Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.

Objectively, it’s easy to understand that there are many ways to have relationships with the concept of death. To mourn, to wail, to scream in outrage – all of that makes perfect sense as a reaction. In the case of Matt Bluestone, there is an eerie calm that settles in. The pulse of his heart evens out, although he feels his eyes and mouth go dry, as if every part of him resists the idea of reacting further than is absolutely necessary.

“Detective.”

Captain Maria Chavez isn’t cold or cruel, but the tone is firm. It’s a lot of tough love, Elisa remarked once with her brand of smile. Usually in the past, Matt would find himself steeling himself, ready to make an argument for his line of thinking. Right now, he just finds himself looking up from his papers and notes.

The body language is obvious enough to him. Her stance is strong and she’s presenting that strength well, but there’s just the smallest hint of red in her eyes. Understandable, he thinks.

Matt nods. “Captain.”

“I understand you want on this case. Hell, every cop here does.” She leans against his desk, steady eyes gazing down at him. “You out of everyone especially.”

“I’m sensing a but.”

A hint of sympathy is on her face. “You’re too close to this.”

It’s not unexpected that she’d bring that up. Matt’s lips press into a flat line, and he links his fingers together. “I can work it, Captain.”

“Matt–”

“I can work it,” he repeats, careful in tempering his tone. “And if it turns out I can’t, then give me the boot.”

Maria’s eyes close, then she slowly nods. “Then I expect no complaints if it comes to that.”

There’s a pause, and Matt hesitates to bring up the next subject, but it is, regrettably, needed. “Did you… I mean, the family–”

“Yes,” she answers softly.

“Right.” Matt breathes in deep, then checks his watch. Almost sundown. “She has– there’s extended family I met recently. I’ll make sure they know, just in case.”

“I see.” Maria sighs softly. “You’re a good man doing that for them, but take a break when you do talk to them, Bluestone. I mean it.”

As Matt stands up, he pulls on his overcoat. “I hear you. I’ll be back, though.”

There isn’t any argument when he departs. As he walks away, he glances outside, feeling heavier as the sky starts to darken. It isn’t a task he favors doing, but there isn’t a way out of it even if he wanted to. There are so, so many worse ways they could find out, and it has to come from him.

Shutting the door behind him, Matt pulls down the wooden stairs. He told Elisa once that they should really replace them sometime – they creak, they’re old, long forgotten. Still, he tries to shake off the thought, compartmentalize any shred of memory that could compromise him. He can’t afford it, not now or tomorrow.

As he makes his way into the living space of the gargoyle clan, he hears them break free of stone, yawning and waking. They’re chattering – Broadway musing about breakfast, Hudson pondering what will be on TV tonight, and so on. Matt closes his eyes and braces himself as they walk in.

“Matt!” Broadway calls out, jovial and warm as ever. “What’s up?”

Matt’s mouth opens, then closes. Breathe in, get the words, just state the facts–

Goliath’s voice is absolutely unmistakable: “Bluestone. Where is Elisa? Is she not with you?”

Finally, he looks at them. Curious eyes, concerned eyes. These weren’t just Elisa’s friends, they were another part of her life. Her family.

“I have something to tell you all,” Matt says, his tone careful and practiced precise. “And I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”

It does not go well. There’s no reason it would. As he thought before, it is natural to react emotionally. Like Angela’s weeping as Hudson holds her, the tears clearly brimming in Broadway’s eyes. There’s uncertainty with Brooklyn and Lexington, as if they’re struggling to properly digest the news.

Matt had never been clueless about Goliath and Elisa, even if it was a bridge never quite crossed with them. Passing looks from each other, or the way Elisa would sometimes go on to describe an incredible feat from Goliath, be it in physical strength or his moral compass, how much admiration as well as adoration.

So, it does not surprise him to see the heartbreak on Goliath’s face, that look of devastation. A mix of fury, raw emotion as his eyes suddenly glow white. Matt bites his lower lip and lets him go, Goliath racing out of the Clocktower, roaring into the night. A whole symphony of anguish.

It leaves him feeling hollow.

Chapter Text

Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.

A unique kind of exhaustion consumes him for a moment as Matt finds himself sitting on the sofa. The sounds of Angela’s weeping has calmed to hiccups and sniffles, but now Matt finds that Bronx’s chin is resting on his knee, whining, as if sensing something is wrong. Awkwardly, he rubs the top of Bronx’s head, hoping to appease the beast in some way.

There’s the smell of Broadway cooking up scrambled eggs. When Matt glances toward him, wings and ears alike are drooping, tail dragging on the floor. An aggravated sigh escapes Brooklyn before he asks flatly, “Is now really a good time for breakfast?”

“Doing stuff on an empty stomach is a bad idea.” Broadway shovels eggs onto plates, pausing to sniffle and rub at an eye, too dry from all the tears shed. “I mean, I’m not gonna make anyone eat, but we gotta keep our strength up.”

A brief memory prickles into Matt’s brain. Him, getting into Elisa’s car. Her, handing him a protein bar. Gotta regularly water and feed my partner, she said, grinning. Walkies are next.

He had rolled his eyes then, grabbing the bar from her. Should’ve been a comedian instead of a cop, Elisa.

She laughed. God, he’s never going to hear that again– Maybe it could be a side hustle.

Matt blinks, snapping out of the thought. Not now, he can’t be distracted right now. Instead, he stares down at Bronx, as if those sad puppy eyes can possibly help matters.

There’s the sound of a heavy landing outside the glass door of the Clocktower, Goliath’s wingspan folding down to drape across his shoulders like a cape. The way that the gargoyle carries himself is not proud, instead slightly hunched as if to brace against grief and heartbreak alike. Slowly, Goliath steps inside, gazing down at Matt and his clan.

“We will speak now,” Goliath says, his voice despondent.

Bronx pulls away, trotting up to Goliath with a whine and accepting a comforting rub behind the ears from the clan’s leader. After pushing himself to his feet, Matt nods and motions for Goliath to join them.

“Of course,” the detective says. “What do you want to know?”

Goliath’s brows narrow, displeased but knowing the terrible things he wishes to ask. “How?”

There’s another memory that breaks in. The moment of Matt on the scene, his partner’s body on the floor, lying still, positioned like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her eyes, staring out into nothing. A pool of blood staining the floor, slowly drying–

“She was shot,” Matt interrupts his own thoughts. “With her own gun. Fingerprints only show her own, but nobody’s buying for a moment that she did it herself.”

“Of course she didn’t!” Goliath growls out, fangs bared. A brief bout of silence fills the air before Goliath sighs, outrage leaving quickly as it had come.

Knowing that the brief moment is not directed at himself, Matt doesn’t let it intimidate him. “I know,” he agrees carefully. “We all know.”

“Were there signs of a break-in?” Broadway pipes up, approaching with his plate full of eggs.

“Not from what we could see.” Matt rubs his chin. “The front door was still locked, and she had a habit of leaving her balcony window open so we’re not sure of an entry point. As for a… time of death, we’re not positive, but it must have been before 9:00 in the morning. I– we found her a little later than that.”

“You found her? By yourself?” Angela’s voice cracks softly from across the room.

Goliath’s daughter is someone that Matt realizes he knows even less than the others. At least he’s been able to take mental notes of everyone – Lexington enjoys learning about computers and technology, Broadway has an expanding interest in media and detective work, Goliath is well read and enjoys knowledge in many forms, Hudson might be old but his mind is fascinatingly sharp, Brooklyn is growing into his own as a leader – but all he knows of Angela is her heritage, which isn’t terribly fair at all.

Hesitating, Matt looks at her, and too quickly finds he has to glance away. There’s concern in her eyes in a way that makes him feel on the spot and he can’t really deal with that. He doesn’t need her sympathy, he needs to solve this case. For Elisa. “We were supposed to meet up for coffee before going to the precinct together in order to review a case. When she didn’t show and wasn’t answering her phone, I went to her apartment.”

Saying that, Matt decides he doesn’t want to know how any of them are looking at him. The floor is suddenly very interesting as he turns his gaze.

“What kind of case?” Broadway asks after swallowing a bite. “Do you think it has anything to do with the murder?”

“It’s not impossible, but to be honest, the chances are low. There was some smuggling going on that we were going to review together, but nothing that big from last we talked.” Matt sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Before you ask, no, it’s not anything Dracon or his gang are moving. He’s still locked up and we haven’t seen anything from Glasses in awhile.”

“Do we have any leads?” Brooklyn chimes in.

“Not yet. I’m gonna head back to the crime scene and see if anything’s there.” Matt turns around, hands in his pockets, still determined to not meet anyone’s pitying looks. “There shouldn’t be anyone else there right now, so… if you all feel the need to go, then we can do it as a team. Better to have additional eyes on it. Should be cleaned up, too.”

Despite whatever sorrow languishes, Goliath engages with his clan: “Broadway, go to the Mazas. Speak with them. Brooklyn, Lexington, go to the Labyrinth. See if Talon has gotten word. Hudson, Angela, bring Bronx with us.”

“Be careful not to touch anything at the crime scene,” Matt instructs. “Don’t want to leave any gargoyle prints.” Turning around to leave, he says, “I’ll meet you all there.”

It’d probably have been a touch faster if he let one of the gargoyles take him, but there’s a certain lack of control Matt can’t bear to relinquish at the moment. Both hands on the steering wheel, looking ahead, planning, asking himself questions since there’s no one else to bounce them off of right now other than a mirror. The smell of Elisa’s car is even too familiar now, but he doesn’t have his own vehicle and now it occurs to him he’s only driven it one other time.

It was when he tried to force the truth from her about the gargoyles as betrayal and anger stung at him. It’s a matter long forgiven with understanding, leaving him with too many pieces to collect now. Matt steels himself, adjusting the mirror and seat before he drives off.

A man can fall apart later.

After taking the familiar elevator ride up to Elisa’s apartment, Matt hesitates by the door. When he found her, there was something about it that left him truly cold. Death is, regrettably, not that unfamiliar for law enforcement of pretty much any kind. FBI or the NYPD, Matt has been able to process it, but it’s something entirely different to find her like that.

Grimly, he opens the door, gazing at the crime scene tape. Other than how it’s outlining part of the living room, the rest of the flat is remarkably untouched. It was as if whatever happened must have been done too quickly to leave a sign. If one did not know Elisa, it’d be easy to think of it as a suicide.

The gargoyles are lingering out by the window that leads to the balcony, a typical way for one of them to visit Elisa in the past. There are various degrees of grim expressions on their faces, of mourning.

Goliath is looking conflicted, staring hard at the tarp laid over where the body had been found.

“Lad,” Hudson rumbles softly, touching his arm. “You can change your mind about being here.”

“No. I must, for Elisa.” Goliath warily steps inside.

Usually Goliath is a bastion of strength both in spirit and body, and yet even the way he walks looks so defeated. Yet, he pushes on, despite it all. Honestly, Matt gets it.

“Unfortunately, there haven’t been many clues to pick up on,” Matt explains, pacing around the tape with his hands in his pockets. “We scoped it out, but as far as we’ve gotten was that this was a pretty clean job.”

Goliath’s nose wrinkles and he peers down at Matt. “The way you speak. It’s as if this is any other police matter to you.”

That feels abruptly like the wind was suddenly knocked out from him, and Matt blinks a few times before he gives a stiff shrug, looking away. “I just want to find who did this,” he says distantly.

There’s a soft, low rumbling sound from Goliath, but no other words are offered or accused. It’s a cold relief, really; focusing on work is probably the only way Matt can stay sane about any of this. Maybe it’s similar for Goliath, even if he’s the sort of gargoyle to express his emotions so damned freely.

There’s some growling from Bronx, the beast sniffing at the ground and pawing at the floor. “What did you find, Bronx?” Angela asks softly, kneeling down by him. She peels back the green rug, then lets out a soft gasp.

The rest of them gather to look down, finding distinct claw marks carved into the tile floor. Once it would have been a baffling thing, but now Matt can recognize it as most likely gargoyle talons having carved into it effortlessly, albeit that isn’t a promise either with Xanatos’ robots flying around. Still, one other thing catches Matt’s eye: he pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket to grab at a few strands of long red hair.

“No,” Angela whispers, horror dawning on her face as she recognizes the color instantly. “Would she–?”

“Demona,” Goliath snarls, eyes glowing white.

Matt stands up and shakes his head. “We don’t know for sure. You and I both know that for as many friends Elisa had, she also had just as many enemies.”

“And how do you suggest we investigate this further?” Hudson asks, remaining calm and patient. It’s deeply needed, Matt thinks to himself.

“I’d normally say we could run a test on the hair to know for sure, but I doubt we’d have anything in the precinct databanks. Although…” Matt trails off. “I’ll see if I can follow another lead when I can.”

“She will answer to this,” Goliath seethes. “I swear it.”

Matt holds up a hand. “We don’t know either way if it’s her or not. We need to examine every possibility before making a decision.”

A weary grumble leaves Goliath. “...I suppose you’re right. We cannot afford to be impatient.”

“Besides.” Matt hesitates, then puts his hand on Goliath’s shoulder. “We have a possible lead. Maybe more questions, but we’re better now than we were five minutes ago. Let me look into this, and if I get some more answers, I’ll tell you as soon as I can. I… have the comm device that Elisa would use with you guys, so I’ll let Lexington know when I find anything.”

Goliath heaves out a breath, as if a mountain could sigh. “Thank you, Bluestone. One way or another, Elisa will be avenged. Of that, I promise.”

Avenged sounds worse than he wants to achieve, but he understands what Goliath means, he thinks. “Justice will be served,” Matt responds. “We’re going to figure this out. For now, I’ll see what I can find out. I… you should all go join Broadway, I think.”

The implication of that hangs in the air for a moment, Goliath’s mournful eyes looking down at Matt before he nods reluctantly. “Be safe, Bluestone.” He turns, heading to the balcony with Angela and Bronx in toe.

“You will not be joining us, lad?” Hudson asks, arching a brow. “Elisa was not precious just to blood kin and our clan. Was she not also part of your clan?”

Leave it to the eldest gargoyle to really know how to sink his sword where it hurts. It makes Matt pause in front of the apartment door, his chest tight. Elisa was the best partner he ever had, most others exasperated and exhausted of him and his single-minded focus. Oh, Hacker seemed to humor him, until it was revealed he was just leading Matt around in circles. True, Elisa didn’t really believe him either for the longest time, but the worse she could do was just tease him about it. She was also, honestly, his best friend. Losing her does feel like losing a part of himself that he’s never going to get back.

But it isn’t the same pain as everyone else. The gargoyles were like her family. The Mazas including Derek – Talon, rather – will mourn her deeply. Goliath unquestionably loved her, even if it was a bridge those two never crossed. Whatever Matt is blocking off in his heart, it’s nothing like what everyone else feels. It’s not even close. So he can afford to focus, to be a cop, to solve this case, and give everyone closure. It’s the least he can do.

So, Hudson’s question isn’t quite enough to break his concentration, but damn if it wasn’t close. Eventually, he shakes his head. “I’ll leave it in her family’s hands,” Matt says. “You and the Mazas have a lot to go over.”

With that, he leaves, in part to hurry and not wanting to give Hudson another chance to ask him any other questions.

Admittedly, it feels a bit cruel to leave the gargoyles to figure things out with the Maza household to determine funeral rites. It’ll be tense, especially from the enormous emotions from gargoyles and Talon alike. Honestly, Matt is relieved to not be there for a number of reasons; continuing to focus on the case works better for him anyway.

It’d been almost too easy to forget that David Xanatos has recently had a son, at least until Matt’s been taken to a nursery instead of an office. Inside, Xanatos is watching his infant son fondly as he plays with colorful blocks, building a crooked tower.

“Mr. Xanatos, I’m certain you remember Detective Matt Bluestone,” the assistant announces, voice stiff and impassioned. It’s hard to believe that Owen Burnett is, in truth, the famous fae trickster Puck. It’s either some fierce acting or something else going on with him.

Either way, it’s a mystery Matt puts aside for now.

Xanatos stands, lacking his typical knowing smirk. “Thank you, Owen. Detective, I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I’m aware of what’s transpired. I want to give my condolences.”

“You’ll have to offer a bit more than that if it turns out you had anything to do with what happened to my partner,” Matt answers him flatly.

A halfhearted smile curls at the ends of Xanatos’ mouth. “Please. If you want to try to accuse me of being involved, you should really put your back into it. Either way, I’m sure you didn’t come here thinking I actually had.”

It’s not something Matt verbalizes, but Xanatos is completely right. Despite whatever animosity remains between the man and the gargoyles, there was one consistent factor: Xanatos would never benefit from the deaths of the clan, human or gargoyle. So, chances were slim to none that he had any intentional hand in Elisa’s death.

Instead, he moves on promptly by pulling out his handkerchief that has the bold red hair inside. “We found some possible clues at the scene. Now, I could get this tested with the precinct’s team, but something tells me we’d never get a match. You, on the other hand, might have a better chance.”

Taking the handkerchief, Xanatos inspects the hair with some consideration. “Interesting. Demona being a primary suspect isn’t impossible.”

There are doubts hinted in his voice. The same doubts that Matt has, frankly. “Will you test for a match or not?” he asks, not willing to give away the mutual concern.

“Well. I do owe Goliath a great debt.” It’s remarkable, but there’s a hint of sincerity in Xanatos’ voice, something almost humble. Remarkable more is how Goliath had come to this man’s aid, who had done so much to wrong him and Elisa both in the past. It isn’t forgiveness strictly, but just compassion in Goliath. Compassion more than anyone else Matt can think of, willing to put aside grudges to do the right thing.

Matt isn’t completely sure that he could be that good of a man.

Xanatos passes the handkerchief to Owen, who promptly turns on a heel to get to work. “Not that this will be remotely close to paying it, but if I can play even a small part in aiding this matter, then I’ll gladly lend my services,” Xanatos assures. “You have my word, Detective Bluestone. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“No,” Matt responds curtly. “Not right now. I assume you already know how to contact me.”

“Of course.” Now that coy smile forms, irritating Matt. “You know the way out, I presume.”

A skewed perspective of trusting that Matt won’t just be nosy without being escorted out by Owen. Maybe on a different case, Matt would have been, but instead he does see himself out, hands in his pockets as he lets out a breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes for a moment. Just now it occurs to him how heavy his eyelids feel, exhaustion crawling over him.

Right. He never did get that cup of coffee, did he?

Maybe he’ll order two cups, one last time.

Chapter Text

When sorrows come, they come not single spies. But in battalions!

“Hyena or Jackal probably could have left those marks,” Lexington points out. “But it’d leave the question about the hair if it really does turn out to be Demona’s.”

“Coldsteel?” Brooklyn suggests, folding his arms as he peers over Matt’s shoulder to try to look at his notes.

The detective pushes him back gently to get some space. “It isn’t just methodology you want to think about. It’s also the question of who benefits.” Matt gently taps his pen against his notepad. “So even if it was one of the Pack, what would they benefit from this? Their grudges are more based off of you as the gargoyles rather than who’s also associated, and there isn’t a monetary gain to be had.”

Brooklyn sighs. “Yeah, and Coldsteel mostly would be interested in lashing out at Goliath directly given the chance. I’m not sure he even knows about Elisa.”

It’s been a busy night, suffice it to say. After leaving the Eyrie Building, Matt endeavored to get coffee and get right back to work, all the while dodging Captain Chavez while grabbing both the case file pertaining to Elisa’s murder as well as the smuggling they were supposed to look into. Not that he’s expecting much from that, but it’s better to have as many pieces as possible right now.

So he’s gone back up to the Clocktower, finding himself joined by Angela, Lexington, and Brooklyn while Bronx is getting his ears rubbed by one of them, switching off as he seeks comforting affection. Even Matt’s gotten in a few pats here and there when the beast goes looking for it.

“If we’re thinking about it from the angle of who benefits, then Demona sounds like she fits right into that,” Brooklyn mutters, rubbing his chin. “I know how it sounds from me, but it works, doesn’t it? She hates Elisa.”

“We don’t know yet,” Angela says hesitantly. “...I know. I know it could be, I know she’s capable, but still…”

Brooklyn looks at her with compassion, shoulders tense as he considers his words carefully before he answers: “We can’t count her out either, though. I’m not saying let’s lead a charge and hunt her down, but we have to consider it.”

In response, Angela gives a grim nod, unwilling to comment more on it. In a way, Matt can relate. Not that he has a murderous relative, but rather he understands the complications of family in a way. Demona doesn’t lack love for Angela, but from the sounds of it will do anything for her goals. Anything. As for Matt…

No, that line of thinking doesn’t really matter right now.

