped on screen, she was outside in a parking lot. "I was just headin' outta the store, makin' my way to the car, when I dropped my purse. I went to pick it up and I heard a roar. But as soon as I looked up, my roast beef, chicken, and country ribs were gone. And there was a big hairy thing runnin' off, throwin' the cart. Now I ain't even got no eggs to make in the mornin' ".

The newsman popped back on screen. "A startling development, but police are saying there's no evidence of this being a supernatural crime at this time. Still, officials are warning everyone to be careful at night. You never know who—or what is lurking in the shadows".

At those words, everyone looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Speaking of werewolves, the Halloween block party in Naghboh Village is going to stretch all the way to Greenwich Village! There'll be food vendors from all over the city, Jack-o-lantern carving, and a costume contest! Winners of the costume contest will be rewarded fabulous prizes that wil—"

Elisa muted the broadcast and laughed to herself bringing everyone's attention to her. "Oh c'mon, don't worry, we get these kinda calls all the time. Even before you guys showed up, people were claimin' they saw flying monsters, ghosts and ghouls, werewolves and vampires all the time. It's October, people are easily excitable and start imagining wild stuff".

Goliath blinked a few times. "So you do not believe what the woman saw was a real threat?"

"I'm sure it was, but that's not the issue. The issue is where she starts thinkin' it was a werewolf of all things. As opposed to a crook with a cheap costume. Or even a stray dog with an empty stomach. We got those everywhere in New York, including that part of town", Elisa reasoned out. Goliath remained silent, staring at the screen in thought.

Elisa sighed. "But if you're convinced it's a serious issue, I'll go check it out" Goliath was about to protest but Elisa raised her hand. "I said you're off duty tonight and I meant it. If anyone's workin' tonight, it's me. So it's up to you, Goliath".

Everyone was now looking to their Clan Leader to make his decision. The lad was torn, he could see it on his face. If left alone, he would play it safe and ask Elisa to check on this werewolf story, just to be sure it won't become a significant threat. That would cause Elisa to leave, which would dampen the mood and take away from the special moment she was clearly working hard to achieve here.

That wasn't fair to her and it wasn't fair to Goliath, who more than anything would love to spend this rare time away from his duties with Elisa by his side. And if anyone deserved to have the person they loved most with them to have a moment to breathe and enjoy life it was the man sitting at the head of his new table. Goliath often shouldered too much responsibility, which was unavoidable with the position he held, but Hudson knew that burden all too well.

He had failed to carry it properly during his tenure as Clan Leader, and now look where they are. Nearly extinct in a world that doesn't know them and doesn't want them, fighting against the most vile humans imaginable and even the last remnants of their own clan. And the one day they have strictly for themselves to be at peace and forget about the outside world, here came this story. The fates, once again, plagued their lives for their demented amusement.

Well, Hudson had enough of the cruel twists of fate, he was tired of seeing everyone he cared for suffer because of chance. He wasn't about to let Goliath squander the gift that he had right in front of him based on some half baked story Elisa herself wasn't convinced of. There was no way he would let his protege keep himself away from his love, he'd make sure they had every reason to cling to each other and never let go.

Just like he should have done with his Queen when he had the chance...

"I don't think this is a real problem, Goliath" he spoke up, looking the lad in the eye. "The police can surely handle this one tonight" he reasoned.

"Yeah Goliath, we're celebrating our anniversary!" Lexington reminded him, stretching his arms out wide.

"We're off duty today, right Elisa?" Broadway added, scarfing down a few corndogs.

"That's right. Which is why I'll go check it out if you're worried about it. But personally, I think it's just another tall tale someone's tellin' ".

"That won't be necessary, lass" Hudson answered back, putting his hand up. He didn't take his eyes off of Goliath, who was now looking between his clan thoughtfully.

"You're certain of this?" he finally asked, directed at Hudson alone.

The old soldier gave him a stiff nod. "It's nothin' to worry aboot, lad. Forget it" he urged. Goliath regarded him for a moment as he let out a deep rumble of a hum. He wasn't convinced himself, but he would follow Hudson's lead. As he often did. Why the boy still held stock in his words, he'll never know. But tonight, he was thankful for that.

Goliath picked his steak back up, "Then we won't worry about it. Manhattan will be okay without our protection for one night, surely" and chomped down on it, signaling everyone else to continue digging in.

Elisa glanced at Hudson, tension fading from her brows. "Of course, the boys in blue got this one, no problem", she assured, before opening the cassette box and putting the first tape in the video cassette player.

With a press of a button, she started the movie as she returned to her seat, on the way back she leaned down to Hudson's ear and whispered. "Thank you," a knowing smile on her face.

———————————————————————————————————————

As the end credits scrolled up on the last movie, The Clan was still enamored by the thrilling action packed adventures of their new hero, James Bond, Agent 007. International man of mystery, super spy, charming ladykiller (which they found out did not mean he slew hordes of females, merely slept with them and moved onto the next one without care. Hudson didn't much care for this aspect of James Bond).

Hudson could definitely see the appeal of such a character, and by extension, such a profession. Travel the world, which turned out to be much bigger than they could have ever dreamed of, fight legions of crooks and villains with style and flair, be adored and respected by everyone else in the world. And to simply have the ability to blend in with the world at will. That was probably the best part of the whole series of movies.

James Bond could go to all of these diverse places filled with a variety of humans of all shapes and colors, and when he wanted to, he could hide among them with ease. He drew no attention, this man who was larger than life and a famous secret agent on the hunt, could perfectly camouflage himself in the masses at his earliest convenience. That was... that was downright enviable.

To know that no matter where you are or who surrounds you, with enough skill and experience, you could disappear into a sea of faces. No more distinctive or noteworthy than any that make up the crowd you've cloaked yourself in. What he wouldn't give to be able to do that...

Besides that amazing aspect of the films, Hudson had managed to gain quite a bit of knowledge to help him further convince Robbins he was a secret agent. For starters, he would definitely bring up all the different locations around the world he was unaware of before this marathon. If it dazzled all the humans around James Bond, then surely it would dazzle Robbins into believing his deceptions more readily. In fact, he's pretty sure he could retell one of the plots of these movies and just substitute himself in for James Bond and that would suffice.

There were several phrases he could use now besides "class-cee-fied information". "A matter of national security", "For your eyes only", "Burn after reading", "There's a mole in the organization", "Maintain radio silence", "Rendezvous at the checkpoint at 0700 hours", "In her majesty's secret service", "Terrorists have access to WMDs" (that stands for "weapons of mass destruction". Like the Grimorum Arcanorum. Or Coldstone). Those alone could probably help sell any excuse to not explain what The Clan was up to every night.

The other aspect of the movies that really stood out to him was the shocking amount of betrayals from the people closest to Bond, like the women he frequently mated with. Hudson wasn't sure what was wrong with James Bond's selection process, but a man of his station should be able to spot an enemy in disguise, surely.

Especially when they got to the Goldfinger movie, where 2 women entangled with 007 were killed due to betrayal and deception. At that point, wouldn't he slow down on the mating and focus on the trust aspect of his relationships? Hudson thought so, but apparently James Bond didn't learn his lessons so well.

"Is it too late to order a James Bond suit for Halloween?" Broadway suddenly spoke up, snapping Hudson back to the present.

" 'Fraid so," Elisa chuckled under her breath. "There's always next year, though".

"Yeah, guess you're right..." Broadway replied dejected, before perking up. "I'd make an awesome secret agent gargoyle," he declared.

"Pirates are cool too though!" Brooklyn chimed in, earning a nod from Broadway.

"Yeah and pilots!" Lexington added, causing his brothers to frown.

"Name one famous pilot," Broadway challenged.

"Amelia Earhart!"

"Name two," Brooklyn crossed his arms unimpressed.

"Uhhh..." Lexington struggled, before blurting out, "Elisa's brother Derek?" he squinted as he grimaced.

Brooklyn rolled his eyes as he walked back to the table. "He's not famous, nice try", he began clearing the table along with Elisa and Goliath.

"Fine, then you gotta name 4 famous pirates!" Lexington challenged haughtily, pointing at Broadway who swallowed the last of his treats.

"Blackbeard, Davy Jones, Long John Silver, Black Bart Roberts" he counted on his fingers, "I can keep goin' " he added, a mischievous grin on his face.

Lexington deflated and trudged back to the table. "I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I hate that you can read now".

Hudson chuckled at the boys antics as he dumped several dishes into the sink, soap bubbles overflowing from the sides. He'd never washed dishes before, but so far, it was a soothing process. The gentle scrubbing of soap against the remnants of supper, the satisfying squeak of clean porcelain against his fingertips, the clattering of each dish and utensil when he put them in their proper place. He certainly wouldn't want to do it every night, but for now, it was nice.

"So, were the movies informative?" Elisa giggled from behind him. Hudson turned his head to look at her.

"I think so, lass. But that was quite a lot of information" he hummed thoughtfully before placing a clean dish on top of a neat stack. "Ahh... I'm thinkin' maybe I should've been writin' some o'that down".

"Well we've got a few days left to return them, why not give 'em another watch. This time with a notebook handy," she offered, poking his arm playfully as a punctuation.

"Aye, good idea," he nodded, taking the last fork and placing it in a cup housing the rest of the utensils. "Thank ye, lass. You've been just wonderful. Really" he said turning to hold her hands in his pruning ones. "Everything ye did tonight, from the table to the food to James Bond, everything was just what we've been needin'. I dunnot know how ye knew what we needed, but ye were certainly on time with this grand gesture".

Elisa's smile grew wide, crinkling the corners of her eyes, a light blush adorning her features. "I didn't do much, just fed my friends and watched some action movies all night. No biggie".

"Your humility is acknowledged and appreciated, but we both know ye've done far more than just that". Hudson rubbed soothing circles across her knuckles with his thumbs. "I don't believe in many things, Elisa. Least of all luck. But when I think about how you came into our lives, all that ye've done and are willing to do for us" he looked back up at her as a lopsided smile raised his cheeks. "I can't help but see how lucky we are to have ye as Clan Mother, lass".

"Clan Mother? Goliath hasn't said anything about—"

Hudson petted her cheek as he chuckled. "Give him time. He will. It's as plain as the Sun is bright". With that, he noticed a growing brightness illuminating the clock face.

"Speak of the devil, we best be gettin' ready fer the day," Hudson bowed to her quickly before heading up the stairs, leading to the balcony.

Goliath had beaten him to it by a few seconds, so Hudson trailed behind him, looking over at the young brothers as they clumsily made their way to the stairs to follow their elders. Elisa followed suit, no doubt to wish pleasant dreams to Goliath before they part once again. Bronx trotted up to Goliath, preferring to be on the balcony during the movie marathon, the great beast wasn't impressed with the stories of James Bond. Hudson shrugged, there was no accounting for taste.

As they got up on the railing, finishing up their conversations and final thoughts, Elisa called out. But not to the gargoyle he assumed she would.

"Uh, Hudson?"

Hudson swiveled around. "Hmm?"

"At the risk of ruining a tender moment between us, I need to tell you something" she fiddled with her hands a bit before shoving them in her pockets. "I know you're nervous about the guys meeting him, but I'd also like to meet him too someday".

It only took a second for Hudson to realize who the "him" she was referring to was. Robbins. She was talking about Robbins.

"You let me know when you're comfortable with that" she finished, a nervous grimace pulling at her lips.

Why was she talking about Robbins? Now? Of all times, she chooses now to bring this up? What made her think this was the time—Goliath. They have been talking about him as of late...

"I know it's a sensitive topic, but I just figured since you were in such a good mood, it would be the best time to... bring it up..." Elisa muttered out.

Hudson turned back around to face the approaching dawn. "Ye could always find him durin' the day, when I can't stop you. Visit him in secret".

He felt a sudden hand rub his back, the sensitive part between his wings, as Elisa leaned down to his cheek. "You know I wouldn't do that, Hudson".

The old soldier sighed deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Aye, I do..." he looked at her from the corner of his eye, his voice low. Curse her and her endearing little ways. "It's just... He's not... I-I'm not..."

"You're not ready to share him yet," Elisa whispered, a powerful resolution just dropped on top of him like a sack of bricks.

He turned his face towards her, shock stretching his features as he struggled to formulate the words. "That's... that's right" he breathed. "I never thought of it like that, but..."

"I understand, believe me" Elisa said quietly, flashing a sympathetic smile. "Just wanted you to know that I'm very excited to meet him. Whenever that becomes possible".

"We all are, old friend" Goliath spoke up, shocking him even further. "We could visit him any night, even on anniversaries, as it's technically not work". Elisa looked back at him, choking a giggle down. He would have found that sweet if not for them pressuring him in a sneaky underhanded manner that angered him deep down.

Hudson sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "I know, I know... someday I'll..." he stopped short, unclear as to why it was so hard to commit to this. "I'll introduce everyone to him" he finally choked out, looking down at the streets below. His stomach sank, the amount of food he just consumed suddenly felt unsettled in his gut. "Someday..." he repeated quietly.

"Someday before the next anniversary, right?" Elisa asked with a cheery tone. Far too cheery for Hudson's liking. They were pleased with themselves, he didn't even have to look at their faces to know they were grinning. This was a bad idea.

"I make no promises" he warns, unsheathing his sword as he shifted into his pose. "But I'll try".

"Fair enough," Elisa replied, just before the sunlight peaked over the horizon, petrifying his body in place as stone replaced flesh and the world grew hazy and dark.

Before his journey to the sleeping world, Hudson tried to recover from the sneak attack he just got dealt by his protege and his human friend. They planned it all out, for how long he wasn't sure, but this was clearly a strategically placed trap. He couldn't help but feel betrayed behind this, it was unwarranted, to band together in an effort to subvert and subjugate him to their will. If their goal was to bank on his good mood, they failed by virtue of sabotaging his mood.

Was it really that important that they met Robbins quickly? Why couldn't they wait for Hudson to be comfortable with introducing them? Had they lost all sense of patience? It wasn't time for that part of his life to connect with this part. Why couldn't they see that? The Clan was first and foremost and his duties took up the majority of his life, but Robbins... Robbins was private.

Elisa said it best when just a moment ago, he wasn't yet ready to share Robbins with everyone else. It was just like everyone's personalized dinner, he could see and smell everyone else's meal, but no one stole anyone's food. Not even Broadway with his indomitable appetite reached over to take from anyone's plate. It was understood that everyone's portion was specialized for each individual person, there was no need to encroach on anyone else. It was obviously personal to each member of The Clan.

How was Robbins any different from that? Hudson wasn't clambering to meet Elisa partner, or her parents, despite her talking about them constantly. He wasn't pestering Lexington about meeting the Pack, back when they were under the assumption that they were good people. He didn't annoy anyone to include him in their private affairs, so why did everyone think it appropriate to do it to him?

Robbins was his friend, the only one he had, he would share him when he was bloody well ready to share him, and not a minute before that! Hudson tried to explain it to them, Robbins was not like Elisa, he was not like Xanatos or MacBeth or any of the humans they'd ever met. He required a delicate touch, a quiet environment, a stimulating conversation.

Not to mention, unlike every human they knew in this era, he couldn't find out about their true nature. None of them, save Goliath perhaps, could maintain their cover, another phrase he learned thanks to James Bond.

And in his mounting frustration, he recalled the last, possibly most important take away from the James Bond movies. Beyond the action, the gadgets, the women, and the drama of the stories, something else stuck out to him as he watched. As great as James Bond was, as phenomenal a soldier, or agent, he was, he could never escape failure. Yes, in the end, he was victorious while the villains were punished, but there was almost always a cost. A cost that honestly seemed too high for a mortal man to bear.

James Bond got nearly every woman he came into contact with killed. If they weren't double agents seeking to destroy him, they were hapless victims just waiting to be eliminated by opportunistic reprobates and eccentric terrorists. Normal people, even competent agents, seemed to be destined for a brutal and unforgiving death, all for the sin of being loved by James Bond. But what Hudson hadn't consider before watching James Bond's movies, is just how dangerous it was to have humans so close to them.

As infuriating as her antics were just before dawn, he couldn't bear the thought of harm befalling her. Not just because he grew especially fond of the lass, but primarily for his boy's sake.

Since the dawn of life, Gargoyles were meant to mate for life. When that mate was finally found, it was as if the missing part of that gargoyle had been found. The two souls were joined together as one perfect pair. When one died, the other lost that half of their soul and could only have the memory of their love sustain them until their fated end came and reunited them in the winds. That was how it worked. The idea of finding another mate was unthinkable, beyond unthinkable, it was sacrilege.

And yet, there was Goliath and Elisa. Two different species, two different eras, two different worlds. But who could look at them and deny that they were each other's missing piece? Even Puck, a creature with no stake in their fates saw fit to treat her as one of the Clan. Goliath's Clan. Everyone believed Demona was it for the boy, that there wouldn't be another, couldn't be another.

Until suddenly, there was Elisa Maza. One of 2 saving graces of the human race. She brought hope, change, and a bright future to Goliath and the Clan as a whole. No greater evidence of that than the majority of tonight's events, all orchestrated by her dainty hand.

But the truth of the matter that couldn't be denied, was Elisa being undoubtedly in more danger than she'd ever been in before they barged into her life. She's nearly died several dozen times over and it's only been a year. She's been made a target to the likes of Demona, Xanatos, Coldstone, MacBeth, the Pack, Tony Dracon, and a slew of other lowly rogues ready to take her life. Simply for being associated with The Clan.

And while he's sure Elisa can take care of herself—better still, he knows she wouldn't have it any other way, the question remains. One he was afraid to ask, but thanks to Elisa's pushing and prodding was now center stage in his mind. Her apt read of his apprehension to eliminate the sanctity of his friendship with Robbins in order to satisfy the curiosity of The Clan forced him into a corner. An uncomfortable corner where only truth in its ugly beauty could reside.

For he knew Elisa wouldn't trade her life for another; mortal peril, inconvenient secrets, and the myriad of complications simply knowing of their existence granted her included. Its why, despite his displeasure in her methods, he had already forgiven the lass for pressing a sore spot. Still, the question remained: if she still chose to be in their lives knowing full well the dangers that befall her...

What would Robbins choose if he knew the truth? And was Hudson as foolish as James Bond for thinking he would never have to find out?

Chapter Text

Blocked. Why now, of all times?

After being suddenly thrust into the long awaited embrace of inspiration thanks to Hudson's sudden and bombastic appearance in his life, Robbins felt as if he'd just breached the surface of the suffocating ocean he'd been drowning in. The cobwebs that gathered atop his mind had been cleared, the dust swept away, and everything seemed bright and warm again. The ideas flowed like they had all those years ago and what's more, he was finally tackling a subject he'd never had the courage to before.

Merlin. The most famous wizard in folk history, and his personal favorite Arthurian character. With The Scrolls of Merlin found and currently being translated, he felt like the stars had aligned. The miraculous timing of everything was just too perfect to ignore. And as soon as he'd gotten the juices sufficiently flowing again, the research done and the notes taken, even the first two chapters completed... it happened.

He had finally hit the wall again. The same wall that had dried all his stories up for years. The dreaded curse that plagued all creatives, but apparently had a personal grudge against Robbins in particular.

The writer's block had officially come back to haunt him. Only this time, the block had thrown a curveball. Unlike before, it wasn't so much a drying up of his stories, it was quite the opposite. Robbins had a surging influx of them. It was like he had too many ideas, to make up for the long duration he had positively none at all. Truthfully, it was the same problem, just the other extreme. Where he once couldn't string 3 words together to save his life, he couldn't choose between the dozens of strung together words to save his life.

He just couldn't commit for whatever reason. It was like everything sounded equally wrong and right interchangeably. Every time he thought to write something one way, he'd read it back or think about it for a second and immediately want to rewrite it. Because it sounded awkward, or it was too long winded. Then he'd fix it and it'd become too basic and truncated. His prose had become prosaic, he feared.

Robbins tried to take a break, clear his head, catch up on his exercise, put on some music and just relax. But alas, even this didn't simplify the many decisions that he had to make. Was it simply that he had gone too far with the previous chapters so this current one would inevitably not fit with its predecessors? Or had he just not realized he needed to add a chapter between the in progress one and the recently completed? But that would mess up the flow of the entire story to arbitrarily add a transitionary type chapter between his already planned ones, wouldn't it?

Endless questions clouded his mind, regardless of his efforts to not think about it any longer. There was no two ways about it. Robbins was stuck. And he had no idea how to get unstuck.

Why did he have to have writer's block now, of all times? Sure, the deadline was in a few weeks, but he wasn't a normal writer. Being blind made the process take longer already, even if he wasn't blocked, he needed as much time as possible to check and double check everything before he had to take a trip to the library and feed it all through the xerox machine to make print copies.

One mistake on a page meant he had to complete rewrite that page and possibly every page after it depending on the severity of the mistake. And of course, the process of converting his braille pages into ink printed pages took all damn day, unless of course the xerox machine was running low on any given thing, which was a guarantee. So he would have to ask random people for help who never wanted to help him because they were doing their own thing, but he didn't really have a choice. So it would inevitably take more than the one day trip to get it all done.

