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It was one of those dreary autumnal afternoons. Rain was relentless, yellowed leaves were flying in great big swoops in the tempestuous winds, humans were tightening their coats around themselves and shuffling swiftly in an attempt to ward off the cold.
The cold. It had seeped through Jack's stony bones a long time ago, so long ago that it even predated his Great Big Crossing. Truthfully, Jack didn’t remember a time from before the cold.
He had spent several lifetimes looking for warmth everywhere he could, but he had yet to find any. He wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong but there must have been something, because none of his attempts had yielded any results. Standing in the sun only intensified the ever present chill, throwing himself in fire only exacerbated the iceness in his heart, even holding incandescent coals in his hands made him feel frozen.
Jack had started to wonder if perhaps he couldn’t be dead. He reckoned the hypothesis had merit. Perhaps he had never been alive to begin with. Perhaps he had only ever been the failure of a too young boy. He knew he had always been a poor excuse for a gargoyle, but perhaps it ran deeper than that. Perhaps he had alighted with energy but not life. And so he could seek warmth all he wanted, he would never find it. And let’s say nothing of eternal warmth. Eternal warmth was only a grand ol’ tale, an invention made for naive gargoyles who didn’t know any better. Jack was ashamed to have believed in it for so long.
But he had shed his naivety at last. Well, his inner naivety. Because, unfortunately for him, his external form would forever be carrying the innocence and naivety of a boy who had been no older than twelve. Jacques, his maker. In a way, he was also carrying his memory, his legacy. For all gargoyles were born from death: to make a gargoyle was to sacrifice a life, the life of its maker.
Most humans in the know found this degrading. Giving your life to create an evil creature was not a noble pursuit in the eyes of many. It didn’t matter that every single one of them were in the wrong - as gargoyles weren't fundamentally evil - they had still created a despicable underground business to overcome this ‘fault’ and still reap the benefits of it.
Young girls and boys were preyed on. They would join apprenticeships in the hopes of one day belonging to the guild of stone carvers and making a noble living, but malicious overseers filled their heads with lies and false beliefs, working them until they became ripe enough to be convinced to defect and join another order, a project so special that only rare, special applicants could even be considered for it. And then, having successfully sunk their teeth into their prey, they soon made it impossible for them to escape, trapping those young boys and girls until they had no other choice but to accomplish the macabre task they had been selected for.
Some knew and did it anyway, choosing to believe it would make them immortal. That dying for your gargoyle only meant being reborn as one. But the truth was bleak, brutal. Dying meant nothing more than that: death. The kind no one ever woke up from. At most, gargoyles remembered the process of their making, carrying memories of the labor they had been born from. But in no cases did they hold the memories or the soul of their maker.
Some masters kept the young apprentices in the dark until the very last step, opening their eyes and crushing the last bits of innocence they may have managed to preserve in the cruelest of ways. They waited until the young apprentices would present them with their finished work, incredibly proud of the hours, days, weeks and even months of intense, solitary labor they had gone through and eagerly waiting to be allowed to learn how to give life to their creation.
Only then were they told that they would have to sacrifice their own life.
Some flat out refused. Those were then immediately seized and made to etch their name into the stone by force before being locked up in a windowless, airtight room until their death occurred one way or another.
Some found themselves dumbfounded, unable to process the words, to process the new reality that had become theirs and subsequently went through the motions as pantomimes, shells of their former selves until death swiftly took them.
Some turned to religion, accepting their fate as loyal martyrs, invoking gods that could do nothing for them and bearing their mission as a holy one. Jack scoffed at those. It filled him with an anger he could barely contain. For those were just lies, chimeras invented to fool young, impressionable minds. Just like eternal warmth.
His Jacques had gone away with an apology. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t more talented and couldn’t make you look better or fiercer.’ He had whispered those words as he had carefully carved his name in a humble place, one hidden, right underneath his left wing, close to the spine. And then he had hung himself.
Jack’s first emotion had been anger. He had ignited with it. The walls of his prison had trembled with it. He had let it explode as brutally and as forcefully as he could. The entire building had shuddered, stones vibrating, dust cascading, wood splintering until the very foundations had given out, taking the entire place down with it, burying the bodies of all that had stood there. Twenty one dead. Ten apprentices, his Jacques, and their jailers.
For days afterwards, priests had come in a great succession in an attempt to exorcise the birthplace of what had obviously been an infamous, awful, despicable, evil demon.
Jack had laughed in their faces, cackling maniacally, swooping in and taunting them, until, at last, it had been decided that nothing could save the place or even the town and the Church had burnt the place down and Jack with it.
It had been Jack’s first great fire. It had been his first glimpse into the eternal cold that had awaited him. Anger had morphed into emptiness and guilt, devouring guilt. Because Jack had nothing to do with evil. However rightful his anger had been, it had fixed nothing. People had died. People had lost their homes. People had lost their livelihoods. And nothing had changed.