The familiar sound of gargoyles landing from their glide signals the return of the rest. While Hudson and Broadway have similar builds, Goliath is the most distinct among them as they begin to step inside. However, Matt notes that there are two others with the gargoyles, interestingly enough.

It’s really only been by word of mouth that Matt is aware of the mutates. He remembers Derek back on the police force before he’d left to work for Xanatos, but the last they met the man had still been human in body. Now, he’s almost as large as Goliath, stalking inside after the gargoyle. If Goliath was a whirlwind of sorrow with a bit of rage to keep him moving, then Matt would describe Derek as someone who grieves through his anger.

Matt barely has a chance to see the other mutate behind him – female, must be Maggie – before Derek is marching up to grab Matt by the collar of his coat. “You were her partner!” he roars. “You were supposed to protect her!”

Well, those are things he’s already told himself all day and night, so Matt doesn’t find himself arguing or even struggling. There’s something almost cathartic about being blamed finally, especially from Elisa’s brother. So, he just looks at Derek calmly, waiting to hear or feel the rest of his fury.

Yet it is cut off for a moment when Goliath rests a hand to Derek’s shoulder. “Talon, you know as well as I do if there was anything to be done, Bluestone would have risked everything to keep her safe.”

“During the night, you’ve had her back, Goliath. So what about the day?!” Derek demands. “It was up to him!”

“Derek, enough.” Maggie touches his arm tenderly. “We’re all on the same side.”

That seems to soothe Derek’s anger, at least enough to release Matt. It’s almost disappointing to be let go, but arguably it’s more fulfilling to be able to get back to work. Slowly, Matt exhales and straightens the lapels of his coat. Maggie guides Derek away, shooting Matt an apologetic glance even if in turn the detective just shrugs.

Really, he doesn’t blame Derek at all. It feels like the truth to him.

“How… did it go, Goliath?” Brooklyn hesitantly asks.

The question earns Goliath’s gaze toward his second, even if the mighty gargoyle looks about how Matt feels, weary enough that the weight of everything is clearly on his shoulders. It sparks more guilt in Matt than he cares to admit, and he almost wonders if he should have tagged along with them to the Mazas. Quickly, that thought is brushed away. No, Matt didn’t have any place there, and the best way for him to help is to keep focusing on solving this case.

“We spoke at length,” Goliath begins, and the rest of his clan gather to give their full attention. “During the day, there will be a service from the humans to honor Elisa in their way. In two nights’ time, they have agreed to permit us a Wind Ceremony.”

“In fact, they want to be present for it,” Broadway pipes up. It does lack his usual enthusiasm considering the subject matter, but he’s always been friendly enough that speaking to Broadway really just comes easily.

After pocketing away his pencil and notepad, Matt asks, “What exactly is a Wind Ceremony?”

“I’m not sure either,” Angela admits. “The– the closest we ever had to do anything was when the Magus had passed.”

A curious tilt of Hudson’s head is directed toward Angela before he answers the question. “Humans have their way to honor the dead, and us gargoyles have our own,” Hudson responds. “Although we certainly lack the ideal placement for it.” As if anticipating both of them to ask a follow up question, the eldest gargoyle continues, “Typically we would use the highest point in our region for the occasion, but as you can imagine there’s a wee bit of a problem with that.”

Right. The Eyrie Building. It earns a thoughtful frown from Matt.

There’s a shake of Goliath’s head, tone somber when he says, “We will find a way to make do in order to permit all to join. The Clocktower may be tricky, but we can manage.”

“And this way Derek, Claw, and myself can be there as well,” Maggie says, her arms still holding onto the larger mutate as if to continue to pacify him.

It makes sense. Otherwise, there would be no way for Derek to participate during the day ceremony. Something that Matt isn’t sure he himself is even ready for, admittedly. Still, he gives a stiff nod, turning away as he absently picks a loose thread on his coat. “I’d better get back to it,” Matt says, feeling strangely cold as he makes his way toward the exit that would lead him back to the precinct. He feels eyes on him, but that makes him feel a bit more desperate to leave.

“Bluestone,” Goliath calls for him, making the detective halt. It’s fascinating how well one moment the gargoyle’s voice is as gentle as a poet’s and the next it can be a fierce bellow of a warrior. When Matt looks at him, Goliath seems almost hesitant before he says, “You will return tomorrow night, yes?”

Matt smiles faintly. “Count on it. Hopefully I’ll have something to share by then. For now, it sounds like you guys have some things to work out.”

Ideally, Matt will have a solution for that, too. For the time being, they exchange nods, both weary. Nonetheless, dawn will arrive in an hour’s time, and Matt has the luxury of the day to maybe get work done.

After exiting and closing the way up to the top of the Clocktower, Matt checks behind the door that leads to the precinct’s hallway. Satisfied that there’s no one else, he slips away while running his hand over his face. There’s a slow pace as he makes his way toward his desk, the precinct both bustling as well as holding a grim atmosphere to it. Eyes glance at him before turning away; he doesn’t want to acknowledge their pity.

It’s just important this gets solved.

Idly, Matt goes through the folder again, as if it’ll somehow magically conjure an answer. It offers nothing but the same questions he’s been asking himself, so he sighs and looks at the other folder that contains all of the documentation they have about the smuggling case. Mostly, it was observed signs of movement, a lot of guys in dark clothing working at night. Matt had even managed to snap a photo of one of the cars, but no license plate could be run so it was a bit useless. White van, tinted windows, hundreds like it in Manhattan and really anywhere else in the country. A dent in the left side just under the brake light.

A hand goes to his shoulder suddenly, jolting him out of his thoughts. Matt recognizes the voice of Officer Morgan: “You look beat, Detective. About time for you to take off, isn’t it?”

Officially, yes. “Guess so,” Matt answers distantly.

“You know, I remember seeing Elisa like this once. Worn out, probably hadn’t slept for hours.” Finally, Matt looks at him, finding Morgan’s gaze full of sympathy. “Go home and get some shuteye. If I get word of anything, I’ll let you know. Deal?”

“All right. You got me.” Mostly because Matt doesn’t find it in himself to be able to protest.

“Get out quick before the Captain finds out you’re still here.” Morgan offers a faint smile.

Unable to deny his own exhaustion, Matt gathers his things and makes his way out of the precinct. He hesitates, gazing to where Elisa’s car is parked. He could take it again, but honestly he isn’t sure if he has the mental fortitude for it. Eventually, they’re going to have to figure out her belongings, but one step at a time. So he makes to walk instead. It does nothing to help him wake up, but it’s probably better this way and thankfully he doesn’t have that far to go.

Once inside his apartment, he’s immediately greeted by Cagney, purring and meowing as the cat weaves around his legs. Matt crouches down and lets him nuzzle against his fingers. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m trying to solve this for all of us, but a cat’s gotta eat too.”

Cagney gives a pronounced meow as if to respond, and Matt cracks a tired grin. “You said it. Come on.”

With the cat fed, Matt finally peels off the day’s clothing. Normally, he’d prefer to try to properly toss everything where it belongs, clean clothes in the dresser and wardrobe with the dirty in the basket, but he doesn’t have the strength. It all goes to the floor instead before he drags himself into bed.

“Remember when the barista wrote her phone number on your cup and you thought it was some kind of Illuminati lead?” Elisa teases.

It’s a beautiful day, Matt thinks. As beautiful as it can be, yet it somehow also feels stifling. He gets the sense there are people walking by in the background, but not enough to distinguish any of them. Logically, that should be strange. In the moment, he merely shrugs it off. Maybe it’s because in the back of his mind, he knows better than to think too hard about a dream.

It’s the coffee stand they like. Matt has a mug half-empty, and Elisa has a to-go cup.

Matt rolls her eyes at Elisa. “It wasn’t impossible at the time.”

“Matt, this always happens to you.” Elisa doesn’t hide her laugh. “Someone makes a pass and you totally brush them off because you don’t notice. The manager at the Italian place.”

“He was just being nice.”

Elisa arches her brow. “He gave you a free dessert, and a napkin with his name on it.”

Matt shrugs at her, looking away. The sun is bright. The moon is bright. Both full and separate of each other. “You’re not one to talk, you know.”

“Yeah well.” A soft sigh from Elisa. “It’s a bit late for that now.”

“You know he feels the same way,” Matt tells her quietly, closing his eyes. “He still does.”

“I guess… I thought I was sparing us both the trouble. Funny, isn’t it? I wonder if it would’ve made it worse, if I told him.”

Matt’s hand curls too tight against the mug. “Elisa, I…” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Derek’s right. I should’ve been there.”

“Matt…”

“I’m supposed to have your back. But I didn’t. I…” Matt turns his head to look at her, then stiffens up at the sight.

Somehow, the top half of her head is gone. Not in an especially gorey way, but it’s like everything above her lips is just abruptly gone. The top part is just an inky blackness, starting to spill over the sides and dripping down her face. Upon opening her mouth, a ringing sound emits. Ringing again, and again–

Matt jolts awake in his bed, a cold sweat running down his brow. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he works away at being cognitive, aware that the phone is ringing. After sitting up, he reaches for it, pressing the receiver to his ear with a sigh. “Matt Bluestone,” he announces.

“Detective Bluestone, I’m Preston Vogel. I work alongside Halcyon Renard at Cyberbiotics.”

After rubbing an eye, Matt responds, “I’m aware. What can I do for you?”

“You’re currently working on a case that I believe is related to a matter with us. I’d like to schedule a meeting with you today so we can go over it.”

Eyeing his clock, Matt grimaces. He’s only managed to sleep an hour. “When are you thinking?”

“Please meet me at 8:00am. I will provide the address when you’re ready.”

There’s a momentary gaze of sorrow at the glowing numbers on his clock reading at 6:57.

“I’m ready,” Matt says.

It’s a whole strip of warehouses along a road not far from a boardwalk, the scent of water and garbage filling Matt’s nose. It’s about how he feels, so it matches up fine enough. As he approaches, he can see Vogel not far off, waiting by one of the giant metal cargo containers. The front of it is ripped open, the interior empty.

Matt squints as he stops by Vogel. The man looks suspiciously like Owen, or maybe it’s really the other way around considering Xanatos’s executive assistant is actually a fairy. Still, he says nothing of it, instead leading with, “Any reason no other cops are on the scene?”

“Mr. Renard would prefer to keep this investigation discreet, especially considering the footage we have on file.” Vogel waits for one of the robotic assistants to roll up, a screen presented on its chest. “I think you’ll agree.”

A thoughtful frown forms on Matt’s face, but he gives the screen his attention as he folds his arms. As the video begins to play, the angle of it makes it clear to Matt that it’s security camera footage from inside of the container, though it lacks any sound.

In the recording, the doors of the storage vessel are ripped open, the figure at the entryway horribly familiar. If Matt was a fool, he’d believe it was Goliath, but as the figure gets closer, it looks more like one of the robots of the Steel Clan owned by Xanatos. Admittedly the footage isn’t as clear as Matt would like, but either way it casts uncomfortable suspicion no matter what.

As it approaches in the footage, it makes short work of the camera, ending the video.

“Fair point,” Matt concedes. “What was stolen from Cyberbiotics?”

“Computer equipment, mainly.” Vogel shrugs. “Actually, it’s quite baffling. While it’s true that the computers taken are high quality, they’re also about the standard you might find in an office. Some graphic cards as well were taken, but again I’m afraid I don’t quite see the benefit. There are considerably more impressive items here on this strip. …Well, there were, but as you can imagine we’re relocating the storage.”

Matt nods. “Right. So, computers were stolen, got it. When did this happen?”

“A little past 4:00am.” Vogel gives Matt a pointed look.

Just before dawn, Matt thinks to himself. He’s certain that it occurred to Vogel as well.

“So. Would it be fair to say that we can work with you discreetly to find the culprit?”

Matt nods stiffly. “I’m spread a little thin these days, but I’ll look into this. Can you provide me with any relevant documentation that I can take with me?”

“Of course, Detective. Do keep us updated on your progress.”

Matt had taken a look inside and outside of the storage container. The security camera inside was destroyed, but curiously the other security cameras outside had, evidently, been shut off by an outside force. So it leaves plenty of confusion. It’d be easy once again to blame Xanatos, but something doesn’t click in this case either. What could Xanatos possibly benefit from stealing office equipment? Was the last security camera left on because it couldn’t be deactivated from the outside, or was it on purpose?

Who benefits?

As he starts to settle down to sit on his bed after returning to his apartment, Matt doesn’t quite make it to resting his head even on his pillow. Instead, the phone rings again and he wants to scream.

Instead, he picks it up. “Matt Bluestone,” he announces.

“Detective, your voicemail is full,” Owen’s monotonous voice announces first.

Matt rolls his eyes, even if Owen can’t see it. Or can he, as an elf? He doesn’t know how any of that works. He decides to not overthink it, he has enough on his plate. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t call me to nag me about my voicemail.”

“Correct. I require your presence at our office as soon as you are able.”

With a unique sense of mourning, Matt turns his gaze to his clock as it blinks in bold red: 10:46. “Noon?” he suggests.

“Very good, Detective. I’ll arrange for your appointment.”

Matt heaves out a tired sigh after hanging up, flopping back onto his bed. Honestly, sleep doesn’t sound appealing anyway after that nightmare he’d had. Nothing some caffeine can’t fix, probably.

The soft weight of Cagney becomes apparent after the cat leaps up onto the bed by him, a paw gently nudging his cheek.

“Everybody needs something,” Matt muses tiredly. “You get lunch, I get everything else. Seems like a bad deal, though. Feel like trading?”

Cagney meows.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.”

After convincing himself to stand and make sure Cagney is fed again, it’s out the door once more. It’s strange to him as he moves in a way that’s both robotic and utterly exhausting, an uncomfortable blur of a tunnel in his usually decent sense of memory and clarity. For a moment, it’s almost as if he’s outside his own skin, puppeting himself forward, but it’s necessary. It has to be this way in order to get the closure everyone deserves. And he will, he will.

Matt blinks, and he’s found himself yet again at a familiar location, Xanatos’ power and wealth towering over everyone else. It must be nice to be somewhere so safe, he thinks bitterly as he makes his way toward the Eyrie Building. In the lobby, Owen meets with Matt who is clutching a to-go cup in his hand. The coffee isn’t from the usual stop he’d share with Elisa in the past; it’s too sweet, making him wrinkle his nose as he sips, but maybe the sugar will do something for him too.

“Detective Bluestone,” Owen acknowledges, turning and expecting Matt to follow; he does, in fact, fall into step.

They don’t meet Xanatos in his office. Instead, it’s a nursery, and there’s a dull realization when Matt remembers that Xanatos is indeed a father now. Absurd, he thinks. Matt already knew that, knows the logic of it, but somehow it feels like it’s just handed to him like it’s a poster with big words stating that this awful corporate rich inventor is a loving father. Worse, it’s warm in the room, warmer than the rest of the castle with its rugs and toys making it downright cozy.

Xanatos’ smile is the same as usual even with the adorable toddler in his arms. The expression contains all of his typical tactful friendliness, arrogant but for good reason. “Detective, you’re looking a bit rougher than usual.” Somehow, when Xanatos says it, the tone is complimentary even though it just shouldn’t be.

Matt holds up his cup, as if to say cheers to that before having a drink of it. It’s syrupy and awful, but it keeps him going.

“I take it that the meeting with Vogel was somewhat productive?” Xanatos muses.

Matt closes his eyes, convincing himself to not even bother asking how Xanatos would know that. “Missing any Steel Clan models that you’d like to mention?”

“Can’t say that I am,” Xanatos responds, utterly calm. “I’d be happy to give you a printed inventory of that particular stock if that’d satisfy you?”

“It’s not me that needs convincing,” Matt answers, forcing his eyes open.

“Oh? It sounds like I might not be on that suspect list of yours after all.” It’s said casually, like a joke between old friends. Xanatos already knows he isn’t suspected of anything. If anything, he’s been more than cooperative, interested in his own way in figuring out this mystery himself. Whatever reasons he has, Xanatos knows his hands are for once clean.

Matt debates the ethics of throwing his cup at Xanatos’ pleased face while he is still, in fact, holding an innocent baby. “What did you call me for?”

As Xanatos makes a vague gesture to Owen, it’s enough for the man to somehow interpret exactly what it is his intent is. They’re two perfectly functioning gears together, not needing much in the way of words to work as well as they do. A ping of sorrowful envy is sharp in Matt’s gut, thinking of how close he’d gotten to that with Elisa. How he’s not going to get that again.

A folder is handed to Matt, and gingerly he opens it. “The test results,” Matt realizes.

“It’s a match exactly to Demona’s DNA that we have on record,” Owen announces.

Matt tries to sort it out in his head. Demona at the scene of the crime. Cyberbiotics experiencing theft of computers. What looked like a Steel Clan model destroying a camera. Xanatos distinctly saying he hasn’t lost a model, but would that also mean he was involved in the theft?

Who benefits?

Not Xanatos. Not when he says he owes Goliath a debt.

“There’s… one other thing,” Matt says hesitantly. “A request.”

“Oh?” Xanatos’ smile widens somehow.

Matt glances out the window, finding the daylight somehow oppressive. “It’s for Goliath and his clan. They have their own way of commemorating those who have passed. Thing is, they’d need the highest point they can glide from, and it’s gonna involve Derek and his mutate friends too. Probably also the Mazas would want to be there.”

When Matt dares to glance at Xanatos there’s a more thoughtful gaze there instead of the smug businessman usually so prominent. Idly, Xanatos’s fingers are rubbing at the edge of baby Alexander’s sleeve tenderly, telling.

“Just tell me the day and time,” Xanatos responds evenly. “I’ll make the accommodations. You have my word.”

“Tomorrow night. Midnight, that should probably… give everyone enough time.”

Xanatos nods, steadily remaining cooperative. “Done. Be sure to let everyone know, and rest assured I’ll make sure all can mourn peacefully here as they need.”

The implication is clear. If anyone tries to crash the ceremony, Xanatos will handle it. Though Matt hardly trusts him, he trusts the decision. It does occur to him numbly that it’s on purpose, too; they’re meeting in the nursery where Xanatos’ beloved son is. The clear adoration Xanatos has for him.

Ever the chessmaster, Xanatos is advertising his humanity to Matt, and it’s working.

“Now then. It seems to me that you’re dragging your feet a bit,” Xanatos remarks. “Why don’t I have someone drive you back to the precinct? On the house, of course.”

Matt doesn’t have it in him to complain or reject the offer.

It takes some sneaking around, but Matt manages to get by everyone that would scold him for being at the precinct – mostly Morgan and the Captain at this point. Everyone else is still giving him that wide berth, making sure he has his space. Either they’re that empathetic or he really does look that rough.

He makes it up to the Clocktower and finds himself collapsing onto the sofa, closing his eyes. It’ll be sunset eventually, and it gives him time to think again over everything.

Matt thinks back to Broadway’s initial question from the other night, if the case he had with Elisa had anything to do with her murder. Smuggling, Matt had said. Not Dracon. It was true, because there were signs of constant movement of something, but they hadn’t successfully narrowed down the goods yet. Not firearms, not drugs. Not the typical dealing in the dark of night. So, what would be atypical?

Cyberbiotics reported a large theft of computers.

His eyes open, brows knitted. Is that it? Did Elisa know, or get too close? What did she find out? Did she get too close to the truth?

The folder of information he has is back downstairs, and Matt is struggling to find the strength to get up. “No, come on,” he hisses at himself, frustrated. There’s something! A nagging thread, and damn if Matt isn’t skilled at pulling those threads. Without proper sleep and after all of the running around with the gloom following him, even willpower can’t urge him forward. On top of that, he genuinely cannot remember when he has last eaten.

So he pulls out a scrap piece of paper and a pen from his coat, beginning to aggressively sketch out what he can pinpoint in his mind. The van from the case file. Sure, it’s nondescript in most ways, but he remembers that dent and prays it’s enough.

The sun goes down just after Matt can’t even hold his pen anymore as it clacks to the floor. Rubbing his eyes aggressively, he can hear stone crackling and roaring yawns as the gargoyles awaken. Shortly after, Bronx’s excited barking, deep and reverberating off of brick walls as he goes scampering right to him.

Cute, he thinks. Kind of ugly cute. Like a really big pug that’s also dense muscle, Matt thinks tiredly.

“Broadway,” Matt calls out roughly as he gives Bronx a pat on the head. He’s holding out the sketch, waiting for the gargoyle to take it.

Delicately, Broadway is pinching the paper between his talons, but there’s clear worry on his face. “Matt, have you been at it this whole time?”

Not responding verbally, Matt just makes an okay sign with his fingers.

“That’s a comforting way to answer,” Brooklyn remarks, his tone wry but his expression matching Broadway’s.