The process was horribly inconvenient, even when he was in the zone and cranking out story after story at home, actually getting them ready for publication was a nightmare. Add writer's block and a rapidly approaching deadline to that equation and... well, Robbins couldn't help but hate his life just a little bit right then.

This was just terrific... Perhaps his ex was right. Maybe he was a hack now and all of this was just a fluke. It had to happen sooner or later, right? That woman was almost always right, after all... Robbins sighed deeply as he slumped over in his chair, Gilly stirring softly beside him. He buried his head in his hands as he groaned weakly.

"Fabian is gonna be pissed..." he croaked out, his fingers creasing his loose skin. The motion wasn't exactly soothing, but it made him feel marginally better to take out his frustration in this small, harmless way.

Frankly, he couldn't think of anything else to do, he'd done all he could except sleep, a thought that would have made him laugh if he wasn't so stressed. Even if he wasn't an insomniac, he still wouldn't be able to sleep, not with all the pressure this block was pushing on him. So he continued to sink further into his seat, the leather creaking in response, as he let the sweet tunes of Anita Baker futilely attempt to soothe him.

Blocked. Now, of all times. Fantastic. Just fan-tastic...

He sat there sulking for what felt like an hour before Gilly perked up and trotted over to the sliding doors. No sooner than she'd gotten there, a polite rapping of knuckles peaked just above the calming rhythm and blues. Gilly barked playfully as the expected voice called out.

"Tis only me, Robbins" Hudson greeted in that old timey way of his. "Is... now a bad time?" he ventured, a quiet gulp following his unnecessary question.

Robbins slid the door open effortlessly, "Not at all, come in". He turned around to let Hudson in and return to his seat. "It's good you're here" he added as he made his way to the kitchen. Hudson was right behind him, footfalls heavy and confident.

As they got to the kitchen and gathered the material for tea, Hudson remained silent throughout, despite their usual rapport during this part of his visits. Robbins didn't pay it much attention though, he was just happy Hudson was here. He had no success in getting his mind off of his writer's block by himself, but working with his peculiar student would surely do the trick. As always, he was a welcomed distraction.

They made their way back to the study and settled into their respective places, Robbins insisted on fixing Hudson's tea as they sat in front of the crackling fire. When Hudson tried to protest then eventually relented, his voice sounded a bit stilted. As Robbins systematically plopped the sugar cubes into the drink, (he took it with 6, which was quite surprising) he could hear the Scotsman inhale, then stop short once or twice before he finally spoke.

"Robbins, are... are ye doin' alright?"

"Um, yeah, why do you ask?"

"I saw ye sittin' and ye looked a bit... perturbed"

Oh, he saw that, huh?

" 'Perturbed' is puttin' it lightly, buddy" Robbins answered while tapping the spoon against the rim of the teacup. That all too encompassing pressure seeming to increase in that moment.

Hudson's seat squeaked as he leaned forward and took the offered cup. "What ails ye?" he asked in a slightly softer tone.

"It's..." Robbins stopped himself. What was he doing? They had business to take care of, Hudson didn't have time for Robbins' pity party.

"It's not important. Let's pick up where we left off last time" Robbins replied after a moment, putting on his best relaxed face. Judging by Hudson's total silence, it wasn't very convincing.

Finally, the clack of porcelain against wood signified his friend was ready to reply. "The night is long, there is plenty of time for our lessons later", Hudson said just before Gilly hopped up on his lap. "I don't mind settin' that aside for a moment".

"I mean, I don't want to monopolize your time or anything. I know you're busy" Robbins explained as he raised his hands as he leaned back against the cushion.

"I'm curious to know what has you, of all people, frustrated". A chuckle hung on his words and Robbins could imagine the little grin on his face.

"Oh hush" Robbins giggled back as he tilted his head at him. Hudson's amusement only increased.

The sound of Hudson combing through Gilly's fur, gentle but firm, blended comfortably into the sudden quiet of the room as Robbins contemplated what he'd say. On the one hand, he was looking forward to finally getting his mind off of the whole thing. He was tired of going in circles and it was Hudson's time now.

Besides, there was nothing he could do about it anyway, he'd just be unloading on Hudson for no reason. Robbins wasn't going to make them both be unproductive tonight. No, it would probably be better to just focus on Hudson's reading lessons, leave the Merlin book for tomorrow.

But on the other hand, Robbins was deeply frustrated with his sudden lack of decisiveness and creative overload. He had a deadline rapidly approaching and no way to get back on track as he desperately wanted to do. This was all he could think about because it was just so important to him and it killed him that he couldn't make any progress on it. He'd exhausted all of his options by himself... but Hudson could be of help.

Robbins had viewed him as a muse of sorts before, maybe he ought to put that to the test now. He certainly couldn't make it worse, nothing could. Bouncing ideas off of someone else was a good way to narrow down options, see things from a different perspective, gain some kind of insight into where he should take the story. The more Robbins thought on it, the more appealing it was, until he didn't have any excuse not to request Hudson's help.

Ah, what the heck? May as well give it a shot.

"It's this damn writer's block. I can't finish this story I'm workin' on cuz I've hit a wall and I got no idea how to get past it".

"Writer's block?" Hudson repeated quizzically. Robbins shouldn't have been surprised that a long time illiterate was unfamiliar with the concept, but he had to admit that he was.

"Yeah, like when ya wanna do somethin' creative or-or familiar; somethin' you're good at and you've done it before, but for whatever reason you just can't. Like you're runnin' on a treadmill goin' full speed in the opposite direction" Robbins explained, talking rigorously with his hands the longer he thought about the injustice of it all.

"You keep pushin' and pumpin' your legs and givin' it all you've got, but you get absolutely nowhere for all that effort. It's just an exercise in futility and no matter what you do to take your mind off of it for just a second, it refuses to leave you alone. It's all you can think about, the fact that you should be writing, but paradoxically, you just... can't seem to write! And every second you're not writing is a wasted second that you'll never get back", Robbins head returned to his hands as he mushed his face.

"And now you're just thinkin' what if you can never write again, what if you've used up all your creativity and there's nothin' left? You're just empty and useless and you've got nothin' left to offer anybody. So for the rest of your life, all you can do is not write and think about how much of a waste you are", Robbins sighed, ending his diatribe. He didn't intend to say all that, but apparently he needed to get all that out.

"That sounds frustratin' all right..." Hudson finally replied sympathetically. Robbins admired the way he could succinctly put forth a thought.

"Yeah, it really is" Robbins huffed. "Sorry for spewing all this out at ya"

Hudson snorted a laugh, "No apologies necessary. It appears to be a fascinatin' problem to have".

"I guess so"

"Is writing stories always like this?" Hudson asked innocently.

Robbins shook his head. "Nah, I'm just in a rut"

"But ye've gotten through this sort'o thing before, aye?" Robbins nodded in response. "So why is this time any different?"

Robbins hummed in thought before he answered. "I don't know... maybe because this time feels..." he bit his lip, trying to find the right words. "It's just that this story I'm trying to write? I think it's my magnum opus"

"Um—?" Hudson began, before Robbins shook his head, a rueful chuckle escaping him.

"My life's greatest work. The single most important thing I will ever make. And so any little mistake or problem that pops up seems... bigger than ever..."

"I see..." Hudson thought aloud, through the faint sound of his fingers stroking his beard. "Perhaps... ye shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself?" he started unsure. "You are one man trying to do a great thing, that will always take some time. Dunnot be too hard on yerself, my friend" he suggested in a confident tone.

Robbins folded his lips in for a beat before venturing. "Well... funny you should mention that"

"Hm?" Hudson quirked.

"It is just me workin' on this, but I'm at the end of my rope" Robbins cleared his throat to dispel the curious lump that almost formed. "And at the risk of makin' it seem like I'm holdin' ya captive... I could use your help on this" he pointed his open hand in Hudson's direction, causing the Scotsman to shuffle uncomfortably. "I-if you'd be willing to weigh in on it"

"Me? What can I do?" he asked a bit incredulous. As if he was incapable of such a thing. The man was far too modest.

Robbins rose to his feet as he explained. "Uh, okay. So, I'm nowhere near done with this thing, but I did manage to write 2 chapters before I got blocked. The-uh problem is, I'm not sure where to go exactly after these 2 chapters, because there's a slew of directions I could go in and I can't decide which is the best", he got to his desk and picked up the woefully unfinished manuscript.

"So what I need is someone else's opinion" he said, turning to face Hudson again. "Just to help me narrow my options down so I can move forward".

Hudson sighed dejected as his callous hand rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm no writer, Robbins, I can barely read".

"No no, that's okay!" Robbins waved his concerns off. "I'm not lookin' for a writer's help, I need your opinion as a reader. I can read out what I've already got and all you have to do is tell me what you naturally think should follow". He felt the lump return as his thoughts started to jumble.

"That is, if you don't mind hearin' what I wrote. I know it's frustrating to have someone else read their junk to you and I guess I shouldn't have just assumed you'd want to hear. But I feel like this is the best shot I have at gettin' past this stupid block and I really just—"

"Robbins" Hudson spoke up, stopping his rambling dead in its tracks.

"Y-yeah?" he croaked out awkwardly. Hudson got up and walked over to him, placing a large, warm hand on his shoulder.

"I would be honored to hear what ye've written," he said with incredible sincerity. "I am quite interested in yer story. I only worry I won't be of any help", he assured, a smile clear in his voice. And just like that, the anxiousness Robbins was suddenly feeling melted away.

"Trust me, you'll be a big help, I'm sure" Robbins tapped his stack of papers on his desk as he continued."I promise I'll read fast and I won't ask you too many questions afterwards". And as soon as Hudson hummed in response, he cleared his throat laid his manuscript flat, and began.

As far as read throughs go, Robbins had done better than he was doing tonight. His desire to speed through it all to stave off the nagging sense of failure gnawing at the back of his mind, caused him to stumble over his words once or twice. Lose his place for several embarrassing moments. Plus he'd awkwardly switch up his voice to match the different characters, a decision that struck him mid sentence, but once he'd done it, he felt weird dropping it.

After all, Hudson couldn't read along, he needed every indication that different characters were talking, but... well, his face heated up every time Merlin's mother, the Lady of the Lake or Morgana la Fae had a line. The falsetto he choice felt more like a practical joke than a practical decision to keep his one audience member focused on the flow of the story. The whole thing just made him stammer and sweat far more than he was expecting, by the time he got past the first 10 pages, his sweater was soaked at the armpits.

Robbins would've been mortified if he wasn't so desperate to get out of this rut. As embarrassing as this was, as completely ridiculous as he felt running through his silly wizard story, it was far preferable to sitting there lamenting his existence as a writer with no talent. A car with no gas and a long stretch of road ahead of him. He'd endure this strange aside in his process if it can jumpstart his creativity and get him chugging along.

And to Hudson's credit, he didn't interrupt not one time. He was perfectly silent, perfectly still based on the lack of squeaking leather cushions. He was giving Robbins his full attention evident by how consistent Robbins felt his gaze on him, which was weird but it was definitely a phenomena he was familiar with. Humans apparently had some 6th sense that let them feel when someone else was staring at them, and being blind only enhanced that sense. He could feel the Scotsman's eyes stuck to him, like a soaked shirt against his torso. Not exactly comfortable, but not uncomfortable either.

So onward he read, the palpable self-consciousness simmering a little with each passing page. Stuttering fell away, he stopped losing his place, and he just fell into a flow. By the time he got to the last page, he was somewhat confident that he'd done his story justice. The story so far, at least.

Robbins restructured the stack of pages to maintain the page order and chuckled nervously. "To be continued, ha ha". Hudson remained quiet, causing him to clear his throat. "Alright so, what'd ya think? Please be brutally honest, I can take it" Robbins said, placing a hand on his chest.

Hudson opened his mouth and struggled to speak for a moment. "You... wrote all of that?" he asked, almost disbelieving.

"Well, I did a lot of research and borrowed some quotes here and there from a few different sources—"

"Can you read it again?" Hudson requested, leaning closer to Robbins, based on the slight change in direction of his voice.

Robbins smacked his lips in disappointment. "Did I go too fast? What was confusing or unclear?" he went about flipping through the pages as he shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have gone so long on the descriptions, not to mention the falsetto—"

"It's not that" Hudson said, interrupting Robbins' mumbling. "It's just... I got distracted by yer voice". Yup. Definitely not a good decision.

Robbins sighed through a laugh as he combed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sorry about that, I know I went too far with the female chara—"

"Yer voice is just so beautiful, I stopped focusin' on the words"

Robbin froze on the spot, his eyes shot wide open as his mouth went ajar. His entire train of thought just derailed as he struggled to come up with a response.

But all that came out was "Oh..." he felt his eyes dart around, as if he was looking for the words to say. "Uh... wow", he blurted out as he grabbed his cheeks to ground himself. "Beau-beautiful?" he repeated, still shocked at the completely unexpected and even nonsensical compliment.

Hudson shuffled in his chair as his palms softly clasped together. "Please read it again, I promise I won't get distracted this time" he assured earnestly.

"Umm... sure-sure, yeah" Robbins cleared his throat and shifted his hands back to the first page. "I'll uh, I'll take it from the top" he cleared his throat again and started reading.

On his second go, he assumed he would be less self-conscious than before. But thanks to Hudson completely blindsiding him, he couldn't think of a time he felt more self-conscious. The stammering, the sweating, the losing of his place, it all came back in full force, worse than the first time. As soon as he reached the first female character's dialogue, he nearly read it normally to stave off further embarrassment. But Hudson's compliment just wouldn't let him go, so he went ahead and raised the pitch of his voice just as before.

After he read the line of dialogue in his horrendous imitation of a female voice, Robbins waited for Hudson to show one sign, one hint of amusement, laughter, mockery, something. But it never came. The Scotsman's gaze was firmly affixed to Robbins the entire time, he again made no noise, no movement, and was apparently paying close attention to every word Robbins spoke.

So as unbelievably awkward as it was, Robbins continued on, slower than before, to help give Hudson ample opportunity to take in the story. Hopefully Robbins voice wouldn't distract Hudson this time, which was still baffling to hear. Beautiful voice? Robbins? Sure, he was an okay vocalist, when he had to sing he could. But beautiful?? Nah, Hudson must be mistaken.

In fact, Robbins' fiance—ex-fiance—never liked his singing. Fair enough, she was a much better vocalist than him, he was more of a musician than a performer like her. If anybody had a beautiful voice, it was her, so she would know who sounded good and who didn't. She only ever called Robbins' voice "decent", so that had to be accurate. He was no Luther Vandross, that's for sure. A fact Robbins never felt ashamed of, very few men could hold a candle to Luther Vandross.

Robbins' niece had always likened his singing voice to Nat King Cole, but she had a habit of exaggerating to make him feel better. She was sweet like that. And besides, she's family, she's supposed to lie to spare his feelings.

But Hudson, just coming out of nowhere and telling him he had a beautiful voice? What was he supposed to do with that?! Robbins took note, with a bit of a start, that he felt much more comfortable being blocked than hearing such a compliment. Only because it wasn't accurate and it came out of nowhere and it was incredibly flattering.

What was he doing again? Oh right, finishing the last page. Robbins completed the final sentence again and cleared his throat to center himself.

"Okay, so whadda ya think?" he asked, folding his hands together, an awkward smile on his face.

"It was wonderful" Hudson immediately replied.

"Really...?" Robbins asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Truly. I enjoyed your story very much, Robbins". Well, that's nice to hear.

"Did you have any corrections or did anything sound strange—?"

"What need could there be to correct that?" Hudson answered back, confused, "It was perfect".

Robbins could feel his cheeks heating up as he replied. "Are... are you sure nothin' was confusin'? Or too long—or short?" wringing his hands as his anxiousness returned unexpectedly.

"Robbins, I didn't find any flaw with it. Your story is just perfect" Hudson admitted, plopping his hand on his lap. "How can something so wonderful come from a few bumps on parchment?" he sighed.

Robbins wheezed an uncomfortable laugh. "Ha ha, well that's the magic of storytelling, my friend" for what felt like the 100th time that night, he cleared his throat to force the lump forming down. "You really don't have any problems with it so far?" he checked, leaning closer to Hudson. Because, there had to be a problem, it couldn't be flawless. It's the first draft, sort of.

Hudson stayed silent for a moment before he answered. "Who would have a problem with such an enchanting tale?" That did it.

"Hudson, you gotta stop!" Robbins groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "You're makin' me blush, man!"

"I... I only meant... to tell the truth" Hudson stammered, clearly struggling to understand.

"I know, but I just..." Robbins caught himself and scoffed. Why was he getting so distracted by this? "Never mind, the only question that matters is where do you think the story should go from here?" he asked as he shook his head.

Hudson hummed in thought before the sound of him slumping forward came out.

"I am sorry Robbins, but I don't know..." he sighed deeply while rubbing his hand against his neck. "I told you I wouldn't be much help to ye".

"No no, don't beat yourself up. I'm just as lost as you and I'm the guy writin' it, remember?" Robbins chuckled. "How about I give you the options and you tell me which one makes the most sense to you?"

"Alright"

"Okay, so from here I could go into Merlin's first prophecy to Vortigern, King of the Britons, foretelling the coming Anglo-Saxons to invade Britain" Robbins brought up a second finger. "Or I could focus more on his childhood, where he first exhibits more of his magical abilities and frightens the other children"

Robbins brought up a third finger, "Or I could go ahead and skip forward a few years to when he creates Stonehenge to bury Aurelius Ambrosius. But then I'd have to dedicate at least a whole chapter to how Merlin meets Aurelius, so maybe I should start with that"

Robbins brought up his fourth finger. "Or it could be while he's traveling to Salisbury Plain to create Stonehenge he's remembering their meeting and friendship and at the burial site he recounts his death" Robbins brought up his thumb. "Or, I could scrap all of that and go with an idea I've always been interested in, does Merlin's incubus father ever resurface in his life? Cuz there's some real good story potential there that nobody has ever touched on, and I think that's such a waste"

His breath got away from him as he petered out and took in a deep breath, his shoulders heaving as he did. Man, he was really going in on the different avenues he could take. And that wasn't even half of the choices available. But Robbins had realized with sudden embarrassment that he'd most likely overwhelmed poor Hudson, who had yet to make a sound. Once he started going, it was hard for him to realize he needed to stop.

Hudson remained completely silent, only the low crackling of the fireplace spoke out. He leaned back in his desk chair and huffed out a chuckle imagining Hudson's face. Shocked, dismayed, confused, eyes as big as dinner plates while he sat there frozen. Maybe even mid sip. It was a funny image, he had to admit.

"You see why I'm havin' so much trouble now, right?" he motioned to his manuscript while Hudson found his voice again.

"Aye, ye've got too many decisions to choose from" the sound of fingers combing through his beard filtered in. "And they all sound well and good".

"Exactly, yeah!" Robbins nodded, his smile growing. "So if you could weigh in, that'll help me narrow these down some" he finished, folding his hands together patiently. Hudson stroked his beard a few more times as he hummed low. The gravel in his voice clear and strong.

Until, "What's the eh... title of this tale, again?"

"The Sword and The Staff: A Tale of Merlin" Robbins answered proudly. "The Sword being Excalibur and The Staff being Merlin's staff, that I believe he was gifted by a hemlock tree in Druma Wood. Though I'd have to double check that..." his hand raised to grab his chin lightly. He was pretty sure that was how it went, but you can never be too careful.

"Then forgive me if this is off course, but," Hudson began, "It appears ye've spoken plenty about The Staff for now. Might it be time to focus on The Sword portion of the fable?"

Robbins eyes shot wide open, as big as dinner plates, as he sat there frozen. It was as if a lightning bolt had struck him and his whole being was currently electrified. Like a great gap had suddenly filled in and now his mind instantly went connecting loose threads into something tangible. Something sensible and strong. Something unique and exciting. Something that was so blindingly obvious he felt like kicking himself for not seeing it before now.

"Oh my God" he breathed, his hand raised to his forehead as he struggled to keep up with his own train of thought. From 0 to 100 in a split second.

"Forget I said anythin', just ignore me!" Hudson exclaimed for some reason. "I-I don't know what I'm talkin' abo—"

"It's an Arthurian myth" Robbins said, cutting off whatever the Scotsman was saying. "Of course, of course! That's the problem!" he jumped to his feet, his desk chair rushing behind him at the sudden motion. "I was so focused on Merlin this whole time, I neglected the broader story he fits into! It's not just about him, it's about Arthur too!" he marveled, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"So I can just-just jump to Arthur now, revisit Merlin's history later—no!" he jolted his hands down, overcome with another revelation. "I can use both their individual stories to shed light on the other, creating this really interesting foil dynamic between the two characters that'll—oh my God, that's the answer!" he shouted merrily, frantically shuffling his hands across his desk for his tape recorder.