Young boys and girls were still deceived. They still died at the hands of cruel, thoughtless men. More gargoyles kept being carved and rendered alive. And even more people believed them to be evil, necessary evils, the catharsis of humanity’s sins. They believed that creating a gargoyle was a way of freeing humans from their sins by releasing those sins into stony monstrosities. Anything but to take ownership of their actions. Anything but to accept facing the consequences of their own actions.
Jack hated humans. He despised them. They were ignorant, selfish and unbelievably cruel.
But Jack had lived for centuries, so of course he had tried giving them the benefit of the doubt. He had tried revising his judgement. Many times. And every single time he had been proven right.
He had even tried trusting a human once. He had heard things. Whispers. To find eternal warmth, a gargoyle needed to bond with a human, to attach itself to it. They needed to develop a connection. It explained why it was so rare and almost unheard of. As a general rule, gargoyles did not associate with humans.
But Jack had decided to try anyway. Anything to shed the permanent cold. Including opening his heart to one of those fully bipedal and flightless creatures.
It had been a mistake. A terrible mistake. One he had regretted for many decades.
Once, a long, long time ago, he had befriended a lone, disheartened young man. Gaspard. He had opened himself to him after the young fellow had ventured into the old, ruined mansion Jack had claimed as his place of dwelling.
Gaspard had started his life as an unlucky boy, born to parents who were poorer than poor, destined to a life of misery, and at fourteen he had run away from the orphanage he had been sent to as a little kid, surviving as he could, working for cruel masters and crossing the path of even worse men. It had reminded Jack of the apprentices. Kids had always been his soft spot.
Gaspard had been the one to convince him to go over the English Channel. So that they could both start over, get another chance. They had hidden in a boat. Once in England, Gaspard had found employment at a tavern and Jack had taken residency on its roof. It had been Jack’s first big claim since the small French burnt down town he had originated from.
Jack had enjoyed their lives. He had contented himself with it. Despite the still everpresent cold. He had had a roof, a companion… It was enough. He had decided to stop chasing chimeras and focus on the present.
But Gaspard hadn’t seen it that way. And he had betrayed him.
Gaspard’s hunger had been a beast impossible to satisfy. He always wanted more. He could never be happy with what he had and always commiserated that the grass was greener elsewhere. His constant bitterness had started to slowly but steadily wear Jack down. And more and more he had found himself thinking of leaving. But he hadn’t.
And one night, Gaspard had sympathized with a patron, the ringmaster of a circus, telling him all about ‘his’ gargoyle. By sunrise, Gaspard had sold him to the circus against the promise of fame and money.
Cupidity. That was what had done them both in. As soon as the circus owner had put his dirty hands on Jack, he had killed Gaspard.
What had followed had been years of infamy and abuse. Jack had been kept caged and forced to perform as ‘Jacques the French Gargouille’. If he refused to obey, the consequences would fall on the little kids the circus ‘employed’. And Jack couldn’t have that. He couldn’t bear the thought. He had done it once and had quickly learned his lesson when they had brought a kid in front of his cage just to put a hot iron to her skin. The message had been clear. Jack hadn’t disobeyed again. He hadn’t even tried. The risks weren’t worth it.
For years, he had put on a show, touring the dirtiest, smelliest corners of England and harboring a deep hatred of humans, waiting for the ringmaster to die or for an opportunity to murder the bastard himself. But the man never approached Jack close enough, never touched him, and he was always accompanied by a kid or two, as some sort of disturbing insurance policy.
Until, at last, Jack had accidentally discovered a new trick.
The circus had been doing even worse than it usually did and the old ringmaster was growing desperate. So he had banked everything on a big Halloween show, with ‘Jacques the Frightful Gargouille’ as the climax. Except Jack wasn’t that scary to look at. Unlike other gargoyles, he was fairly tame. He had been carved as a friend and not as a monster.
But the ringmaster didn’t care. And he had been determined to get his money's worth. So he had assembled all the scraggly kids for a meeting within earshot from Jack’s cage. The contents of it had been fairly straightforward: either the Halloween show was a success or they would all be sold to new owners so that the circus could recoup its costs. That meeting had been nothing more than a way to provide Jack with an incentive. The ringmaster had heard grand ol’ tales about gargoyles’ evil powers and he expected Jack to pull through if he wanted to save the kids.
For a week straight, anguished, terrified kids had come to his cage in fearful prayer. They all knew what being sold meant. For some, it was even worse than the fate they had known with the circus. For some, it meant certain death after some of the most awful tortures.
So Jack had tried. For them, he had.
The show had gone on in a bizarre atmosphere until the last act. Jack’s act.
Jack’s poor excuse for a gargoyle had been unveiled to the public in the most anticlimactic reveal the circus had possibly ever known, to the point that some spectators had even immediately started to get up and leave, muttering about money wasted.