They immediately make room as Goliath approaches with his signature heavy steps and nothing but compassion in his gaze. It spurns a mixed emotion in Matt, but mostly the distinct sensation that he doesn’t deserve it and least of all from Goliath. Effortlessly, as if Matt weighed little to nothing, Goliath gently picks him up from where he’d seated himself.

Matt blinks, unable to really express much besides a startled sound. It’s an unusual comfort, being held by someone else for once. Someone stronger.

So that’s what it feels like. No wonder Elisa got used to this so fast.

“Rest, Bluestone.” There’s that familiar soft rumble from Goliath as before, a steady comfortable thunder. “You’ve done enough.”

No, he argues silently. It’ll never be enough, because she’s gone. There’s also the sudden cold terror of knowing sleep is inevitable, and maybe so will nightmares. Matt tenses, rubbing his face, he just needs more time--

Out of the corner of his eye, Angela is quickly approaching before she’s spreading a blanket over the pile of dry hay they have in a corner. It’s more comfortable than you’d think, Elisa commented once. Goliath is setting him down, the hay and blanket both daring to beckon Matt to slip into unconsciousness. Before Goliath can pull away, Matt is grabbing onto his wrist.

“Bluestone,” Goliath starts to chide him.

Matt shakes his head, working out the most important thing he can think to tell him. “The Wind Ceremony,” he blurts out. “I talked to Xanatos. He’ll let you.”

There’s surprise on Goliath’s face, which then melts into a conflicted mix of gratitude and concern. Matt gets it, he does, but he doesn’t regret it either. It’s the least he could do for the clan.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Goliath promises, carefully removing Matt’s grip but squeezing his hand just enough to be felt. All that raw power, and still there’s something so strangely graceful about this giant of a gargoyle. “Sleep.”

Unable to argue further, Matt shuts his eyes.

Chapter Text

O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

The first thing that Matt could think of was that, surely, Elisa was probably just late because of some next adventure she’d had with the gargoyle clan. It isn’t that unusual, but also it’s morning now, the sun is up, and she isn’t answering her phone.

“Elisa, it’s Matt. Come on,” he calls out, knocking on her door. “I won’t tattle if you slept in today, promise.”

It’s that kind of easygoing relationship they’ve culminated over time, hardly much in the way of secrets between them now. They’re basically professionals at remembering each other’s habits, good or ill. Better than a friend, better than a partner. He thinks that this is probably what it’s like to have a sister.

A sister who is not answering her door.

Matt doesn’t have keys to her apartment, but locks haven’t done much to stop him before. He sighs, kneeling down in front of her door before muttering, “Just don’t hold this against me, partner.”

The lock isn’t anything incredibly difficult, but it does make him think that maybe he could suggest to Elisa to improve the locks on her door. Maybe she isn’t as cautious as Matt in regard to that, but considering he’s had his own apartment blown up before he’d rather not take that kind of risk.

“Elisa,” he tries again.

The dream doesn’t quite line up into the memory properly, an aspect that he does feel in the back of his mind as everything abruptly seems to jump ahead as if to spare himself of completely reliving the brutal discovery. It’s fine, it’s not as if he could ever forget it, the absolute heartbreak and having to numbly accept that nothing could be done to save what has already come to pass, needing to make the call to the precinct. So, Matt stands in the apartment, staring down; there’s Elisa’s body technically on the floor, and as if to pity himself the dream has covered the cadaver with a plain white sheet.

Still, he is not completely spared.

On Elisa’s dresser is her own head completely detached from the rest of her body, resting on a silver decorative platter with her dark hair pooled around her face. The display isn’t gorey and blood isn’t running down from her neck. It’s as if somehow her head is just existing independently, which is jarring and disturbing in its own way but at least it lacks viscera.

Elisa’s eyes open like she’s still alive.

“Kind of grim,” she comments in that cheeky way of hers.

Gingerly, Matt is taking the platter, gazing down at her. “Yeah,” he agrees sullenly.

“Well, in our line of work, I guess it can’t be helped.” Elisa’s eyes look down toward her own covered body. “At least you’re getting some sleep.”

A helpless laugh barks out of Matt. “There’s that, I guess.”

“You always were a workaholic.” A familiar smirk on her face, a teasing voice.

“Pot kettle black.”

Elisa rolls her eyes. “I know how to take a day off when lives aren’t in danger, and when to have lunch.”

Unable to help himself, Matt’s lips curl into a faint smile. “I miss this,” he says.

“Me too.” Elisa looks back down at her body. “But we’re in a time crunch and there’s a case to crack. Come on, let’s think. Two damned good detectives in Manhattan can solve this.”

There’s a tremor that passes through Matt, and he clutches the tray tightly. “You aren’t really here, Elisa.”

“I know,” Elisa answers quietly. “Just go with it, okay?”

Taking in a deep breath, Matt gives a stiff nod. “All right.” He clears his throat. “What are you thinking?”

“That you have a good memory.” Elisa’s brows are fixed together thoughtfully. “So do I, but I was always a little envious of yours. It’s like you could snap a photo in your mind and remember all the details. When you skip breakfast, it isn’t because you forgot, it’s because you have your fingers digging in deep and you can’t let go. That’s how you are, how you’ve always been, partner.” There’s a pause, then she says: “So, is my apartment just as you remember it?”

“I don’t…” Matt frowns and looks around as he considers what she’s trying to tell him.

As she said, his memory has always been good. It’s what makes him persistent, makes him aware of when he’s caught someone in a lie or notices a detail someone else might have forgotten. It also makes it hard to let go of anything.

The apartment in his dreamscape is just as he remembers it. Suddenly, the body is gone, sheet and all. There’s an outline of where Elisa’s body was, bloodstains on the floor. Claw marks, Demona’s strands of hair. Everything else is in place including her furniture, pictures of family on the walls, Cagney’s litterbox in the corner–

Matt slowly walks in a circle around the outline of where her body had been found, then stops with the tip of his shoe barely an inch away from the bloodstain.

He turns, and looks at the wall. Clean.

“If I was shot…” Elisa begins.

“Then where’s the blood spray?” Matt finishes the sentence.

There’s a shimmer in her eyes, the kind of look that says she’s proud. “Better make sure it isn’t just a dream.”

“Elisa…” Matt hesitates, feeling a great pressure in his chest. Why is it suddenly so hard to breathe? He tries to cough but it ends up choked and strangled, caught in his throat. Elisa’s lips are moving, but he can’t hear her.

Finally, Matt wakes up, gasping for air as he suddenly can breathe, and he’s vaguely aware of Hudson’s voice: “Ach, you’ll smother the lad, boy.”

Blinking his eyes to focus, Matt finds himself looking at Hudson who has Bronx by the legs. Slowly, he’s able to piece together that evidently the gargoyle beast had been probably too eager to lay on top of him. The beast is whining, ears drooped. Hudson sighs, letting Bronx go before peering down at Matt.

“So much for keepin’ him off you,” the old gargoyle grumbles. “Get yourself back to sleep, the others still aren’t back yet.”

Instead of taking the suggestion, Matt is slowly sitting himself up, rubbing the back of his neck as Bronx is eagerly resting his chin on Matt’s lap. Getting used to the affection, Matt gives him a firm pat on the head. “How long was I out?”

Hudson sniffs. “I don’t know how long a human needs his rest, but by lookin’ at you, likely not long enough. Four hours, perhaps?”

Long enough, in Matt’s opinion. Though he feels like he could use a nice long shower, he’s awake enough. Rubbing an eye, he starts to stand up from the hay pile he’d been sleeping on.

“And what did I just say?” Hudson sounds utterly exasperated.

“I need a lift to Elisa’s apartment,” Matt tells him.

A scoff. “And what for this time?”

“I need to make sure of something that can help us figure out this case.” Matt finds himself instinctively rubbing at Bronx’s ear. “Hudson, please. I don’t plan on going out into the field if I can help it, but I need to verify one thing there. Then we come back.”

The dubiousness isn’t for lack of belief, but out of the sake of concern from Hudson. Someone who’s been a father to all of his clan, who can’t help but extend that over. They aren’t overly familiar with each other – and really, Matt isn’t terribly close with most of them, save maybe Broadway and the deep respect he holds for Goliath. Still, Matt thinks he has an understanding of him.

Eventually, Hudson sighs and nods. “We’ll make it brief, aye?”

“I won’t need long. I promise,” Matt assures.

“All right, boy,” Hudson addresses Bronx this time. “Don’t you make those eyes at me, we’ll be back before you know it. Protect the Clocktower while we’re out, hm?”

Bronx lets out a confirmed huff, as if he completely understood. Such is the way of pet ownership, Matt is starting to find.

The trip over by air is actually fairly refreshing, and it lets Matt clear his head. It isn’t that comfortable to be carried with hands clutching the underside of his arms, but he knows that Hudson is strong, so he trusts to not be dropped.

Neither of them are particularly eager to return to the apartment, tension hanging in the air as they both pause. There’s the wind, the distant sounds of New Yorkers honking their cars at each other even at this time of night. The world keeps on moving, even if Matt and the others are stuck in time staring down at what’s before them.

He holds his breath for a moment, closing his eyes, convincing himself to move forward. He has to.

If Hudson had decided to just wait out on the balcony Matt wouldn’t have blamed him for it, but even as Matt heads inside he can hear Hudson dutifully following after him. Instead of turning on the light, Matt takes out a flashlight and considers a moment with a frown, gazing down at the floor. The tarp has been removed, but the bloodstains are still there just as he remembers them.

Time to test his memory.

Matt steps carefully around the police tape, not disturbing the area. Peering down at the dark stain, he points at it while tracing in the air up toward the clean wall.

“Hudson, what happens to a person’s blood when their body has been impacted by a force? A sword, for example,” Matt asks distantly.

The gargoyle approaches with a scowl on his face, but he’s taking Matt’s question seriously. Idly, a talon is tracing the hilt of his sword, as if considering the exact wording. “The question isn’t whether there’s blood, but how there is blood,” he sorts out. “You've a theory, lad?”

“The force of a gun is strong. When it enters, not so much. But when it exits…” Matt makes a gesture toward the wall. “Elisa was shot, we know that’s how she died. That isn’t the problem. The problem is–”

“No blood where it ought to be.” Hudson braces a palm against the wall, following the line of thinking.

Matt nods. “A… splash, if you will, should be here. Not just where she was bleeding, but something to indicate the exit wound. There’s one other problem. The bullet exited the wound, but then what? It’s not here. There aren’t any bullet holes in the apartment. So if she stood there–” He points at the outline of where her body had been found. “--and was shot, there should be something.”

“So this is not where she was attacked?”

“No, I don’t think it is,” Matt agrees. “I think Elisa was murdered somewhere else entirely. I don’t know where, but… this changes things.” He shakes his head. “I think that’s all I needed to see for myself. We should get back and share our findings when the others return.”

They take flight back to the Clocktower, during which leaves Matt thinking. What their findings mean, how it’s going to connect to the rest of the case. He wonders when Broadway will return, maybe with news or nothing.

As soon as Hudson lands the two of them, immediately Matt is taking out his notepad and making notes, trudging inside. Barking excitedly, Bronx rushes up to them, and Matt finds himself giving him a pat on the head. Just as he does so, Hudson is snatching his notepad from him.

“Hey!” Matt makes a grab for it, but Hudson is easily faster than the exhausted detective.

“Enough, and back to rest for you,” Hudson says firmly.

Matt can only stare at him in disbelief. “We just found out a major detail in the case! I can’t just–”

“Can’t just what? Sit, and wait?” Hudson tilts his head. “Let yourself settle, and mourn? Tell me, lad: when have you stopped these past few nights? And I mean truly stopped. All of us are grateful for you, for how you have pushed to find the answers we lack. But not at the cost of yourself. I know I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

All this time, it has felt like Matt has stood at the edge of a cliff, staring down into the abyss and waiting for the right time for it to swallow him. The thing is, there’s probably never going to be a right time, but it couldn’t be now. Not while he still doesn’t have the answers they need, not when there are so many desperately needing closure.

So there he stands, the ground beneath his feet weak but still there because he needs it to be.

“I can’t,” Matt croaks out.

Hudson’s expression softens. “Of course you can.”

If he falls into that abyss, will Matt be able to make it back out? The moment he crumbles, he’s afraid that’s it, that he can’t move forward. There’s been a long period of his life where he’s spent his days on his own, furiously investigating. For a time, he thought Hacker at least humored him, but it’d been worse than that. Before him, Matt was tolerated at best. It didn’t matter who.

After Hacker, he ended up finding himself in that strong bond with Elisa. It wasn’t without its bumps in the road, of course. Matt holding back during his own investigations, Elisa lying to him in order to hoard her secret until they’d both been forced to open up to each other. Neither of them were perfect, and Matt would not put her on a pedestal, but she was still the best friend he’d ever had. A good friend and family to anyone lucky enough to know her.

He isn’t like Goliath, nobody is. To be able to just fly out into the night, howl your grief into the stars and moon, wear it like it’s a badge of honor instead of a shameful weight to be ignored. How does he do it while still keeping his head high and leading others?

“You can,” Hudson says again, like he’s giving permission.

Slowly, Matt sinks back onto the blanket covered hay pile, and quickly Bronx is settling part of his weight onto the available lap. There’s a burning in Matt’s eyes that he doesn’t want to acknowledge, so he sucks in air and throws his arm over his eyes, bracing against the dam. Throat tight, chest heavy. Derek was right, he couldn’t protect her, and now everything is going to come apart at the seams–

He can’t go down this road, he can’t he can’t. What a luxury it’d be to scream until there was nothing left to give.

It’s another two hours until the rest of the clan returns. Not that Matt sleeps or does much during that time, except absently listen to the TV that Hudson plays. Less to watch, more for background noise. It does all right, it’s not like either of them are actually paying attention to a late night rerun of a kid’s cartoon. Technically Matt is resting with Bronx’s weight ensuring he doesn’t go anywhere in addition to Hudson’s vigil.

The audacity of a wise old gargoyle.

Matt rubs his eyes as he hears the clan file in, Bronx launching off of him to greet the return of the rest of the family. It gives Matt the freedom to sit up then squint at Hudson. “Well?”

“Hmph.” Hudson cracks a smile at him, handing over the notepad.

“Broadway,” Matt calls out first, standing up and dusting himself off.

“It’s okay, I picked up what you were trying to say earlier.” There’s Broadway’s big reassuring smile and he approaches, holding out the drawing he took earlier. “You’re, uh. You’re a pretty good artist.”

Clearing his throat, Matt glances away briefly. “Sometimes you can’t always use a camera, it can be clunky. And sometimes the precinct needs facial composites. Anyway, did you find it?”

Brooklyn folds his arms, wings draping over his shoulders like a cape. “Had to go all over Manhattan it felt like, but Angela spotted it. It looks like someone just left the van abandoned.”

They actually found it! It felt like such a slim chance, but they pulled it off. Matt’s eyes brighten and he approaches, eager. “Can you take me to it?”

“Before that,” Goliath intercepts. “We should discuss the fact that you are making agreements with Xanatos.”

Matt starts digging into his coat pockets. “I know how it sounds, Goliath. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about working alongside him, but I couldn’t think of anyone else to test the hair we found.” He takes out the paperwork Owen had given him.

“And…?” Angela hesitantly asks.

Holding up his hand as if to ask her to wait, Matt looks at Goliath. “I’ll tell you all exactly the results, but I’m begging you to not do anything rash with the information. I want to make sure we have as much of the picture before we make any decisions.”

For all that Goliath is a practical and level headed leader, he is also guided fiercely by his heart. Matt knows that, and the burning desire to avenge Elisa is a ferocious one. Not unreasonable, but it’s like trying to tame a wildfire. Something that is not impossible, but certainly a difficult task.

Eventually, Goliath gives a nod, undoubtedly self-aware. “You have my word.”

Matt places the results on the table for anyone to view, but he suspects only a couple of them will be able to make sense of it so he explains, “We knew that if it was Demona, we wouldn’t have found her records in the system. That, and getting it tested on the books was going to be difficult. So I went with what resources we did have, and Xanatos confirmed it’s her DNA.”

“And how exactly trustworthy are the results?” Brooklyn asks flatly. “Xanatos hasn’t exactly been a pillar of integrity in the past.”

“I know,” Matt agrees. “But honestly, I don’t see how he’d gain anything by feeding us lies. Xanatos doesn’t have anything to gain with Elisa’s death, and even less by leading us in circles.” That, and Matt does think that there is some sincerity to it when Xanatos expressed to him that he does owe Goliath.

An aspect that seems to dawn on Goliath’s face, Matt thinks, but the gargoyle does not express it. “If you believe them, then I will have to do the same,” Goliath says instead. “You… also talked to him about the Wind Ceremony.”

A strange feeling of bashfulness suddenly catches in Matt’s chest. It’s an unusual, foreign sensation and he doesn’t really know what to do with it, so he awkwardly shrugs and looks down at his notepad as if the contents were relevant. They aren’t. “Midnight tomorrow.”

A large hand rests on Matt’s shoulder, and he doesn’t need to look to see that it’s Goliath’s. “Thank you,” his deep voice rumbles.

Stiffly, Matt nods.

“So, if the results are in, does that mean…?” Broadway trails off hesitantly.

“Not necessarily,” Matt answers him. “Look, let’s lay out all the facts that we do have right now before we start speculating.”

There’s a part of Matt that wishes he had some kind of board to go over everything with the clan. Visuals can help, especially when he’s trying to put together the puzzle, but in this instance all he can do is flip onto the blank side of the DNA test results sheet and start scribbling.

“Elisa and I were working on a case regarding smuggling,” Matt starts by explaining. “The problem was we didn’t even know what goods were being transported, just movement in general that was shady. Middle of the night, unlicensed vans, the works. When I got a photo, it was that van with the dent in the back. The problem is that there was no plate, so no identifying it. But I could remember exactly how it looked. Elisa and I were supposed to meet up yesterday morning to go over the facts, but… you know how it went. I found her in her apartment. Called it in. When I went with you guys back to her apartment, we found the claw marks and red hair. Yes, the test results show it’s Demona’s, but there’s something else going on.

“In addition, Cyberbiotics has reported computer equipment missing, and the culprit is distinctly gargoyle shaped. I promise to hand off the recording to you guys so you can look for yourselves. Xanatos denies involvement, so no Steel Clan that we know of. So the smuggling might, in fact, be with computer equipment. You could probably sell it off market for a decent bit of change, but there’s got to be a specific reason as to why the computers were stolen instead of more impressive equipment from Cyberbiotics when given the chance.

“One last thing: Hudson and I went back tonight, and we both realized something: Elisa wasn’t murdered in her apartment. The murder scene is somewhere else, but her time of death marks her as in the morning. I don’t know where the actual scene is yet, but someone is definitely trying to cover their tracks.” Matt looks down at his scribbles, awful chicken scratch of words and lines that probably don’t make sense to anyone but himself.

Goliath has his arms crossed, expression in deep thought rather than the righteous anger that Matt was admittedly still expecting despite their agreement. Piping up among the clan, Lexington asks, “Do you have the exact models on the computers?”

Matt nods. “I can give you the report, Lexington. It’d be good to get your insight.”

“And how are we going to hunt down Demona?” Brooklyn demands, his voice close to growling.

“We aren’t,” Goliath says firmly, and Matt can see Angela’s relieved face. “At least, not until we have additional information on where to even find her.”

The answer seems to be enough for Brooklyn, even if he probably wants to be hot-headed about it. Understandably so; Demona is a prime suspect, and from what Matt understands Brooklyn has a deep grudge particularly against her.

There’s still one thing that nags at Matt’s mind. Goliath is a gargoyle of his word, but it still feels strange that he’s being calm and reasonable about the revelation about Demona’s DNA being found on the scene.

“I’ll bring up my documents. After that, I want a look at the van if it’s still where you found it,” Matt says.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. It’s not going anywhere,” Broadway assures.

Matt arches his brow curiously at that.

“Yeah, I should have expected this,” Matt grumbles.

Where they’ve ended up is one of the many dumps of New York, and it isn’t doing Matt any favors in regard to his yearning for a nice hot shower. Not that he’s ever been shy about dirty work, but he isn’t exactly jumping at the chance either.

Shortly after Matt avoided Captain Chavez in the precinct and handed off his documents to Lexington, three of them left with Matt for the van: Goliath, Broadway, and Angela. Brooklyn had been sent to the Maza household to relay the news about the Wind Ceremony’s time and location, and they only had so much night left to make use of their time before the sun would rise again.

“I was thinking if a bunch of thugs were tryin’ to get rid of a vehicle, then a place like this would be a good idea,” Broadway explains with a big grin. “Then Angela spotted it during the search!”