"Oh, this is gold, Hudson!" he laughed almost maniacally as he popped out the tape and flipped it over to ensure he didn't overwrite anything. He propped his elbows on the desk and hurriedly lined up his thoughts so he wouldn't stumble over his words when taking these godsend ideas.

"Was..." Hudson spoke up, his voice small. "Was what I said... really that helpful to ye?" he asked, closer to the desk than before.

Robbins went rigid at the question's implication, taken aback for a moment. And after a beat, he couldn't help the exuberant laugh he let out in response.

Was Hudson just as blind as him? Did he really not know that he just rescued him from the most devastating writer's block he'd ever faced? And he did it with such innocence and simplicity, it was miraculous! It was absolutely magnificent, the idea is so perfect Robbins could practically see the entire 1st Act in his head already. And if he couldn't see that... then Robbins was right when he first thought it.

Hudson really was his muse.

"Are you kiddin' me?! You just singlehandedly gave me what I needed to keep goin', Hudson! You're a genius!" Robbins cheered, expanding his arms out as if to display how large the man's intellect was.

"But I don't even know how to write..." Hudson protested weakly, his voice had gotten even closer. He had to be standing right in front of the desk.

Robbins barked out another quick laugh as he stood over his desk to reach for Hudson's shoulders. The man stiffened at the sudden contact as Robbins felt Hudson's gaze return to his face.

"You are the most brilliant illiterate in the world, my friend!" he declared with a chuckle on his words. "I knew I could count on you!" Robbins added, giving Hudson's shoulder a light bop with his fist.

With that settled, Robbins plopped back behind his desk and reached back awkwardly for his rolling chair. He had to get this stuff on tape quick, otherwise he might forget some of these more subtle, but incredibly vital details that were rushing through his mind.

"Now, let me get this down..." he thought aloud as he found the record button and pressed it. "Say what you said again!" Robbins pointed the tape recorder in Hudson's direction. But he only shuffled awkwardly.

"But I don't even know how to write?" he croaked in a higher pitch than normal.

Robbins giggled at the silly Scotsman. "No no, not that! The thing that helped me think of what to do! The Sword comment!" he supplied.

"And what is this strange lookin'... thing?" Hudson asked, tilting the tape recorder to the side and likely his head as well. Robbins rolled his eyes.

"Ha ha, very funny" he droned as he recoiled the device. "I know it's an old tape recorder, but it still works just fine" Robbins shrugged before pointing it back towards Hudson. "Now go ahead, talk into it".

"I really don't think I said anythin' especially smart" Hudson murmured, turning away and rubbing the back of his neck. Robbins couldn't help the scoff he let out immediately.

"Hudson, c'mon man. You're brilliant, ya hear me?" he pointed authoritatively. "Now go on, say what you said before. I need exact wording, it'll help remind me of everything I'm thinkin' of now" he explained as he presented the tape recorder to Hudson a third time.

Hudson huffed an amuse exhale before speaking up. "Alright then... I believe I said, 'ye've already spoken plenty about The Staff . Would it be prudent to focus on The Sword part of the tale?' " he repeated.

"Right, and then that got me thinkin' about switchin' between Arthur's POV and Merlin's POV. Using their individual stories to foil each other and explore the similarities in their characters" Robbins relayed.

"I dunnot know what that all means, but ye did mention somethin' aboot foil" Hudson chuckled a bit, most likely shrugging based on the stretch in his tone.

"Hahaha, it's okay. That part's for me" Robbins clarified. "Now, that means I'll start off with Arthur being raised by Sir Ector. Gonna need to research Sir Ector some more..." he noted, rubbing his chin.

Hudson sighed deeply as he rose to his feet and turned away. "Well, ye seem to be doin' just fine now" he said, his voice getting further way as heavy footfalls went towards the terrace. "I best let ye continue your work—"

"Or you could stay and we can continue workin'..." Robbins offered, facing Hudson's back most likely.

"We?" Hudson asked, a twinge of a smile in his voice. Robbins returned the expression.

"Yeah, as in you and me" he said, pointing between them. "Ya got me this far, I'm sure you've got other ideas that'll help me out even more" he shrugged to mask his building hope.

In truth, he wasn't sure if the block would come back or not. Without his muse, he couldn't be certain he'd be able to tie everything all together. But more importantly, he just didn't want Hudson to leave so soon. He'd never developed a story with someone else before and it was shaping up to be quite stimulating and... rather fun.

But the stretch of silence was starting to convince him Hudson didn't feel the same. "Unless you'd rather not" he added, trying to be understanding.

"No, I..." Hudson stopped short, waiting before continuing. "Am I really helpin' ya with this, Robbins?" he asked, like he didn't believe it. Which was odd, he definitely was helping. He was his muse, after all.

"You really are, buddy" Robbins nodded, smiling.

Hudson shuffled closer. "And... you're sure I'm not just a bother?" Robbins scoffed instinctively as he stood to his feet.

"Nonsense! Poppycock! Balderdash and baloney!" he listed dramatically. "I'd be eternally grateful if you would stay to help me out some more" he finished, bowing lightly to his guest.

Hudson chuckled warmly as his footfalls brought him closer. "Then stay I shall, my friend"

"Good then" Robbins nodded, beckoning Hudson to sit across from him. "Now, Sir Ector from what I vaguely remember, was a harsh father to Arthur. Though that could just be a Disney embellishment" he clarified as he adjusted the tape recorder between them. "It's more likely that he was a stoic man, and so, a more withdrawn father figure, instead of outwardly harsh or critical. Which would be a better parent do you think, for the man Arthur eventually becomes later in life?"

"Well, surely a somewhat kind patriarch would instill in the future king a kinder leadership, aye?" Hudson ventured, Gilly hopping up on his lap.

"My thoughts exactly! But I don't want to make him too nice, that'd be a little too unrealistic for the time period you see" Robbins waved his hand before continuing. "Instead, I was thinking more along the lines of..."

Their conversation continued in earnest, all catalogued by the trusty old tape recorder Robbins had always assumed would hold his voice. Only his thoughts, his ideas. But now, unexpectedly, he was comfortable with another voice being imprinted in its memory. Hudson was a surprisingly insightful conversationalist, his additions to Robbins' well treaded topics were refreshing and thought-provoking.

Everything that was a rough struggle akin to pulling teeth or milking a bull was smooth as butter. The stumbling blocks and stoppage he normally ran into just melted away as they rolled through the process. Hudson just... made the whole thing a breeze. He had some special undefinable quality that was the magic ingredient that Robbins often had to do without.

Sure, he could get into a groove once he dug deep enough and it would last a decent while. But with Hudson it was instant. He was in a constant flow, every element he had to keep juggling with haphazard timing turned into a delicate dance. He had found his rhythm and Hudson was the musician. And as Act 1 of his magnum opus took shape and underwent careful precise refinement, Robbins lost himself in the moment. And judging by how well he was keeping up with the blind writer, so had Hudson.

Their dialogue continued well into the night, as the ideas flowed and Robbins' gratefulness to his peculiar companion grew.

Chapter Text

"A long way out in the deep blue see-ah" Hudson read aloud to Bronx, who was settled by his feet, his usual perch. "Er, sea. That's deep blue sea. Forgot aboot the silent a..."

Bronx's whined drew his attention away from the story and Hudson was met with quite the display. Before him laid Bronx, flashing his puppy dog eyes at him, wiggling on his back, his paws folded over in the most obvious pleading position possible. Hudson lowered the book a bit more and took in the sight with an amused huff.

"Aye, aye, I know what yer expectin', just lemme finish the first few pages, alright?" Bronx continued staring up at him, eyes getting wider and tearier by the second, before Hudson's resolve broke away with a deep sigh. A reluctant smile tugging at his cheeks as he set the book atop his chair's arm rest and dropped down to one knee.

"Needy beast" he grumbled with a chuckle as he reached out and rubbed Bronx's exposed belly with loving vigor. Bronx's little face lit up and immediately he started kicking his leg, panting excitedly all the way.

Hudson didn't mind the distraction too much, he had all night to finish his assignment. After Robbins requested his help in writing his tale, a novel he called it, they had spent the entire night discussing what it could or should be. It was quite an odd experience, he'd never had such an intellectual conversation with a human before, not unless it was about war or certain political affairs he needed to be privy to as Clan Leader.

There was always some grand reason to engage in those talks. The welfare of The Clan, the prosperity of the alliance with the humans, the changing political landscape, on the rare occasion he advised Prince Malcolm or his Captain of the Guard. But this, like so many exchanges with Robbins, was personal & pure. He didn't feel the nagging suspicion that he was just a means to an end for him, that his presence was being tolerated out of necessity for something far greater. There was no prize that Hudson was a mere stepping stone for Robbins to reach.

For whatever mad reason the human had, he entreated Hudson simply for his opinion, as if his opinion concerning literature had any value whatsoever. He was still struggling with the most base aspect of reading, he hadn't yet dared attempt writing a word, his thoughts on the matter were immaterial in every aspect of the word. Yet Robbins didn't see it that way. He truly wished to know the intimate details of his thoughts on every facet of his tale—novel. It was unprecedented.

He had to keep reminding himself that Robbins didn't know his true nature, which was a bit befuddling now that he thought about it. Robbins couldn't see that he was a completely different race than him, therefore he had no reason to treat him any differently than any of his fellow humans. To Robbins, his meager opinions were worthwhile, at least he certainly made it seem that way at the time. To the point that if Robbins was, in fact, putting on a show, he was the most talented human actor Hudson had ever seen. And that included the likes of the ever duplicitous Xanatos.

The way he wrung his hands and shrunk in on himself when he first beseeched Hudson's assistance. How genuinely taken aback he appeared when Hudson gave him an innocuous compliment about his voice. How his face lit up when he mentioned focusing on "The Sword" of the story... he hadn't been able to get that shocked smile out of his mind, truth be told. He called him his "muse", a term that still confused Hudson, but with how Robbins used it, it seemed like a significant, good position. Helpful and cherished council, from what he could glean, but he could be wrong, it was a peculiar term.

As they walked together on the path Robbins had laid out for them; ideas, opinions, concepts, and principles meeting and dancing in harmony to the music of Robbins' words and the sounding brass of Hudson's words, a thought crept up in his mind. One he knew would be best to keep private. This... this is what it felt like. To truly be seen as equal to another so different from you.

It was... overwhelming in some aspects. Too good to be true. But Hudson couldn't stop the soft warmth blossoming in his chest when he imagined a chance to engage with his friend on such a stage once more.

However wonderful a gift that moment was, it still raised an obvious problem. Well, not problem per say, consideration was more appropriate, he supposed. They had become so entangled in their talk that the normal routine was inadvertently forsaken, thus he couldn't progress with his reading lessons last night. A regrettable oversight on his part, Hudson had even failed to enquire about Robbins' food preferences like he had intended to.

Elisa's anniversary surprise for the Clan got him thinking it might be good to bring Robbins food, as thanks for going through the trouble of teaching him to read. He made a mental note to ask before getting caught up in any discussion next time. And in a way that Robbins wouldn't perceive his intentions with the information. Elisa presenting the gift as a complete surprise made it that much more special, he realized, so maintaining that aspect was essential. But back to the matter at hand.

As always Robbins had a simple and elegant solution. Something he referred to as "homework", a term Hudson easily understood in contrast to "muse". Robbins, the thoughtful man that he was, had picked up some books that he judged Hudson was ready to read through on his own. Despite the gargoyle's protests, Robbins managed to cut through the uncertainty and anxiety with a simple assignment.

If Hudson was unable to understand a particular passage in the books, he would make note of it and continue through the books. And if a later passage helped illuminate the meaning of a confusing passage, he could use "context clues" to piece it together. And if even after all of that he was unable to comprehend, he would bring the books back to Robbins the next time they convened and Robbins would help him through it.

Hudson was determined that he wouldn't burden Robbins further with his poor performance, this "homework" would be fully completed so that he and Robbins could continue his lessons in earnest. And just maybe, a small piece of him added, he would ask about Robbins' novel and he'd be willing to engage in the stimulating discussion once more.

It had only been a day and his mind was filled to the brim with new ideas, refined alterations to old ideas, new concepts and queries to offer for Robbins' esteemed consideration. He knew he shouldn't allow his hopes to rise so high and that his focus should be solely on his lessons instead of distracting Robbins from working. But that little piece of him just couldn't let go of the rewarding experience he'd just had, one he'd treasure for the rest of his nights. Robbins was just so inspiring, he couldn't help but crave what he freely gave.

The old gargoyle shook his head with eyes closed, gave one last pet to Bronx's well rubbed belly, and returned to his beat up recliner. The lovely beast immediately rolled off his back and trotted in a short lap in front of Hudson before settling down beside the refocused gargoyle. The book returned to his clawed hands and he turned back to the first page.

Out of the small collection of books Robbins had lent him, (Robbins claimed they were a gift, but Hudson was just going to hide them somewhere in Robbins' house the next time he visited), this one jumped out at him the most. The front cover was quite inviting with its many colors and shimmering material within the paint. It might sound juvenile but he couldn't stop his eyes from flittering back to it while shuffling through the whole stack.

Even though the other books looked interesting—one had an interesting bat character on the cover, another had a mouse and what looked like a cookie the size of its head—this one entitled The Rainbow Fish was the most enticing option. Hudson had correctly assumed they were children's books, much to his chagrin, but he gritted his teeth and bore it. Because they were from Robbins, meant to help him improve without needing to lean so heavily on the human. And any opportunity to alleviate the burden he lumped Robbins with was golden and had to be seized.

It wasn't such a blow to his blasted pride when he saw them in that way. But he did prefer some of them to look a tad more mature to recover an ounce of his dignity. Regardless, he cleared his throat and picked up where he left off.

"There lived a fish. Not just an ordin... ar-ee?" he stroked his beard as he reread the word. "Ordin-ar-ee—Ordinary. An ordinary fish, but the most be-ought-eye-full?" he shook his head at the pronunciation. "No no, beautiful, that's what it is—the most beautiful fish in the een-tire oak-en" Hudson scrunched his nose up at that. He couldn't recall hearing that word before.

"What the devil's an 'oak-en'?" he asked aloud, scratching his head as he looked over to Bronx, who was just as clueless as him.

"I believe the word you're lookin' for is ocean" Hudson jumped in his seat at the sudden voice answering back. "the C makes an S sound" Lexington smiled at him, several much thicker and less colorful books in his little arms. Bronx perked up immediately and lumbered over to the boy.

Hudson cleared his throat and spoke up. "Lad! I thought you'd left with the others"

Lexington rolled his head back dramatically as he sat at their new table. "Aaaw, it's a slow night. Figured I could come back and catch up on my own reading assignment" he plucked a book from the stack and flitted through the pages. "Coldstone's not gonna fix themselves, ya know?"

Hudson went ridged at the name. "Aye, 'tis true" he answered back, averting his gaze back to his book.

Coldstone, of course. That was still a very real and present issue for the Clan. With Demona's recent... departure thanks to Puck... Gargoyles, which are already on the brink of total extinction, were in even shorter supply. And that was a fact that was heavy enough to grind them to powder if they focused on it too long, so they were all quick to get back to the "normal" mundane things they had more control over. Keep themselves nice and busy so thoughts would be less likely to linger on such morose matters.

All but Lexington, who had taken it upon himself to remedy the situation as best he could, even before Demona's last... well, their recent encounter with the impish Fae that Hudson still held a grudge against for so many reasons. But regardless, Lexington had committed to fixing the last remaining members of the Clan from their unspeakable predicament. To help twist and bend them back to a semblance of who they were long ago. And he would forever have Hudson's respect and gratitude for trying his best in such a noble endeavor.

It was still black magic and modern sorcery though, so Hudson wasn't too keen on being around them, nor Lexington when he was working on the grotesque abomination. But he didn't pull out the amalgamation of metal, brimstone, and flesh from the backroom, so Hudson wasn't made to be uncomfortable on this night. That was mindful of the lad.

"Don't let me stop ya, though" Lexington spoke up again, after petting Bronx and giving his face an affectionate tussle. "From doin' your thing" he clarified, motioning to Hudson's book.

"Oh, o'course" he cleared his throat once again and stuck his finger under the last section he read. "In the een-tire ocean... een-tire... entire? Entire—the entire ocean" he nodded satisfied and turned the page carefully. He didn't want to ruin Robbins' book after all.

In stark contrast, rigorous page turning drew his attention back towards Lexington, who now had several books open at the same time, working both of his hands independently. As he silently mouthed the words of one passage, tracing his finger on lines of text, before jumping to another book to mouth and trace another line, his other hand was busy scribbling on an empty page of a thinner book. He called it a "notepad", so he was probably taking notes on what he was reading.

He was so absorbed in what he was doing, but he had a puzzled expression on his face, which gave Hudson pause. While Lexington was minding his business and keeping to himself, reading books of an impossible degree of complexity that required intense focus to understand, Hudson was reading a child's book aloud like an infant, tripping over words that Lexington could run through in his sleep. And the task set before him was of such greater importance than simply knowing how to read... it was quite a large helping of shame that overshadowed Hudson in that moment.

"Am I, uh..." he stammered, before biting back his words for a moment. "I'm not disturbin' ye, am I lad?"

"Huh?" Lexington said, absentmindedly, before raising his head in recognition. "Oh! No no, go ahead. I don't mind, I'm good at multitasking" he waved off with a smile, writing utensil nestled between his fingers.

Hudson looked over at him, furrowing his brows at the many books he was currently shuffling through. "Are ye sure?" he asked again.

"It's fine, Hudson. I work better with background noise anyway. You or the TV, doesn't matter to me" Lexington assured, a rueful smile on his face, as he returned to scanning his books and jotting down notes periodically.

Hudson settled back in his recliner, slowly blinking. "Alright then" he shrugged before focusing back on his task. Robbins told him he should read aloud to help with understanding each word, but with Lexington sitting not too far away, he couldn't help but start again quieter.

As Hudson fumbled through the children's book, he felt his nerves calming. Lexington staying focused on his work and not making a big deal out of his performance certainly helped. In his humble estimation, he was doing slightly better than he originally thought he'd do on his own. But compared to the average person, he felt he was woefully mediocre, and that's the kindest he could phrase it. There were whole sections of the book that took him several tries to get right, he still wasn't confident in some of the pronunciations he employed, and worse still, his claws ripped a corner off a page!

He nearly leapt out of his skin at the quick tearing sound it shocked him so badly. He whipped his head around to see if Lexington heard it too and realized his grievous mistake, but thank heavens the boy was still completely preoccupied with his studies. But it was not a pleasant experience, he felt quite daft the entire time, and what's worse, he didn't even understand the purpose of the story. At least with Robbins' story, there was a great deal of substance to the tale he spun. With the fish book, he was at a loss.

Why did The Rainbow Fish have to relinquish his scales to be accepted by the other fish? Were they not all the same, did they not occupy the same space in the sea, did they not all have something to contribute to the group? Why was The Rainbow Fish singled out and expected to give up literal pieces of himself to those around him, simply because they asked him to? They didn't even offer him anything in trade, they just wanted to take what he had with no regard for him. The audacity of those other fish.

Why, if Hudson had been a rainbow fish instead of a gargoyle, he'd have never given any greedy, selfish vagrants his scales. And that so called wise octopus, what kind of advice was that? "Mutilate yourself and you'll know happiness", is possibly the worst bit of guidance he'd ever heard in his life. What was anyone supposed to get out of that story?

Hudson shook his head as he closed the book with more strength than he intended and accidentally scratched the cover. He supposed Robbins had his reasons for giving him such a book as "homework" but it was simply not as stimulating a read as Robbins' writings. Maybe he could ask his friend about the story, see if he's missing something. Then again, Robbins probably wouldn't be interested in discussing the actual story of these rudimentary books. They were just for Hudson to practice.

Before he could set The Rainbow Fish aside and dive into another book, a voice full of youthful energy called out to him.

"Hey, that was pretty good, Hudson! You're doing much better than Broadway! Pretty soon you'll be readin' this stuff right along with me!" Lexington joked, holding up his several inches thick book.

"Ack, come off it" Hudson waved off as he rolled his suddenly stiff shoulders. "There ain't no way I'm gonna be readin' about man's black magic and sorcery. Even if I could" he growled, the mental image of everything Xanatos and Demona did to create the monstrosity that was Coldstone... sickening was the only word for it.

Lexington's face fell flat at Hudson's comment. "For the 59th time, it's not black magic or sorcery, it's science" he set the book back down and looked over his notes as he continued. "And it's nothin' too new, we had science back in Scotland. How do ya think firing an arrow works?"

"Ya don't need screens and electricity and computer chips to do it, I know that" Hudson shot back, crossing his arms and turning to the TV.