The ringmaster had been livid, absolutely furious. Until Jack had reached down, deep within himself. He had held all the poison that had accumulated within him for centuries and he had stared at the man, hard. Jack’s eyes had flashed red and he had unleashed everything he had always wanted to throw at this bastard’s face. He had channeled all the emotions he had soaked up from the small, terrified children and had released it all into the circus tent.
Terror. All encompassing. It had filled the air, mercilessly suffocating the people in attendance. But most importantly, it had seized the ringmaster in its grasp, squeezing so very tight until the man’s heart had simply given out and he had died of fright.
As soon as his limp body had hit the floor, the terror had disappeared. It had been gone in a flash. People were coughing, gasping against the air that was forcing itself back into their lungs. Children were crying. Parents were screaming. Everyone had started running the moment their legs had decided to obey them again.
And Jack had found himself completely alone in the center of the stage, surrounded by dark, empty wooden benches.
Success had a bitter taste.
Jack hadn’t wasted a second more. As soon as he had been freed, he had set off, flying away in the fog, bound west over the Atlantic Ocean. His Great Big Crossing. He had wanted to put all of this behind him and forget everything. Even his own name. So he had changed it as he had flown for miles and miles and miles over the dark waters of the ocean.
He hadn’t gone too far off the original. It would have brought too much guilt and he already had plenty of it. He may have hated his name, but Jacques had been an innocent boy. It wasn’t his fault if people were cruel bastards. So he had settled on Jack. It was close and yet different. And Jack had some peps to it. Some personality. He liked the explosive consonant at the beginning of it. It sounded just like him. An explosive little ball of stone. Something he often was, especially when he was bored.
Unfortunately, America hadn’t brought him what he had sought. Most of the gargoyles there despised him. They bullied him, made fun of his naive, childish appearance and always taunted him. He had never been able to find a flock, although he told himself it didn’t matter. He had gone centuries without one. He didn’t need it. He was better off alone.
So he toured the country, sometimes popped off to Canada - avoiding the south and its fake warmth - and stayed in cities for however long he pleased, until he got bored and decided to move again.
His most recent city was Pittsburgh. So far, he had been enjoying it alright. The gargoyles already there were as mean as anywhere else, but at least he liked the atmosphere of it. He liked the oldish buildings and their industrial look. He liked the three rivers, their many bridges and the hills.
He had claimed an old, decrepit factory on the outskirts of town, and he often flew around the city just for the fun of it. And sometimes, when he was particularly bored, he would play games, like cannonballing.
Cannonballing was a fun game. Jack would fly at great speed between buildings and roll himself into a tight ball before exploding through a window. It would usually give a big fright to the humans inside and Jack would cackle maniacally before flying off again. It taught them to steer clear of gargoyles. To teach their youngs to fear the gargoyles and never approach them. Everybody won.
And Jack had been particularly bored that afternoon as he flew through Pittsburgh’s streets, not too far from the hospital that towered over the neighborhood. The Pittsburgh Trauma and Medical Center was a prized building amongst gargoyles in this area. So prized, in fact, that no claim had ever stuck. The different flocks were always fighting each other over it. And no lone gargoyle had ever managed the prowess of claiming the building for themselves either. So it stood, like a dark, imposing giant, watching, creaking, almost breathing, but never glowing with light.
Jack took a corner, fast, zipping just shy of the brick, and then another, and another, building speed, until he coiled himself into a tight ball of unbreakable stone and launched himself at the apartment window of some poor old soul.
CRASH
WHAM
THONK
Jack had easily burst through the glass and he had bounced off the floor before landing in the middle of what must have been a living room. He was waiting for the screams to begin. He knew there was someone. He had felt the presence before selecting his entry point on a reconnaissance flight.
But the screams never came. That was odd. It usually never failed. And Jack had heard the startled noises of someone getting up. But then nothing, only fast heartbeats amongst the silence.
And then, a voice. Concerned. Soft. Almost warm. Like goose down.
“Oh no, poor little cat,” the voice cooed, “are you alright?”
Well, fuck Jack. He didn’t have a guide for such a reaction. Puzzled, he rolled on the floor, once, twice, finding his bearings, until he landed on his butt and unfolded his wings and limbs. He stared at the guy. He was too far away for him to be able to get a good read on him. He angled his head, wondering what he should do. The man didn’t seem harmful, but then again, Gaspard hadn’t seemed harmful. Jack was staying cautious.
He tensed when the man carefully moved forward amongst the glass shards. He bent down in front of Jack. He was close enough that Jack’s short arms could almost but not quite reach him.
“Come on, let me get a look at you, little cat. I want to make sure you’re alright.”
