Cause I'm moving on up
I'm moving on out
I'm moving on up
I'm moving on out
Time to break free
Nothing's going to stop me...

--"Moving On Up," M People

He crouched at the edge of the tower, claws digging into the stone as he stared over the edge at the clouds far below. Occasionally, his gaze would surreptitiously wander to the pair in the courtyard below, standing together with hands clasped. Angela and Broadway were so lost in each other's gaze that they were utterly oblivious to the world around them. It was so saccharine that it bordered on painful. To scorned eyes, it was downright depressing.

Lex was downstairs, arguing codes and programming with Sarah, who was working late to impress her boss. In the past few weeks since Dingo had left, his sister and Lex had been hanging out more and more often. Probably because Sarah actually understood most of Lex's technobabble.

Either way, his were the only eyes watching for Goliath and Hudson's return; they were meeting Elisa not far from the precinct to find out just how well the truth of the Hunters' involvement had spread. The more people that knew that the Hunters, and not the clan, had laid waste to the station, the better. It was bad enough suddenly having those Quarrymen around.

Cloaking his wings, Brooklyn sighed, glancing back at Angela and Broadway. They were still semi-surgically attached. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. It was both painful and exasperating to even think about. Shaking his head, he was relieved to see the familiar shapes of Goliath and Hudson gliding towards them. With a sigh, he launched himself off the tower, landing in the courtyard moments before his clan leader did, Elisa in his arms.

As the detective slid from Goliath's grip, Angela broke away from Broadway to embrace her father in an enthusiastic hug. Some of the ache eased from Brooklyn as she did so, and he beckoned as Lex, followed by Sarah, emerged from the nearest corridor.

He turned back to the group. "So what's the deal?"

"Well, there's good news and bad news." Elisa sighed. "The good news is, Captain Chavez informed every news station clearly and loudly that it was the Hunters, not you guys, that did all the damage. Matt, Morgan, and several others attested to that. All you guys did was make a break for it."

Angela frowned as Lex and Sarah came up. "So what's the bad news, then?"

It was Goliath's turn to frown. "From what Elisa and Detective Bluestone have gathered, many people still hold us in some blame." He growled softly. "The Hunters came after us."

"So they assume that since we brought them, we deserve some blame," Brooklyn snarled. "Wonderful."

"Give me a bloomin' break!" Sarah exclaimed indignantly. "That's the most daft thing I've ever heard."

Lex patted her shoulder. "We're not always logical, you know. Humans and gargoyles."

Goliath nodded. "As much as it saddens me, that is true."

"What are we going to do?" Angela said, looking so mournful and beautiful that Brooklyn ached to comfort her. But Broadway beat him to the punch, moving beside her and putting an arm around his love as she leaned against him.

"We'll survive," he whispered, and the mix of emotions that roiled in Brooklyn then made him feel queasy.

He took a deep breath and turned towards the nearest battlement, unfolding his wings as he prepared to take off. There was no way he was going to survive if he didn't blow off some steam soon.

"Brooklyn!" Cringing at Goliath's bellow, he turned, expecting the worst. But the look on his leader's face was one of concern, not the stern mien Brooklyn had expected, and he sighed. "Where are you going?"

Looking down, Brooklyn felt a slight twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry. Goliath, I--I have to be alone for a while. I'll be back in a couple of hours. I just need some air." With that, he turned and launched himself into the night.

Faintly, he heard Hudson's rumbling voice. "Let him go, lad. He just needs some time alone."

He scribbled studiously away, purposely hunched over the drawing table. Looking up was not an option; if that damned cat wasn't there, he would have to watch Caroline get ready for her date. And he was in too foul of a mood already. Worse than usual, in fact.

Running a hand through his light brown hair, Richard Korinski stifled a resigned sigh. The minute he showed any sign of depression, he would either be subjected to Annie's acid tongue or Caroline's overbearing concern. Neither were very appealing at the moment. Perhaps he could have just played it safe, called in sick and crashed at his apartment, but that might have even been more depressing. At least he was doing something.