"Okay, but it's still science!" Lexington flicked his wrist as he propped his other hand against his cheek. "Just because electricity is involved, doesn't mean it's somehow magic. Let alone the black kind"

"We are talkin' about the petrified remains of our gargoyle brethren cobbled together with metal and machinery, revived as a weapon with 3 different souls inside" Hudson listed. "If that ain't black magic or wicked sorcery, boyo I don't know what is"

Lexington paused, his eyes wide for a beat before he darted his gaze up at Hudson. "... Fine, fair point" he said quickly, before sitting up fully. "But computers, cables, and electricity by themselves are not magic. Can we at least agree on that?" he motioned between them.

Hudson couldn't help but turn his nose up at the notion. "Hmph, I'm still not convinced"

"Figures" Lexington said, rolling his eyes and returning to his notes. "All I meant though, was you're comin' along really nicely with your reading skills" he said, almost matter of fact like. As if it was a clear and obvious conclusion one could come to.

"Feh! Not comin' along nicely enough, if ye ask me" Hudson retorted, picking up the stack of books Robbins assigned him. "I still have so far to go..." he stared at the books for a moment, contemplating just how long this would take.

"Hey, c'mon. You've made great strides in a very short amount of time" the lad answered back. "It's only been, what, a month? And you're already reading at a 2nd Grade level. That would normally take a human 7-8 years to accomplish" he informed, giving him eye contact. "That's very impressive when you think about it, Hudson. And you're only gonna get better with each passing day!" he grinned widely, causing Hudson's task to not feel quite as daunting as it was starting to.

"So, be proud of the progress you've already made. Cuz honestly, I'm proud of ya" Lexington admitted, placing a hand on his chest. "We all are" he added with a shrug, a fondness in his gaze. Hudson could do nothing to combat the undeserved praise, but sigh and express his gratitude.

"Thank ye, lad. I hadn't realized I was so ahead of other people startin' out" his hand reached up and began rubbing the back of his neck. "But I cannot take all the credit. Robbins has been... well, he's a phenomenal teacher. All my progress is his doing, I just follow his instructions" he admitted, unaware of the small smirk forming on his face.

"Yeah, I bet he is. You said he was a writer, right?"

Hudson nodded reflexively. "Aye. And a brilliant one, at that" his smirk grew at the memory of being read to. How beautiful Robbins' voice was, he was a gifted storyteller in every facet, it seemed.

Lexington stopped and looked back up, a quizzical look on his face. "You've read his work?"

"N-Not quite—he, um..." Hudson suddenly felt very flush. How should he even word what happened? Casually? With as few words as possible? "He read his writings to me once. And it was... beyond wonderful" he couldn't help but sigh in content at that glorious memory.

If it was a physical thing, it'd no doubt look like that Rainbow Fish's scales. All shiny and shimmering, a jewel of great and rare beauty. One he'd never give to anybody, no matter how badly they asked for it or how he'd be shunned for denying it to them. It was special and unique to him and Robbins, it belonged to them and them alone. And it made the memory that much more splendid as far as Hudson was concerned.

"Doooo...?" Lexington droned curiously, drawing Hudson's attention back. "Yooou remember any of it?" he finally managed, eyes wide and hands clasped together. He was ready for a break it seemed. Fine by Hudson, any opportunity to talk about the amazing experience he'd just had was going to be seized.

"I couldn't forget it even if I tried" he chuckled as he got up from the recliner and approached the table. "His writings—his novel—concerns Merlin, of all the coincidences. And King Arthur, of course, but primarily the wizard. I believe he really admires him" Hudson continued to unload the backlog of thoughts and feelings and opinions he was too impatient to hold back for another night. If Lexington didn't want to hear it, oh well, because as soon as the floodgates had opened, there was no closing them until the water had all rushed out.

Hudson retold the story as best he could, not that he couldn't remember certain parts, but because he got distracted explaining how Robbins would read a particular portion of the story. Or what he planned to do with a particular character in the following chapters that had yet to be written or why certain things were important for subtext. He actually didn't know what subtext meant before Robbins explained it to him, so he covered that just to be safe. So many different things about the exceptional story and how brilliant the blind writer was for developing it, he just let it all flow out.

It wasn't until he finished relaying a particularly humorous moment where Robbins briefly entertained the idea that Merlin and the Lady of the Lake could have an embarrassing romance where they both acted like adolescents around each other, causing Arthur who knows nothing of the tryst, confused discomfort. Anyway, he was calming down after laughing about such a dynamic which made him realize he was the only one laughing.

So he caught his breath and noticed the way Lexington was looking at him. His chin in his palm, elbow propped on the table, a slightly smug smile on his face, a cheeky gleam in his half lidded eyes. He had the look of someone who was watching something play out knowing the outcome in advance. Why he had such a look on his face when Hudson was speaking about Robbins' fantastic story was not a question he had the answer to. But he didn't particularly like the way Lexington's face made him feel in the pit of his stomach.

"What?" he challenged, squinting a glare at him. Was he making fun of Robbins' story or something? Because if he was—

Lexington spoke loudly, a laugh hanging on his words, as he waved his hands in front of him. "Nothin', nothin'! I'm just..." he folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, staring up at Hudson with a warm smile. "It's really good to see you happy again"

Hudson felt as though he'd been hit with a war hammer, his eyes shot open in unison with his jaw. That... was not what he was expecting to hear from the lad. He sat there, desperately attempting to recover from the dazed state the powerful observation had forced him into. And it was simply an observation from Lexington's perspective, he just didn't realize the transparency of it all. It wasn't a secret that Hudson enjoyed Robbins' company, nor that he felt a certain measure of ease and comfort in his presence. And he made it clear how he viewed Robbins as a person; smart, kind, wise, insightful, calm. Among many other great attributes.

But he never intended to come across as so... elated? It wasn't what he wanted to display to others, he just felt what he felt with Robbins and he went about his life as normal. Nobody needed to take note of anything different because in a certain way, nothing really had changed as far as day to day life. How the Clan viewed him hadn't really changed, or so he thought. Apparently he was wrong. That or he greatly underestimated Lexington's powers of observation concerning him.

Either way, the lad was right. And there was no way to deny or downplay that.

"Aye... suppose I am more happy as of late" he finally admitted, a nervous chuckle in his tone as he rubbed the back of his neck. Lexington simply nodded in understanding and let out a giggle.

"Your friend Robbins sounds amazing" he said, before shifting his head skyward. "I wonder what else he knows about mythology and history. Maybe philosophy and psychology too, based on what you were saying. He seems very well read" Lexington reasoned, and my, he was quick. But before Hudson could confirm the boy's suspicions, he plowed ahead.

"I'd be interested in askin' him all about history first, though" Oh. "Especially the parts we were asleep for" Oh no.

"Yes well, he's not like other humans so..." Hudson hid his panic as well as he could beneath the table, his knee bouncing erratically. "I dunnot know when I could introduce the Clan to him" Blast it, he was floundering. "So I-I wouldn't... be too... hasty about... askin' him an-anytime soon..." Now he was just rambling.

Lexington's face fell the longer he spoke, causing Hudson's chest to ache as if an old wound were festering. Why did he have to look so disappointed, why did he have to mention meeting him, why was everyone so keen on including themselves in this? His knee finally did bump the table, sending a sharp pain through his leg, forcing more words out.

"But I will! Someday!" he stammered loudly, none of the words were coming out in order. "Introduce him! To you! I mean, everyone! To you and everyone!" his face was heating up more than a torch, by the dragon, he just needed to close the door on this. "It'll happen eventually, so don't worry about when!" he finally shouted, which was nowhere near his intention, and slumped forward exhausted.

Lexington didn't seem too bothered by the display and offered an understanding smirk before going back to his books. "Well whenever he's ready, I'm game. It'd be nice talking to somebody who thinks we're just like them, ya know?" he quickly pointed his hand at Hudson. "I mean, Elisa's great, no question, but..." he pursed his lips and looked off to the side. "I dunno, it'd just be cool to talk to someone who doesn't have any gargoyle awareness, I guess" he explained, turning his face back to his work.

Hudson sat back up, propping his chin up in his hand. "Oh aye, 'tis a breath of fresh air" he admitted, his smile returned in full force. A breath of fresh air he wasn't ready to dilute just yet.

After all, he isn't sure the Clan understood how careful they needed to be when dealing with Robbins. Lexington asking questions about things that every person who didn't spend the last 10 centuries as petrified statues would know the answers to, would easily rip the illusion away. "Blow his cover", as all the James Bond movies put it.

"Anyways, just let me know, I'd be happy to drop whatever's goin' on and swing by with ya" he shrugged before peering up at Hudson. "And I'll try not to be too 'youthful' or whatever" he rolled his eyes, his cheeky look firmly in place, before he went back to his notes.

"I'll... keep that in mind, lad" Hudson's nerves relaxed considerably hearing how nonchalant he was. "Your interest and patience is appreciated" he added as he rose from the table and returned to his waiting stack of books, guarded by the ever watchful eye of Bronx. Who was currently snoozing the night away.

Hudson walked carefully around him, wishing for him to get his fill of relaxation. Only one of them had homework to finish, after all. As he shuffled through the books and picked out the one with the mouse and the cookies, he seriously reflected on Lexington as the first potential guest of Robbins. A thought he wasn't at all ready to consider before tonight, but after his relaxed approach to the idea, the distinct lack of pressure, and his willingness to hear all that Hudson just unloaded on him about Robbins. He seemed like the best candidate at the moment.

Goliath and Elisa were far too eager and invested, plus the lad was a giant, he didn't want Robbins to feel intimidated by his size. Although, being blind, however much of a factor that is for him is up for debate. But he is more likely to be insufferable about human gargoyle relations on the sly, so it'd be better to hold off until he calms down about that. Brooklyn and Broadway are liable to just forget the entire premise of Robbins being his friend, and end up letting something slip that will blow his cover completely. They were not the shrewd and careful sort, not socially anyway.

But Lexington wasn't like them. He knew the value in reaching out and connecting with more humans, as he put it, there are kindred spirits out there for us, but we've got to seek them out and give them a chance, or we'll always be alone. And he was more right about that than anything else he'd ever said. But critically, his desires to reach out to any and all humans that even remotely piqued his interest was tempered by his experience with The Pack. So he had the desire to connect with kindred spirits, but was careful enough not to overextend, perfect for dealing with Robbins.

He was also quite intelligent, well read, curious, creative; all qualities that Robbins would find endearing and welcomed. The subjects he listed as Robbins' expertise were spot on, but history was the only troubling aspect, the one subject he is most curious and eager to learn about. With some coaching though, he may be able to rein that in. He could be a sparkling conversationalist, same as Robbins, though maybe not as charming. Lexington's interests in technology would mean he and Robbins wouldn't have a gap in that area.

His curiosity has led him to voraciously absorb the culture of this new world, a culture that Robbins is intimately familiar with, thus there would be no problems talking about current events. Even their speech would be similar enough to mask Lexington's, and by extension Hudson's, true nature from Robbins. Unlike Broadway, Lexington wasn't overly physical in his mannerisms or affection, he wasn't one to broach personal space and again, with some coaching, he'd be careful to avoid handshakes or any other forms of contact.

All things considered, the lad may be the best choice to introduce Robbins to the rest of the Clan. He would be the perfect example of how the others should act around him, and out of all of them, he's the one Robbins would be most impressed with. At least he wouldn't immediately reject the boy—

Hudson stopped mid-sentence and rattled his head for a moment. Where on earth did that thought come from? Robbins wouldn't reject Lexington... he wouldn't reject any... anybody... Hudson refocused on his reading, pushing such thoughts deep in the recesses of his mind.

There was no point in weighing the pros and cons, anyway. He wouldn't introduce anyone to Robbins, not yet. The time just wasn't right. It was a delicate dance he had finally managed to get a firm hold on. Adding any more elements to the mix could disrupt the entire balance and Robbins would no longer be... He couldn't afford to upset the balance. Their friendship was still fragile, still at risk of being so easily broken. He likened it to a hatchling egg, as silly as it may sound to anyone he'd tell. But it was true.

Hatchling eggs after laying were so fragile and required the utmost care and gentleness. That's why they had a Rookery in the first place. To shield them even from elements of the surface, for too cold or dry a night and the hatchling inside would suffer adverse effects. No, the eggs had to be in a darkened damp place, even too much of a draft would disrupt the gestation process. Only until the eggs were several years old could they be brought out of the Rookery, and even then, they could not experience direct sunlight lest catastrophic damage was intended.

Had his friendship with Robbins been an egg, it'd be several years too soon to take it out of the safety of its rookery, let alone expose it to the direct sunlight that was the rambunctious and reckless Trio. Or the intense and overly invested Goliath. No, Hudson couldn't allow them to damage the precious thing he had been lucky enough to be given, whether they intended to do no harm or not. The result would be the same, a bad egg. And he didn't go through all that he did to get here with a human as special as Robbins to foolishly expose it to harmful conditions without cause.

No, the old gargoyle would know when it was time to join these two halves of his life together. And until that time, he wouldn't worry about it. He had enough to worry about with this "homework". However far he may have come, there was still so much more to go.

Chapter Text

Blissful sleep was cut short by the sound of Gilly's excited barking and hopping reaching across the house, ripping Robbins out of his dreamless slumber. He slowly gathered his bearings as he felt the familiar aches and stiffness from old age and carelessly passing out on the living room couch. It didn't surprise him once his brain finished buffering that he had succumbed to the soothing embrace of sleep while watching the news. He had been burning the candle at both ends to get the manuscript ready for Fabian.

All night and all day, only taking bathroom breaks, exercise breaks and meal breaks, the obligatory power nap—and rather sparingly at that—he slaved away over that typewriter & trusty tape recorder putting down all the words pouring out of him. Hudson had uncorked whatever had stopped up the flow of creativity and now he was like a machine with this thing. Robbins honestly wouldn't be surprised if he could crank out 10 chapters at the rate he was going.

But alas, a crash was destined to happen, and it just so happened to be the day he was scheduled for his bi-monthly checkup with his doctor. "Bi-monthly" was only in theory apparently since he kept putting it off until he physically couldn't anymore, Dr. Keinstein was not happy with him. So at the risk of getting dropped as a patient and having to find a whole new doctor that Keinstein wouldn't blab on him to, he bit the bullet and agreed to finally come in.

It wasn't bad, all things considered, he just... really didn't like hospitals. Bad smells, stirring up bad memories...

Regardless, everything was fine, he got prescriptions refilled, at some point he'd get to the pharmacy or perhaps not. Robbins counted himself blessed that he didn't have any serious health issues, minus the big blindingly obvious one, of course. But he didn't need medication to treat that, and the rest of his body was apparently in tip top shape. Like, getting close to 10 years younger shape, and that wasn't Robbin's bragging, those were Keinstein's exact words. Not too shabby for an almost 60 year old blind guy.

Still, with Keinstein's office being Keinstein's office, the noon appointment that Robbins was 45 minutes early for, was finished at 2 in the afternoon. At which point, Robbins was ready to keel over and die he was so tired, but of course he had to get back in the house, make something to eat, feed Gilly, walk her. And after all that excitement it was 4 o'clock and while enjoying the bizarre news story of a suspected werewolf lurking about Manhattan, he was spread eagled over the couch in a heap. And by the cool wet sensation slipping down his cheek, he was firmly in crashed out country.

With a prolonged series of stretches and cathartic joint popping ending with a satisfied moan, Robbins shuffled to the study, favoring his left side. He'd slept on his hip wrong and it was currently still tender, back wasn't doin' the greatest either to be honest. That was really stupid of him to sleep on the couch and he'd feel worse about it if he hadn't just finished some of the best sleep he's had in a while. Still, he wasn't happy about how he was hobbling like a geriatric while Gilly impatiently started tugging at his sleeve.

Hudson must've been having a good chuckle right about then, a small smile forming on his lips at the notion. The guy could certainly use more laughter in his life, so Robbins didn't mind. Plus, he liked his laugh, it was infectious and downright jolly. Finally, after what seemed to be a whole hour of a sojourn, his fingers wrapped around the sliding door handle and slid it open.

"Hey Hudson, sorry about the wait" he greeted sheepishly, the familiar scent of old leather and concrete filtering in as Hudson moved to enter.

"It's quite alright" the Scotsman answered back, a hint of a chuckle in his tone. Robbins' smile grew as he paced to his arm chair, the sound of Gilly hopping up to Hudson's chest accompanying them.

"I just got back from the doctor's this afternoon, which is usually when I'm sleepin', so between writin' all night and forgettin' said doctor's appointment, I was pushin' 30 hours of no sleep. Hence the rare nighttime snooze I was just indulgin' in" Robbins explained as he settled into his seat.

Hudson's chair squeaked and groaned as he spoke. "Well, if ye need to rest more, I can come back another—"

"No no, I'm fine. I'm all set, good to go" he assured, folding his hands in his lap.

"Did your physician give ye a good report?" Hudson asked, before humming thoughtfully. "If ye don't mind me inquirin' " he added.

Robbins shook his head as he replied. "Not at all, buddy. It was just a regular check up, my doctor says I'm gettin' healthier on account of the exercise I've been doin'. Just gotta watch my back when I'm liftin' heavy stuff. But I only use 30 pound dumbbells so that won't be an issue" he explained before shrugging. "Uhhh, other than that, yeah. Just a normal visit. Of course he got on me about the diet, cholesterol and blood pressure, you know how that is"

"Ah yes. The coal-est-rol and... blood pressure..." Hudson said, combing his fingers through his beard. He sounded a little awkward and unsure, maybe because he too has been putting off the doctor for the exact reason Robbins had. Well, not exact, but close enough.

"I already got rid of caffeine and high fructose corn syrup, I'm not goin' crazy with the greasy and junk foods and carbs, so why is he still ridin' me on this? What, I'm supposed to never eat an ounce of butter or sugar ever again?" Robbins rolled his head dramatically at the notion, because he'll be damned if he can't have everything served at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Ain't no way he's missing out on his sisters' cooking.

"Perish the thought!" Hudson said, completing Robbins' precise thought. He couldn't help the emphatic hum in agreement.

"I am 59 years old, I'm gon' keep eatin' what I've been eatin' all my life, I'll keep up the exercise, and I'll be just fine" he declared, folding his arms for emphasis. "Ain't no way I'm eatin' salads for the rest of my life, I don't have to turn into a complete herbivore to be healthy. Screw that" he waved off the idea like an irritating fly as Hudson hummed in agreement. Although...

"I mean sure, I probably should eat a banana every now and then, but still!" Robbins exclaimed raising his finger. "Get off my back, Doc, I eat what I want" he finished, waving his finger dramatically.

"And what, uh..." Hudson trailed off, calloused hands rubbing together as he quietly gathered his thoughts. "What would that entail, exactly?" he ventured.

"Oh, the usual suspects; Italian, Chinese, Mexican, Southern, Mediterranean, all the classics" Robbins listed casually. Gilly trotted over to him and plopped his cane into his lap, Robbins gave her a quick scratch behind her ear as a silent thanks. He was wondering where he left that thing.

"Do ye happen to favor any in particular?" Hudson asked, lightly clasping his hands back together. Robbins paused for a moment before answering.

"Uh, I don't really have a 'favorite food', necessarily" he admitted. "I just like to eat, ain't too picky 'bout much really" his shoulders bounced as he pursed his lips.

It was true, he couldn't really pick a favorite food. He had wide and varied tastes and whatever he was in the mood for that's what he wanted. And his mood flitted between a dozen different foods, so it'd be impossible for him to pick.

"I see..." Hudson spoke under his breath, stroking his beard again. "Then, is there anything ye don't care for, then?" he supplied, wanting to get to the bottom of this for some reason. Robbins didn't mind of course, it was just... a tad peculiar, is all. He placed his hand on his chin and thought for a few moments as he lined up everything he regretted eating or would never even consider eating.

"Horseradish" was his initial thought. "Not really a food, but it's somethin' people eat that I just can't get behind".

Hudson let out a thoughtful hum before he spoke up. "I am not familiar with horseradish" he admitted.

"You ain't missin' nothin', trust me". That junk was so gross, Robbins couldn't believe people dared put it on prime rib. Lord, it should be a crime.

"Anything else?" Hudson inquired, leaning in a bit closer. He seemed quite interested in such a mundane subject, causing Robbins to raise an eyebrow but continue nevertheless. Might as well.

"Turnips and beets" he snapped his fingers. "Nastiest little things I ever ate. It's like takin' a big ol' bite of dirt, ugh" Robbins motioned how big the dirt bite would be. Apparently it was the size of a 1 year old baby. "No thanks" he waved his hands in front of him as Hudson chuckled.

"Hahaha, turnips 'n beets are no friends o'mine either" he admitted, his voice sounding a bit closer than just a second ago. Not that Robbins noticed, because he just thought of the worst of the worst.

"Chitlins! Ya ever heard of chitlins?" Probably not since he's from Scotland, and not Southern Alabama.

"Can't say that I have, it doesn't sound particularly appetizin' " Hudson answered, holding back bemused laughter.

"Well, let's just say... I've never actually eaten pig intestines, because I don't hate myself enough" Hudson spurted out an amused breath. "But based on the smell alone, I have zero intentions of puttin' them anywhere near my face. I'm positive it'd melt the flesh right off it" the Scotsman choked out a chortle. "Have me walkin' 'round here lookin' like Skeletor's blind uncle". That was it.