That noun again. Cat. So he had heard him correctly the first time around. Was he really taking him for a cat?! Who had done his education? Didn’t he know what gargoyles were? Maybe that was why he wasn’t afraid. Still, it was bizarre. He was much too calm and collected for this sort of situation.
Jack stared at him again, but deeper this time. The man had finally moved within range of his aura and he could finally get a whiff of his person. Jack had discovered he could do that after his Great Big Crossing. He had been curious and he had tried seeing what else he could do, besides unleashing into the atmosphere some of the emotions he held.
Turned out, he had another neat trick up his sleeve. When humans got close enough to him, he could get a sort of read on their intents, on some of their defining traits… and if he touched something of theirs, he could also get their name, sometimes their rough age too, and sometimes flashes about their occupation or other elements that were big parts of their lives. And if he touched their skin directly, he could learn a lot more about their physical state. But he didn’t like doing that. He still tried to stay clear of humans.
What he got from the man was unlike what he had ever felt from other humans. He meant him no harm. That much was evident. And there was strong worry there, too. And also… care? That puzzled Jack a lot. And exhaustion. That man was tired.
But it wasn’t a precise science. All of this was most likely true right at this moment in time, but a few minutes from now? That was all up in the air. And he couldn’t keeping looking at humans like that all the time. It took a lot of concentration. Hm.
Oh well, Jack was bored. He figured he could always kill him and eat the evidence if he ever turned on him. He had thoroughly learned his lesson, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
So for the sake of occupying his time, he decided to indulge him. He thought he was a cat? That was fine. Jack could give him cat.
“Merrrrrrgggoowg?” Ok, not perfect, more like stones grinding against each other rather than a soft meow, but eh, close enough. And if he didn’t like it, he could shove it.
“Aw, what a beautiful voice you have there, mister.” The man praised him.
Fuck, that was smile on his face that Jack was feeling. And his shoulders did a little shake out of their own accord too. Bastards. But no one had ever complimented his voice. No one had truly ever complimented him, period. He couldn’t help feeling a little proud.
“Will you let me look you over? Just to check? I’m a doctor you know, I’m used to giving people a little check-up.” The guy insisted.
No, Jack didn’t know that he was a doctor. And, in fact, he reserved his judgment for when he would be able to touch something of him. Humans lied all the time. He still shrugged. It was an opportunity to get closer. And he still had nothing better to do.
“Alright, let’s take a look at you.”
The sudden feeling of big hands on his body surprised Jack, but he stayed put. The roughness of the man’s hands contrasted with the gentle care of his movements. They palpated his four limbs and his abdomen in precise, swift motions. They were leaving weird, tingly trails all over his stony skin. It was an unusual sensation, not something Jack remembered having ever felt before, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
He could have touched him with his hand, right there and then, the cuffs of his hoodie was so close to his little fingers, but he didn’t. He was too focused on the tingles which had sparked all over him, where the man had touched him. It was… It was different. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t cold.
“Hm.” The man hummed, lost in thought. “Are you in pain?” He asked him, pulling Jack away from his budding realization.
He angled his head again, puzzled at this odd request. He couldn’t recall a human ever asking him if he had been in pain. But soon, a flash of light reflecting on metal caught his attention and distracted him. Around the man’s neck was a pendant of a small star with six branches. He made grabby hands at it. He wanted to see it more closely. He wanted to touch it.
“Oh, you’re a curious little thing. That’s a Magen David. People also call it a Star of David.”
So he was Jewish. Jack found himself relieved to know he wasn’t a Catholic. The burnt ruins of his birthplace were still strongly present in his mind, with all the other memories it evoked. He had had his fill of Catholics and wasn’t sure he had it in him to go down that road again. But maybe he wasn’t opposed to trying something new.
“It belonged to my bubbe. She passed away years ago.”
Jack saw the quick flash of sadness that passed over the man’s features when he mentioned his late grandmother and he couldn’t help the displeased pout on his face. A man who cared enough to ask a gargoyle if it was in pain should not be saddled by so much sadness.
“You can touch it if you want, but you have to be careful.” The man offered.
He would be. Even if only because the man had been equally careful with him so far. He kept his arm outstretched in front of him and quickly scooted on his butt until his fingers brushed against the metal and closed around the pendant.
The echoes of an old woman’s voice whispered his name to him. Mishka. The name was pronounced with such tenderness, it made Jack’s heart hurt. He turned the pendant over between his fingers, appreciating the smooth, worn, warm feeling of it before letting it go, curiosity satisfied.
Warm feeling. Warm.
Almost on instinct, he stretched his hand forward until it made contact with the t-shirt he was wearing. Another name flashed in his mind. Robby. This time it was as if a thousand voices had been saying it at the same time, overlapping in a dissonant pattern. A name well used. By many people. And a cacophony of sensations accompanied it. Hurt. Urgency. Relief. Grief. Pain. Comfort. Life. Death. Care. Physician.