Angela gives a humble smile. “I got lucky. It was Broadway’s good idea.”

There’s a pause as the pair of them seem almost flustered with each other, which earns a pause from Matt for a second. Okay, no, he doesn’t have time to unpack that, so he skips over the concept of two young adult gargoyles getting sheepish in some kind of... way.

Instead, Matt examines the van, then gives an approving nod as he spots the exact dent he recognizes.

“Good job, both of you.” Matt reaches for the doors in the back, but naturally they’re locked. If he was left to his own devices, he’d just lockpick his way in, but seeing as how he has three mighty gargoyles with him he decides to not waste time. “Would one of you mind?”

Wordlessly, Goliath rips the doors right off of the vehicle, tossing them aside.

“That’s more like it.” Matt turns on his flashlight to get a proper look inside.

Broadway lets out a groan of disappointment. “Empty.”

There’s no denying the statement, it’s utterly devoid of anything apparent, but it doesn’t stop Matt from going inside anyway. Kneeling down to examine the floor of the van, he traces his fingertips over long scrapes that have been left behind. Eyeing the length in which they go, it seems like it covers the length of one side of the van, as if something very tall and heavy was pushed in and out at some point.

He doesn’t like where this is going, but Matt has a hunch. Turning to Angela, he asks, “Can you do a search nearby with those sharp eyes of yours?”

She nods, determined. “What am I looking for?”

“A freezer, about my height. Bring it back if you can.” Matt glances to Broadway. “Start going through the front seat. Look for anything, even if it seems like it’s nothing.”

“On it!” Broadway immediately sets to work, ripping off the passenger side door before he starts to look inside. As he does, Angela is setting off in her own search for what Matt has described.

Goliath gazes down at the detective. “Where is this going, Bluestone?”

“Hudson and I already determined that Elisa couldn’t have died in her apartment. Like I said before, we determined her time of death, but…” Matt flips to a fresh page in his notepad. “I’m going to say this bluntly.”

In response Goliath nods, bracing himself.

“When you put raw meat in the fridge or the freezer, it keeps it fresh for longer. Now, the morgue can determine the time of death based on the decomposition of a body. If… a body has been somewhere cold, though, that can mix up our expected time.”

There’s the hint of an angry glow at the edges of Goliath’s eyes. “Not only was she murdered, her body was treated as nothing more than meat.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, feeling cold when he admits as much. “Probably. And the scrape marks here indicate the movement of something large, heavy, and made of metal. So… that’s what I’m thinking. That she was transported from wherever she was killed.”

A furious conviction overtakes Goliath for a moment, fangs bared when he rumbles, “When I find who is responsible, then they will be my prey.”

It’s devotion, Matt thinks. Fierce loyalty and devotion that he feels for his family regardless of blood. His clan, including Elisa. It’s something Matt admires, but it’s also why Goliath will heal from all of this better than he ever will. He can’t let Goliath end this in a way that Elisa would never approve of.

So he reaches out and places his hand to Goliath’s arm. “We’re getting closer. I promise, we’re going to solve this.”

The glow in his eyes fade, and Goliath seems to calm from that, even just a fraction. “We would not be this far without your help.”

It isn’t enough, Matt thinks to himself. It’ll never be enough, but it’s the least he can do for all of them.

Abruptly, there’s a crash that makes Matt nearly jump; he sees that Angela drops down an incredibly large freezer by them before she lands. “Does this fit your description?” she asks, trying not to sound too proud.

“It’s perfect, Angela.” Matt gestures with a hand. “Can you turn it to the side?”

As if the freezer was only a few pounds to her, Angela turns it over as requested. Crouching to examine the back of it, there are scrapes grooved in, like it was dragged not that long ago. With some work, Matt is confident they could get a match with the van’s flooring. The pieces are starting to line up with his theory.

Holding his breath, he opens the freezer’s door.

For better or for worse, it’s completely empty. Clean as it can be in a literal dump. While Matt would like to have additional evidence, he’s also relieved he doesn’t need to look at more blood that might belong to Elisa.

“Found something! I dunno if it’s useful, but I found something!” Broadway calls out, emerging from the van. Marching over, he holds out his hand to reveal a crumpled up piece of paper.

Matt takes it and slowly works on revealing its contents. “It’s a receipt for… Happy Fortune?”

“Oh, that’s a Chinese restaurant,” Broadway explains.

“But you know where it is?” Matt asks while examining the paper.

Broadway nods. “Sure do. I hit them up a few times a month when they’re about to toss leftovers.”

“Date of the receipt is the day before I found Elisa, 5:34PM.” Matt pockets the receipt. “So, it’s possible these guys got a bite to eat before they hit the streets. It might even be fair to say wherever they’re doing business, it’s going to be by Happy Fortune.”

“We can organize a rotation watch in the vicinity for these smugglers,” Goliath advises. “Watch them until we know for certain where they’re staying.”

Matt offers a tired yet sincere smile. “That’s sounding like a pretty solid plan to me. Otherwise, I think we’ve explored as much as we can here.” He pushes up his sleeve to look at his watch. “And not a lot more time to do much else tonight.”

A nod of affirmation from Goliath, then he looks to the other two gargoyles. “Angela, Broadway. Return to the Clocktower and share our findings. I’ll ensure that Bluestone returns home safely.”

In the past during the few times in which Matt had been handled during a glide from Goliath or another gargoyle, usually he’s carried under his arms or he’s found himself clutching to their back. It’s not something he’s ever really thought hard about; it’s probably just more convenient that way when they have a passenger.

It’s the second time tonight Goliath is carrying Matt in his arms, like he’s something to be protected. Considering a gargoyle’s nature maybe that isn’t such a far cry, but it still feels baffling to him. Why bother, he darkly thinks, when he couldn’t prevent this mess to begin with? Maybe it says even more about Goliath’s good heart, determined to shield others when he can even when he doesn’t owe them anything. After all, he did come to Xanatos’ aid for Alex regardless of their past.

The balcony to Matt’s apartment is kind of a sham, just barely fitting Goliath’s size that Matt has to stay in his arms long enough before opening the sliding door. Immediately, he hears Cagney meowing for food, running up to the both of them.

“I don’t suppose you guys want shared custody of this guy,” Matt says, mostly joking as he finally gets to his feet. He crouches down, scratching Cagney under the chin.

“Hm, the others may, though I wonder how he’d take to Bronx.” There’s some mirth in Goliath’s voice, which comes as a nice relief.

After Cagney is done winding around Matt’s legs, he finally sets about feeding the cat. Loud purrs echo against the ceramic plate. Behind him, Matt can hear Goliath hesitantly setting inside, his wings folding in.

Matt glances over his shoulder. “The sun’s gonna come up before you know it.”

“I’m aware.” Goliath pauses, his brows fixed together as he thinks of his next words carefully. “I am infinitely grateful for all that you have done thus far for Elisa. For the clan, and yours.”

The gratitude should be fulfilling, but it just makes Matt’s mouth go dry and his throat tighten. In response, he gives a little shrug. “I have to,” he says quietly.

“I understand.” It doesn’t take much convincing for Matt to know that Goliath is sincere in his words. They both have to do this. “However, you place much of the burden upon yourself.”

There’s the sensation again. Being on the edge of a cliff, the ground under him cracking and threatening to become just rubble. Matt doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t know what to do with the empathy that Goliath is opening himself for. Hell, he can’t even claim to deserve it.

Tentatively, Matt turns to properly face the gargoyle, clenching his hands into fists. “If I have to work day and night to make sure this gets solved–”

“That isn’t all that I mean,” Goliath gently cuts him off. “Elisa spoke highly of you. She was proud to have someone so dependable.”

He doesn’t want to hear that. It makes Matt’s eyes burn.

“But you weren’t just partners. You aren’t just working. You’re seeking justice for a lost friend, and you cannot do it on your own.” Large hands rest on Matt’s shoulders, and the detective has to squeeze his eyes shut because he can’t trust himself otherwise. “You don’t need to hurt alone, Bluestone.”

Matt feels his jaw tense, his chest tighten, and he wants to stop. The edge of that cliff is too narrow. “I should’ve been there, Goliath.”

“Please look at me.”

The request feels like the hardest thing Matt has had to do tonight, but he doesn’t find it in himself to defy him. Reluctantly, Matt looks up at him, and he’s overwhelmed by the compassion on Goliath’s face; this warrior who is capable of incredible powerful feats, a steadfast sense of loyalty and determination, who is also unashamed of baring his heart.

“It was not your fault,” Goliath tells him. “You didn’t do this to her. You would never. I, too, wish I could give anything to undo the sorrow that binds us, but there is no going back. With your help, we’ll find the one responsible. That is how we will honor Elisa.”

From here, Matt feels like he gets a taste of that overwhelming abyss he’s been trying to keep himself from falling into. No words come out this time, and instead he’s closing his eyes, trying to keep himself together, but Goliath’s plucked a thread and unwound him some. Just like that, it feels like his strength is sapped as a tear rolls down Matt’s face.

All that strength and Goliath still treats him so gently as they sink to the floor. Where Goliath mourns with all of his might, Matt is subdued, finding himself curling up tight as he leans against the gargoyle. A hand is bracing his back, keeping him upright.

“Sun’s coming up,” Matt mutters out, rubbing at his eyes.

“I believe I am where I must be,” Goliath responds before flesh turns to stone.

While stone is a far cry from being the most comfortable, Matt is unwilling to do much in the way of moving. After roughly rubbing at his face, Matt hesitantly leans his head against the gargoyle’s shoulder.

Just for now.

Chapter Text

But I have that within which passeth show;
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

The day service is early, but not so much that Matt couldn’t finally get his deserved shower once he managed to pull himself away from Goliath. There’s an odd levity now; it’s not as if Matt is back to his usual self or that he suddenly has a sunny disposition, but there’s certainly less weight that is carried. Matt isn’t afraid of being perceived as weak, it isn’t that, it’s just he’s spent a good lot of his life on his own. He’d been prepared to carry this too, but the gargoyles are slowly making sure he doesn’t have to.

After getting dressed, Matt casts a look where Goliath is currently kneeled down. Looking downright heroic, he thinks wryly, but it might not be the best place for a gargoyle to roost. The least Matt can do is close the blinds and make sure Goliath is shielded that way from any potential nosy neighbors.

Before he steps out, Matt glances at the stone gargoyle. “Well. Guess I’ll see you tonight, big guy.” He looks down at Cagney curling up by Goliath. “You’re in charge.”

Cagney meows.

“I’m gonna assume that’s a yes.”

Despite the purpose of the funeral service, it’s a beautiful day. The temperature is immaculate, and only a few stray puffs of clouds in the sky as the sun beams down. As Matt makes his way toward the service, he recognizes most of the people present. There’s everyone from the precinct who could attend, a few stray faces he couldn’t say he knew, and of course the Maza family.

Matt takes in a breath as he sees the pained look on their faces but not a lick of blame targeting him. If anything, Diane is hurrying to meet up with him with her husband and daughter trailing after.

“Oh, Matt. How are you holding up?” she asks, even though her eyes are red and puffy.

“I’m managing, Mrs. Maza,” he answers.

“Diane,” she reminds him, taking his hand and gently squeezing.

Matt can’t remember ever seeing Elisa’s father look so tired, the weariness expressed by the crow’s feet under his eyes. Nonetheless, Peter is placing a hand to his shoulder. “You tell us if we can do anything, son. You hear?”

Elisa was always close with her family, which is something that Matt can’t imagine. It defines how alike she and Goliath are in that way, supported by the people that love them and helped raise them. He himself has never been particularly close to his own family, and Matt can’t remember the last time he’s exchanged words with someone he’s actually related to.

But with these people so precious to Elisa, Matt is trying. He’s trying.

So he nods stiffly in response. “I will,” Matt promises.

“Come sit with us,” Diane encourages, her voice warm and supportive. It feels like Matt should be the one doing the supporting, but she simply leads him by the hand to the front row of chairs.

As Matt sits down, he stares at the polished wood of the coffin before the crowd. He isn’t sure of the exact plans and proceedings intended, but no matter what it would have to be a closed casket. Preferably, Elisa isn’t in there, but he tries not to think about it deeply.

A few more minutes, and Captain Chavez goes to stand at the podium, dressed in black like the majority of them. Her demeanor is calm but determined, even if Matt knows she’s just as pained as anyone else. Meeting his gaze, she gives him a firm nod which he returns.

“I want to thank you all for attending,” she begins. “As a police officer, we know that there’s always this possibility, but I won’t lie – nobody is ever truly prepared for a day like this to come, least of all to someone like Elisa Maza. She wasn’t just one of the best we had as a detective, but a stand up individual. Someone who truly wanted nothing more than to protect this city and its people.”

Diane squeezes Matt’s hand, which he finds to be a surprising source of comfort, especially as he feels more and more tired the longer the service goes on. Not that he can blame anyone for coming up to speak, to share their thoughts on Elisa. To miss her, mourn her, and celebrate her. It isn’t the first time Matt has looked in the face of loss, but this is the hardest time he’s had to come to terms with the idea of saying good-bye.

Peter goes to speak, because of course he does. The pride in his face as he describes Elisa not just as a cop, but as a daughter. How hard it is to bury your own child. That is a pain that Matt doesn’t understand, but god he can’t imagine how it feels. Diane sniffs, eyes welling up understandably.

Matt pats down his pockets and finds a handkerchief to offer her quietly. The smile she has is genuine despite her wet cheeks, and she accepts in silence.

“Detective Bluestone,” Peter calls out. “Please, if you could share your own words.”

It almost makes Matt flinch, but he doesn’t think he could refuse the Mazas much of anything right now. Tenderly, Diane pats the back of his hand before letting go, letting Matt slowly stand up and take Peter’s place at the podium.

He tries to not directly look at anyone, so he decides to just gaze ahead at a tree. Seeing anyone’s face or expression feels too much before he finds the strength to speak.

“I don’t think I can do her poetic justice more than anyone else here,” Matt says, gripping the podium like a lifeline that could somehow ground him. “But I’ll try.” Breathing in, he says, “I don’t think I ever met anyone more stubborn than Elisa. You kind of have to be when you’re a detective and you know your own intuition, but she really took the cake.” That earns a few quiet chuckles of agreement and despite the situation Matt finds himself smiling fondly. “But she was also someone who made it feel like it’d be easy to be her friend, if you were lucky enough to meet her. So I guess that’s where I stand – I was lucky enough to end up as her partner. I couldn’t ask for more than that.”

By the tree he’s staring at, Matt frowns, spotting some movement and all too familiar face. It makes his blood boil, Matt’s jaw tensing as a sudden spike of anger fills him. If it’d been anyone else, he isn’t sure if he’d feel this furious.

“Sorry. Thank you, that’s all I have,” Matt finishes off quickly before he moves away from the podium.

Peter is quick to cover him, holding up his hand for everyone’s attention as he returns to the podium. “Thank you, Detective. Now, then…”

Whatever is spoken after, Matt tunes it out as he marches across the field. Looking at him with a calm little smile is Martin Hacker, lifting a hand and giving a friendly wave.

Matt grabs him by the front of his coat, hissing out, “What the hell are you doing here, Hacker?”

Hacker shrugs, like he’s done nothing wrong his entire life. “What, I can’t offer my condolences? I met Elisa. I can see why you liked her so much.”

“If you or those people did anything to be part of this–” Matt begins.

“Matthew. Please.” Hacker holds up his hands. “You’ll get everyone else’s attention.”

It pains him that Hacker isn’t wrong. If this escalates or gets loud, they’ll get too many eyes and ears on them. Despite everything in him wanting to knock Hacker onto his ass, Matt holds back and lets go.

After straightening his lapels, Hacker slings an arm around Matt’s shoulders, just like he used to back when Matt still might have considered him a friend. “I came here to assure you the opposite,” Hacker tells him, guiding him away from the rest of those attending the service. “Illuminati had nothing to do with what happened to Detective Maza.”

Everything in Matt wants to doubt Hacker, but he knows the reaction is purely emotional. Thinking about it objectively, it never once occurred to Matt that the Illuminati had anything to do with this. So no matter his personal misgivings, Matt finds himself reluctantly agreeing with Hacker and trusting his words.

“Do you know who might have had anything to do with it?” Matt asks instead, folding his arms.

Hacker gives a sigh. “Hey, I’m not as all knowing as you might think. But what I will tell you is that I’ll try to offer support however I can. For old time’s sake.”

“And what, let you have me turn in circles?” Matt shoves off his arm.

“Come on, Matt. We’re past that now.” Hacker puts his hands into his pockets. “Can’t blame you for still feeling sore, but let’s focus on your case here, yeah?”

Matt looks away, scowling. “I have plenty of help.”

“Right, from the gargoyles I’m sure. Well, that’s a pretty good resource, but you know I can offer more if you need it. Just say the word.”

Despite his own anger, Matt knows he needs to take every bit of aid he can. Not that he trusts Hacker; that ship has sailed a while ago. But there is always a chance he might need a bit of leverage somewhere.

Steeling himself, Matt finally says, “I’ll keep in mind.”

“That’s the spirit.” Hacker smiles and Matt wants to punch him. “You know how to get in touch.” A pause, then the smile sinks away before he offers, “Oh, and I really am truly sorry about Elisa, Matt. I know how much she meant to you.”

Unfortunately, Hacker would absolutely know that. It’s what makes this about as pleasurable as raking his own face against sandpaper; it stings that Hacker unfortunately knows him so well. Even if it means he’s honest about what he says, it feels like there’s still poison to them.

Matt turns away without another word, walking stiffly back toward the Maza family.

It isn’t surprising that Diane offers to take Matt with them for brunch, but he declines. There is the promise of meeting up at the Wind Ceremony that night, so it won’t be the last he sees of them today. He wants to think they’re being too supportive, but Matt remembers Goliath’s assurance that he doesn’t need to be alone in this. As difficult as that is to consider, he does make an effort to keep that close to his heart.

When Matt does eventually leave at the end of the memorial, Captain Chavez gives him a piercing look and sternly says, “Go home, Matt. I’d better not see you in the precinct this afternoon.”

Instead of arguing, Matt gives in with a sigh. “Yes, Captain.”

So, it’s back to his apartment to wait until sunset.

There’s a kind of comfort in coming back and seeing Goliath’s form in the middle of his apartment. Cagney had been sleeping at the gargoyle’s feet, but perks up when Matt approaches.

“I wonder if you know she’s gone,” Matt says absently, leaning down to let Cagney rub his face against the offered hand. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not her, but I’ll do my best.”

Cagney is fed, and it’s still the afternoon. Matt kicks off his shoes, looks over at Goliath in his stone sleep before settling down at his desk. There isn’t much more in the way of work that can be done, regrettably. Now, it’s a matter of waiting and being patient for the results, something that he can’t accelerate or control.

Not his favorite, but he does try to not spiral about it.

As he sits back at his desk, Cagney leaps into his lap and curls up, which pretty much just cements him in place. No moving anytime soon, got it. Matt gives him a scritch behind the ears before sitting back in his chair. Eventually, he opts to take out his notepad and begin to idly sketch away.

After Elisa and the others returned from their Avalon enforced world tour, she shared many stories with Matt. Other gargoyles in the world, Oberon’s Children, but the concept of the Loch Ness Monster being real alongside aliens are what excited him the most. Hell, he was downright jealous when she told him.

Don’t tell me you already believed in all of that, she said, laughing.

Well, I was right, wasn’t I? he teased right back. Tell me what they looked like.

And so he at least drew Nessie, based on Elisa’s description and summary of events. Drawing had been, at best, a hobby back when he was a kid. Eventually it evolved into a necessary tool for Matt to utilize when keeping track of his leads when photography wasn’t an option. He doesn’t dislike it, but he hasn’t made much room for hobbies in these past few years, not really. Even before it was revealed to him that the gargoyles were real, he tried to draw out the silhouettes he’d catch in the sky, the mechanical parts of the Steel Clan, and the time he witnessed Demona on television with her spell to turn watchers to stone.

Yet, this time, he just ends up drawing Goliath, which brings that spike of bashfulness again that he doesn’t want to consider. Matt rips off the page and crumples it up, tossing it to the waste bin with a shake of his head.

The time does eventually come when the sun finally hits the horizon. Trying to be forward thinking, Matt stands up and drops Cagney off into the bathroom so he doesn’t end up startled by a waking gargoyle. It’s just enough time spent since as soon as Matt closes the bathroom door, that’s when he hears stone crackling mere seconds before the telltale sound of Goliath roaring awake, pieces of stone scattering across the floor.

Making a mental note to borrow the station’s power vacuum down the line, Matt raises a hand. “It’s a nice night out there. Clear skies.”

