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.”