Hudson cackled while doubling over, evident by how hard he slapped his knee and how close his voice had become. A wide grin spread across Robbins' face as he stifled his own laughter. Gilly's collar jingled as she went to check up on Hudson as he struggled to stay off the floor. Which Robbins was determined he'd bring him down to.

"I'm serious, it smells like rotten sewage, wrapped in burnt hair, boiling in gasoline! I've never gagged so much in my life!" he explained as a few chuckles escaped him. "At least now I know if I ever accidentally drink poison or somethin', all I need to do is pull out a pot of musty stank nasty chitlins and I'll throw it right back up".

"Hahahaha!" Hudson bellowed, a light thud let him know the man had been brought to his knees. Little more.

"And I mean instantly regurgitate. No question" the next thud was a bit louder, Hudson voice fell down lower to the ground. Hands and knees. "The things people do to dem poor lil' piglets, chile" Robbins finished in an aged, shrill voice that perfectly mimicked his grandmother, who also detested chitlins with a fiery passion. And boy was she hilarious.

Hudson had fully dropped to the ground, with Gilly kneading his belly by the sound of his strained laughs. "Hahahaha! St... stop... ahahaha!" he tried begging, between those joyful giggles that lit up the room. But mercy wouldn't come just yet.

"I do not recommend it for consumption, but as a form of cruel and unusual torture, I give it 5 gags of approval. Your enemies will absolutely give up their entire country just to get away from the noxious fumes".

Hudson wheezed and moaned between delirious chortles. "Robbins, for the love of... ye gotta stop... yer killin' me here!" he panted.

Robbins couldn't hold back his own laughter. "Alright, alright! I'm done, I'm done!" he finally relented as Hudson struggled to regain his breathing.

Just when it seemed like he was done and he was finding his normal rhythm back, he barked out a couple more guffaws and down he went again. Gilly certainly wasn't helping, she never did when it came to them cracking up. After the 3rd failed attempt to regain his composure, Hudson slammed his hand on the coffee, right by Robbins' knee. And since he caused the problem, he felt compelled to help his friend out.

"You good?" he asked as he reflexively reached out and laid his hand on Hudson's, hoping to ground him somewhat.

His hand was thickly calloused and his skin was dry, like he'd worked a construction job with his bare hands. But it wasn't uncomfortable, they kind of reminded him of the way his father's hands were, he worked in construction and his hands were always rough to the touch. But warm and gentle too.

"Aye, now I am!" Hudson answered back, still coughing out an amused huff as he rose to his knees once more. "I never knew you were so passionate about food" he added, smile clear in his tone.

Robbins paused at the comment and blinked a few times to process it. All of that was pretty normal to him, did it really constitute as "passionate about food" to Hudson? Did it constitute as passionate to other people, because it seemed like everybody in Robbins' family had the same general approach to the topic of cuisine.

But now that he thought about it, he did recall many of the people in his life that were either immigrants or of a diverse race and ethnicity didn't have the same sentiment about food. They seemed to be perfectly content with their particular culture's food, plus some common standards that everybody liked. But as far as describing how much they liked one food over another? He couldn't really recall anyone doing that.

He was always the one volunteering his many thoughts and opinions on whatever food was up for discussion. One time somebody suggested he take up writing food reviews since his stories were dried up and he had apparently impressed them so much with his ramblings about one of the restaurants he frequents. So, 'passionate about food'... actually kinda fit? At least compared to anybody outside of his own family, it seemed. Which was a weird realization to come to at his age, but there it was.

"Heh yeah, guess I never thought of it like that" he finally admitted, looking off to the side with a surprised grin.

"Heh heh, it seems there are even things you have yet to discover about yourself, my friend" Hudson spoke in that low tone of his that let Robbins know he was poking fun at him a little bit. He could hear the mischievousness in his inflection.

"So... why the sudden inquiry of my dietary preferences?" he quirked his eyebrow at Hudson playfully. He knew Hudson was aiming at something in particular with his line of questioning, the man was far too obvious about it.

Hudson hummed in confusion before his brain processed it and realized the jig was up. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand back from Robbins' touch, which finally drew his attention to it. If Robbins wasn't mistaken, he was a little frantic when he recoiled away. Which made sense now that he thought about it, Hudson wasn't big on shaking hands, so of course he wouldn't exactly enjoy having someone put their hand on top of his. Even if it completely slipped his mind at the time, which he should definitely apologize for.

"Sorry about—"

"No no, i-it's fine" Hudson cut in, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair. "I was just, uh—ahem! Curious" A beat of silence. "That-that's all..." he stammered out, rubbing the back of his neck. Robbins tilted his head at Hudson, a knowing smirk tugging at his cheek, before he leaned back in his chair and hummed to himself.

He put his hand up and turned his face away as he answered back. "Fine, fine. Don't tell me, I don't wanna know".

"Am I not allowed to be curious aboot ye now?" Hudson asked with a chuckle, probably to mask his anxiety of being discovered.

"You're never curious without reason, Hudson" Robbins explained, shaking his head ruefully.

A faux offended guffaw came before his reply. "And just how would you know that?"

"Cuz I know" Robbins shot back, a cheeky grin on his face. "But go on, keep your secrets. Let's do what we came here to do. You finish your homework?" he pivoted as he motioned for Hudson to answer.

"Oh aye, and I've got'a lot to say aboot this here Rainbow Fish!" Hudson declared as he shuffled through what could only be a grocery bag for the book in question.

"Oh, you do, huh?" Robbins answered, knowing full well that Hudson would want to discuss that book above all the others.

Which is why he picked it out for him, he had heard good things about it from the people at Barnes & Noble and even Eddy who either remembered reading it as a child or was currently reading it to his learning disabled cousin. Which was sweet of the kid, really. But of course it didn't have a braille or tape version—not yet, anyway—so Robbins couldn't vet it personally. However, even that was a carefully calculated move on his part.

Because he can't read this book that Hudson clearly wanted to have a lengthy discussion about, their only recourse would be for Hudson to read it aloud to him. So Hudson would be getting double the practice hopefully without even realizing.

"I do, but we don't have to waste time on it. I'm sure ye didn't intend fer me to ramble about a children's book" his student cut in, causing Robbins to lean forward.

"You kiddin'? I'm very interested in what you think about it. But before you tell me though, would you mind readin' it out loud for me real quick?" Robbins requested. "I haven't read it yet myself".

"O'course!" Hudson eagerly replied as he quickly took the book from the grocery bag and flipped through the pages. "Are ye ready?" he asked before clearing his throat. Robbins nodded and Hudson began reading through the story.

He had come a long way in a month, a fact Robbins had tried to make clear to Hudson several times before now, despite the Scotsman's overly modest protests, but it was true. Hudson was actually a fast learner, from what Robbins could observe; he had completed a total of 50 reading booklets and the 7 books he took home last time he visited. That's a lot of work in a short amount of time, factoring in his actual job and responsibilities outside of this, it was pretty phenomenal.

All that work had really paid off, the proof was in the pudding, he was flying through the story with nary a mistake. He only stopped his flow 3 times, but each time he got the pronunciation right, he minded punctuation, and the confidence with which he read was very encouraging. But that was most likely due to him wanting to hurry up and give Robbins the baseline he needed to understand Hudson's position on the story, so he didn't have time to be in his head too much at the moment.

Confidence was his primary problem when it came to his progress, Hudson wasn't just hard on himself, he actively refused to allow himself to fully accept a victory, no matter how big or small it was. Robbins was getting used to it now, but it was still upsetting to witness in real time. He didn't enjoy fighting his friend to just take the slightest compliment or encouraging word, though he understood why it was such a struggle for Hudson.

Being as old as he was and having to start essentially from scratch to learn something that kids have a firmer grasp on was an uncomfortable thought. Add to that the fact that his wife used to do all this stuff for him and the clear grief he's still processing from her absence, how proud he no doubt is in every other facet of his life including leading a team of younger agents who could all read better than him. And of course, the masculine credo of resisting help in favor of looking as strong and capable as possible at all times, so in receiving help, he has shown weakness and vulnerability and must be shamed.

All of these things would weigh him down and color his perception of his accomplishments in the most uncharitable light they could be. Which wasn't fair, but well... everybody knows what they say about teaching old dogs new tricks. Still, Robbins couldn't help wishing that Hudson could somehow turn a corner with his self-esteem and at least be more willing to accept compliments and encouragement. Just that would be a great victory for him and with the life he led, he could use the win.

Hudson finished up the last page and placed the book on the coffee table, to let Robbins know he was done. It was a cute little story, some good simple lessons in there for kids to pick up on easily enough. But clearly there were some troubling elements that he was confident Hudson would explain in detail shortly.

"Before we talk about it, do you wanna get some snacks?" Robbins offered as he stood up to get their usual stuff.

"Aye, that'd be good" Hudson sighed as he rose to his feet and approached Robbins.

Robbins stopped in his tracks causing Hudson to pause as well. "Ooh, I forgot to make a fresh pot of tea" he thought for another moment and sucked in a quick breath. "And I think I'm outta crumpets, sorry" he winced, scrunching up his face. That impromptu nap really threw off his whole routine.

"That's fine, I..." Hudson trailed off before taking a deep breath. "I feel a bit bad for eatin' all yer food every time I visit, so it... it might be fer the best, in truth" he mumbled out his confession, turning away from Robbins as he spoke. Robbins snorted out an amused huff.

"Don't start with that, food's meant to be eaten and it's a crime to have a friend over and not feed them" he said, continuing their trek to the kitchen. "I don't have our usual stuff, but I got an idea for somethin' slightly different".

Hudson mumbled louder than before, "There's no need to force yourself to—"

"It's no trouble at all" Robbins finished as they made it to the tiled floor. "Is it alright if you start talkin' while I make it?" he said as he went for the cabinets.

"Are ye sure ye don't mind hearin' me ramble about it?" Hudson asked, the fire from before starting to reignite. "I wouldn't wanna bore ye, Robbins". The blind writer nearly sprayed spit into the pitcher at the ridiculous comment.

"There is no way in the world this could be boring, Hudson. I can tell how excited you are to talk about it, so please. Tell me what's on your mind" he said, turning his face to his friend to hopefully encourage him to go ahead and say his piece.

Hudson stayed quiet for a moment before his lips smacked. "Well... don't say I didn't warn ye, because I really have a bone ta pick with that there Blue Fish!" From there, it was on.

While Robbins went about taking the cold tea from earlier that day... or was it technically from the night before? Whatever—as he took the cold tea and started adding ice, lemon, and a whole mess of sugar to it, Hudson began laying out all his thoughts about the story.

Robbins had guessed correctly, his primary issue was with the notion that The Rainbow Fish was being ostracized for having something the other fish wanted and refusing to just hand it over when they had no right or claim to his scales. The advice of the wise octopus went against the concept of equal exchange and guarding your valuables from people you don't know, but instead encouraged him to give away his scales, the source of his beauty, to achieve happiness and gain friends. The Rainbow Fish was seemingly the only one with the problem in the story.

It was an understandable position to take, but Robbins found himself favoring a different interpretation. One he would be happy to share as soon as he got the right amount of sweetness and lemon in the iced tea.

"It was as if the other fish were envious of The Rainbow Fish's beauty so they greedily wanted to take from him the greatest possession he had. And in the end, he submitted to the desires of the greedy selfish vagrants who pretended to be his companions only after they got what they wanted from him" Hudson finished up with a huff, the sound of him staunchly crossing of his arms acting as a period.

Robbins nodded as he hummed in understanding. "Well, that certainly does sound troubling" he stopped stirring and offered the pitcher to Hudson. "Here, taste this"

Hudson remained silent for a moment before he tentatively took the pitcher in his hands. "Did... ye mean for it to be so cold?" he sounded incredibly disturbed for some reason. Wait a minute.

"Do they not have iced tea in Scotland?" Robbins asked incredulous. That can't be, iced tea is so common, anyplace you can get ice has iced tea.

"Not when I was there" Hudson mumbled. Robbins refrained from asking aloud, 'when was that, the 1800s?'

Instead he motioned his hands towards Hudson and implored him, "Just take a sip and tell me if it's sweet enough".

He could feel Hudson staring between him and the pitcher, a low grumble caught in his throat as he debated taking a chance on the drink. He finally stopped the stalemate and sniffed loudly, followed by an intrigued hum, then he took a quick sip and smacked his lips.

"That's delicious!" he shouted in wonder, causing Robbins to smile. "Oh my, it's so sweet and refreshing!" he said after taking another, longer sip.

"Toldja you'd like it" Robbins chuckled.

Hudson sighed in satisfaction as he replied. "I do, I like it very much!" he took yet another long sip. "What's it called again?" he asked excitedly. Robbins couldn't help but shake his head ruefully.

"Iced tea?" he answered back confused, as Hudson's gulps rang out. "You really never heard of it before?" he questioned.

Hudson gasped for air as he spoke. "No, and I'm quite upset no one has told me about it until now!" Robbins closed his eyes and worked his mouth wordlessly, struggling to understand.

That is so bizarre, nigh impossible, especially for a secret agent who has presumably been all over the globe. How was this his first encounter with regular old iced tea? Robbins shelved it in his ever growing mental file cabinets of questions surrounding his new friend and turned back to the counter.

"Uh, okay. Well, now ya know" he said rolling his eyes in astonishment and taking out a tray of treats. "Muffin?"

"Thank ye!" Hudson gingerly took the offered muffin, from the top to avoid brushing against Robbins' hand, of course. "This is so different, but so good" he marveled as he crumpled the wrapping.

"Well, that's good to know, we can have this instead of hot tea whenever you like. You'll have a choice from now on" Robbins opened his arms as he explained, leaning his back against the counter.

Hudson halted his movement and lightly exhaled. "I... I appreciate that" he said quietly, smile present in his tone.

"No problem" Robbins reached around and plucked a glass from the dish rack. "Now, the book" he began, pointing his cup at Hudson.

"Aye, I'm eager to hear what you think about it!" Hudson said as he quickly came over and started filling the glass. "Did I get something wrong or—?"

"I wouldn't say you got something wrong, just..." Robbins paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "I think there's some details we need to take note of before we jump to any definitive conclusions. For example, in your assessment of the story, you seemed to view the Rainbow Fish as pretty innocent right?" he asked before taking a quick sip. Damn, that's pretty sweet. May have gone a little overboard with the sugar...

"Aye, he hadn't done anything except refuse to give up his scales, which is his right to do" Hudson confirmed.

"Right, but do you remember what the first few pages said about him?" Robbins put his glass down with a soft clack. "When the other fish asked him if he wanted to play with them, he ignored them and swam away. Like he was too good for them because they weren't as beautiful as him".

Hudson stroked his beard and hummed in thought. "I... forgot aboot that part" he admitted.

"And he didn't just refuse to give his scales to the blue fish, he screamed at him! 'Who do you think you are?! Get away from me!' " Robbins mimicked in a bratty child voice. "Seems a bit over the top, wouldn't you agree? A simple, 'no I'm not comfortable doin' that' would've done the job. But he screamed at the little guy just for askin' if he could have one".

"Well fine, but what made the Blue Fish think it proper to dare ask for one of Rainbow Fish's scales in the first place? They're his scales, they're part of his body, why should he mutilate himself for the sole benefit of a fish who isn't even his friend?" Hudson argued back.

" 'Mutilate himself' is a bit extreme" Robbins pointed at Hudson while frowning. "The character giving of their physical being is not seen as a physically painful or morbid process in the actual story. Therefore, it's not to be taken as literal mutilation or dismemberment, it's meant to be more figurative than literal. And I realize the story doesn't come right out and say this, but it doesn't actually have to, the fact is the Rainbow Fish can regrow the beautiful scales as a normal process of being a fish"

"Regrow the scales?" Hudson asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I mean, all fish shed scales and regrow 'em, it's part of bein' a fish. Rainbow Fish's scales aren't somethin' of so great a rarity that he'll never regrow what he gives away. It's not about the scarcity of scales, but the... the willingness to give of his—his bounty of beauty to the other fish who are tryin' to connect with him anyway, but he made it difficult for them to do so" Robbins explained, gesturing with his hands.

"The other fish were trying to play with him in the beginning..." Hudson added, realization dawning.

Robbins nodded. "Yeah. But because of how much value he put in his beauty, he believed himself to be above others".

"Oh, I don't think that's quite true" Hudson replied before taking another sip. Robbins shook his head before taking a step closer to him.

"Think about it: would a humble person act the way Rainbow Fish acts in the beginning of the story? Completely ignore people who are tryin' to be friendly, scream and shout at someone for askin' if they can have just a little of their possessions, then double down on the 'I'm so beautiful' rhetoric when askin' why no one likes him? Does that sound like a person with a firm grasp on humility?" Robbins challenged and Hudson hummed in thought before answering.

"Now that ye mention it, not really, no..." he mumbled, before taking a sharp inhale. "But should he not enjoy his scales and be proud o'them because he values them, not simply because others like them? And couldn't this apply to both the scales and the symbolism of other things we possess that are beautiful?" he asked, and damn, it was a good point to bring up.

"Of course, but we can't forget what the story tells us is true. He was proud and silent, he believed himself to be above others because of how beautiful he was compared to them. That has gone past healthy self confidence, which is what you're talkin' about now, and stumbled into self obsession" Robbins clarified, taking another step forward.

"Everyone acknowledges that Rainbow Fish's scales are beautiful so that's not the issue. The issue is in what Rainbow Fish chooses to do with the fact that he is beautiful. And what he chooses to do is allow it to inflate his ego and elevate himself above all others. And that's simply not okay" he finished resolute.

Hudson shuffled closer as he replied. "So ye think the octopus was right? Instead'o tellin' Rainbow Fish to enjoy his possessions or engage in a fair trade with others, the octopus tells Rainbow Fish to give away his scales, lose his unique beauty, and become the same as everyone else so he can be 'happy' and have 'friends'. The story teaches that happiness comes from giving in to the demands'o others, that his worth arises from the opinions'o others, and that sacrificin' himself is necessary to get close to other people".

Robbins shook his head. "The octopus's wisdom is meant to be a chance for the Rainbow Fish to employ humility and generosity as opposed to pride and selfishness. The story teaches that pride, greed and selfishness are deterrents to happiness and humility, generosity and self sacrifice are inherently better qualities that will bring happiness. Friendship, companionship, camaraderie, these are forms of happiness easy for children to understand. Friends are good to have, not havin' any is bad, it's simple, broad strokes thematic messaging".

Hudson hummed in agreement as Robbins motioned between them. "But for you and I, we can view happiness in any number of more nuanced non-companion based ways. Fulfillment, making the world a more beautiful place if even just a little bit, having a more accurate sense of self, peace. These are also indicators of true happiness, but most obviously, an increase of love in one's life is always a thing that brings happiness. The enjoyment of his scales increased the more he gave to the other fish, remember? So he's getting more enjoyment from sharing than keeping them to himself".

"I don't understand that" Hudson growled a little. "The Blue Fish disparages his name all over the land—er, sea rather—because he didn't get the scale, which he wasn't owed. It was Rainbow Fish's right to deny anyone of his valuables, immaterial or otherwise. The Blue Fish was wrong for making the other fish ostracize Rainbow Fish, but bowing to his demands somehow makes Rainbow Fish happier? I think I'd feel robbed more than anything else"

"I fundamentally believe that the Blue Fish asked Rainbow Fish for one of his scales not just because he greatly admired them, but because he couldn't find any other way to connect with Rainbow Fish, who he seemed to admire before he rejected him so harshly".

"Really?" Hudson questioned loudly, he was really into this.

"If the scales are meant to be symbolic of immaterial beautiful qualities, then that admiration is even more justified. For instance, a gifted singer or dancer havin' someone ask them for advice on how to improve their own singin' and dancin' skills may be the equivalent here. Or asking if the person wouldn't mind singin' a song for them or showin' them a few moves could also work" Robbins explained before taking another step towards Hudson and another bite of his muffin.

"Somethin' that only the most avid of admirers or-or-or fans would request, not because they wish to take somethin' away from the person. But because they genuinely want to connect with that person on a deeper level" he shrugged and leaned his head away as he continued. "So naturally, a scorned and rejected fan would tell all others the true ugly nature behind the beautiful outward appearance of the person they once admired".

"That doesn't make what he did to Rainbow Fish right" Hudson immediately retorted making Robbins laugh a little at how harsh he was being.

"I didn't say it makes it right, I just said it was a natural response to harsh rejection, that's all" he clarified, raising his hands.

Hudson snorted an angry huff as he brought his glass up to his mouth, evident by the slight echo in his voice. "Well, that blasted Blue Fish ought'a learn how to deal with rejection and keep his mouth shut" he finished just before he took another healthy gulp.

"I can agree with you on that at least!" Robbins laughed, putting a hand on Hudson's shoulder.