Jack’s hand was laying flat over the human’s beaten heart. The warmth was there again. He could feel it radiating from underneath the fabric. Pulsating. He grabbed the soft cotton fibers and pulled himself towards him until his other hand could reach through the opening of the half-zipped hoodie. He smiled. It was better than anything he had ever imagined.
He couldn’t resist. He had waited for this for too long. And now that it was there, right under the tips of his fingers, he couldn’t keep listening to the voice of reason. He wanted to be close. He needed to be close.
He jumped forward and, with a flap of his wings, he sunk headfirst into the opening of the hoodie. He wriggled and shifted until he was right side up again with his head pressed flat against Robby’s chest, right in the middle of his collarbones. He encircled his torso with his arms and held tight.
It was the best sensation he had ever felt. His entire tiny body alighted with Robby’s shared warmth and a primal part of Jack which had laid dormant ever since his creation woke. A low rumble escaped his frame. The noise was dissonant and it yo-yo-ed between high and low, making his entire body vibrate against Robby’s ribcage, diffusing the warmth through every single tiny crevice. Jack felt content, truly content. His mind was overcome by bliss and he never ever wanted to have to move again.
“You’re just the cutest thing.” Robby murmured.
The odd purring noise only grew louder, encouraged by the fondness that transpired through the man’s voice.
Robby’s hands carefully cupped Jack’s body from beneath through the heavy fabric of the hoodie and, as he got up, Jack made himself lighter. He had felt the unnatural desire to help him. To help a human carry him. And he didn’t even give a fuck.
“I think you need a bath.” Robby decided. “I don’t know where you’ve stayed, but you’ve got all this moss and lichen on you, and it can’t be good for you. So how about a warm bath, hm? I know cats aren’t too fond of water, but I promise I’ll make it nice. I can put a towel on the heater, it will be all warm for after your bath. What do you think?”
Jack thought he didn’t care so long as he got to stay with him. He didn’t bother to answer. He only squeezed Robby’s ribcage tighter, as tight as he could without actually breaking or stressing bones.
“Well, I suppose we will just have to find out.” Robby murmured as he carried him to the bathroom.
Jack stayed flushed to him as Robby prepared the bath and turned on the heated towel rack. He was making himself as light as possible, so as to not impede Robby’s movements and risk being put down before the last possible moment.
When the water was ready, Robby, much to Jack’s disappointment, unzipped his hoodie to try and put him in the bath, but this time Jack didn’t make it easy for him. He made Robby unhook every single one of his ten digits before he relented and accepted to be placed in the awaiting warm water, standing on his two feet. It was clear Robby wanted to check if he could stand unassisted, and Jack decided to be marginally good and indulge him, but his displeased pout didn’t ease off his face for a moment and he soon sat back down on his butt, drawing his knees up to his chest and wounding his arms around them, preserving as much as the warmth as he could.
“Aren’t you a cutie.” Robby cooed, softly. “Is the water alright? I can make it a little warmer if you want.”
At the sound of that, a big toothy stony smile replaced his pout, and Robby reached to open the hot water tap again to fill the tub up to Jack’s chin. The water deliciously engulfed him in a cozy heat and Jack sighed. Maybe everything that came from Robby was warm. Although it wasn’t quite as warm as Robby himself. Regardless, it was like nothing Jack had ever known. God, he couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to get proper skin on skin contact.
“Alright.” Robby stood up. “I’ll let you soak for a bit and I’ll go clean my living room.” He declared and promptly turned his back on him to open the bathroom door.
What? Jack whipped his head around. Absolutely not! Jack didn’t care to examine it too closely, but he wasn’t ok with Robby leaving. Really not. That wasn’t acceptable. He couldn’t do that to him!
He stood up. Angry. His hands gathered at his sides, in tight little fists. The water sloshed dangerously close to the edge of the tub. The light flickered and dimmed. Jack’s eyes flashed red and he screeched his threatening anger out. The entire atmosphere of the room had turned menacing.
But Robby didn’t flee, didn’t scream, didn’t lash out in answer. He simply took a deep breath in and turned around to face Jack.
“No. We don’t do that here.” Robby scolded. “In this home, we are well mannered people. If you want something or disagree with something, you can use your words or your gestures, but we don’t threaten, we don’t instill fear. It’s ok to have big feelings, but it’s not ok to take it out on others.”
Robby’s voice was stern, as stern as the ringmaster of the old circus had been. And just like him, he was disappointed too. But it felt different. It wasn’t resentment at the bad deal he had gotten. It wasn’t annoyance at Jack's behavior. And it wasn't contempt at his miserable attempt at gaining control of the situation. No, it was sadness. And Jack had no idea what to do with it.
Robby had launched it at him like a hot potato and Jack was burning his hands with it. For the first time, he felt deep, intense regrets at having disappointed a human. He was sorry.