Goliath pushes the blinds aside to have a look for himself, a deep rumble of consideration in his chest. After a moment, he’s looking back to Matt. “How was the service during the day?”

Letting Cagney out of the bathroom earns an indignant meow from the cat, who scampers off into the apartment. Matt starts to get his shoes on, shrugging as he says, “As good as it could be, I guess. My old partner from the FBI showed up, so that was less than pleasant.”

A frown forms on Goliath’s face. “And what did he want?”

“Tried to have a heart-to-heart, then said if I needed help I could ask him.” Matt shakes his head, sighing. “Sorry, I don’t really want to talk about him right now. Nothing bad happened, it’s just…”

As Matt trails off, Goliath offers his hand out, reassuring. “You don’t need to say more. I understand.”

For a gargoyle who has suffered more than his fair share of betrayals, Matt knows he does. Nonetheless, that uncomfortable shyness rears its head once again and twists in his chest. Maybe it’s that now that he’s presented with tenderness that Matt is feeling this way, uncertain how to take and process it. Fortunately, he’s never been a coward, and he takes Goliath’s hand into his own even if there’s an absurd size difference. The gargoyle’s hand absolutely dwarfs his own.

“Will you come with me to the Clocktower? Then…” Goliath gazes out the window in the direction of his old home, Castle Wyvern stacked on top of Xanatos’ priceless tower.

“I already assumed that was the plan,” Matt assures. “Whenever you’re ready.”

This time when Goliath holds him, Matt convinces himself to welcome it. It’s an uphill battle to even suggest to himself that he can accept what comfort he can from others and to say that he does deserve it, but if nothing else he is trying. It’s never the others he needs to persuade, just himself.

An updraft lets them glide higher, to really look down at the city from above and examine the horizon. The city that Elisa was so determined to protect with the gargoyles and the rest of the precinct.

“You’re right,” Goliath says. “It’s a beautiful night.”

There’s a bit more time before the Wind Ceremony. It gives Goliath the opportunity to make arrangements with the rest of the clan to determine their shifts in order to patrol and find the smugglers, and for them to review the recording Matt obtained from Vogel in regard to the theft.

When they pause on the screen that shows the very Goliath-shaped figure, there are thoughtful looks.

“And we’re definitely sure it isn’t Xanatos,” Brooklyn says dryly.

Matt folds his arms. “What’d we talk about the other night?”

“Yeah, I know. Who benefits.” Brooklyn shrugs. “People really need to stop stealing your look, Goliath. It’d make this a lot easier.”

A disgruntled and wordless grumble escapes Goliath.

“Well, that does bring up a good question, though. Are we looking specifically for a culprit that resembles Goliath, or just something that might look like him? If Xanatos can make the Steel Clan, someone just as intelligent could,” Lexington points out. “So maybe focusing on why the computers were taken is a good place to start?”

Matt nods. “Ball’s in your court, then. What do you think?”

“The computers are top of the line if you’re looking to do a lot of heavy programming and datamining,” Lexington says, picking up the folder that Matt had left for him containing the itemized list of stolen equipment from Cyberbiotics. “On their own they might not go for much, but if you were planning on needing a lot of computer power to run a program, then this is the stuff you’d want for sure.”

“Why Cyberbiotics instead of Xanatos Enterprises, though?” Brooklyn points out.

Matt taps his pen on his notepad. “I thought about that, too. Maybe there’s another reason, but looking at this recording makes it seem like it’s sending a really clear message.”

“Whoever’s the thief wanted to be seen!” Broadway announces, looking at Matt eagerly. “Right?”

The enthusiasm is met with a crooked smile from Matt. “Or at least wanted to cause misdirection. Maybe that’s also the point of robbing Cyberbiotics, to get people pointing fingers.”

“Mm.” Goliath nods. “Renard bears grudges against Xanatos, and understandably so. He isn’t foolish enough to jump to conclusions, but if he had good reason to believe the Steel Clan was involved then that would make matters all the more strenuous between them. I believe his love for his grandson is what tempers him for the time being.”

“Whoever’s behind all this has knowledge regarding both technology but also to set up the crime scene to make it look like it was in Elisa’s apartment.” Lexington thumbs through the folder idly. “And if it’s not Demona, then they have access to her DNA somehow.”

Angela takes in a breath as if to say something, then she looks away. As if to gather mental fortitude before broaching the topic, she finally says, “I know my mother probably survived that fire after everything with the clones. But… is it possible that maybe Thailog did as well?”

“We searched for remains and found nothing.” Hudson strokes his beard thoughtfully. “I don’t understand this matter with computers and programming, but I understand that he has a mind for scheming not unlike Xanatos.”

A scowl forms on Goliath’s face, his arms folding as he considers the possibility. More than a few times now Matt has seen his anger, either explosive or a low burning fire. Right now it’s the latter, slowly simmering but there nonetheless. Really, who could blame him? If it’s Demona that’s responsible, then it’s his former lover that was responsible for Elisa’s death. If it’s Thailog, then that’s effectively his son. Either option is a cruel one indeed.

Matt hesitates, then places his hand over Goliath’s arm. “We don’t know either way yet. Once we corner the smugglers, we’ll get our answers. Right now, it’s speculation.”

Maybe that isn’t enough, maybe Goliath is just preparing himself for the dark truth that waits at the end of this case. Matt can’t fix this, but Goliath glances at him, expression softened and that feels like a small victory.

“It’s difficult to not wonder, but you are right. It is enough that we have the ceremony tonight,” Goliath agrees.

“I still can’t make sense of what kind of programming would need so many computers, but hopefully we’ll locate them before finding that out.” Lexington hands the folder back to Matt. “Sorry if that wasn’t much help.”

“Nah, that’s plenty,” Matt assures. “If anyone else has any input, I’m open, but beyond that we have to wait it out.”

As much as he’s sure nobody wants to simply pace around until the opportunity to patrol arrives, it’s all that they have. At least until it’s time to leave for the castle, anyway. Everyone has their own way of dealing with the free time: Hudson and Bronx to the TV, Lexington working at his computer and chatting with Brooklyn, and lastly Angela and Broadway are in the humbly sized kitchen.

Matt finds himself following Goliath out to the stone balcony of where the gargoyles roost each night. The somber gargoyle is gazing back out toward Castle Wyvern, contemplative.

“Yeah, I’m not eager either,” Matt mutters, leaning on the railing. It earns a little grunt from Goliath, which is good enough. “So, question. I get the feeling from the other night that you’re not under the impression that it’s Demona. Am I right?”

Goliath peers down at him, then gives a little wry smile. “You and Elisa are both terribly perceptive.”

“Cops, what can you do.” Matt shrugs.

A heavy, beastly sigh escapes Goliath and his eyes return to Castle Wyvern. “I know we cannot conclude anything until the ones responsible are found, but I know Demona. If she was indeed the one to kill Elisa, she’d have gloated. Even if it was part of a larger scheme, I don’t believe she could hold back in celebrating a perceived victory.”

While it’s easy to assume from Xanatos’ actions that he couldn’t gain anything with Elisa’s death, Demona could – but in turn, it would be uncharacteristic of her to refrain from boasting. It’s good to know, and it knocks down the suspicion a touch.

“What about Thailog?” Matt asks.

Goliath is quiet for a moment, then shakes his head. “I cannot understand what would benefit him in such a way, but I also do not understand the kind of world he wishes to be part of. Money and power are the things he cares most for. As you say, what would he benefit from this?”

“I’ll admit, I have no idea. But I’m hoping we’ll have that answer soon, Goliath.”

“So do I.” Goliath looks back out into the night with Matt remaining at his side.

To Xanatos’ credit, he could have made the whole affair extravagant and gaudy. Hell knows he has the money to burn, but instead he keeps everything surprisingly subdued. There are some tasteful lights arranged for the humans, and a sizable table containing refreshments and food. Most surprisingly is the lone table with Elisa’s photograph, which isn’t large and overblown. It’s downright humble.

Awaiting their arrival is Xanatos himself dressed in a tasteful black suit with Fox in a simple black dress at his side and baby in arms. Owen, ever dutiful, is nearby and currently on a wireless phone holding a separate conversation.

“Goliath and the entourage,” Xanatos welcomes them as they land. “I do hope Detective Bluestone has been passing along my goodwill.”

“You are not one known for his charity, Xanatos,” Goliath answers, gently releasing Matt to his feet. “But he has been informing me.”

Xanatos shrugs. “Some people are hard to please, but I understand these are trying times. Please, make yourselves at home, and do let me know how else I can accommodate.”

The clan all have varying degrees of skeptical gazes toward Xanatos – or, in Lexington’s case, at Fox directly. The married couple only appear calm as can be, but it does seem like in their own way they are trying, giving the gargoyles their space as they gradually disperse in various directions.

Matt is tempted to follow after Goliath, but decides to refrain as the gargoyle looks at the photo of Elisa mournfully. In turn, it forms an uncomfortable pit in his own stomach and he opts to give Goliath his space, even if it leaves him at the side. It’s the least he can do.

“Excuse me, Mr. Xanatos,” Owen says, putting away his phone. “The Maza family are waiting in the lobby. I’ll escort them promptly.”

Xanatos nods. “Very good, Owen. I’m sure we can keep the clan entertained in the meanwhile.”

As Owen sets off to do just that, Matt watches as Fox decides to take initiative and make her approach to Lexington.

“Would you like to hold him?” Fox is crouching and offering Alex to him, but eyeing Lexington carefully.

Lexington frowns, but he’s nothing but delicate with the baby as he takes Alex into his arms. Gurgling excitedly, Alex gently baps his tiny hands against Lexington’s face, which does wonders to soothe the gargoyle’s general irritation with Fox. “He looks happy,” Lexington says, holding a talon up for Alex to grab at.

Matt manages to steal another glance at Fox, her face warm. “I know we haven’t been on the best of terms–”

“To put lightly,” Lexington remarks, looking up at her.

“But I want to start over, Lexington.”

Lexington wrinkles his nose, but again Alex’s giggling seems to do nothing but temper him as the gargoyle can’t help but smile. “For Alex’s sake, maybe I can try to do that.”

It’s amazing how much this child has done wonders to begin mending soured pasts, Matt thinks. By just being born, so much was repaired or remade in some way. It isn’t perfect, but maybe that’s just how love is. How it drives you to do what would otherwise be impossible. He hasn’t had much experience in that admittedly, but it seems to make sense here. Even for Xanatos and Fox.

By the refreshments, Matt spots where some of the clan had gone off to. “What is this? Some manner of… angry juice?” Angela asks, squinting at her cup.

Broadway grins. “Oh, that’s soda! We don’t have it that often at the Clocktower, but it’s pretty good, right?”

“Soda.” Angela considers the word as she has a sip from her cup. “It’s very sweet, but I think I do like it. It sort of tickles?”

“There are other flavors! The one here is orange. Brooklyn knocks grape, but I like it, personally.”

“Yeah, well, in my defense it doesn’t even taste like grape.” Brooklyn rolls his eyes. “Don’t get me started on whatever blue raspberry is.”

There’s the sound of others in flight as wind guides wings. Matt looks up, watching Derek along with the mutates and clones make their arrival, albeit there is immense displeasure on Derek’s face as he lands. Fangs are bared, and he’s shooting a dirty look toward Xanatos.

“Derek, so good of you to join us,” Xanatos says, unflappable.

Matt wants to put his face into his hands. If Xanatos had just kept his mouth shut, then he’s sure that it would’ve kept the peace. Instead, Derek’s temper takes the bait, and electricity shimmers wickedly over his claws.

“Don’t you start, Xanatos. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was you we should be blaming,” Derek sneers.

Xanatos smiles sharply. “I can’t argue that I’d have the means, but I must say I’m a bit confused at the accusation. Do tell me, what’s my villainous motive here?”

“Derek, please.” Matt tries to interject. “This was my idea. I asked him.”

If nothing else, Derek’s furious look turns away from Xanatos, aiming it now onto Matt instead. “Of course it was,” he scoffs. “You helped put together this whole farce, and for what? To spit on Elisa’s memory?!”

“Talon, we don’t have the luxury of bickering with each other,” Brooklyn tells him firmly. All usual signs of the sarcastic gargoyle have slid away into him taking on the role as Goliath’s second-in-command, standing up straighter as he approaches the conversation. “I get it, you want someone to blame. So do I. So do all of us.”

Derek’s fists tighten, but at least the sparks of lightning have faded. The anger remains, but it does look as though he respects Brooklyn enough to hold himself back even a fraction. “You and Goliath are seriously condoning this? After everything he’s done!”

“Derek Carlos Maza!” Diane’s voice hollers across the way.

“Ooo, full name,” Brooklyn hisses out sympathetically, more of his usual personality shining through once again. “Tough luck, Talon.”

Derek’s ears flatten against his head and he almost sulks as he watches Diane approach. “Mom, I–”

“Oh, don’t you Mom me.” Diane points at him like he’s still a toddler. “Come here!”

Reluctantly, Derek makes his way toward her. Instead of further berating him, Diane pulls him into an embrace, squeezing tightly. Slowly, Derek melts into the hug, his wings sinking around them.

“You’re angry. We all are,” Diane whispers, voice hitching with a sob. “But please, don’t take it out on people who are trying to help, honey.”

Derek closes his eyes and frowns before he gives a stiff nod. He doesn’t argue, listening to Diane’s advice made out of love for her family.

Peter places his hand to Derek’s shoulder. “I was going to lecture you, but it seems like your mom’s got it covered.”

“Yeah.” Derek’s voice cracks a little. “Thanks, Dad.”

Diane kisses Derek’s cheek, uncaring of the velvety fur that covers her son’s skin now. “It hurts like hell,” she says quietly, dabbing her eyes away with a finger. “For all of us. But that’s why tonight is important.” Now her gaze turns to Xanatos, addressing him. “I won’t forgive you for what you’ve put my children through, but I will thank you for having us here.”

Xanatos holds up his hands, as if to surrender. “Rest assured, Mrs. Maza, I completely understand now. More than I could have months ago. Having my own son now has admittedly… put much into perspective.”

That earns a smile from Diane despite her teary eyes. “Then may you never have reason to feel what we feel right now.”

Xanatos answers with a polite nod of his head, as if deferring to her. No amount of words can completely heal all wounds, and clearly he knows better than to argue with the force of nature that is Diane Maza.

Matt watches as Diane sets about to pull Maggie into a loving embrace as well before she’s headed off to speak with Goliath, who had looked toward the direction of where Derek began to instigate. Wings out, a hesitant look; Matt catches his gaze, and Goliath gives him a nod before he sets to speak in a hushed conversation with Diane and Peter. Behind them, Matt can also see Broadway and Angela embracing Beth.

“Not bad stepping up there,” Hudson muses to Brooklyn.

“We’ve got enough to deal with as it is.” Brooklyn sighs. “But I really don’t blame him. I know I see red whenever Demona shows up.”

Something Matt himself understands. The moment Hacker showed his face to Matt at the day service, he nearly lost it. The lack of sleep probably doesn’t help, but he’d been close to letting his anger and betrayed emotions get the better of him. Grudges can be a driving force, but it also can make them easily blind.

Besides, Matt hasn’t ever really blamed Derek for anything this entire time. At least he has the freedom to be angry. That’s better than most.

From the outside, Matt watches them. The clones don’t seem to quite know what to do or what to make of their situation, but he does see Brooklyn walking over to try to start a conversation with Delilah. Goliath continues to be in a deep discussion with Diana and Peter, the former hugging Goliath’s arm to herself. Lexington continues to rock Alex in his arms, looking at the baby fondly while occasionally exchanging polite but firm words with Fox.

Claw is silent, as can be expected. He looks to have a mix of grief as any of them, but perplexed as to what he should do with himself.

“Hey,” Matt calls out. Claw points to himself, expression inquisitive. “Sign language?”

A sorrowful shake of his head. So Claw doesn’t know any.

“Oh.” Matt considers. “I’m a bit rusty, but… you feel like learning?”

It’s a good distraction ultimately, Claw enthusiastically trying to follow along. The pair of them could use something to focus on, and Matt gets it; everyone else is understandably busy with each other. Not forgotten, just occupied. That’s how it is sometimes.

They go over some basic things. How to say hello, good-bye, thank you, and Claw figuring out how to spell his name. Though Hudson doesn’t partake, he’s watching with some curiosity.

“I have a friend who cannot see, but has a way of reading with a way humans have made. It seems there is also a method regardless of one’s voice or lack thereof,” Hudson muses.

“People are either really good at figuring out how to overcome their personal battles, or we just make more problems for each other.” Matt finishes showing Claw how to form sorry with his hands. “Humans or gargoyles, I guess.”

Hudson chuckles. “I suppose so.” He looks in the direction of Brooklyn, who is still actively trying to engage with Delilah. “Speaking of making more problems for ourselves…”

Matt thinks back briefly to the way Broadway and Angela would be flustered with each other. Right, a lot of them are still barely more than teenagers. He does not envy Hudson or Goliath with that particular problem. “Striking out, huh. That’s rough.”

“Get him to lead us and he’s as clever as they come. With love…” Hudson sighs. “Not a lick of patience there, I fear.”

Claw makes the gesture for sorry and Matt has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. It’s a strange sensation to suddenly bubble up inside, but it’s nice to finally get a taste of levity for a change.

There’s a sulk in Brooklyn’s step as he returns from his less than successful attempts. He pauses, casting a look toward Broadway and Angela, as if to analyze how close they are. Then, one last glance cast to Maggie and Derek before the gargoyle sighs. It doesn’t take much to piece it all together; Brooklyn’s made his attempts in romance in at least three unsuccessful areas so far. It’ll sting, but he’ll get over it.

“Don’t be in such a hurry,” Hudson chides fondly.

Brooklyn’s beak clicks irritably. “It’s whatever,” he tries to brush it off.

“Piece of advice,” Matt muses absently. “Don’t go looking. Whenever it’ll happen, it’ll happen.”

There’s a squint from Brooklyn as he peers at Hudson and Matt, then he looks away. “I dunno if I should be listening to a local bachelor,” he says, mostly just to be a petty teenager.

Matt’s hardly offended, expressing that with a loose shrug. “Also, I don’t think a funeral is a good place to try to hit it off with the first girl you see.”

“I don’t get to the Labyrinth often,” Brooklyn defends himself. “When’s the last time you went out for fun, anyway? The way Elisa said it, you had the awareness of a brick.”

Matt purses his lips, mostly because he doesn’t have much of a defense for that. He looks at Hudson. “Darn kids,” he decides to say instead.

Their attention is grabbed by Goliath calling out for the clan’s attention. Thus, they go to gather sans Xanatos and his family. As they group up, Matt remains more or less on the outside of it. As far as he’s concerned, he’s done his part in making sure the arrangements are in place and that the clan can do their last rites. After the case is finally solved and closed, it’s onward; back to his job, back to orbiting lightly around the gargoyles. He’d never replace Elisa and he would never want to.

“For those unfamiliar with the custom,” Goliath begins, “we give our final words. After, her ashes will be released, and we shall glide with her. This is with the blessing of Elisa’s family, for which I cannot express with mere words our gratitude.”

“Elisa wasn’t just our family,” Peter assures. “She was yours too.”

Gratefully, Goliath bows his head to Peter.

“What about you, Matt?” Broadway asks.

The question catches him off guard, Matt feeling strangely cold and light and too heavy all at once. “You– wait. You want me to join you?”

There isn’t even a second of hesitancy from Goliath as he extends his hand out to Matt. “I already assumed that was the plan,” Goliath remarks with a hint of amusement, calling back to earlier that night when he had awoken.

In any other circumstance, Matt would appreciate that sense of humor. Right now, he’s averting his eyes. “This is for your clan,” he says, even if he feels like suddenly the air is gone from his lungs.

“Bluestone, she was just as important to you as she was to us.” Goliath takes a step closer. “And as far as I have been concerned these past few nights, you are also part of my clan. Of course I will not force you, but I welcome you to come with us.”

For a moment, Matt glances toward the rest of the gargoyles in Goliath’s clan. Nothing but earnest looks; no judgment or uncertainty. As if this was all mutually agreed upon long ago, and just like that suddenly Matt isn’t just the eccentric outsider that visits every now and again with Elisa. Parts of him are recoiling on the inside due to unreasonable instinct formed by the looming cloud of the past, years ago and days ago both uniting together in perfect conviction.

Yet, Matt thinks he’d be committing a worse sin by refusing them.

He puts his hand in Goliath’s. It feels like nothing but warmth and acceptance, all the things he doesn’t know or doesn’t deserve, but it’s for him anyway. Goliath leads him toward the edge of the castle’s wall, and as he does so Matt watches Diane delicately hand an urn to Hudson with a bittersweet smile.