"I hate that wee azure hackit dobber" the Scotsman grumbled deeply, in a tone that bordered on animalistic. But Robbins was too distracted by the European terminology he used.

"Ya lost me on that one, what does that mean?"

"Ugly, blue, inconsiderate fool" Hudson listed casually.

"Ah" Robbins blinked before a laugh sputtered out of his mouth without warning. "Fair enough" he said between chuckles.

"I just dunnot know why the Rainbow Fish craves the other fishes' attention. The book asked 'what good were dazzling shimmering scales with no one to admire them' and frankly, I don’t know how someone could say such a thing. The beauty of a thing doesn't require admirers, though it certainly would be appreciated. But the lack of open admiration can't deter the actual beauty of the scales, right?"

Robbins' eyebrows shot up as he let that statement sink in. "Well, you're touchin' on some interestin' philosophical stuff there" he finally said, putting a hand through his hair.

"I—I am?" Hudson questioned in surprise.

Robbins nodded to him. "Absolutely. Think about it: what makes Rainbow Fish beautiful in the first place?"

"His scales" Hudson answered quickly.

"Sure, but what does the ending says about him? He was very happy after givin' away all but one of his scales. Does that make him less beautiful in the end?"

"Aye" Again, he answered quickly.

"But does it really?" Robbins tilted his head to the side.

"What're ye gettin' at, Robbins?"

"You're the one that said beauty can be immaterial and the scales can be symbolic of other beautiful things people possess" He reminded, nudging Hudson's arm. "What I'm sayin' is, how beautiful is the Rainbow Fish for sharin' his most prized possessions with the other fish? Did his self sacrifice make him a more beautiful person, ya know, character-wise?" he clarified as Hudson hummed deeply.

"I... suppose one could say that" he finally replied.

"Okay then, so is outer beauty more valuable than inner beauty? And has the Rainbow Fish's newfound humility and generosity given him a more beautiful character than in the beginnin'?"

Hudson stayed silent for several moments. "I dunnot know" he admitted.

"That's fine! There's no right or wrong answer, I think everybody is gonna come away with their own answers to these questions and that makes for a more meaningful discussion" Robbins said, patting Hudson's shoulder gently.

" 'Tis true" he replied. "I'm surprised ye don't see the envy and greed behind the other fish in the story. Rainbow Fish is special and unique and they resented him for that quality. It seems as if the story is saying one shouldn't be special. And if ye are special, others will hate you for it and the only way to be happy is to shed yourself of that special trait. And I feel that is a largely unwise moral to impart, especially children" Hudson folded his arms across his chest as he leaned against the counter.

Robbins reeled his head back a little and sighed. "The message is not that bein' special is a problem, it's how to behave with your specialness that will maximize your happiness in life and keep your ego in check. Which means employin' humility, generosity, and self-sacrifice in healthy moderation" Hudson breathed in to reply, but Robbins put his hand up to pause him. "Now on some level, the concept of people hatin' you for the thing that makes you special has merit. Envy is a very real factor in life and it shouldn't be overlooked when it comes to gifts, talent, skill, and inherent qualities".

"Then we are in agreement?" Robbins shook his head. "Why do ye disagree?"

"Because, critically, it is not the only thing that matters when discussin' the subject. Maybe there were some fish that were envious of Rainbow Fish, and him givin' his scales away perhaps placated those fish, but that wasn't the reason why he gave his scales away. Remember, he was lookin' for a remedy to loneliness, because 'he was the loneliest fish in the sea'. He gave his scales away because he wanted to connect with the fish around him, not because he wanted envious people to not envy him so much".

Hudson grunted before speaking. "Ye don't regard envy as highly as ye should, Robbins. It's quite a dangerous attribute and it's clearly the sin drivin' these lesser fish. Envy and greed in equal measure" Robbins frowned at him causing Hudson to chuckle to himself. "But I suppose that's only one way to look at the story. Ye have yer view and I have mine" he said ghosting his fingertips on Robbins' chest before pulling back. Most likely to point to himself.

Robbins listened to Hudson finish up his muffin and moan while drinking the rest of the iced tea. He couldn't stop the fond smile from creeping to his face. In truth, he wasn't expecting a discussion like this from Hudson, it seemed like he would sheepishly just agree with whatever Robbins said about the story. Which was the last thing he wanted, but he assumed his friend with crippling self esteem issues and who seemed to hang on his every word when it came to literature would be more pliable. Man, was he ever glad to be wrong.

It was disagreements and debates that really made literary discussions engaging for him, always had been. He could enjoy an agreeable talk about this stuff, but it didn't really get the passion going. It wasn't as exciting or intellectually satisfying as having to come against opposition and defend his positions. That was way more fun than just sitting across from someone who nodded along to whatever he said like an obedient little puppy.

He liked the passion, he liked the appeals to different perspectives, and he liked ending a discussion coming away with something he didn't have before going into it. And that usually happened in an argument or debate rather than a nice little conversation with someone he already agrees with on everything. It was quite a pleasant surprise that Hudson was willing to stand his ground on what he believed and force Robbins' perspective through the ringer to see if he himself was missing something or not. He could only imagine how much better these debates of theirs would get the better Hudson got at reading.

And on that exciting note, he realized he hadn't had this type of exchange in a frightfully long time. Usually when he discussed literature, he was on a book tour for one of his stories, and it was only fans or reporters he was talking to, so an actual debate or disagreement was exceedingly rare.

He recalled the odd book reviewer that came to a signing that took up 15 minutes arguing about his rendition of Anansi in his What A Tangled Web We Weave novel. But admittedly he wasn't very interested in the minutia of accuracy in adaption, seeing as making a good story was only ever his primary goal. So that little exchange was just 15 minutes of being yelled at by an African studies major with too much time on his hands.

And before that there may have been a few fans that had intriguing questions or theories about his other stories, like how all of them were secretly connected, which was hilarious to think about. Norse, Greek, Arthurian, African, Shakespearean, Egyptian, and Native American mythology somehow intertwined into one great worldwide mythology. Utterly insane and he made no attempt to hide that fact when presented with the theory. That hadn't gone over too well, but again, it wasn't really a debate or discussion, some people just got a nutty idea, shared it with him, and he laughed in their faces.

In college, he had the most exposure to this type of discourse with his fellow students and the professors. But back then he wasn't as concerned with literature, his focus was more on history during his school days, yet he found himself having some long form disagreements about his assigned reading in his history courses. And it was less about the historical events being depicted and more about how the story was being told, the morality of the characters, the thematic messages being presented, etc.

Suffice it to say, only a couple of his professors were willing to engage with him in this vein, most of his peers and professors were unappreciative of Robbins' desire to debate the quality and merits of the story. They were strictly concerned with the historical accuracy of everything, which was important of course, but not more important than the writing quality and the thematic discussions he wanted to have. So unfortunately it was a time where he was stifled more than encouraged to flourish. Still, his appetite for intellectual stimulation through literary argumentation was whet in those four years. It went on to be woefully unsatisfied, but it was always there.

Now that he actually thought about it, this argument about a children's book featuring cartoon fish trying to discover beauty and true happiness through sharing was the first time he'd gotten to really debate someone on literature. Since he fully entered adulthood, that is. Robbins was sure if anyone else in his friend group had been present for the argument, they'd call both him and Hudson ridiculous for taking such a silly story so seriously, but they wouldn't get it. Any piece of art can be taken as seriously or as casually as the individual wants, depends on how they get the most enjoyment or meaning out of it.

So he didn't mind the extensive philosophical deep dive about a fish giving scales to other fish who may or may not have deserved it in the end. And he was grateful that Hudson hadn't given it a second thought and dived right in with him. It was... refreshing, to be able to talk like this, he realized. His other friends and acquaintances weren't much for books anyway, so it was exciting to have found a fellow passionate reader in Hudson.

"I'm glad we can disagree and still respect each other's position" he said warmly as he nudged Hudson's bicep again, causing the man to huff out an amused breath.

"Aye... 'tis a good thing" he agreed, a fondness in his voice that made Robbins' stomach warm.

"Lemme ask just one last question" he requested, putting up his index finger.

Hudson placed his large hand on his shoulder. "Please" he replied amicably.

"It's clear you think Rainbow Fish's scales are fundamentally an unsharable commodity, which I can understand. But where do you draw the line on sharable and unsharable things in your own life?" he asked and was met with silence. The hand on his shoulder tensed up a bit and he felt Hudson's gaze drift from his face down to the kitchen floor.

"That's... a powerful question, my friend" he managed, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that was on Robbins' shoulder.

"Take your time, there's no wrong answer here" Robbins assured, not wanting to make Hudson feel rushed or judged. He remained silent for several moments longer before he cleared his throat to answer.

"I suppose it would depend on who I'm sharin' with" he replied, turning away by the sound of his voice.

"Okay, good. So if you were the Rainbow Fish, you wouldn't give a scale to the Blue Fish, but what about your friends and family? Is there any way you would give them a scale or do you deem it unsharable to them as well?" Robbins questioned, offering Hudson another muffin.

"Would there be anythin' wrong with that?" he questioned back, taking the offered treat.

"Not at all, like I said, no wrong answers. It's just somethin' interesting to consider" Robbins smirked before continuing. "And for the record, there's stuff I wouldn't be comfortable sharin' with my family and friends either. Some stuff is just that private that sharin' it would make things worse between me and them".

Hudson stopped fiddling with the muffin wrapper and coughed awkwardly. "Aye... some things are just meant for one person alone" he went silent for a beat. "But how does one determine if that valuable thing is completely private or maybe... maybe sharable in part?" he struggled, while Robbins rested his chin on his palm.

"I dunno, that'd be up to the individual" he admitted. "I'm sure you know what your friends and family are ready to receive from you" he perked his head up to correct himself. "Worthy to receive, even".

Hudson remained still for a moment, clearly stuck in his own head at the comment. "That's easier said than done" he whispered in a scratchy voice. Robbins felt a bit guilty for unwittingly touching a sore spot for his friend, so he went about remedying it.

"Well, in the case of the Rainbow Fish, I would call him givin' away his scales as spreadin' his beauty to others and enrichin' the lives of his new friends. Thinkin' of it that way, would givin' your people what you consider a beautiful scale... would it spread the beauty of that thing or dilute it?" he dropped, hoping to bring Hudson out of his sudden funk without dismissing whatever he was grappling with.

"Another difficult question..." he mumbled back before sighing.

"Do you think it'd make ya happier or closer to them, at least?" Robbins added, hopeful. He moved a half step closer to Hudson, his hand back on the Scotsman's shoulder to comfort him.

Hudson fell silent again, but slowly Robbins felt his gaze return to his face. He went to stroke his beard and that was the only sound in the room other than the hum of the refrigerator. And just when it seemed like Hudson wouldn't answer and Robbins opened his mouth to speak, the Scotsman beat him to it.

"Maybe it would, but..." he whispered softly, more to himself than Robbins. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. "The risk is far too great, presently. It's too soon to bring... it would be better to wait for things to... quiet a bit more" he settled on.

And "settled" was fitting for what just happened, Hudson clearly had way more on his mind than he was saying. But Robbins wouldn't push, he wouldn't judge, he wouldn't prolong whatever issue he unknowingly uncovered with his questioning. This sore spot was evidently one that directly concerned Hudson's friends and family, people that knew him far better than Robbins ever would. Hudson didn't need a virtual outsider poking and prodding him about his most intimate and sacred relationships, and frankly Robbins wasn't comfortable doing that.

He knew that Hudson needed more emotional support from their previous talks and that his friends and family were unable to give that much needed service to him, but he didn't know how deeply the issue ran. Hudson was purposefully keeping things from them, preventing himself from gaining access to their support, essentially handicapping their effectiveness in his life. He was cut off, he cut himself off from them, probably in a bid to protect himself from getting hurt. But... was that a rational fear for him to have?

Of the little Hudson told Robbins of his team (or "clan" as Hudson preferred), they seemed like an okay bunch. Hudson never mentioned any disrespect or outward malice or belittling within the group, he only had good things to say about them. Vague surface level things, but good nonetheless. The same for his late wife, she seemed to be a perfect angel of a woman. So Robbins was at a loss for why he kept them all at arms length, because there didn't seem to be a reason to do that.

Robbins shook his head a bit. He was jumping to conclusions with next to no evidence to support said conclusions he had gone and jumped to. Which is why he didn't like being in this position, he wasn't exactly qualified and he didn't want to overstep and offend Hudson when he didn't have all the facts. Probably never would, because the man's a secret agent, he has to keep a lot of things to himself. He reaffirmed that he'd be Hudson's support in whatever capacity he was able to and that it would be a very delicate and gradual process.

And maybe what that looked like was just convincing his friend to open up to the people closest to him. But he'd arguably done too much of that tonight, so he was perfectly fine with shelving all this for another night. Besides, it was Hudson's life, he was the one in charge of it. Regardless of how Robbins could clearly see (metaphorically, of course) the damage his friend was doing to himself by cutting off his support system. It was still a choice Hudson was free to make. He'd just try to nudge him off of that course and back to a healthier one over time.

"Hudson, it's your special thing, you get to decide if or when you want to share it with whoever you want" he said, slinging his arm over Hudson's shoulders. Which took a little bit of effort considering how wide his frame was. "I just wanted you to think about it for a lil' bit, that's all" he said low, ending with a warm smile.

Hudson merely hummed in response, distracted. Robbins cleared his throat and patted Hudson's shoulder.

"Hey, why don't you give me a hand makin' another batch of iced tea? We'll go back to the study, make some more progress with our lessons, maybe talk about the Merlin novel if ya want?" Robbins offered, squeezing Hudson's shoulders with every suggestion. He could feel the tension leaving him the more he spoke, but he remained quiet.

Until Hudson croaked out a few low noises then spoke up. "Can we make it a wee bit sweeter this time?"

Robbins snorted a laugh as he gave his shoulders one last squeeze. "Sure thing, buddy". Robbins found himself hoping Hudson didn't have diabetes, because wow did he have a sweet tooth.

Chapter Text

The usual ambiance of the Clock Tower was charged with music she thought she'd only hear in her parents's house. Brooklyn sat by the near mint condition radio he procured from a certain small time crew of wannabe gangsters, bopping his head along with Let's Groove Tonight by Earth, Wind & Fire. It was a good song, just... old. Far older than she would have associated with the gargoyle who perpetually exudes such boyish charm.

Although, she found herself correcting that mindset for the thousandth time, all the gargoyles are technically hundreds of years older than her. Which was just so crazy for her to think about. So really, Brooklyn was fairly recent, contextually speaking. Plus, she couldn't be too hard on him, apparently he had great taste in music, her Dad would definitely approve.

"Hey Elisa!" he excitedly spoke up over the music. "Have you heard of these bards before?" he held up the radio, pointing to the speakers.

"Uh, we call 'em bands nowadays, Brooklyn" Elisa gently corrected, an amused smirk on her face.

"Oh right, right! Well, this band is tight!" he corrected as he continued to groove with the radio resting on his shoulder.

"Earth, Wind & Fire are always tight" she added, walking closer to the dancing gargoyle.

"I gotta see 'em live! Will you tell me when their next performance is?" Brooklyn turned and asked, a wide smile on his long face.

"You got it" Elisa chuckled as she fist bumped Brooklyn, who went right back to dancing "How's it goin', Lex?" she called out as she turned to the smallest gargoyle currently engrossed in his work.

That work, of course, was the infamous Coldstone, who was currently stone cold frozen like a statue. Every time Elisa looked at the unfortunate creation she couldn't help but cringe and keep her distance. Even if it—or they, technically. Meh, she'll stick with it—even if it was awake and fully sane, she'd still be uncomfortable around it. After everything that it put them through, and how eerie it looked from every single angle, there was no way she could ever feel safe with it around.

Of course she wanted Lex to fix it up and for everyone to get their Rookery brother back, or Rookery son in the case of... well, their clansman back. She could still remember how ecstatic Goliath was when he thought he'd gotten through to him, how devastated he was when the virus rendered him comatose. She'd give almost anything to never have to see that pained look on his face again, it didn't belong there. Not on any of their faces. And yet, Lexington was experiencing his own brand of pain trying to wrap his head around the contradictive forces that caused Coldstone to be animated in the first place.

"Not so great, I'm still struggling with the software interface..." he answered back, typing absentmindedly and studying Coldstone for a reaction. "I hate to say it, but I may need to build one of my own from scratch" he finally admitted, rubbing his temples.

"Hmm, sounds tough" she replied, placing a comforting hand on his slender shoulder.

Lexington patted her hand deftly as he sighed. "Yeah, I'm not sure how to do that, so I'll try to work with what's still there. But just in case—" he began.

"I'll keep an eye out for computer programming books so you can study up" she finished, smiling down at him.

Lexington allowed a little smirk to bubble to the surface as he looked up at her with tired eyes. "You're a lifesaver, Elisa" he sighed again, lighter.

"Just doin' my job" she replied before looking around the room "Where's Broadway?"

"He's finally continuin' his reading lessons with Goliath in the Library" Lex answered, already focused back on the unresponsive Coldstone.

"Yeah, he didn't wanna be outdone by a certain somebody whose been hard at work" Brooklyn called across the room, still jamming.

"Fer the last time, it's not a competition" a gravelly voice sharply corrected, causing Elisa to jolt and swing her head around to see Hudson suddenly next to her. The guy could really be stealthy when he wanted to, she realized with a start.

"Tell that to Broadway!" Brooklyn answered back, laughter in his tone. Hudson merely rolled his eyes and tilted his head before pinning Elisa with a glare. She couldn't help the quiet gulp that escaped her in response.

"Hudson. How's it go—?"

"Could I talk to ye fer a moment?" he interrupted in a tone that was unhelpful in discerning his mood. "In private?" he added, grabbing her arm in a way that weirdly reminded her of her Dad. Come to think of it, his indiscernible tone also put her in the mind of her father, when he didn't want her to know exactly how much trouble she was in as a kid. Which meant this couldn't bode well.

"Uh, sure Hudson" she agreed, to which Hudson hurried them up the stairs and out on the balcony, the clock face behind them in a matter of seconds. "So what—uh, what's up?" she ventured, shoving her wringing hands into her jacket pockets.

"Do ye remember the night of our anniversary, when ye got us all different food fer supper?" he asked, causing Elisa to stare at him in surprise for a moment.

"Yeah" she answered, focused on keeping her tone neutral as to not spook him. Because he certainly looked... well, not spooked, but something was certainly off.

"I was wonderin', if ye weren't too busy tonight, would ye mind goin' to get my meal again?" Hudson asked, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze.

Elisa's shoulders relaxed as she let out a soft huff. "Sure, I can run and get ya Scottish takeout"

Hudson shook his head. "Not fer me" Elisa blinked at him, as Hudson turned away even more. "Fer my friend" he cleared his throat and folded his arms. "To repay 'im fer all he's done for me".

Elisa's face brightened as his words finally finished processing in her mind. "Oh! Hudson, that's really sweet" she remarked, causing the old gargoyle to blush and turn even more. "And you've got great timing, tonight's been pretty slow so far. So I can go now and be back in an hour or 2" she started to leave until Hudson's hand found her arm again, more gentle and slightly clammy than before.

"Well, actually" he trailed off, as he pulled Elisa close and lifted her off her feet in one swift, effortless motion. Suddenly she was in his arms, bridal style, blinking up at him with wide eyes. "I was hopin' ye'd lead me there".

Elisa scrunched her face up a bit and hummed lowly. "It's pretty far away, you sure you wouldn't rather I drive?" she offered, pointing to the side to mimic the path a car would take to the restaurant.

"I dunnot mind" Hudson shook his head, flaring his wings with a loud flap before air currents caught them and lifted them off the ground and past the railing of the Clock Tower.

Elisa's grip on Hudson tightened considerably as she instinctively looked down at the rooftops and traffic below. The library's roof came into view, giving her pause.

"Sh—should we tell Goliath where we're going? In case he needs either of us?" she stammered loudly, her hair whipping across Hudson's shoulder as they soared.

"No need to bother the lad with somethin' so trivial. We'll be back b'fore he knows it" the old gargoyle answered back calmly, banking right to ascend a bit higher and clear an apartment building.

Elisa didn't like that answer, Goliath was the Clan Leader, he should know where they all are at all times, it just made sense. But one look at Hudson's face told her this wasn't a normal outing. There was definitely something wrong with Hudson and she was the cause.

Elisa shuffled and squirmed in Hudson's arms as she tried to get more comfortable in this uncomfortable situation. "Uh, I'm not, uh—too heavy, am I?" she squeezed out, trying to fill the air with something to start a dialogue.

"Not'at all. Yer perfectly dainty, lass" Hudson answered back, a small smirk on his face as he eyed her casually.

"Ah, okay... Thanks..." she stated awkwardly. "Ah, a little to the left" she instructed, Hudson quietly obeyed, his face returned to its stoic and unreadable form.