He flushed his ears back against his skull and let his tail curl around his leg. Around him, the water in the bathtub stilled and the lightbulb stopped flickering. His face bore a chastised pout.
Robby looked at him and sighed. “It’s ok. You didn’t know. But now you do. So, you’re forgiven, but no more of that, ok?”
Robby was fair. He wasn’t punishing him. And he was offering forgiveness in the face of true repentance. He was a very weird human.
Jack slowly nodded. He sheepishly promised himself to never make Robby afraid again.
But it still didn't fix his problem. He didn’t want Robby to leave him. It wasn’t fair! He had just found a maybe good one and he was already thinking of leaving Jack behind. That needed sorting out. Robby had to learn he couldn’t just ditch Jack without a second thought.
But Jack wasn’t ready to talk. To use the words he had. And his little trick had just been banned. So he had to find something else.
What had he said? Using his gestures? Jack pondered on it. The grabby hands had worked earlier, maybe it could work again. He tried it, extending his arms in front of him and making grabby hands at Robby.
“You don’t want me to leave, was that it?”
Yes! Robby could be smart when he wanted. Maybe they would work out. Jack gave him another big toothy grin.
“Ok, ok, I’ll stay.” Robby ceded. “We’ll clean up the living room after your bath.”
Jack wondered if he could push his luck. More than Robby staying, he wanted him with him. He needed him close. He kept making grabby hands, pouting a little.
Robby puzzled and then Jack saw his eyes widen. “Oh, you want me in the bath with you.”
Jack jumped up and down excitedly, making the water splash around him. Robby was smart. He turned around on himself, spinning in excitement and flapping his small wings.
“Alright, alright, message received. Just give me a minute.” Robby promised, a fond smile on his face, before he stripped down.
Jack sat back down into the water and, as patiently as he could, he watched Robby select two brushes and place them on the edge of the tub before getting in. Jack lost no time, climbing over Robby’s thighs and making himself at home on his chest.
It was like having flown and sunk into the sun. Soft magma swirled all around Jack in a gentle hug. It was the best he had ever felt. The permanent cold he had always known was but a distant memory, and the perfectly soft tummy beneath him felt like a rampart against the harshness that had been Jack’s life up until that moment. He affectionately rubbed his face against his chest, reddening the skin there but without breaking it. No, he never wanted to leave.
“You know, you could have really hurt yourself out there.” Robby whispered. “It’s not safe for cats outside. You’re lucky to have found your way here. Who knows what could have happened to you if you had stayed outdoors. But I’ll make sure you stay safe from now on, don’t worry.”
It made Jack want to laugh. If only Robby knew. But he didn’t disagree with the sentiment and, somehow, he believed him. It was the safest he had ever felt. Even safer than during that period of time he had spent secluded and closed-off from everything and everyone.
Robby’s big hand was back on his back, caressing it with tenderness, and being delicate with his wings. Jack let his thin tail trail in the water, the tiny pointy triangle at the end of it was idly tracing patterns in the water. He felt peaceful and he tried to push the sentiment towards Robby. He figured that was allowed. It wasn’t mean.
They stayed huddled together as the water progressively turned lukewarm, but Robby stayed warm against Jack’s sleepy form, and he let himself be manipulated when Robby sat up straight to start brushing him, diligently removing the grime and moss. It felt nice and Jack didn’t fight the dissonant purring that demanded to be let out.
“Oh, what a nice little motor.” Robby praised, immediately prompting the noise to turn up a notch.
He kept brushing Jack, not missing a single inch of stony skin, going behind his ears, above his bald head, in between the wrinkles, under his knees, in the crooks of his elbows, all around his tail, in between his ribs… Jack made an effort to stay limp even as Robby moved onto his wings. He knew what was about to happen and he couldn’t bring himself to stop it.
If Robby read the name that was nestled right under the vertical length of his left wing, on the edge of his spine, and if he touched it and then pronounced it, he would establish a primordial bond. Jack could stop him. He could. He was easily much, much stronger than Robby. But Jack had started to believe in it again. Eternal warmth. Despite himself, he felt the same fondness the older woman had felt and which she had transmitted to Jack about her Mishka.
He let it happen. Jack shivered as he felt Robby read the name in his mind.
“Well, you’re a damn long way away from home, buddy.” Robby murmured, but Jack didn’t nod along. He had no home.
Robby didn’t stop there. One of his fingers found the crudely carved letters and touched them. A strong spark of electricity shot straight from Jack to Robby, traveling all the way to his core. To his heart.
The organ painfully contracted and Robby huffed, hurt, breathing with difficulty against the wave of pain.
Jack whipped around, anguished. No, no, no, that heart had to keep beating. It simply had to. Oh why did humans insist on taking such bad care of themselves? What did they think they were? Gargoyles? Immortal beings made out of stone who couldn’t get hurt unless they chose to? The idiots.