"What do you think about this dress?" Despite his efforts to keep his eyes on the work at hand, they wandered upward to see Caroline rush out of her bedroom, holding up a short, pale green sleeveless dress in front of her for Annie to inspect. "Does it make me look young? old? skinny? fat? Celery?"

Popping a grape into her mouth, Annie chewed loudly as she cocked her head. "Maybe. The black one I still like better."

Richard sighed. "That's because the 'black one' just happened to belong in the lingerie department."

"Bite me," Annie said without turning. "Honestly, the more you show, the better. Trust me, Caroline, if he's got a pulse, he's not going to spend the entire evening looking at your face."

Caroline snorted. "Oh, thanks, Annie, that's so reassuring." She threw the dress over the couch and tossed up her hands. "I mean, I'm starting an actual relationship after the end of the most serious one I've had in a long time. I don't want to screw this up."

"And you're taking advice from Annie's Fling-of-the-Day Service." Richard couldn't resist, and merely blinked as the grape Annie threw bounced off his forehead.

He tuned the rest of their conversation out and focused entirely on his coloring. But he couldn't keep it out of his thoughts. First Caroline and Del, now this. He wondered if Joe still had his provisional driver's license. When he'd asked Caroline, she had whacked him with her pencil. It seemed that every time he opened his mouth to a woman lately, he ended up getting hit in the head.

It wasn't his fault that Caroline's taste in men matched her taste in best friends. In fact, it wasn't even his business, but it frustrated him nonetheless. Caroline was exasperatingly bubbly, overenthusiastic, and nosy to boot, but the idiots she'd seen didn't deserve her.

So who does? his common sense asked. You?

Richard bit his lip. Not this inner conflict again. Perhaps he did like Caroline; she did have her good points. All right, she had plenty of good points, and if it was a perfect world he might pursue her. But it wasn't, and he knew that they would drive each other crazy in a matter of weeks.

Part of him, the non-practical part, still wondered if that was true. A small part (but a very vocal part) of him wanted to risk it and try to tell her how he felt.

Like that was possible. Richard stole another glance upward; Caroline had settled on the green dress and was arguing with Annie about what, exactly, was considered "too fast." In Annie's opinion, not much. Richard was considering throwing his entire pencil case at her when the doorbell, mercifully, rang.

Charlie was standing there, dripping wet from head to toe. "Did you order a pizza?"

Confused, Caroline blinked. "No, I don't think so."

"Darn." He shuffled into the room. "I was hoping you'd have some left over."

"Gee, Charlie, won't you come in?" Caroline said sarcastically as she shut the door.

Richard gave up; there was no way he could totally tune out the action now. He looked up to see Annie giving Charlie a quizzical look. "What happened to you? It's not even raining out!"

"Oh, yeah." He looked down. "D' you know that if you make a lot of noise under somebody's window, they do some really weird stuff to shut you up?"

"I'm not going to ask," Caroline said, steering him back towards the door. "Well, Charlie, it was nice to see you, but I've got a date in ten minutes and you're dripping on the rug. So goodbye!" She opened the door and attempted to shove him out.

He grabbed onto the doorframe. "No! Please! I don't want to go out there. The monsters'll get me!" As she continued to push, he slid out of her grip and back into the apartment.

"Charlie, this is New York," Annie snapped. "It never bothered you before."

He shook his head vigorously, spattering water droplets all over. "Uh-uh! Not the flying monsters. The ones with wings and tails who blew up the police station."

Annie, Caroline, and Richard exchanged glances, and Caroline's eye fell on the clock. "Oh, my God! It's seven-fifteen! Annie, why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask," Annie said as Caroline frantically dashed about the apartment, grabbing makeup, keys, purse.