For a minute, Elisa just stayed silent, holding onto Hudson, completely unsure of where to start. It was obvious he was still unhappy with her from the anniversary, they hadn't seen each other since then because he was out with his new friend. Or she was too busy with work to actually visit the Clan. Either way, they had been unintentionally avoiding each other since that night. He was pissed at first, but he claimed he had already gotten over it that night. It seems it didn't stick.

She couldn't blame him of course, she certainly wouldn't appreciate it if the shoe was on the other foot. Elisa was private by nature, but ever since the gargoyles entered her life, that tendency had been turned up to 11. Everybody, including her family, was at arms length now. And it hurt, sure, but she had to do it.

Even if it led to Derek... no, that wasn't on her. That was all on Xanatos. And she was never gonna let him forget that. What he did to her baby brother was unforgivable and if she didn't need this job, she would've blown his goddamn head off his shoulders the instant she lost Derek. Elisa closed her eyes tightly and grit her teeth behind folded in lips. She wasn't about to go down that road, not again. After Derek's... change, she had... she hadn't been good company, to put it delicately. It was a wonder she wasn't consumed with the pain of losing him right now.

But therein lied the problem, she was keeping it a secret from her parents and Beth, everybody at the station who knew him, which amounted to a total of everybody. All his friends and associates from school. They all haven't been able to reach him at home obviously, so they've been calling her, asking where he was, how he was doing, what was going on, if he was coming back soon. It was just... it was all just so much, she had to stop answering her cell for a while. Her parents were starting to worry, Beth was gonna be home soon for the holidays and she would not let this go until she got a straight answer.

But Elisa couldn't give her one, give one to any of them. It was too dangerous, too important, if she told them what really happened to Derek... it would shatter them. Because it shattered her. The only reason she's still functioning and semi-normal again is because of the guys. And Goliath had been... he'd been her rock, honestly. He would check up on her every night since then, no matter what, and he'd ask how she was doing. Really ask, like how she felt was of the utmost importance.

And he would just be there to listen to her rant and grieve and release her built up stress and anger and pain, he would be there to take it all in. All the while holding her hand like it was the most precious thing in the world, looking at her with those deep, understanding, dark, soulful eyes... telling her she was handling it better than anyone else could and that he'd help her fix this in that... deep, rumbling baritone, voice that just made her insides want to melt...

What was she saying?—Secrets, right—She had to keep what happened to Derek a secret, she had to keep the gargoyles a secret, she couldn't blow the lid off of Xanatos no matter how badly she wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face because he'd blow the lid off the Clan. Secrets were pretty much her thing now, she had to keep them. If she didn't, if she let one thing slip, everything—literally everything—would unravel. It would be absolute chaos and destruction and panic in the streets and it would all be her fault. She couldn't be the cause of anything painful happening to any of her people. Not again...

So Hudson being pissed at her, she couldn't just let it fester anymore. After all, he might have thought she was purposefully avoiding him this entire time. She couldn't blame him for assuming that, it certainly looked that way. But she had to clear the air if she was gonna fix this and get back to how they were. If he needed this to be a secret for whatever reason to make that happen, she would roll with it. What's one more among the hundreds of secrets that have piled up since last year?

"So, uh, I know we haven't really talked much since... ya know" she started, turning her face towards Hudson. "I just wanted to say sorry again, I really didn't mean to push you so hard. I got a little ahead'a myself" he looked down at her with a brow ridge raised, before answering.

"It's not yer fault, lass. You or Goliath" he sighed as he hung his head a bit. "I've been... quite guarded about the matter" he admitted with a shrug. "It's no surprise ye'd inquire about meetin' Robbins".

"Still... He's your friend and I should'a respected that" she emphasized, her grip around his neck tightened.

Hudson softly patted her back cradled in his grip. "Yer already forgiven, Elisa. Dunnot worry aboot it" he assured in a gentle voice, his gaze warm and pleasant. "I just wanted to steal ya away fer a spell, we haven't spoken in a while, so I thought we could, um... catch up?" he tried, and Elisa smiled up at him. He was still struggling with modern day slang, so seeing him try and get it right was a nice surprise.

"I'm always happy to catch up with you, Hudson" Elisa chuckled.

"Then pardon me, I don't intend to sour the mood, but..." Hudson looked at her seriously and parted his lips wordlessly for a moment before asking. "How have you been fairing as of late?"

The question hit her like a beanbag round square in the chest, the only air she could feel was swirling around her, as her breath had left her the instant she heard what he was asking. He was no doubt studying her face during that stretch of silence before she broke it, a stretch of silence that was anything but serene in her head. Derek was on her mind and Hudson could see it, much to her chagrin.

Elisa cleared her throat in an attempt to reclaim some dignity. "Hangin' in there, ya know? Takin' it one day at a time. Tryin' to look on... look on the... the bright..." she trailed off, the usual surface level rhetoric dying in her mouth as she went silent again.

It had been a month since it happened and she'd tried her best to keep her pain isolated from the Clan, not counting Goliath of course. She figured they didn't need the extra grief, like for real, they've been through quite enough tragedy for several lifetimes. Her problems weren't... it just wasn't something they should worry themselves over.

But apparently she couldn't put anything past Hudson, like father like son, she supposed. Though they keep telling her Hudson isn't technically his dad and they don't subscribe to that concept, she refused to accept that. Hudson was Goliath's dad, nobody was convincing her otherwise. And heck, this just proved it, out of the 5 gargoyles the ones who've noticed her inner struggle are the two she views as the most similar.

"I miss him" she finally admitted. She felt Hudson nod in response. "Everybody misses him. And I have to keep hiding the truth, but it's been too long, they know I'm hiding something now, so it's..." she bit her bottom lip and took a shaky breath in. "It's-it's just... hard" she forced out, her arms squeezing even tighter around Hudson's neck.

"I'm sorry, lass. I did not mean to upset ye" he whispered solemnly, patting her back once more. He didn't seem to be affected by her vice like grip on him.

"Please, it's not your fault, Hudson" she shook her head, a tired motion. "We both know who's to blame for all this, so don't... I can deal with it much better when I don't have to talk about it" she scoffed, shuffling in his hands to jostle herself back to normal.

"I understand, lass. We dunnot have to talk aboot anythin' ye don't wish to" Hudson offered, his voice gentle, but firm.

A whole month to process it all and she was still so... well, it was best to not dwell on it. Otherwise she'd be tempted to tell Hudson to fly her over to the Eyrie Building and help her deliver some well deserved payback. No, she couldn't go down that road, no matter how well trodden it was by now.

"Can we focus on you instead, then? Since you've no doubt got happier things to talk about" she suggested, to which Hudson hummed a curious noise. "For instance, I hear you've been makin' strides with your lessons"

Hudson sighed, "Accordin' to Robbins and Lexington, I am. But I still have so much farther to go, it seems to be takin' so long to catch up with everyone else"

"I thought it wasn't supposed to be a competition" Elisa quipped, earning her a flat look from her companion that was just too funny. "Give it time, you'll get there sooner than you think" she said between laughs. "Got a favorite book yet?"

Hudson looked off into the distance, humming thoughtfully. "I... don't know. There is one of note, but... I hesitate to call it a favorite, because I dunnot particularly enjoy it. Not by itself" Elisa tilted her head curiously as Hudson returned his gaze to her. "But it led to some interesting developments, ones that I am fond of".

That sounds unexpectedly complicated, she thought before asking. "What kind of developments?" Hudson veered to the right a bit, until Elisa pointed him back on track. He strained to collect his thoughts all the while.

"Robbins and I had a... dispute last night about one of the books he leant me" Elisa blinked rapidly in surprise.

"You got into a fight?" she asked incredulous, making Hudson shake his head and sputter out a chuckle.

"No no, not'a fight! Just a... peculiar discussion, I suppose" his small smile grew as he continued. "It was strange how we seemed to disagree almost completely and yet we didn't really quarrel. We just shared our thoughts and listened to one another, even though neither of us convinced the other". Elisa studied his face, noting just how soft his features had become.

"I've never done that b'fore. Not like that" he shrugged, tilting to the right to avoid a towering antenna pole. "Whenever there was dissent in The Clan or with the humans, there was always contention when neither side conformed. Bickerin' and baggerin' would ensue and one side would always be proven correct in time" he explained while Elisa motioned for him to merge left, almost like he was a car.

"But last night was different" she surmised, causing Hudson to nod.

"Very different" he added with his gravelly voice.

"In a good way" she quirked her eyebrow up as she eyed him from the side.

Hudson's gaze went distant again as a soft smile settled on his face. "Aye, guess one could call it pleasant..."

"Hmmm..." she hummed, almost melodic. This was getting interesting. "Soooo what else didja talk about?" she ventured, trying to keep her curiosity in check. Hudson looked up, searching through his memories with pursed lips until his face lit up.

"Are ye aware of a certain dish called... chit-a-lins?" he asked stumbling over the word chitlins. Wait, chitlins?!

"No way. Mom said she'd disown me if I ever willingly came within 20 feet of chitlins" she immediately leaned back and started waving her hand in front of her face. "There's a lot I'm willin' to do for you, but my hands are tied on that one" she stated quite firmly.

As funny as it may sound to someone who didn't know her, Diane Maza did not play when it came to what her family ate. When she said "you betta not ever eat such and such or so and so", you either obeyed or were utterly shamed until you swore to never disobey her again. Elisa was pretty sure she really would disown her cousins or a son-in-law if she knew they ate chitlins. For her children, she'd settle for worrying their nerves about it until she got bored of that. Which was never, so she'd never stop worrying their nerves about it.

If Hudson wanted those disgusting things, he'd have to find another way, because Elisa was dead serious, she was never going to come within 20 feet of chitlins, cooked or otherwise. No sirree, that was a line she was not about to cross.

"No no, you misunderstand, lass. Robbins loathes it, he couldn't express that any clearer" Hudson corrected, snickering. "Ye should've heard him, he was so riled up about it, he sent me into a laughin' fit!" he chuckled more, his arms bouncing with each mirthful utterance.

It was a nice sound, made even nicer because of its rarity. Elisa found herself wishing to hear his laugh much more from now on. Which may be a distinct possibility thanks to this Robbins fella.

"Well, he's got good taste if he hates chitlins. Him and Mom would get along pretty well" she replied as his chuckles died down.

"He's passionate about food in a way I haven't seen from anyone else" Elisa leveled a flat look at him, hand on her hip. "Alright, Broadway has 'im beat—but he's almost as passionate as the lad. And in a different way".

"How so?" Elisa asked with a smirk.

"He's selective of what he eats. It's like everything he tastes is an experience he wants to remember and share with anyone who'll listen. He says he's not picky, which I assume means he isn't too exclusive of what he eats, but the things he isn't in favor of, he is vehemently against" Hudson emphasized by jutting out his jaw comically, causing Elisa to giggle.

"He sounds like a fantastic person, Hudson" she remarked, giggles lingering in her tone. "I can see why you'd wanna keep him all to yourself" she added, nudging him with her elbow.

Hudson's smile faltered as his eyes trailed down from her face to her knees being nestled in his arms. She forced out a gentle laugh to try and get his attention back, but the precious sight of Hudson's smile was gone.

"That was a joke" she said, leaning down a bit to look into his downcast face, as Hudson snapped out of his stupor.

"Oh aye, it... it was an amusin' jest, lass..." he sighed, focused back on their journey and nothing else. Suddenly a light bulb went off in her mind.

"Now I get it" Elisa spoke up. "There's somethin' botherin' you about Robbins and you wanna ask me for advice"

Hudson faltered a bit before stammering. "How'd ye—?"

"Detective, remember?" Elisa answered, pointing to her badge in her jacket pocket. "Also, it's a woman's job to pick up on these types'a things, ya know" she said, pointing a dainty finger up to emphasize her point.

Hudson eyed her, a cheeky smirk on his face. "O'course. I should stop underestimatin' ye, De-tec-tive Maza" he enunciated in that goofy way they all tended to when saying that word.

"Darn right" she nodded stiffly, before smacking his chest with the back of her hand. "Now talk, what's the problem?" Hudson took a deep breath, groaning with his deep voice so much that she could feel the rumbling in his chest before he began.

"This situation with Robbins is... well, it works. Somehow, it works. I am welcomed in his home, he values my opinion, even when I don't think he should, he seems to not be opposed to my company or assistance with his work. We have our own routine that has become... comfortable. I am learning quite a bit, not just pertainin' to readin', but about him. And that's... well, it's not an unpleasant experience, I suppose..." Elisa nodded along eagerly until Hudson stopped, his face contorting into a light grimace as his cheeks seemed to redden ever so slightly.

"And I... as of late, I..." he stammered wordlessly before forcing it out. "I've found myself having... fun" he dropped, eyeing her carefully. But Elisa was too busy gasping at the revelation and squealing in unexpected delight.

"Oh my God, Hudson! That is so cute!" she exclaimed joyfully, her high pitched voice causing him to wince as she gently held his cheeks in her hands.

Two precious old men growing an unexpected friendship with their little routines and conversations and learning each others' mannerisms and helping each other improve and just gah! Really cute! Elisa was so happy for Hudson, ecstatic even! And she just couldn't help her reaction to the most unlikely member of The Clan gaining such a sweet friendship with someone else. It was just cuteness overload, she couldn't stop herself from reacting, much to Hudson's chagrin.

"Ack, come off it, I'm bein' serious, lass!" he fussed, pulling her hands off his face and baring his fangs, in an attempt to distract from his growing blush no doubt. So cute!

"I'm sorry, but that's just so sweet, Hudson! You're so adorable, talkin' about all this! It's so wonderful, I'm happy for you!" she praised while repeatedly cuddling up to him and patting his back.

Hudson desperately reeled back from her attempts at comforting him as he grumbled. "Forget I said anythin' " he said flatly, causing Elisa to halt her loving assault.

"Nonono, okay, I'm sorry! I'll stop, I'll stop, promise" she held her hands up in surrender as Hudson peeked at her from the corner of his eye, slowly returning to their normal position. "But I think I see the problem" she assured, before he rumbled his chest, lost in thought again.

"Yer a human, you can understand that... certain developments in one's life can sour sentiments that were once sweet" he finally said. "What was once regarded as good and welcomed can quickly become despised and seen as a burden, if too much unforeseen developments occur".

Elisa stared up blankly before putting her hand back on her hip. "Ya lost me, chief" she admitted, causing Hudson to sigh.

"What I mean to say is... humans don't take kindly to... changes" he struggled, but Elisa remained patient. "Or the ones that bring about change" Ah, okay.

"And it would be unpleasant if your situation were to change by addin' more ingredients to the mix, so to speak" Elisa finished as Hudson nodded solemnly.

"It's difficult to imagine how Robbins will handle such a change. He hasn't said anythin' aboot what he thinks o'the others. Let alone voiced intentions to meet 'em. The time must not be right..." he reasoned, causing Elisa to tilt her head as she voice her suspicion.

"Well let me ask this: how often do you even bring them up in conversation?" Hudson remained silent, providing her the expected answer. "Right, people tend to not talk about people they don't know, especially when you barely mention said people to the other people" she explained, earning her a confused look.

"I'm sayin' you haven't really given him an occasion to voice any intentions to meet them or opinions on them. It's no mystery why you don't know how he feels about them, you haven't let him develop any feelings towards them yet".

Hudson's mouth went agape as realization dawned on him. "You... you are right" he murmured incredulously, eyes wide and distant.

"And trust me, I get it. This is a very special friendship you've made with him, you don't want anything to upset it, because well... it's not that you're afraid Robbins won't be able to take the change" Hudson looked back at her, at a lost and hanging on her every word. "You're not sure you can take the change" she dropped, causing Hudson to slow down even more than he already had.

Hudson's mouth hung open as he slowly shook his head. "I just... I never understood it quite like that b'fore..." he whispered, more to himself than to her.

Elisa patted his back and nodded to him. "It's okay, Hudson. Like I said, I get it. There's... a lot at stake here. This is your special secret that you've been protectin' from the world. Because it's so very unique, but so very fragile at the same time"

"Aye", Hudson nodded along with her, recognition etched on his features.

"Including other people in on your special secret is... it invites danger. It just does. And that valuable aspect of it, the thing that makes it so special in the first place... well, suddenly it won't be anymore" Elisa shrugged casually. "Then it's like... who are you to that person really, now that they've got all these other people to choose from over you, ya know? But if you keep the relationship secret... you never have to worry about that. You'll be the apple of their eye by default and you can keep your specialness..." Elisa trailed off, unsure of where all that came from exactly.

"Exactly" Hudson agreed, more excited than she'd expected. "It's like ye can read my mind like a book, lass" he said, impressed with her.

Elisa snorted and averted her gaze, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Heh, yeah... Ya just caught me on a good night, is all..." she trailed off. She forgot how forthright Hudson was with compliments.

The Scottish restaurant came into view and Elisa motioned to her carrier that they'd finally arrived. With a nod and a smooth tilt of his body, they glided down to the neighboring rooftops and settled on the building across the street from the place. It had some name she couldn't pronounce and hadn't tried, she just called it "The Scottish Restaurant" because there wasn't exactly a surplus of them in the Big Apple.

Which was weird now that she thought about it, you could find any number of Irish pubs and whatnot around every other corner. But Scottish? Good luck. Elisa had to launch a full scale investigation to find this place, and it took her a full 2 weeks to do so.

"So? What do ye reckon I should do?" the gargoyle asked her in a soft voice, leaning on the rooftop's raised border.

She mimicked his stance and looked out into the distance, her hair lightly billowing behind her as she struggled to come up with something. She was the last person on Earth he should be asking for advice on how to deal with this particular situation. But... she supposed she was the only one who could understand his plight. So maybe he was right to seek her out for advice. She would try her best to help him out, considering his situation was far simpler than her's. Lucky him, she couldn't stop herself from thinking.

"Honestly, I don't know. But I will say this: you're gonna have to deal with this eventually" she turned to face him as he continued to stare at the blocked horizon. "The Clan can't be separate from Robbins forever. At some point, the universe is gonna take it outta your hands and make it happen" she shifted her weight to one elbow and motioned towards him. "Before it turns into something you can't control, I say face your fears".

Hudson went silent once more, contemplating her words carefully. His brows knit in a tight crease on his forehead, as he stroked his beard absentmindedly. She waited patiently, if anybody understood how deceptively difficult that sounded, she definitely did. Still, it was true. Sooner or later, secrets get uncovered. She just hoped when all of her's became public knowledge, she'd be safe from any hard questions or hurt feelings. Fat chance of that happening, but a girl can dream, can't she?

Hudson cleared his throat a bit before he spoke up. "It's not as if I don't want to introduce The Clan to Robbins, I intend to. I always have" he stressed, looking over to her with a sobering expression. She nodded in understanding. "I just... I have to do it carefully. There is... a delicate balance to our friendship that can't be disturbed or catastrophe will befall us" he motioned with his hands like he was holding onto something made of glass.

"Like what?" she asked, causing the gargoyle to balk.

"Eh?" he responded with a raised brow and a curled up lip.

"What catastrophes will befall you if everybody meets him?" she clarified. Hudson stammered before he was able to eloquently speak his mind.

"He'll find out the truth about us. I have to be constantly vigilant that our hands don't meet, that my wings stay folded, mind my claws, step lightly, keep my tail tucked. And all the details of this century I can't possibly know, I have to narrowly avoid slippin' up and revealin' that I'm not from this world" he listed out, running his hands over his face and slumped forward. He looked like... like this has been keeping him awake all day. Ya know, if it could.

"The others don't... I can't expect them to be as vigilant as I. And anything short of my level of attention to detail could dispel the illusion" he finished with a powerful sigh, covering his eyes with his calloused hand. Elisa stepped a little closer to him as she sucked in a breath.

"Fair enough. It would be a bit riskier for your cover to include them..." she conceded before opening her hands, placating. "But you could just as easily slip up yourself, right? I mean, you're careful but you're not perfect, I'm sure you've had a close call or two already" she offered.

"I haven't" Hudson answered after a beat, extra gravel in his voice.

"Hudson" Elisa challenged, tilting her head.

"I haven't" he shot back, turning towards her to pin a look that said not to push that idea again. She obeyed, raising her hands again.

"Fine, whatever, you never made a mistake" she heard Hudson scoff, but she continued. "My point is, the guys know how important he is to you. They know what's at stake here, and they would do anything and everything in their power to ensure that Robbins doesn't find out the truth" Hudson began softening as he listened, turning back to the rooftops before them. "Rambunctious maybe, but stupid they are not".

Hudson stared at the street below in silence as Elisa took another step towards him, they were practically shoulder to shoulder. His eyes wandered back towards her, halting at her elbows resting on their perch.

"Aye. 'Tis true" he finally agreed. "But I can't take that chance, not without teaching 'em how to act around him" Elisa scrunched her nose up and reeled her head back a little.

"I think that's a bit much. They're not wild animals, they don't need 'training' to talk to humans" she said, forming air quotes around "training".

"They act as if they require such measures" Hudson grumbled, rolling his head away from her again.