He spread a hand over the big pulsating organ, cooing to it, enjoining it to keep working and threatening it if it ever thought of giving out on him. He couldn’t help the soft wounded noises that escaped his throat.
“I’m ok.” Robby soothed, as if Jack was the one that needed soothing. “It’s ok.”
Jack wanted to cheat. He could feel the possibility right within reach. He could force a permanent bond. He could skip all the steps and do something. He removed his hand and licked the skin over Robby’s heart with his sandstone tongue, gnawing at the flesh there, distraught.
But Robby calmed him down. “It’s alright.” He reiterated. “It passed. Look,” he took Jack’s hand and spread it back over his heart, holding it in his, “can you feel that? It’s my heartbeat. It’s perfectly regular.” Jack felt him take a few deep breaths that allowed his heart to slow down. “See? All good.” Robby insisted.
Little humming noises came out of Jack’s throat. He still wasn't a fan of the state of that battered heart, but it had indeed gone back to a normal rhythm. He was aware of Robby’s gaze on him, and how it had changed from earlier. Robby was studying him. Jack felt pretty fucking naked all of a sudden, as if he was being seen through. But he held his own. The feeling was pretty ridiculous anyhow, because Jack had never not been naked.
“Hey… Jacques…” Robby suddenly released the name in the air, between the two of them, surprising him. “Do you think you might want a home? A forever home?”
Time stopped. Nothing moved. Immobility had seized the room. An overwhelming silence had settled over them, plunging them both deep into its overbearing pressure which must have felt close to unbearable for a human, but it felt like home to a gargoyle.
Jack had a choice to make. He knew it had been coming, he had allowed it to come, he had let Robby get this far, and yet, the man had still managed to surprise him.
He was offering him a home. A home. A gargoyle didn't have a home. It had claims. Could he have a home? Was Robby even aware of what he was offering? Did he even realize Jack wasn’t the weirdest fucking cat in entire universe but a real, live gargoyle?
Jack’s hand was still right over Robby’s heart and he decided to make use of it.
The first thing he did was to push back on the name. He dismissed ‘Jacques’ and pushed ‘Jack’ forward into Robby’s mind. Then he angled his head and looked at Robby, stared at him, at his heart, at his emotions, at everything that made him. He got the feeling that Robby wasn’t fooled by his own game. He had recognized Jack for what he was: a gargoyle. He knew. And yet he still wanted him.
That was the second thing. He wanted Jack. Nearly as much as Jack wanted Robby. And who was Jack to refuse him? But Jack had learned from his mistakes. He made grabby hands at Robby’s heart. This would be an equivalent exchange or nothing. His heart against Jack’s. Either Robby was ready to give himself just as much as Jack, or Jack would be breaking their primordial bond before it could be inscribed in stone.
Robby nodded.
Jack accepted the offering, but put his own twist on it. Now that Robby’s heart was his, he could cheat a little. Give him a taste of what he could be signing up for in the future, of what he had opened himself to.
The perfectly immobile air split in half around them and some of Jack’s essence came through, adding to the millions and millions of tiny particles that composed the air, taking space that wasn’t available, making the pressure swell until the room felt about to implode from within.
It narrowed in on Robby and soundlessly struck him at once. Time set into motion again, forcing air back into Robby’s lungs, which in turn forced his heart to pump blood through his body, blood that had sat unnaturally still and which now had to contend with a little something else.
Robby gasped, struggling to let Jack’s gift in, to let it settle and bind itself to him. Jack reached for Robby’s fingers and helped him through it. Letting his own stony body give the necessary instructions to Robby’s human form until everything receded back into order, rearranging itself in a series of precise, chaotic movements.
Robby breathed again and Jack could feel and appreciate the effects his essence had had on him. He could feel just how sturdier his lungs, heart, arteries, and veins were. He was satisfied that that heart would go on beating for a while longer. For long enough that, perhaps, they would have the time to bond both of their souls together, for all of Jack’s eternity.
“Was that… was that your answer?” Robby asked, surprising Jack once more. He was talking again much faster than anticipated. Jack decided to take it as a good sign, as the sign that he had made the right choice.
“Hhhhome.” He rasped, resting his head right over Robby’s heart and pushing all the love and warmth he felt towards it.
Robby shuddered beneath him. “Yeah, home.” He murmured, agreeing with Jack. His arms wound around his small frame and he held him.
He rinsed the two of them with some more hot water and stepped out of the bath with Jack still firmly in his arms. For a second, Jack worried that Robby would get the stupid idea of putting him down again, but he didn’t. He wrapped the toasty warm towel around the two of them and gently rocked Jack back and forth as they dried off in the steamy bathroom.
They got to their bedroom and Jack accepted to be dropped onto the bed for the briefest of moments so that Robby could get dressed, before they both went back to the living room. It was time to clean the mess Jack had made.