While Matt isn’t anywhere close to saying good-bye, death is never kind enough to wait. It was difficult to do a day service, but to do this again feels just as painful. Though, really, he shouldn’t complain; he isn’t like the Mazas who have to do this too.

The thought cycle is interrupted with a careful squeeze of Goliath’s hand. Matt breathes in sharp, then nods, silently appreciative.

Hudson opens the urn, letting the wind capture the remains. The clan speak in unison:

"Ashes to ashes or dust to dust. All is one with the wind."

After settling the urn back into Diane’s arms, Hudson gives her a bow before he turns to take off, leading the clan into a unified flight. Following after him, Angela and Broadway haul Bronx into their hold to take the beast with them. Once Lexington and Brooklyn glide after, Goliath is lifting Matt into his arms once again in order to go with them.

It isn’t that unusual of a custom, and in fact Matt can see the comfort in it. To take one last flight with someone you love, and find closure with them being with you.

Hesitantly, Matt places his arm around Goliath’s neck, and closes his eyes. For a moment, he can imagine Elisa is actually with them.

When Matt first looked at the gargoyles in person when Elisa finally introduced him, there wasn’t a sliver of fear in him by the sight of the creatures. It was validation, and a sense of wonder. Though he’d still been sore about Elisa keeping the truth from him for so long, ultimately he’d come to understand. Regardless, Matt doesn’t think he’d ever been afraid of them even when they’d just been something caught in the distance when he got lucky.

He still holds nothing but respect for them, admires them especially now.

The ceremony is complete, and Goliath has instructed them to begin their patrol. Matt has no doubt that Goliath plans to join them, but the gargoyle has every intention of ensuring he goes home safely. Feeling utterly emotionally exhausted, Matt doesn’t argue, letting Goliath take him away to his apartment.

After they land, Matt finds his feet and looks up. “I’ll stop by the Clocktower tomorrow night.”

“Then you must rest for now,” Goliath responds, tone wry. “Until then.”

Matt pauses for a moment to watch him glide away into the night. It’s annoying to not join in on the patrol, but he does get it; he can’t afford to be a liability as he is right now, running all over the place on little sleep. Four hours was just enough to get him through the other night, but right now he’ll make the effort.

Eventually, Goliath’s silhouette vanishes in the sky, leaving Matt feeling oddly empty. As he goes into his apartment, Cagney is already purring up a storm, waiting to be fed. After dropping off the dish for him, Matt closes the curtain and turns to look down at the remains of Goliath’s awakening earlier.

“Should’ve had him clean up before he left,” Matt remarks, putting his hands on his hips as he peers down at the bits of stone.

No power vac until later, so he just sighs and gets to sweeping the pieces into a pile so he can deal with it later. It’s pretty impressive how much the stone pieces can fly, especially with the force of it.

He gets to his waste bin and pauses, remembering the sketch he’d done earlier in the day. Hesitantly, he unfolds the crumpled paper, looking down at it. Objectively, it isn’t bad; after all, it’s just a drawing of Goliath, but it does create a twisting in his gut. The strange shyness, the bashful sensation in his chest.

When’s the last time you went out for fun, anyway? The way Elisa said it, you had the awareness of a brick.

Matt doesn’t like the way this line of thinking is going, but even he can’t ignore some of the pieces he’s lined up for himself. That deep admiration he has for Goliath’s traits, physical and emotional both.

Uh-oh.

“Nope,” Matt mutters to himself, rolling the paper into a ball and throwing it into the bin again. “We’re not doing that.’

That’s a thought he is immediately going to box up and put away in his mind. There are just too many parts of it that aren’t… okay. Elisa and Goliath were in love. She just died days ago. Matt would never dream of replacing her, not ever.

So that’s a door he’ll shut tight and lock. It’s the last thing anyone needs, especially Goliath.

There’s a tap to his window that breaks him out of the moment, earning a confused frown from Matt. Then there’s a familiar voice.

Goliath’s voice.

“Matt? Are you still there?”

His grip tightens on the broom, Matt’s eyes widening and his heartbeat increasing anxiously. Everything starts to fall together in his mind, and he knows now that Angela had the right idea after all.

Whatever he does next is going to determine the next five minutes and how this case will conclude.

“Just a minute,” Matt calls back, keeping his voice even and calm as he scoops Cagney up suddenly, putting the cat into the bathroom before shutting the door. Poor guy is confused, meowing and pawing at the door, but it’s the best place for him right now.

He takes out his gun, hand steady despite his increased pulse. Reaching for the phone, he leaves it off the hook and dials it. It rings, and he leaves it off the receiver, hoping the next minute is loud enough to be heard. Lastly, he reaches into his pocket and takes out the small communication device that should connect right to wherever Lexington is, turning it on.

“Did you forget something, Goliath?” Matt asks loudly, slowly approaching the curtain.

“Uh, Matt. It’s Lex,” he hears Lexington say in his ear.

“Just one thing,” is the answer he receives.

“What? But…” Lexington starts to figure it out.

There’s a second where Matt braces himself, thinking of several different possibilities of how this may go. No matter its ending, he at least needs to live long enough to put things right. And so, Matt pulls back the curtain and immediately aims his gun.

Unfortunately, Thailog is prepared with an advanced looking rifle in his arms that’s already pointed at Matt, a smug smile on his face that feels wrong to look at.

Aware that this isn’t even a fight, Thailog steps into the apartment fearlessly. Matt has never seen him before, only aware of his existence. Though he looks and sounds almost exactly like Goliath, the way he bears himself is completely different. There’s an arrogant swagger to him, a predator just toying with his prey.

Thailog tells him, “I encourage you to do this the smart way, Detective.”

There’s the temptation for defiance, but if Matt doesn’t cooperate then he’s genuinely concerned that he can’t ensure that justice will be served. Matt puts on the safety, then tosses the gun aside before holding up his hands in reluctant surrender.

“Matt! Run!” Lexington tries to urge him.

There’s a tilt of Thailog’s head, then a deep amused chuckle before he’s grabbing Matt by the throat. Matt holds his breath, but Thailog doesn’t apply any pressure; the threat of talons digging into flesh or strength crushing his neck is probably enough without needing to go through with it.

“Whatever do you have there?” he purrs before tilting Matt’s head, looking at the comm device. “Hmm. And here I was, hoping we were having a private conversation.” Plucking it out, Thailog easily crushes it between his fingers. “Now, then.”

Abruptly, Matt is thrown across the room and he feels the back of his head smash against the wall. His vision blurs for a moment and his head rings with pain. It isn’t the worst he’s experienced, but it does take him a moment to blink until his sight is clear enough to make out Thailog’s form.

The gargoyle clone points his rifle at Matt’s face, his voice sounding utterly jovial as he says, “Let me get you escorted to somewhere more… comfortable.” He raises his hand, holding some type of radio as he speaks into it: “Come up and collect our guest, then return to base. There’s work to be done.”

Chapter Text

The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.

The most annoying part about being kidnapped again is the blindfolding. It makes Matt admittedly a bit more nervous to not be able to see, which is not helpful when Thailog’s mercenaries are bossing him around and telling him to walk. Ultimately, he has to rely on his sense of sound and hope he doesn’t stumble too much.

From his apartment to wherever they’re going in the middle of the night, it feels like maybe it’s about a twenty minute drive or so. It’s hard to say how much time might be spent in them driving circles to keep from guessing, but assuming they’re taking a relatively direct path then that’s about his rough estimation after they park the vehicle.

As soon as Thailog’s mercenaries arrived at his apartment to drag him away, Thailog had already left. Wherever he is now, Matt can only hope that maybe he’s visible enough for Goliath and his clan to spot, even if it’s unlikely. Thailog’s been careful to keep out of sight this long, and with morning approaching there isn’t much to be done.

Matt is yanked to his feet and shoved forward, instructed to walk with one of the men leading him along roughly.

While he can’t tell much else other than the mercenaries whispering to each other, he can pick up the sound of computer hard drives at work. For what, he can’t tell, but there are several as they pass by. Whatever they’re for, it’s impossible for Matt to tell by simply listening.

“Have a seat,” one of the thugs grunts at him, shoving Matt into an uncomfortable metal chair. The cuffs are redone so that the chain is caught up in the back of it, keeping Matt essentially tied to his seat. After a few experimental tugs, he finds that the cuffs are tight enough that Matt sincerely doubts he could manage to slip free.

Well. They probably know that he’s a cop, so that’s fair.

A voice pierces the silence of the room, Thailog speaking over some kind of intercom: “Leave and close the door. I’d like to have a little chat with our guest in private.”

Footsteps, and then the door shuts, leaving Matt alone for a moment with just his thoughts and the cold air. Then, he hears metal scraping – a sliding door, he thinks. When he hears who he thinks is Thailog walking, it’s with a very similar heft as Goliath’s even if it’s more of a confident stride than a thoughtful step.

Talons grip his jawline carefully so as to not apply too much pressure or tempt pointed tips to pierce skin, tipping Matt’s face slowly from side to side. “Hm. Not bad.” Those talons then slowly rake through his hair, grazing his scalp. “Maybe it’s the red hair?”

What. Matt doesn’t even know how to respond to that, though he finds that it’s leaving him in a cold discomfort.

Abruptly, the blindfold is ripped off, Matt squinting and blinking away the sting of bright lights in the room. It’s sparse, nothing but steel flooring, walls, and ceiling, the only decoration being old rust and water stains. There are a pair of vents on either side of the room, but not big enough for him to even consider using as a means of escape.

“Real cozy place you have here,” Matt mutters.

“A work in progress. I’m afraid furnishing doesn’t come cheap,” Thailog answers with a coy smile. “I have to say, you’ve honestly surprised me. Elisa Maza was one thing, but I severely underestimated her partner. To me, you just– well. You seemed like a nobody, let’s be honest. Out of all the humans in this city, you weren’t exactly on my top 5 list of ones I had to worry about.”

It’s going to pay to keep him talking and clearly Thailog likes to listen to himself. Probably gets that particular trait from Xanatos. Matt snorts at him. “That sounds like a personal problem to me.”

“Rest assured, this is what we call a learning opportunity. Though I have to ask, what gave me away earlier? I didn’t think I had to work too hard on my Goliath impression.”

Matt finally jerks his head away from Thailog’s grip. “He calls me by the last name. Maybe you should actually do your research. Just a suggestion.”

“Oh?” Thailog keeps his insufferable smile. “Maybe I had the wrong idea after watching the two of you. Dear old dad is terribly sentimental, but your puppy eyes were memorable in particular. A bit pathetic, but memorable.”

“You have hell of an imagination.”

“Please. It doesn’t take a detective to sort out this particular mystery.” The smile on Thailog’s face becomes something crueler as he reaches into a pouch and pulls out a piece of paper, showing its all too familiar contents to Matt.

The drawing of Goliath that Matt had thrown away –

“You went through my garbage?”

“What can I say, I was mildly curious. A nice payoff.” Thailog rubs his chin. “How noble you’ve made him look. Though maybe… oh dear, my old man doesn’t know, does he? The drama of it all, Matthew.”

This is a method to get under his skin, and Matt isn’t interested in letting him, even if he does feel unbearable shame about it. For a moment, there’s a terrifying chill running through his blood at being so blatantly seen, but he can’t afford to let Thailog win. It’s nothing, and Matt told himself to put it away. He can never cross that boundary.

There are more important things going on here.

So Matt tries to redirect the conversation. “Your operation must be pretty important if you felt like you had to go out of your way to grab me and kill someone else for it. What’s the deal?”

It’s subtle, and Matt thinks that if the room was any darker then he wouldn’t pick it up, but there’s the tiniest twitch on Thailog’s brow when Matt mentions the word kill. Interesting. He wasn’t under the impression that Thailog had any particular problems with murdering in order to get his way, but maybe there’s something else going on here. So, he takes a mental note of it.

“Do you know what’s fascinating in the world of humans? The concept of profit. Arbitrary ideas of value for things even if there isn’t a physical existence for it.” Thailog chuckles to himself. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a game I’ve loved playing so far. New ways for power and innovation for myself. I suppose I could do it Xanatos’ way, but where’s the fun in that?”

“So it’s money.”

Thailog laughs. “Matt, it’s always about money. Don’t act all defiant, you rely upon it for your society and I’m simply taking part. I’ll be creating a new method of currency online, but to be able to do that I figured I’d borrow some of Renard’s equipment to make it happen. NiteCoin will gradually become immensely profitable for me.”

It sounds like a completely absurd idea, but it isn’t as wicked as say stealing someone’s DNA to make a clone servant out of them. It’s just about money?

Matt shakes his head. “What does this have to do with Elisa?”

“It’s a shame what happened.” A sigh escapes from Thailog, a theatrical act that is a mockery of sorrow. “She followed one of our vehicles.” The van with the dent in it, Matt thinks. So there were two reasons to ditch it: one, because Thailog knew Elisa saw it and two, because it was used to move her body. “When she arrived here, I confronted her personally.”

Confronted. He really did kill her, didn’t he? There’s a sharp rise of anger in Matt, the urge to curse him out, but it’d be useless to give Thailog the chance to gloat about it.

“I’d hoped that ideally people would simply think she took her own life, but I had my back up plans.” Thailog makes a tsk sound before he says, “But as I said, I deeply underestimated you. If it was just left in the hands of Goliath and his clan, they’d probably still be chasing down Demona right now.”

“Some praise,” Matt remarks.

Thailog tilts his head. “It’s the truth, I’ve been quite impressed and I’d be happy to give you a chance that I didn’t give Elisa. Honestly, having a cop as a partner would be extremely beneficial to me. And I can easily pay you more than whatever your sad little wage is from the force.”

“Oh come on, you really think I’m the kind of guy that can get bought out?” Matt snaps at him.

“Too true. I already underestimated you once. Shame on me. Well…” Abruptly Thailog moves in close to purr into Matt’s ear, really impacting just how much his voice is a perfect match for Goliath’s other than the cadence being wrong. “If it isn’t just money that’d satisfy you, then I’m certain I can give you what Father won’t.”

It takes Matt a second to understand that particular implication; when it sinks in, it leaves his skin crawling as he holds his breath.

A small alarm blips from Thailog’s wrist, the gargoyle clone slipping away from his stance with a sigh. “Well, that concludes our conversation for now. I’d suggest giving it a serious thought, Matt. Choose me, or you can choose to join your partner. You have time to figure out the right choice.”

Thailog turns away, knocking on the steel door before he shouts orders: “Keep him awake and uncomfortable. I’m certain that’ll keep his mind clear.” At that, Thailog pushes a button on a control panel to his wrist, causing the wall to slide open and allowing his exit.

Matt is left by himself temporarily, exhaustion once again biting the edges of his mind. The blinding white lights on the ceiling might have been something he could have ignored, but he can feel cold air begin to roll in from the vents. Initially, it isn’t so horribly chilling akin to a freezer and more akin to air conditioning mercilessly being on blast. It’s mildly uncomfortable especially since he’s lacking his usual coat, but it’s tolerable.

At least, at first.

The mercenaries are clearly keen to keep Thailog’s orders, Matt quickly finds out as the door opens. The one that enters has a self-satisfied looking smile on his face. “Thirsty?” the thug asks, not waiting for an answer before he dumps a bucket of ice cold water over Matt.

It’s a shock to his system, making him gasp. With the cold air blowing and no real warmth coming to his relief, it leaves Matt shivering and gritting his teeth against it. The mercenary leaves with a laugh, door shutting locked behind him.

Matt twists a wrist pointlessly against his cuffs, knowing they’re just too snug to do anything easily with. If he’s going to find a way to escape, it isn’t by doing some magic trick with the cuffs. He’ll have to do something else.

Not that he can rush this as the purpose of waiting is important. If he escapes from the cuffs too soon, it’ll be pointless. It’d be too easy for him to be captured all over again, and he has no back up to speak of at the moment. Not until maybe night, optimistically. Assuming that Matt has managed to set up everyone else for success by indicating to Lexington just who came for him last night, and the phone he left off the hook.

For now, he has to figure out the best way for timing. Too much time to think and dwell and hurt, so he spends it by counting the seconds and minutes. It’s monotonous, but necessary.

His mind strays, and Matt thinks of how once he really didn’t expect anyone to come for him. Hell, when Dracon and his crew caught him during the Silver Falcon debacle, Matt honestly wasn’t even sure if Elisa would go looking for him. It’s not like they had a bad relationship then, but they also weren’t so close then either. It wasn’t until after that case he started to feel a better kinship with her, which only felt even stronger after she finally agreed to let him meet the gargoyles.

Then again, Matt has always been this way. He’s never been close to what remains of his family, never had a sibling, didn’t have much in the way of friends. The most comfortable place he felt as a kid was Mr. Jaffe’s store, where he’d read tabloids with an interest and he’d get a pity cookie from the store owner. Sad to say that the old man’s probably the closest thing he’d ever had to a father.

Having more is… a mystery to him. One that Matt hasn’t managed to solve yet.

Time has gone on enough that there’s another bucket of water dumped him and Matt chokes at the chill soaking him to the bone, not even having it in him to do more than that as a reaction. He can hardly do much more to try to stave it off, and he tries to go back to counting.

As time inches by leaving him cold, wet, and shivering, it seems like the mercenaries are clockwork in nature: once every hour, they opt to give him a refresher on the ice water from the bucket. Each time leaves him somehow colder than before, and he can’t quite keep his teeth from chattering. There are crueller methods of torture, but he could see someone caving in, too. It’s miserable. Matt can’t remember how cold someone has to be for hypothermia, and he’s hoping he won’t have to find out anytime soon.

Finally, when it’s been close to fifty-five minutes since the last time they’ve drenched him and he figures it’s getting close to dusk, that’s when Matt decides to take action. He’s hardly at his best all things considered: how utterly tired he is, his head pounding, and the hunger, but not unlike Elisa he’s very, very good at being stubborn.

Which leads to his very painful plan.

Carefully, he starts to rock the chair from side to side, closing his eyes and bracing himself for what’s next. The chair tips with all of his weight and force behind it, the metal slamming down and crushing his left hand, bones cracking.

It’s a miracle that Matt manages to stifle himself by biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut as pain shoots up his arm. He shudders, managing to pull his left hand out from the cuffs, albeit not without a struggle against how much it hurts. It’s enough to make him feel nauseated on top of everything else, but he can’t afford to stop now. Someone might have heard that.

With one hand free of cuffs, he manages to untangle the chain free of the chair, allowing him to finally stand up. He freezes for a second as he hears the door start to open, then he moves into action, motivated by adrenalin. Hauling the chair in his one working hand, Matt swings it hard enough against the mercenary’s head to knock him out, bucket and its contents spilling on the floor.

Dropping the chair, Matt pats down the mercenary to try to find anything useful. Two items he’s able to pocket: a keycard, and a taser.

“It’ll do,” he mumbles to himself, forcing himself up, stumbling through the sensations screaming in his body. Matt shuts the door behind him and peers around, trying to figure out the layout.

It looks to be a warehouse from a quick glance. Tables and tables are set up with computers, running loudly with a hum as they do their work with Thailog’s bizarre online currency. It disgusts him to think that Elisa died for this, and he isn’t sure how to deal with Thailog yet, but there has to be a way.

Ahead, he sees some kind of control room that’s arranged to overlook everything else, a ladder and scaffolding leading up to it. There are security cameras around, but from what Matt can glean the mercenaries are too confident and comfortable talking to each other up there than paying heed to their cameras. It’d probably also explain why Broadway found that receipt to Happy Fortune; they were complacent.

Eyes flit up, he sees sprinklers. They’re lining up the ceiling, just over the working computers. Following a trail of cables, he sees where the fire alarm is. Bolting toward the fire alarm, Matt pulls it, wincing at the blaring sound of sirens as water begins to rain down over the vulnerable computers. He doesn’t wait around, running toward what seems to be a broom closet that he can wait in as he hears several pairs of feet frantically running to stop the sprinklers from destroying the computers. Leaving the door cracked open lets him watch how many are running, and that only one guard is left in the control room.

Banking on the mercenaries being too distracted, Matt slips free from the closet and makes his way up the ladder, shuddering as he has to climb with only one hand. As he makes it up to the control room, he stays crouched until he has the element of surprise, watching as the guard has his back to the door. Maybe not for long, but it’s enough.

Matt bursts in, triggering the taser against the guard’s back, letting him drop to the floor. He kills the lights inside the room, hoping it’s enough to mask the fact that he’s inside. Giving pause, he looks over the controls available.