"When it's just you or Goliath around! Or when they're beatin' up thugs. But think about how they acted around me when we first met" she noted, pointing to herself. "Or how they act around Xanatos and his little stooge, that Puck guy. The innocent people you guys rescue sometimes" she placed a hand on his shoulder. "They're capable of behaving in a restrained and calm manner, you know this. You're bein' way too critical of 'em".

"Aye... I s'pose I am..." Hudson rolled his shoulders as he raised to his full height. "But we are livin' a dangerous life. Even if we're all careful, our enemies always manage to draw us out" He motioned behind them as he continued. "MacBeth has already found me at Robbins' home, there's nothin' stoppin' him from returnin' and usin' Robbins to hurt me" he placed a hand on his chest before closing his eyes and motioning to Elisa. "What happens when our other enemies catch wind o'him?"

"Well sure, that's a legitimate concern" Elisa answered, as it was a very good point she hadn't thought about until just then. "But what does keepin' the guys from meetin' him have to do—?"

"It's much easier to track a group o'gargoyles glidin' to a remote location than it is a lone gargoyle" Hudson traced several loops as he explained. "When I visit him, I take a series o'very long and complex routes, and I do so in the hopes that even if I'm followed, at a certain point durin' the journey, I'll have ample opportunity to discover the enemy and turn the tables on 'em" he folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "This is not nearly as effective with a group. And it's the only way I can be certain that none'o our enemies will find out aboot 'im".

"I hear ya, I definitely do" Elisa nodded before she began tracing paths with her hands. "But wouldn't it be more beneficial to use your numbers to confuse the people tailin' you? Like, you guys can separate and force them to choose who they wanna follow, then whoever's not bein' followed can circle around and ambush the bad guy" she punched her palm as punctuation. "You guys have done that before, haven't you?" she suggested, causing Hudson to open his hands and strain out a pained sound.

"Aye, but that... It's not just... I just..." he ended in a sigh, a hand propping up his forehead as he leaned against the rooftop's rim. "So many things could go wrong... and I... I can't take that risk..." Hudson curled in on himself and closed his eyes tight. "I just can't do it, lass..." he whispered, barely audible.

The sound broke her heart and she couldn't help from wrapping her arms around his neck again. This time he didn't reject the touch and just accepted the sudden comfort. Elisa held him firmly, and rubbed soothing circles along his back, just like her Dad would do for her whenever she felt overwhelmed as a kid.

He'd wrap her up in his impossibly strong arms and held on for as long as Elisa needed, and he'd tell her in the softest yet firmest voice imaginable that everything would be okay. That he would figure it out with her and make everything okay again. He just made everything okay, gave her the strength to continue on, the confidence to face this big harsh world with a smirk.

And he was always right, in the end everything would end up alright. Even if it didn't happen immediately, eventually the trouble that caused her such distress would just blow over. Either he would come to her rescue or he'd help her get through it, she can't think of a single time things didn't just work out for her thanks to her Dad.

And ever since Derek... God, did she miss those hugs.

She would've given anything to run home, call her Dad to come find her and leap into his arms. Tell him everything, every single thing she's been holding in, and have him whisper to her that it'd be okay. That he'd help her fix it. But as badly as she wished for that... she knew it couldn't happen. Not this time. Dad couldn't know what happened to Derek, he couldn't know about the gargoyles, he couldn't know about elves or magic or any of the million crazy things that had taken over her life as of late.

His hugs always came with the caveat that she would tell him everything that was wrong so he could help. And he always knew when she was still holding back. So she couldn't hug him, because then he'd know for sure something was wrong. He already knew she wasn't telling the whole truth about Derek, but he didn't press for answers, bless him. As soon as she buckled under the pressure and hugged him for real, he'd know. And he wouldn't let go until she lovingly squeezed every single secret she was keeping out and in the open. And then everything would be ruined, because she wasn't strong enough to deal on her own.

But Hudson wasn't Elisa, Hudson didn't need to keep secrets from The Clan, he didn't need to shoulder the burden on his own, none of them did. They're so alone, so precariously placed in a world they still don't fully understand, that in turn didn't understand them. It wasn't fair to cut them off from the comfort of each other on top of all that.

They were all they had, they were Clan, family. Goliath's booming voice came back to her as Hudson returned the hug with earnest. A memory that largely haunted her, because of what she did to force him to say such stern words. But they were wise words nonetheless: "There is nothing, nothing more important, than family..."

Elisa guessed that technically meant her now, since they officially asked her to join The Clan. Hudson certainly felt like family to her, family in desperate need. But unlike her, he could receive it, so she happily supplied him. Because in some small way, it also made losing her brother... hurt a bit less. So she kept rubbing soothing circles along the expanse of his back as his breathing slowed and his hold around her waist gradually relaxed.

"It's okay, I understand. You're scared of what could happen" Hudson leaned back to give her a pointed look. One that said "scared" was the wrong choice of words, but could only elicit a stifled laugh out of her. "Worried about what could happen" she corrected, tilting her head to the side, a coy smile on her face.

"Would you not be?" he asked, genuinely wondering. She pulled him back into the hug and resumed rubbing his back.

"Absolutely I would. But I mean, they're your family. Ya gotta have faith that they'll value your friendship as much as you do. Because the last thing they want is to hurt you" she soothed, patting the gargoyle's back lightly. He let out a low hum filled with skepticism.

"If ya don't believe me, why not tell him about them? Ya said ya haven't mentioned them much" Hudson nodded against her shoulder. "Then start mentionin' them. See if he's interested in meetin' them one day. Feel him out, ya know?" she said, pulling away to look at him. His mood was considerably less dower as he took in her advice.

"Feel him out..." he repeated calmly, the gears turning in his head.

"Yeah, then you can see if he'll like 'em or not. But I'm tellin' ya now, it's gonna be fine. He's not gonna say anything bad about them, because he doesn't want to push you away" she assured, patting his shoulder with a confident smirk.

"Then... I will tell him more about The Clan" Hudson purposed, raising his head and straightening his posture a bit. "Surely there's no harm in that, aye?" he ventured with a weak smile.

Elisa shook her head staunchly. "None whatsoever".

She gave his shoulder one last pat and went to the building's fire escape, deftly climbing down without using the stairs, until she reached the end of the railing. Hudson merely dropped down without assistance from any handholds, his wings giving him all the support he needed. Elisa didn't even blink as she dropped down from the elevation, for in the shadowy alley she would've landed in and sprained her ankles if she was lucky, the same strong pair of arms that carried her across town was waiting to catch her. Just as they always would at a moment's notice.

"Back in 20" she said over her shoulder as she walked towards the Scottish restaurant. Hudson grunted in affirmation and slipped back into the safety of the shadows.

Elisa walked into the place and thankfully the people remembered her. Must not get a lot of blue haired ladies as return customers, she joked inwardly. She ordered everything she had the last time and they let her sit at the bar while she waited. Normally, Elisa would've called before she got here, since it's a long ride already, adding more wait time on top of that was just counter productive.

But Hudson was far too eager to immediately get some alone time with her, it didn't seem likely he'd wait for her to get all the way down to the parking lot, get the takeout menu for the place, call them up, make the order, then carry her off. She understood why he felt like he needed to steal her away the first chance he got, but if he had a bit more patience, she would've been in and out of here like before.

Still, Elisa felt bad for Hudson, being forced to hang out in an alley all by himself when there was a perfectly fine stool on either side of her that he'd enjoy taking. They should really invest in some disguises so they can go certain places without worry, instead of waiting for Halloween to roll around so they can walk among their fellow New Yorkers.

She tried to think of some, but unfortunately all she could come up with was the cliché hat and trench coat, which ironically was what Broadway was gonna wear for Halloween. Elisa determined that if Broadway looked passible in the getup, she'd order 3 more for Lex, Brooklyn, and Hudson. She didn't think they made one in Goliath's size so they'd have to figure something else out for him. At some point, she kinda felt like she'd exhausted all the options for him.

Maybe we could pretend he was in a costume for a tv show and couldn't take it off without a long time in the makeup chair, she joked. Sorry Big Guy, I guess you'll have to stick to the shadows no matter what.

Sitting at the bar for what felt like 20 minutes made her realize how empty the place was. There was only a few disparate regulars, sitting a healthy distance away from each other. Not much foot traffic, not much in the way of takeout customers either. No wonder they remembered Elisa, she was probably their newest repeat customer. Out of sheer boredom she looked around the place for the first time, last time she really was in and out, she had to make it back to the station across town before sundown to have everything ready for the guys.

But upon casual inspection, the place didn't seem too bad for a bar. Lots of memorabilia from Scotland, mostly pictures of presumably famous Scottish people, like celebrities, professional athletes (what was Scotland's popular sport again? Was it Rugby or something??). 3 TVs with the same soccer game on, or football to them, and on the wall by the bar a few plaques. Probably a collection of niché awards, like best Scottish bar in Manhattan. Which isn't so much an award as it is a trivia fact, "did you know there's only one Scottish bar in Manhattan?" on the last few pages of the local paper.

All that being said, it was a kinda nice, little place. Could use some sprucing up, maybe a pinball machine or pool table (Elisa would kill for a pool table right then), but otherwise decent. Not too seedy, not too dark, not wild at all. Decently comfortable. So yeah, nice little place.

After she had ordered enough waters at the bar to embarrass her, the food was finally ready. She quickly paid for it all, thanked the staff for their hardwork, and swiftly exited the fine establishment. It was a decent little spot, she just couldn't pronounce that darn name. Ah well, didn't matter, she got what she came for. She made sure to look all around before entering the alley again and calling for Hudson. He popped up from behind a few discarded crates looking very grateful that she'd returned and holding his hands out to take the bag of food.

She handed it over and he immediately opened it, stuck his face in, and sniffed loudly, before moaning in pleasure. Elisa couldn't help but shake her head ruefully and giggle at the display.

"Next time bring a disguise and you can come inside like a full fledged New Yorker" she suggested between giggles, causing Hudson to level an unamused look at her again.

"I think not" he answered back, raising a hand in rejection of anything outside their little alleyway.

"Your loss" she joked with a shrug. "So that's it then, you've got his food and now there's nothin' else for you to worry about" she studied his face in the darkness. Even obscured she could tell there was still a weight on him. "Unless there's somethin' else at play here" she said concerned.

Hudson pulled away, waving her off. "No no, ye've helped me plenty already, lass. I don't—"

"Hudson" she cut him off. "C'mon. It's me, 'Read Ya Like A Book' girl? I can see it all over your face, so you might as well just tell me" she said crossing her arms.

"No, I don't... I don't want to worry you any..." Hudson trailed off before he flared his wings out and leapt a dozen feet in the air. He dug his claws into the brick wall to her right and climbed up.

Elisa watched, stunned and offended, before scoffing. She quickly took off her jacket, twisted it up into a tightened length of fabric, then flung it towards the fire escape, latching it onto the last rung of the ladder and yanking it down. The rusty metal obeyed and came within jumping distance, so she took a running start and grabbed hold, hoisting herself up quickly until she got to the fire escape proper. From there, she ignored the stairs leading up and just climbed up the railings like it was a tall, boring jungle gym.

She wasn't nearly as fast as the older gargoyle, but she wasn't too far behind him either. It was only 30 seconds or so after he reached the roof that she did as well. She dropped down on the gravel covered floor with a thud and crossed her arms, jacket dangling in her grip. The most unimpressed, nonplussed look on her face she could muster after all that exertion, causing Hudson's ears and head to droop in shame.

"Nice try, but you're not gettin' rid of me that easy" Elisa ticked off her fingers as she began. "I didn't ask why we couldn't tell Goliath about this, I didn't ask why you didn't mention any of this to the others, I haven't tried to make you introduce The Clan to Robbins, and I haven't talked about you to anybody after the anniversary" this last one surprised Hudson, by the way he looked up at her as she spoke. She nodded to answer his unasked question.

"Despite Goliath trying to discuss your situation with me, I told him I wouldn't talk behind your back anymore" she confirmed, an irritated edge to her tone, attitude clear in her stomps toward Hudson. Really, running away to avoid telling her what else was wrong, after everything? What was he thinking?

He just looked up at her dejected, and try as she might, she couldn't keep up her anger. Sure, leaving her on the ground floor was a bit of a dick move, but he clearly just panicked. And he obviously regretted it as soon as he did it, anybody could see that lookin' at him now. This other thing he didn't want to tell her... it was serious. Not like the other points he brought up weren't, but this one... it had to be the real reason behind all of the angst he's had about Robbins all this time.

She was far too curious to remain upset at him, especially since it wasn't that big a deal. Climb one fire escape, you've climbed 'em all. Hudson trusting her again was more important than all that, so onward she pressed, dropping the attitude.

"I want you to trust me again. And I think... I think you want to trust me again too" she ventured, reaching out to him again. "You can, Hudson. I promise, this stays between us" she clarified, placing a hand on the side of his face. Hudson raised a shaky hand and covered her hand with it, taking a deep breath before he opened his mouth one more time.

"I'm sorry, lass. It's not that I don't trust ye, it's just... I am... I am unsure of what I am doing..." he forced out. It was a powerful statement, yet that was just his opening. Elisa nodded for him to continue. "I don't know how I have... even arrived at this point..." Yet another tough revelation, but she tried not to show her shock and nodded for him to keep going.

"Robbins is a human, a very special human, and he deserves... well, I should be more equipped to handle this... delicate situation? Yet I am keenly aware of... there are many things that I..." he took another deep breath, shakier than before. "I fear that—worry—I worry that I will one day fall short of the standards set" he swiftly corrected, before once again faltering. "and... things will... well, history will inevitably repeat itself". Hudson didn't need to explain what that meant at all.

History repeating itself was just as profound a statement as all the others. For the gargoyles, history repeating had such horrific implications of such painful trauma that filling in the blanks was frighteningly too easy. Mass death and suffering, deep and savage betrayal, perversions of their culture, their Clansmen, and their sacred memories, persecution and prejudice worst than anybody has ever experienced. Honestly, it was too much pain packed into that one little phrase.

Though if she had to pick one incident specific to this situation and Hudson personally, she'd definitely go with the Captain of the Guard. The last human Hudson trusted before Elisa and now, tentatively, Robbins. It was Hudson who met the Captain of the Guard and his King, Malcolm or something, centuries ago when he was still Clan Leader. And it was through this alliance that Hudson accepted that led to the slaughter of their entire Clan, and the subsequent millennium length slumber that landed them all here in this time.

A fact that Hudson was no doubt still kicking himself over. He let the snake into the camp, he gave his trust to someone just waiting for the perfect time to stab him in the back. He opened his people up to slaughter by getting them to drop their guards around him. Not that Elisa believed that—not for a second—but... it was what Hudson would believe about himself.

She couldn't help but be reminded of how similar he was to Goliath, both of them so eager to hog the blame all to themselves and never allow it to fall on anyone else more than themselves. It wasn't right, but that was an issue way too big to tackle tonight.

No, tonight was all about building the trust back and getting him closer with Robbins, thus encouraging him to open up to The Clan more, which would in turn bring The Clan more peace, but allow them to have at least one more friend in this world. God knows they need all the friends they can get. Ya know, just not too many. Wouldn't want them to expand their social circle that much.

... That was a weird thought... came outta nowhere—whatever, this is about Hudson, so—

"This isn't me tryin' to force ya to do anything you don't wanna do, I learned my lesson last time" she found herself speaking again. "But if this and the other stuff are the things holdin' ya back from including The Clan in your friendship, I hope you realize you're overthinkin' it" Hudson looked up at her again, eyes wide and wet. He looked like a beaten down, old dog, wondering where his owner's gone. It broke her heart a little.

"Take it from me: when you find yourself in a really good space with someone, the best way you can screw it up is by overthinkin' it. So do yourself a favor, stop thinkin' and just enjoy the moments you have with him" she finished with a strong pat on his shoulder. His face lit up slowly at her words and he looked so at ease. She felt herself sigh in relief.

"My dear, you are wise beyond yer years" he said, bringing his forehead to hers with the gentlest of bumps. "Thank ye, lass. I believe... I believe you will meet him soon"

Elisa shot up straight, "Yeah?" she asked with a wide grin.

"Aye. Definitely you" Hudson confirmed, nodding sagely to her. She inhaled to tell him how excited she was, until a thought stopped her.

"Cuz I'm the least likely to blow your cover?" she asked, face falling at the notion.

"Aye" Hudson jabbed a finger towards her, an embarrassed smile on his face. "But also because... ye've earned it" he offered his hand for her to shake, his expression soft and inviting.

Elisa took a step forward, past his outstretched hand, and hugged the gargoyle instead. Hudson stiffened at the sudden contact, but curled his arm around her and nestled against her cheek, letting out a few low chuckles that rumbled his chest. It felt good, not just getting to hug someone who considered her family, not just being able to help her new family member find a path forward like her father always did for her. And not just the feeling of regaining at least some control in her life after Derek's... after what happened to him.

It felt good to have Hudson's hard earned trust restored. After a week of feeling like she'd permanently driven a wedge between them, they were back to normal. No... they were better than normal. After what he just shared, after she helped him in a way that no one else had before... yeah, they were much better than before. It wasn't until then, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and feeling him start rubbing circles against her back, did she realize how much she missed Hudson.

Of course she cared about all of them and wouldn't place any one friendship above another within The Clan. But there was just a special connection she and Hudson had that meant a whole lot to her. They saw each other in a way that was unique from any other relationship in her life, and it was right from the start too. They just... instinctually slotted together. Like a key to a lock.

To have that bond back and better than before, well... it made everything she was going through just a little more manageable.

"Lass?" Hudson spoke up, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Hm?" she hummed, loosening her grip as Hudson leaned back to face her.

"If there ever comes a time when I am..." he twirled his hand around as he looked to the side searching for the word. "concerned about this friendship I have found with Robbins... would it be alright if ye'd lend me yer ear and advise me once more?" he asked while carefully avoiding direct eye contact. He shrunk in on himself, blush rising to the surface yet again as he spoke.

Elisa barked out a laugh. "You better! I wanna know EVERYTHING about your cute li'l friendship with Robbins! So don't skimp on the details anymore, buster" she teased playfully, poking his chest for emphasis.

Hudson deflated and pouted before answering. "I didn't say I'd tell ye everythin', lass" he grumbled.

"But you will if you want my advice again~" Elisa answered melodically, lightly pressing her finger to his nose, causing him to go cross-eyed for a second, before adorning a knowing smirk. He pretended to think her terms over.

"Ye drive a hard bargain, De-tec-tive Maza" he said, extra awkward to amuse her, before reaching his hand out again. "I will tell ye everythin' only if I need advice again" he clarified.

Elisa clasped onto his forearm as he clasped to hers, and they shook on it. "Deal. Now go on, his food's gonna get cold" she reminded, flinging a finger to the sky.

Hudson blinked at her a few times. "Surely ye'll need to glide back to the Clock Tower?"

Elisa waved him off casually. "Nah, one'a the perks of bein' a female cop in Manhattan? Taxis are real easy to come by and very accommodating on fare" she started making her way back to the fire escape, Hudson beside her.

"Are ye sure?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"Positive" she answered back with a stiff nod. "Now shoo, go be cute" Elisa said, brushing him away, causing Hudson to blush in embarrassment again.

"I—I suppose... I'll be off, then" he finally relented and backed up to flare his wings open again. He turned to Elisa, a warm smile on his face. "Thank ye again, lass. Fer... everythin'..." he sighed happily, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Anytime, Hudson" Elisa replied with a grin. "Seriously, get goin. And I'm expectin' a detailed report when you get back, soldier", she ordered, pointing at him in an authoritative manner.

Hudson merely tilted his head and smirked in response, quirking his eye ridge up and giving her a rueful look before leaping off the roof to catch a good gust of wind to carry him high up. Within seconds, he was soaring into the clouds, a brown speck that would easily go unnoticed by everyone else in the city that never sleeps.

Elisa watched him go, she never got tired of watching them fly around like they did. Well, okay, glide around, same difference. It was an awesome gravity defying sight that only she was allowed to witness, making it all the more special.

The young detective was in distinctly higher spirits than she had been since the anniversary. Thoughts of Derek, her family's growing suspicion of her, the stress and pressure from work and keeping the gargoyles a secret from the world at large... it was getting to her, she had to admit.

But after taking a ride with her ol' pal Hudson, finally mending fences and being able to help him with his Robbins situation, she couldn't help but feel elated. At least a little bit.

After all, if there's hope for Hudson and his new friend, there was hope for her too. Somehow... everything would work out, just like it always did. Derek... there had to be something they could do to get him back to normal. Her family would... they'd have to stop asking questions at some point, right? And eventually, when Derek returned to normal, they could all go back to normal.

And everything else would just fall into place. She helped Hudson get on his path forward and somehow, it was like she managed to find her own footing at the same time. That's what it felt like, anyway. And as she climbed down the fire escape again, she couldn't help but look at the fleeting figure of Hudson making his way across the sky and smile a little wider. With a single wish in her heart for her friend on his journey.

Good luck, chief...