Robby tried to get started on the shards of glass but Jack was quick to slap his hands away, growling as tenderly as he could. He wouldn’t let him risk getting stupidly injured. Taking care of the glass was Jack’s job. And he demonstrated it by wolfing down the shards, happily munching on them to make them disappear and keep his Robby out of harm’s way. He enjoyed the crunch anyway.
“I don’t think glass is safe for consumption.” Robby vaguely tried to protest and Jack cackled maniacally in answer, gobbling up more shards to make his point. He would have liked to see Robby doing that.
Robby seemed to get the idea and he let Jack have his fun until not a single piece of broken glass remained anywhere.
Then, Jack helped him put up some plywoods over the gaping hole in Robby’s living room window. He flew to the corners of the sheet of plywood as Robby held it into place and hammered nails into the wooden frame. They gave the floors a cursory mop where the rain had made its way inside and stood back. Outside, the autumnal tempest was still raging, but inside the apartment, it was as if a great calm had settled over it.
“Alright.” Robby looked around, seemingly satisfied and Jack preened a little from where he was perched on the back of the couch. “I think we should have dinner and go to bed, I feel like I need to sleep for a couple thousand years. Although I’m sorry, I don’t have any cat food at hand, but I remember reading that cats could eat rice and zucchinis, and I think I have some chicken breast in the fridge, so that will have to do for today. Tomorrow I’ll buy food just for you. The good stuff.” He promised.
Jack rolled his eyes but rolled with it. Them pretending he was a cat beat having to perform as a circus freak by miles. Cats got to cuddle their owners all the time, didn’t they? And they could be mischievous, and play, and doze off where it was warm, and have the run of the place. Yeah, it was a great deal if you asked Jack. Besides, it didn’t really matter, because Robby knew he was a gargoyle, and Jack got the feeling he was only pretending otherwise to keep them both safe. And fuck it, Jack was more than fine with that plan.
Robby took care of dinner and sat down around his dining table, depositing two plates on it. Jack hopped around until he perched right next to Robby’s plate. He was looking at him, waiting for him to eat so that they could go to bed and so that Jack could cuddle the shit out of him. But Robby pushed the second plate towards Jack and looked at him, enjoining him to eat.
Jack angled his head quizzically. He didn’t need to eat. He had eaten the glass because it was fun. But he didn’t need food. However, Robby didn’t seem to want to relent, so, entirely to indulge him, Jack picked up some of it in his tiny hand and shoved it down his gullet.
“What a good boy.” Robby praised him, making Jack preen on reflex again. Ugh. That was going to become a pattern, wasn’t it? But it felt so good. Jack never wanted Robby to stop praising him. So he ate again, and Robby liberally bestowed praise on him until Jack cleared the entire plate and Robby’s face was sporting a proud smile.
Then, finally, Jack got to attach himself to Robby’s back as he brushed his teeth and used the bathroom before they made it back to their bedroom.
Jack tried to sneak under Robby’s t-shirt but there wasn’t enough room and he pouted, displeased. Skin on skin was so much better. He removed his disgruntled head from where he had tried to shove it and looked up at Robby with a sad pout, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to let his frustration win and lash out.
Robby gave his head a pat and he slipped out of bed to rummage in the top cupboards until he retrieved another heavy blanket which he spread over the mattress in front of a puzzled Jack. But then, he removed his t-shirt and Jack’s wide toothy grin was back. Robby sneaked back under the covers with Jack who happily glued himself to Robby’s chest, his arms and legs firmly encircling his torso, his tail hooked around his hip, loudly purring in this ocean of warmth on the perfect cushion of his soft stomach.
Robby laid a protective hand over his wings and he started softly singing to him in a language Jack hadn’t heard in a while. He sang in Yiddish, something beautiful that had Jack snoring away in no time. He liked Robby’s voice, it was nice, warm, gentle, and it settled over him like a quilt woven with so much love and tenderness it glowed.
In his slumber, Jack felt Robby shift and chat with someone, a woman named Dana. He kept one ear trained on it, tensing when he sensed that she wasn’t quite pleased with Robby’s new companion, and then relaxing again as she changed her mind and accepted Jack’s presence into her friend’s life. Jack was ok with Robby having friends so long as they didn’t try to separate him from his Robby.
The room turned quiet again after their conversation ended and Jack made himself ever so slightly heavier, settling Robby into his own skin, imbuing him with the feelings of peace and safety he was currently harboring. Robby’s breathing slowed and sleep claimed Jack’s human as softly as a gentle breeze.
Jack nuzzled into him, satisfied. “Mishka.” He purred like an incantation. The strong, big heart under him beat steadily in answer, syncing with Jack’s own heart. And together, they slept, protected from the elements that were still raging outside. No one would ever hurt either of them ever again. Jack would make sure of it. And so would Robby.