Mostly, it’s covered in screens and displaying various footage across the warehouse. It’s primarily just the guards working on the computers, running to see what’s still working and what isn’t. The diversion probably won’t last long, but he can’t help but think as he looks down at the recordings.

Sliding in the keycard he’d gotten earlier, types in a command with his working hand to view the footage from the day Elisa must have died. It must have been sometime around 3:00am to 4:00am, he thinks.

And he isn’t wrong. With enough fiddling, he stops when he sees Elisa on the screen, completely familiar. Her signature red jacket, and how she’s investigating a section of the warehouse. Not as many computers as he sees in present time, but roughly the same amount that must have been smuggled prior.

Matt holds his breath, watching painfully. He wonders why she didn’t wait for him, didn’t wait for backup, but Elisa had always been strong willed. Maybe she just wanted to go in to confirm, but didn’t expect to never come back out. It’s all he can think of. It’s not as if he could ever ask her now.

A door opens with a familiar silhouette. Elisa whirls around and takes out her gun. “Thailog,” she says flatly. “Figures that you survived after your clone party.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled, Elisa, Thailog answers mockingly, approaching her. “In any case, you’re trespassing and I will need to escort you off the premises.”

For a split second in the recording, it is a standoff as Elisa slowly backs away and Thailog clearly has no intent of letting her go so easily. Eventually, Thailog lunges at her, but Elisa is quick enough to somersault away before bringing up her gun, taking aim and ready to fire.

Unfortunately, Thailog reacts quickly, leaping again and grabbing for her wrists. The two of them are struggling in the recording, trying to get Elisa’s gun–

Matt hears the shot and looks away, flinching. Steeling himself, he dares to look back at the screen. There isn’t a look of triumph on Thailog’s face; it’s irritation. Not exactly regret, but Matt wonders if that struggle didn’t go as he had hoped.

“Hey! How did he get out?!” Matt hears one of the mercenaries yell behind him. Damn, he spent too much time going over this.

He exits out the adjoining door, bracing himself as he leaps down instead of using the ladder. The landing at the bottom is rough and makes Matt stumble enough that he slips and falls to his knees painfully for a second. On a good night, he’d have made that without a problem, but considering how hard he’s pushing through a wretched day he’s lucky that’s the worst of it.

Pushing himself up to his feet, he scrambles to make some headway. There’s a jump when he hears the intercom go off: “Do not follow the prisoner. Check on those computers, now.”

Thailog’s awake. That’s bad, but it also means so are the other gargoyles. A mixed blessing, but at least Matt more or less nailed the timing. It doesn’t mean that he can relax, though.

Running and counting on the rest of the mercenaries to not follow him, Matt slams open the next door he sees with his shoulder. He shoves it closed, locking it behind him, which will probably only do so much to buy him time. Looking around, he can see that he’s in what’s essentially a room dedicated to an HVAC system. More scaffolding leads up to stairs. Going up doesn’t seem like it’s going to help that much, but it’s less about making a true escape and more about buying time.

As Matt starts to go up, he hears the distinct sound of metal shrieking as Thailog rips the door off its hinges, eyes glowing red. It causes him to momentarily freeze in place, watching Thailog treat metal like it’s just cardboard to buckle under his hands. Logically, he knows how strong a gargoyle is, but to actually be pursued by one really spins things around to enforce just how terrifying that is.

“I was charmed by your persistence before. Now, I’m vexed,” Thailog growls deeply. “Do you understand how much of a setback this is?”

“I’m so sorry to hear it,” Matt bites back at him scathingly as he keeps running up to the next door.

A gargoyle’s roar booms throughout the room before Thailog is leaping up, grabbing onto the scaffolding and tearing it out of the wall and floor. It makes Matt lose his footing again, scrambling to try to make it to the more stable set of stairs. The scaffolding is ripped away just as Matt manages to grab onto the railing to the stairs. He doesn’t stop, rushing to throw open the door, stumbling through to the other side.

It leads him outside, stuck on a rooftop with a furious Thailog right behind him. Matt doesn’t have much on him, but he takes out the taser, debating on its effectiveness against a gargoyle of Thailog’s size.

He hears the cocking of a rifle, and Matt tenses up before looking behind himself, seeing Thailog prepared and pointing his weapon. “End of the line, Matthew.”

For a second, Matt honestly prepares himself for it to really be the end of it. It’d be fine, he thinks bleakly to himself; he’s done what he needed to do. He’s validated by the existence of the Illuminati, and he’s found Elisa’s killer. There doesn’t need to be anything else after that.

Then a series of familiar sounds are in the distance, the warrior calls of the gargoyle clan. It sinks in relief to Matt’s weary body, and he doesn’t stop himself from grinning tiredly at Thailog. “That makes two of us, then.”

A frustrated snarl and Thailog is taking the shot with his rifle; it’s all Matt can do to essentially throw himself to the side to avoid getting blasted with a bright red laser, but unfortunately he lands roughly on his broken hand due to being less than graceful at the moment. This time, he can’t stop himself from shouting painfully, struggling to push himself up with his other hand.

It’s too slow. Thailog is grabbing him by his broken hand, squeezing and wrenching another yell out of Matt, pain shooting up his arm like lightning, almost making him see white from the shock of it.

“UNHAND HIM!” Goliath roars, gliding into the fray and slamming his entire weight into Thailog, consequently causing the latter to drop Matt. Landing on his back, thankfully, is a bit of an improvement than before.

Utterly sapped, it’s all that Matt can do to watch the two giants fight each other. Goliath is utterly relentless, and like a beast possessed he’s laying into Thailog with all of his might. Not a second of mercy is granted; ripping the rifle out of Thailog’s talons, Goliath uses it as a melee weapon to strike him down before ripping it half, pieces tossed aside and useless.

Not that it makes Thailog any less deadly. When Goliath makes to throw another punch, it’s caught before Thailog throws him across the rooftop; Goliath lands, claws scraping into stone to keep himself upright. A rage filled roar rips from Goliath’s throat before he’s bearing all of his might in a leap at Thailog.

Anger is hell of a motivator. Thailog in any other circumstance would probably be his equal, but Goliath’s fury lets him land on top of Thailog, fists bearing down to smash into the clone’s skull.

“Murderer!” Goliath howls, striking again and again. “I will avenge her!”

He isn’t just trying to take down Thailog. Goliath is trying to kill him.

Matt coughs and slowly gets to his feet, shivering as he makes his way toward them. Everything has caught up with him, but he has to have just enough strength to make his way over. To end this the right way.

“Goliath,” Matt strains out. “Stop. Stop.”

“For what?!” Goliath demands, turning to stare down Matt with a fierce white glow. “It was him all along! I will put an end to this, Bluestone!”

When Matt reaches out with a trembling hand, the shaking isn’t due to fear. It’s due to just how little strength he has left. “That isn’t how Elisa would want you to handle this, and you know it.” He places his hand to Goliath’s wrist, almost overwhelmed with how warm the gargoyle is. “You know that. I promised you justice, but killing him isn’t how she’d do this.”

There’s hesitation despite the rampant fury that Goliath holds inside. Matt can see the mournful look on his face, because Goliath knows that is the truth.

Perhaps seeing an opportunity despite how beaten he is, Thailog’s tail lashes out, smashing into Matt’s torso. It knocks the wind out of him, but also throws him back. Matt doesn’t quite find his footing, and his heels find the edge of the roof. Just as he starts to topple over, Goliath relinquishes his hold on Thailog to rush over and haul Matt back to safety.

It gives Thailog the chance to begin his escape, which is swiftly cut off by a large chain net catching him from above. Electricity runs through the net, earning a pained snarl from Thailog before he finally collapses, stunned from the shock to his body.

From above, Matt can see Xanatos in his exo-frame, jets keeping him afloat.

“You looked like you could use a hand,” Xanatos muses.

“Xanatos.” Goliath growls, wrapping a wind around Matt’s shoulders. It’s considerably warm, but Matt imagines that most things would feel that way right now. It’s also more cruelly flustering than he wishes to consider, but ultimately he accepts the help. He doubts Goliath would take “no” as an answer anyway. “How did you know to find us?”

There’s a tilt of the helmet Xanatos wears. “Let’s just say I received a tip from a mutual contact and leave it at that for now. As it is, I’ll ensure Thailog doesn’t make his escape. I imagine you’ll want to catch up with the rest of your clan.”

“Not like we can just put him in a jail cell and call it a night,” Matt relinquishes reluctantly. “We can figure out the specifics later, but… for now, this is how it should be, Goliath.”

Elisa would never condone revenge by murder, and they all know it. Even if Xanatos isn’t exactly the most trustworthy person, Matt does think he has a vested interest in ensuring that this case comes to a close one way or another. Taking Thailog alive is the right thing, even if it feels like a sting instead of a victory.

Goliath nods stiffly, undoubtedly feeling much the same way. “Let us check on the others,” he agrees, keeping his wing around Matt. A glance at his injuries and the way he shivers makes Goliath sigh, guilt wracking him. “...I should not have left you the other night.”

Matt just shakes his head. “You didn’t know what would happen. Neither of us did. I’m not feeling great, but I’ll be all right. Nothing that can’t heal.”

“Not all wounds are visible,” Goliath says softly, and Matt is silent at that.

They return to the warehouse inside, mostly so they can make an assessment. The rest of the clan have made swift work of the mercenaries, having rounded them up and tied them down with various cables found in the warehouse. The surprise visit from the gargoyles allowed them to take advantage and clearly have been plenty efficient.

“Matt!” Broadway’s eyes light up. “You’re okay!”

“Kind of,” Matt chatters out, still working on warming himself up.

Angela looks at Goliath anxiously. “What of Thailog?”

“Xanatos has him currently tied down. We will… address that further in due time. For now…” Goliath looks down at Matt. “As you say, justice will be served.”

In return, Matt offers a tired smile.

“I hate to interrupt your reunion,” Xanatos calls out to them as he steps inside. “The authorities are on their way and I doubt you’re keen on the attention.”

“Guess that’s my cue,” Matt sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Goliath lets out an uneasy growl. “You expect us to leave you here in your condition?”

“Believe me, I’m not excited either. But I have to be here.”

“I agree with the detective, but if this is how you want to have your big appearance to humanity, by all means.” Xanatos turns around. “But if you come to your senses, then I invite you to join me at the Eyrie Building so we can discuss Thailog.”

There’s an air of hesitance not just from Goliath, but from the whole clan. Not that Matt can fault them; it’s been a wretched week and even this, alone, might not be enough closure for any of them. Certainly not for Matt, despite his efforts.

It’ll have to do for now.

“I’ll be okay,” Matt assures.

Reluctantly, Goliath pulls away from him. It’s awful how quickly the cold returns. “Ensure you will be, my friend.”

The gargoyles leave before the humans arrive.

Among those who arrive with law enforcement was of course Captain Chavez, looking like she had a mix of pride and fury in her eyes. Glad to have the matter closed, no doubt angry at Matt’s current state, but either way there’s no going back.

The other person is Martin Hacker, who has arrived with more feds with him. He just gives a nod to Matt, who returns the gesture tiredly as Matt is tended to by the ambulance. It isn’t surprising to see him here. After all, before Matt had used the communication device to reach Lexington the other night, the number Matt had dialed was to Hacker, leaving the phone off the hook in hopes his former partner would hear it.

Ultimately, it seems that was successful.

The official story is dictated with help from Hacker: the murderer of Elisa Maza is a special interest of the FBI, who have taken lengths to ensure his arrest and confinement, but supposedly unable to share the identity. The rest of the thugs can be taken for arrest, but the mystery killer’s identity remains in federal hands, something Matt was able to help with. Officially speaking, anyway.

The Captain doesn’t love it, but she doesn’t contest it either. What’s important is that the case can be closed, that Elisa’s killer was found. That’ll have to be enough.

As Matt is getting prepared to be escorted to the hospital for treatment, Captain Chavez catches him, informing him sternly but with care: “At least one week off for recovery. After that, it’s desk duty until that arm of yours is healed.”

Matt makes a face.

“No arguing. I’m not losing another cop to recklessness. Understood?”

Even if he wants to argue, Matt doesn’t. He doesn’t even have the strength for it, so he just nods along and accepts his fate. Time off and then being a desk jockey sounds awful to him, giving him too much free time, but he doesn’t have the capacity to make a good argument back.

So, Matt is taken and treated. Dehydration, broken wrist and hand, a cracked rib, mild concussion, and exhaustion. Without a mission to force him to keep moving forward, Matt just lets himself receive medical care without fuss. It means that he’s also being kept for the next 24 hours for observation to ensure he makes a good recovery.

When it’s finally quiet in his hospital room after hours and hours of care, he feels those last few pieces inside of him slip away into that awful abyss.

Matt buries his face into his pillow and silently weeps.

It’s over, but he still feels like he has a gaping hole inside of him.

Chapter Text

Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain, breaks my pate across.

It’s excruciating to be stuck in this room. It feels seen in a way that Matt finds distinctly uncomfortable, and during the afternoon he’s less than thrilled to see Hacker visiting him. Matt watches him skeptically as a cup of coffee is left at his bedside as a peace offering along with Hacker’s insufferable smile.

Reluctantly, Matt takes the cup, if only to feel its warmth under his fingertips.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d reach out,” Hacker muses, pulling up a chair. “But you made the right choice.”

Matt sighs. “What do you want, Hacker?”

A video tape is dropped onto Matt’s lap, earning a confused look from the detective before Hacker explains, “Security footage from the warehouse. Figured I’d hand it off before anyone else got their hands on it. As far as anyone else needs to know, the footage was unrecoverable. Whatever you end up doing with it is in your hands.”

“And you definitely didn’t make a copy of it or anything,” Matt says flatly.

Hacker shrugs. “Just for keeping records. Trust me when I say it’s in secure hands.”

“Trust you.”

“Haven’t I been trustworthy this time?” Hacker shakes his head. “Look, I don’t blame you for being upset with me all things considered. But I came in for you anyway. Doesn’t that count for something?”

There is a part of Matt that wants to believe that. Hacker had been his continued resource even after he was forced out of the bureau years ago, or at least that’s what it seemed. It seemed like Hacker was close enough to a friend, seemed like he was a good partner to have. After all of these years of secret keeping, it’s hard to let go of the fact that Hacker had just worked with him just to keep him off of the heels of the Illuminati. The difference between him and Elisa is that at least Elisa’s secret was understandable; selfish at the same time, but Matt could get it.

Hacker knew Matt’s determined search of the Illuminati and treated him like a joke.

He does have to wonder something, though. Something that has admittedly bothered him since everything went down on Thailog’s scheme.

“You were the one that contacted Xanatos,” Matt realizes.

“And if I hadn’t, what would you have done about Goliath’s clone?”

Matt shakes his head. “No, it’s– you’re right, it probably had to be this way. If Xanatos didn’t come, I have no idea where we could even put Thailog.” Not that he trusts the man, but with Xanatos maybe it’s the most secure place for someone like Thailog. Hard to say.

“Glad we can at least agree on that. I realize I probably have a bit more work to do to get that faith of yours back, but I’m working on it.” Hacker stands up and puts his hands into his pockets. “Though they should probably cuff you here to keep you in one spot. I’ll be surprised if you’re still here tomorrow.”

“Very funny,” Matt grumbles. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

Hacker lets out a laugh, like it’s back to the old days between them.

It won’t ever be, though. When Hacker eventually leaves, Matt puts the coffee into the garbage, untouched.

Most of the day is spent resting. Sleep is, surprisingly, rather dreamless this time and Matt wonders if it’s because of how much he’s pushed himself in the past week. When he does wake next in the afternoon, Diane and Peter are visiting. Flowers, because they’re just that good of people that way. In addition, Diane offers to let Matt stay with them until he could figure out his third damned apartment in Manhattan, but he declines.

He isn’t sure he could face them for so many consecutive days. He’d rather just hide away from them.

The next time he wakes, it’s early evening, the sun having set sometime ago. He wonders how Goliath and the clan are doing, and if it’d be too much to expect any kind of visit from them either. For all that Matt has blamed himself for what happened to Elisa, he’s found himself quietly missing them. Before this week, he had interest in them but the connection had been barely superficial; Broadway has always been easy to get along with and eventually began to regularly visit Matt, and he’s quietly always held an admiration for Goliath that, unfortunately, has grown into something Matt is trying to box away.

Now he knows them better. Angela’s balance of a gentle and ferocious nature, for example, which was hardly anything he knew prior to the start of this case. At best, the label in his mind was that is Goliath’s daughter and little else. It’s been a little bit like that, really, for many of them. In a lot of ways Brooklyn is still a fussy teenager who still exhibits good traits for leadership, and Hudson is plenty more than just the old one in the recliner.

All around, just a bit more now.

The window opens and Matt opens his eyes, seeing the top of Broadway’s head and his eyes just peeking in.

“Just me,” Matt assures.

Broadway climbs in, pausing so he can give Angela a hand in filing inside. “How are you feelin’, Matt?” he asks.

Matt shrugs with one shoulder. “Mm, you know.”

“Yeah,” Broadway agrees sullenly. “Glad you’re all fixed up, though.”

“Working on it, anyway.” Matt pushes himself to sit up a little more. “What’s the update about Thailog and Xanatos?”

“Xanatos says he’ll keep Thailog in custody. Though I imagine Father is reluctant to let him, I know we’re wary since the cells of the Labyrinth were not as successful as we would have liked.” Angela gives a forlorn look at such an admittance. “It is an uneasy alliance we have with him, I think.”

Uneasy, but probably necessary. No one else has the facilities to make it possible to keep Thailog under lock and key. That, and Xanatos should be able to think ahead of how to best enforce his capture.

Theoretically, anyway.

“Oh yeah.” Broadway holds up a talon. “I, uh. I hope you don’t mind, but we went to your apartment and picked up Cagney. Figured we could look after him for a bit.”

“Probably for the best. I’m gonna be looking for a new apartment anyway,” Matt laments. “Can’t say it’s exactly safe there anymore.”

Broadway grimaces. “Ooo. Yeah. Sorry about your last one, too.”

“What?” Angela asks, baffled.

“I kinda blew up his old place,” Broadway says, shoulders slumping.

There’s a look of surprise on Angela’s face, then she lets out a gentle laugh behind a hand. “Then I think I would like it if you both told me this story, please.”

It’s something that Matt mostly leaves in Broadway’s hands to discuss the matter of the Silver Falcon, and Matt chips in where appropriate. It’s more Broadway’s story anyway, and it makes him think of Elisa who didn’t lay into Matt for not telling her about the lead he was following back then. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she did, but all it served to do was to make him work harder to be a decent partner.

Broadway is an enthusiastic storyteller, and Matt can tell how terribly interested and amused Angela is.

When it ends, Angela’s expression falls slightly. “I miss her,” she says softly. Then, a flinch. “I’m sorry, I know we all do.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Broadway reaches for her hand to clasp into both of his own. “It’s not gonna be easy to move on for anyone. And you should be able to express yourself, Angela. I’m gonna listen whenever you want to talk, okay?”

It briefly makes Matt think of Goliath carefully encouraging him to let go. The thing is, he isn’t sure how to crawl back out of this place he feels like he’s sunken into. Though maybe the point isn’t to do it alone, that too isn’t something he’s used to. How should he adapt to the people around him now?

Do the gargoyles even still need him?

Eventually, Broadway and Angela bid farewell, the lovebirds taking off into the night after Matt assures for at least five more times he was going to be okay. Broadway even offers to grab him some food considering the hospital’s less than pleasing menu, but Matt waves him off. At least he’s eating something.

Later in the night there are another pair of visitors. Less surprising is Brooklyn, who settles into a natural crouch after he lands. Behind him more surprisingly is Derek, who is reluctant to meet anyone’s gaze.

“You would not believe the pain Talon’s been about coming along,” Brooklyn says dryly. “Something something you wouldn’t forgive him or whatever.”

Derek shoots him a dirty look. “Brooklyn.”

A brow is arched in return. “What? Tell me I’m wrong.” Brooklyn glances at Matt. “This guy, I swear.”

“Derek?” Matt asks hesitantly.

There’s a pause as clearly Derek is working out the words in his head before he finally gets to the meat of it. He finally looks at Matt, regret in his yellow eyes. “I shouldn’t have treated you like you were at fault. I was… angry, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Look…” Matt idly plucks at a loose thread to the thin blanket that’s over his legs. “Maybe we both had crap ways to cope. You wanted someone to blame, and… I was okay with that, because I blamed myself too.” He still sort of does, really. “But if you need to hear it, I forgive you. Of course I do.”

Derek looks at him, appearing sincerely surprised at the words before he nods. “It wasn’t your fault. Just so we both know that. You didn’t pull that trigger, Matt. You weren’t even anywhere close, and… I think we both know how confident Elisa could be.”

Marching into a crime scene, headstrong, thinking it’ll only take a minute – it wasn’t the first time, it’s just sadly the last time.

“The only person to blame is Thailog. Though, I gotta say, I’m unclear on how he benefited from the whole thing.” Brooklyn looks at Matt, as if he magically could conjure the answer.

Briefly, Matt’s gaze flits to the side table where the tape Hacker left him is. The contents containing the last time Elisa was alive. It pains him, but he should probably keep it. Then, he looks back to Brooklyn and Derek. “I think the biggest takeaway is that Thailog used her death to keep people guessing,” Matt says. “He wanted people to think it was either Demona or Xanatos. He almost got his way about it, too.”

Brooklyn sighs. “If it wasn’t for you and Goliath, I’d have taken that evidence of her hair at face value. It, uh… it was a good call, you know.”

“I’m not a detective just to have a cool badge to show off,” Matt says wryly.

“Yeah, yeah.” That earns a grin from Brooklyn. “You can’t be that bad off, you still think you’re funny.”

Brooklyn and Derek say their farewells not long after, both apologies and curiosities hopefully satisfied. If nothing else, having a bit of closure with Derek does help some. Matt is certain there is always going to be that nagging voice inside saying that it’s his fault for what happened to Elisa, but slowly he does know the logic of it.

It doesn’t help soothe the loss much, but eases the guilt somewhat.

It isn’t going to be long until dawn, and briefly Matt wonders where Goliath might be. Not that he has a monopoly on him, far from it; for all he knows, Goliath is completely distracted by the entire affair, maybe occupied with the fact that Xanatos essentially has custody of Thailog – no pun intended. If so, then it’s where he should be.

It’d still be nice to see him, though. Yet, as soon as that thought forms, quickly and quietly he does chide himself. Waiting and yearning like some lovesick idiot isn’t really something he’s ever done, and it makes him want to prove Thailog wrong all the more. Whatever that’s worth, anyway.

Even as the thought passes, it does not stop the reality of Goliath landing on the windowsill, climbing inside and drawing his wings around himself.

“You should be sleeping,” Goliath says softly.

Matt smiles crookedly at him. “I’ve been sleeping for most of the day, cut me a little slack.”

The enormous gargoyle makes his approach, somehow stepping delicately despite his size. Kneeling by Matt’s bedside, he offers his palm out. There’s some hesitation, but Matt eventually opts to rest his hand there. Goliath is looking over him, still frowning at his arm in a sling, but Matt shakes his head.

“Worth the price of putting an end to the whole thing. Besides, it’s not my dominant arm at least,” Matt says dryly.

“If there was more I could–”

“Goliath. I don’t have any doubt in my mind you’re doing everything possible.” Matt shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

There’s no undoing the past. Whatever has happened is set in stone, in as much as they both would wish otherwise. The wounds will heal, but the scars ever there, reminding them of what has come to pass. Goliath’s lost love, and the best friend that Matt has ever had.

“Then remember what I had said before.” Goliath gazes at him from where he kneels. He really does look noble like this, and Matt’s stomach twists. “You are also part of my clan, should you have it.”

Matt closes his eyes, biting the inside of his mouth. He wants that, he’s afraid, he’s trying to climb out of that chasm. “I don’t– I don’t really know how to…” Taking in a breath, Matt tries again: “I’ve never really been close with my family. Ever.” Opening his eyes, he hesitantly looks at Goliath. “Never been that good at making friends either, to tell the truth. Elisa was… the closest I had, I think. So…”

There’s a slow, careful pressure to his hand as Goliath tenderly squeezes it. “Then let me show you what it means to have family, if you would have us.”

It’s difficult to swallow or speak, so Matt just holds his breath and nods.

“Then I am honored to have you, Bluestone.”

Some of the anxiety fades at the warmth in Goliath’s voice, and it settles him. Matt couldn’t complain about having this, and really… really, he doesn’t need anything more.

“Hey,” Matt says. “Why do you use my last name, anyway?”

There’s a pause, then a genuine smile on Goliath’s face as he answers simply, “I enjoy how it sounds.”

As with the procession of time, the sun will eventually rise and morning comes. Matt is tested to make sure he has had proper nutrition finally, that he’s well hydrated and able to walk on his own. It takes some time during the day with various doctors coming in, ensuring he is ready to leave.

Spiritually, he is absolutely ready to get out of the hospital. Physically, that finally seems to be true too.

It becomes early evening by the time the hospital is satisfied. Observation is complete, and Matt is allowed to leave. Although it’s tricky to dress himself with one arm, he manages all the same.

It’s the most rested he’s felt in days, and yet he still feels sluggish.

After gingerly tucking the video tape Hacker had delivered to himself, Matt slowly makes his way to the lobby to sign out. A passing staff member says to him, “Detective Bluestone, your escort is here.”

“My what?” Matt turns and looks toward the exit. “...Oh.”

There waiting for him by the sliding doors is Owen Burnett, arms folded behind his back formally and waiting patiently for him. While Matt isn’t precisely thrilled to see him, it also means he can put off having to deal with his apartment, which is most likely trashed thanks to Thailog and his hired help.

So, he decides to welcome the distraction for now.

Matt walks up to him. “What’s the occasion?”

“Mr. Xanatos desired to speak in person, and requested that I fetch you. You’re welcome to refuse, of course.”

“I imagine it’s a pretty private conversation?” Matt suggests.

Owen arches a brow. “If you mean to ask what it is pertaining to, I assume it is not something you wish to converse about in the middle of a public hospital, Detective.”

“Okay, jeez. Lead the way.”

It’s strange to feel like he doesn’t have much to fear by walking after Owen or by entering the Eyrie Building, but thus far Xanatos has been true to his word and suspiciously so. It’s hard to stop being suspicious, but Matt does believe him when he says he desires to repay that debt. Though it now begs the question if Xanatos has concluded it as paid.

Regardless, Matt doesn’t feel particularly threatened. Instead, he takes the car ride from Owen and follows him up into the castle. What surprises him is that they aren’t stopping at the top floor where Xanatos’ office is located. Instead, they’re somewhere in the lower depths of the castle, a place that Matt has never been to before.

The inside lacks the usual stone brick and is instead lined with more modern steel and white plating, as if this was some sort of advanced laboratory. Waiting within is Xanatos, who turns and offers his unfortunately memorable smile.

“Detective Bluestone, you seem adequately rested,” Xanatos muses. It does not sound like the kindest compliment, but Matt doesn’t give much reaction. “Thank you, Owen. Please stand by.”

Owen bows his head once. “Of course, Mr. Xanatos.”

Xanatos gestures for Matt to follow, which he warily does. Behind them Owen remains by the door. Much of the interior remains the same as Xanatos guides him, but Matt notices a few Steel Clan units functioning on some kind of command. Maybe under some kind of program to do a guard rotation? Although Matt has a mild interest in robotics, it isn’t enough to easily pick up what they’re currently doing.

“I’ve already discussed arrangements for Thailog with Goliath, but I figured I could reassure any remaining concerns you might have as well,” Xanatos explains as they go. He pauses to unlock a door with a thumbprint scanner before they move forward. “He has adequate space in his cell, but it can be electrified non-lethally if required. He’ll be given meals as necessary, and recreational items like books. Beyond that, though, well… here’s the kicker.”

They finally make it to Thailog’s fairly spacious cell, big enough to be a comfortable bedroom for a gargoyle of his size. The door seals him inside by some method of ballistic glass Matt assumes, allowing one to view the gargoyle clone in question. Thailog is thumbing through a book, but peers up curiously when he sees who is arriving. Then, a wicked smile forms on his face. It still rubs Matt the wrong way, watching Goliath’s features contort like that.

“The care will be automated primarily through the Steel Clan.” Xanatos gestures toward the front of the door where there is an intercom set up. “And he can’t be heard unless someone from the outside triggers it.”

A bit of a fitting punishment for someone who loves to talk so much.

“And how else did you assure Goliath it’d be humane?” Matt asks, letting skepticism fill his tone more than he was feeling.

Xanatos chuckles. “I already toyed with Goliath’s genetic materials too much once, and see where it got all of us. No, the idea is simple: keep him imprisoned, keep him alive. At least for the time being. Trust me when I say this place is more secure than any prison you’ll find in the entire country.”

Matt does believe that.

“If you and Goliath’s clan intend to pay a visit, simply let Owen know. We can look into arrangements. Not that I expect anyone is particularly eager to, but I figured it was worth mentioning.” Xanatos puts his hands into his pockets. “Satisfied?”

There is a pause as Matt considers, then he slowly approaches the door with a frown. Reaching out, he presses the button to begin communication with Thailog. “Plato, huh.”

Thailog’s ear twitches, then his smile deepens. “I can’t complain. But I imagine I’ll be done before the sun is up.” He closes the book. “Couldn’t stay away, Matthew?”

Matt’s jaw clenches, but he’s determined to not let Thailog get to him. “I saw the security footage of when my partner came in to investigate.”

“A terrible necessity. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time, that one.”

A shake of Matt’s head is his initial response to that. “That’s the thing. I saw how you looked in that recording, and I saw your reaction when we talked about her death. You meant to deal with her, sure. Maybe capture her, but I don’t think you meant to kill her. Maybe you don’t feel particularly guilty about it, but you also don’t seem to really enjoy an unexpected inconvenience. So you had to figure out how to make it to your benefit.”

There’s a moment of silence, and that annoyance fills Thailog’s eyes before he sighs dramatically. “And so you continue to unravel the mystery. So what now? Does it reduce my sentence?”

“You’re lucky I stopped Goliath from killing you,” Matt says flatly. “So I sincerely doubt it.”

“He has a real vicious streak, doesn’t he?” Thailog chuckles. “Do be careful with that, Matt. Unless that’s a personal thrill of yours. Still, you know where to find me if you decide to have better company.”

Matt pulls his hand away from the intercom. It doesn’t feel like he’s accomplished much other than Thailog confirming his final suspicion: Elisa’s death had not been intentional, but the plan was to adapt and make it into a benefit. Unlucky for Thailog that Matt was determined to solve this case from top to bottom, that he underestimated what all of them were capable of.

No, it probably doesn’t change much of anything with that truth, but it does offer a bit of understanding. He has an uneasy breath slip out of him before he’s turning around to look at Xanatos, who seems thoughtful. Not the ideal conversation to have in front of someone who likes to have insane plots and plans from day to day, but Matt accepted it was likely that Thailog would try to unsettle him with taunts and truth alike.

“I believe that concludes everything here,” Xanatos says. “Shall we, Detective?”

Matt refrains from the brief temptation to look over his shoulder. Rather, he follows after Xanatos, leaving Thailog to his cell in perfect silence.

Time stops for no one. Just because you’ve had a terrible day doesn’t mean that the clock will quit ticking, that the world will stop spinning for you. Every day, something awful happens. People get hurt, sick, and die all the time.

At the same time, every day something wonderful can happen too. You find new love, be it romantic or platonic. Bask in the sun if you can, bask in the night if you can, stop and smell the roses. It’s a bittersweet and infinite loop.

Nothing will ever justify the loss of a beloved friend, and nothing can take back what was lost. Nevertheless, Matt tries to teach himself the new lesson that he doesn’t need to experience it alone. Certainly, the gargoyles are determined to ensure that he isn’t. Even while going through whatever is worth saving from his old apartment, Lexington and Broadway end up lending a hand since Matt is limited in what he can and cannot do.

He steals himself away into the Clocktower when he’s certain he can slip by Captain Chavez. There are still some aspects he could stand to learn about the clan. Their interests and their dreams alike, even if it’s living day to day because sometimes it’s all you can do. Lexington is ever thrilled to have someone talk about technology with him, and Broadway is ever easy to to speak to. Hudson acts like a grouch about Cagney, but doesn’t move the cat from his lap when he’s trying to watch the TV. There comes a time where Matt brings Angela a Coke just to see her reaction and he hopes he doesn’t accidentally introduce soda related addiction to her. Brooklyn bets with Broadway who can drink the most (it’s Broadway).

For tonight, Matt draws Elisa from memory. Just a portrait, and sure it’s a bit painful but it’s also cathartic in a way. He can recall her smile, her laugh, even the way she’d give him judgmental looks whenever he’d try to bring up a topic they could not agree on, but mostly he just remembers how hard she would try to make the world a better place. True to form, his excellent memory brings her to life on his page.

“Diane provided me with some photographs,” Goliath rumbles warmly nearby. “Though there is a certain fluidity you bring to her likeness.”

Matt carefully tugs the page free from his pad, holding it out in offering. Delicately, Goliath takes it between his talons, gazing down at it. There is still no question as to how much he holds love in his eyes for her, and Matt gets it. Maybe Goliath will never move on from her, and that’s okay. This isn’t about him, and just being there for each other will be enough even through the occasional shy fluttering in his chest.

Though Matt hasn’t figured out how yet, he’ll try to look forward somehow.

It’s what Elisa would want of him.

So, who benefits?

The foundation of NiteCoin is in the proper hands now.

Granted, it’s not as if Thailog isn’t already a member of the Illuminati, but the thing with characters like him and Xanatos is that they aren’t always that predictable and certainly not that loyal. It’s better if something like this can be controlled properly. If Thailog had succeeded, fine, so be it – this is just an added benefit for them.

Ideally another benefit is that Martin Hacker won a bit of goodwill back with Matt with the support he could provide in this instance. There’s the legal satisfaction that Elisa’s murderer is behind bars, and the personal one that Matt has succeeded in closing the case.

Besides, it’s not as if Thailog needs to stay locked up forever. There’ll be a play to bring him back out, one day.

Win-win.

Chapter Text

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story.

“Sorry I haven’t been by, partner. I’d make some kind of excuse about being busy, and… I guess in some ways I have been, but I could’ve made time. I’m just not very good at this kind of thing. You know that, though.

“Don’t hold it against me, but your dad gave me the car. I didn’t ask for it, but he was pretty insistent. I can’t complain, though. You and I spent a lot of time in that thing. I’ll take good care of it. Speaking of your family, they’ve definitely made it their business to check on me. Your mom is hell of a cook, by the way. She brought me homemade soup. If she had time, she’d probably adopt the whole city.

“Oh, and Cagney’s good. …Sometimes he stops in front of the apartment door and yells. So… yeah, you’re missed all around. Me, your family – all of them, and I mean all of them. They seem good, though. As good as they can be.

“About… about Goliath, don’t worry. I’m not…” Matt pauses. “I’m just not.”

Tipping his head up, he watches the sun begin to sink down, the skies darkening with splashes of orange and pink. He kneels down, placing a to-go coffee cup at the grave along with the various flowers left for Elisa.

“It’s on me.” Matt smiles faintly.

The week in recovery was gone before Matt knew it. Not that it changed much for him other than he could walk in the precinct without the concern of being spotted by the Captain.

Before being able to close the case officially, Matt couldn’t say if he’d have reacted well to the reception he receives. Cheers, commendations, bittersweet gratitude for catching their man. There isn’t exactly satisfaction in it, but he accepts it as acknowledgement that he’s brought everything to a close on that particular matter.

“Look, I know you can’t tell us who,” Morgan said quietly to him, “but there was definitely someone you got. Definitely someone put away for it?”

“Yeah. It can seem kinda shady or something when FBI keeps it quiet, but…”

Morgan squeezes his shoulder. “Hey, I get it. And it’s not that I’m doubting you, but I guess I just needed to hear it. You did good, Detective.”

The evening shift is a crawl, and Matt’s read over the same paragraph on his report about five times. Still, he’d rather be here than at his new apartment; he’s never been one to feel too cozy in his own space, an extension of work as it is. The place isn’t even decorated yet and Matt isn’t certain he wants to anytime soon.

It’s more comfortable upstairs anyway, he argues with himself.

He takes the more time sensitive work with him under his right arm as the other one is still in its sling, careful to not update his still healing rib. Making his way upstairs along the rickety wooden folding steps, Matt lifts his hand in a silent greeting as he comes in.

“Hey Matt!” Broadway calls from his electric stove top. “Breakfast?”

“Diane’s been feeding me plenty,” Matt says wryly. “But thanks.”

Goliath tilts his head curiously. “Are you not needed with your fellow officers?”

“I’m still on desk duty.” Matt sighs and gives a helpless one-armed shrug. “Captain says I can’t go back into the field until the arm is better. What I wouldn’t give to have a solid stone sleep to heal it off, but it is what it is.”

“She isn’t wrong.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, I was already tired of looking at reports, figured I’d swing up here for a bit.” Matt glances toward where the Clocktower exits to the balcony. “Gonna go on patrol soon, huh?”

Goliath nods. “Regardless of how things are and have been, we will continue to protect the city and it people.”

It makes Matt smile to himself. That’s a proper protector mindset, and definitely something he’d expect Goliath to say. “Then I have a favor to ask.”

Flatly, Goliath tells him, “You are not participating if we must go into action.”

“I promise I’m not going to be that impulsive. I just… kind of need the air and to not be stuck on the ground for awhile. If something happens, I won’t get involved.”

There’s a brief dubious look in Goliath’s eyes, which is both endearing and frustrating. Matt could see the gargoyle leader and Elisa having similar arguments in the past if he imagines it. What is safe to do, what isn’t, and the both of them doing everything they can to look out for each other. What a pair they both made, stubborn as hell and caught up in their sense of what is right and wrong.

“Your rib,” Goliath says.

“Is fine, because you treat me like glass anyway,” Matt retorts.

Goliath makes a grunt of discontent before he hesitantly holds out his hand. “If I leave you somewhere safe, I expect you will stay there.”

“And I will,” Matt promises, finding it easy to take that offered hand these days.

Most of them split off into pairs: Angela and Broadway, Lexington and Brooklyn, then there’s Hudson staying back with Bronx. It’s probably their own version of adhering to some normalcy these days, and slowly Matt finds himself becoming part of it.

What Matt doesn’t expect is the neighborhood they’re going to. It’s all too familiar, and despite the years that have gone by he recalls it easily from childhood memories and the occasional visit he pays out of fondness. Still, it’s unexpected as Goliath lands on a rooftop that’s across the street from the shop Matt knows all too well.

“Mr. Jaffe’s store,” he notes with some surprise. “I don’t think I’ve heard him complain about anything lately. Well, nothing about robberies anyway.”

“A little over a year ago when we first began to protect this city, it was Elisa that brought this place to our attention. This man does the people here a great service, and in retrospect it is also clear of its importance to you. I believe that she knew that.”

Distantly, Matt can remember: one of his patrols with Elisa when they were still getting used to each other. Bit by bit, they were opening up, and he idly commented on Mr. Jaffe and his circumstances. He didn’t quite know at the time why suddenly circumstances improved for his safety, but in retrospect it does make perfect sense.

It’s a fond memory, but it also makes Matt’s chest ache.

Matt suddenly feels tired, his gaze still fixed on the lights in the grocery store, its contents and arrangements the same as he remembers from when he was just a kid. “Gonna take a little more than stone sleep to heal everything for you too, huh.”

A slow sigh escapes from Goliath, the weight of it sounding deep and remorseful, a great creature releasing a burden. “Regrettably, I am no stranger to loss, each a grievous wound to my heart. It will scar and remind me of who was, but these are not matters we are meant to hold on our own.”

It’s still something Matt is figuring out how to process, but he knows Goliath is right. What does it mean to move on, exactly? Or maybe no one ever truly does. Memories can bite as sharp as any knife, its teeth unforgiving when it strikes, but maybe it’s just about hurting less as time goes on.

“Well.” Matt finally looks up at him. “You’d better tell me if you need my help, then.”

A wry smile forms on Goliath’s face. “You can expect the sentiment returned. You are clan now, and we look out for one another.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Matt adds more sincerely: “I’m trying.”

There’s a heavy hand resting on Matt’s good shoulder, Goliath’s deep voice assuring, “I know.”

Goliath is right: one cannot manage this alone, nor should they. A man can fall apart, but the pieces are mended by more than just his own hands, pieces back together. Maybe it’ll fall into ruin once more, but all things can be rebuilt.

While Matt is grateful to slowly work through his bonds with the clan, he does wish it had come about in another way. A better reason to find himself more comfortably arranged in the Clocktower as he’s received by them, a better reason for Diane and Peter to stop by, tut him for not decorating and making him quesadillas for lunch.

Sometimes, that’s how it is, though. A great tragedy can create great bonds forged in fire and regret, or you end up consumed by it. Goliath has seen that in others, Matt is sure; why else does someone like Demona thirst infinitely for revenge?

So the world turns. Day to night to day.

And step by step, Matt works to move forward with the hands grasping his own.