"I was supposed to meet him at Remo's fifteen minutes ago!" Caroline snatched up her things and bolted out the door, shouting, "Richard, can you lock up when you're done?"

She didn't wait for an answer, and Annie followed her out, talking about number of drinks and body language. The door slammed behind the two of them, followed by a blissful silence. Richard smiled to himself; peace at last. Perhaps he could pull a late night, just drawing without interruption. He was actually comfortable for once, and very little could have moved him.

Charlie remained standing in the foyer, still dripping wet. "So, it's just you and me, huh?" He shuffled over to the refrigerator and pulled out a banana, inspecting it. "Did you know bananas are part of a conspiracy to brainwash us all?"

"The government has conspiracies for everything," Richard muttered, not wanting to debate it.

"Not the government, the monkeys! Did you know they're working with the gargoyles to run New York?" Charlie's head bobbed up and down. "It's true. I read all about it on the Internet."

With that, Richard packed up his pencils, grabbed his things, and stood up. Ignoring Charlie, he opened the door, locked the bottom lock, and stormed into the hall, slamming the door behind him.

Charlie watched him go. "Guess he read about it too."

Matt Bluestone gave his reflection a baleful glare and tried to recall why, exactly, he was doing this. The last blind date he'd been on was a total disaster; what's-her-face had an irritating obsession with carpet cleaning, and had talked about nothing but rugs and floor upholstery all night. With his luck, tonight's contestant would probably demonstrate it for him.

The shrill ringing of the phone caused him to jump. Talk about being on edge. Shaking his head, he picked up the receiver on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Has the torture started yet, partner?" Elisa's voice greeted cheerfully. Matt rolled his eyes; since she'd found out that Captain Chavez had set him up with a friend of a friend, she had teased him mercilessly.

He sat down on the bed. "It's the calm before the storm. What's going on? Any major citywide emergencies that would cancel my night off?" It wasn't easy to conceal the eagerness in his voice.

"Don't you wish! Sorry, Matt, you're stuck for it. No way to back out now." There was a pause. "Seriously, though, I was wondering if you could keep an eye out for Brooklyn tonight. He went out alone in a huff, and I think he was heading towards that restaurant you're going to--what's it called again?"

Matt peered at the Post-It on his dresser. "Remo's. How come you and Goliath can't search for him?"

"Well.....I don't think Brooklyn wants us to. He'd just take off again if Goliath tried to drag him back. But just to be safe." Elisa paused again. "So--what do you know about her?"

"Her name's Annie Spidaro, she's an actress, and I won't be able to miss her. That's all I've been told."

There was a chuckle. "Sounds interesting. Anyway, I'd better go. But I want details."

"Sure, partner. See you later." He hung up before she could tease him any further.

From his vantage point, New York almost looked peaceful. The higher Brooklyn flew, the more it resembled a tapestry of neon jewels and less like a city of violence and hate. He sighed; it all depended on one's perspective.

Perspective was everything, right now. How people looked at them, with hate, fear, or maybe a few with open eyes and minds. How Angela regarded the rest of the clan--Broadway as a mate, but Brooklyn only as a friend. And he'd been so close! How could he have missed it? When did it happen?

Well, perhaps he had been a little pushy. He remembered back before the Viking massacre, so long ago, that some of the females in the castle had shied away from his up-front advances. But he really didn't know any other way; subtlety was just about alien to him when it came to women.

Still, he did know when to keep his mouth shut. Like now, when Angela and Broadway had gotten so close. What was he going to do, march up to them and tell the two of them off? Angela might shift from indifference towards him to actual dislike. Brooklyn preferred mere friendship to that. And there was nothing to tell off, since it had just happened.

Maybe it wasn't Angela that was bothering him. It was just that he was technically alone now. Hudson had said that he loved once and it was enough to last him two millenia. Goliath had Elisa. As for Lex--well, he and Sarah weren't serious by any means, but they kept each other busy. Even Bronx, according to Elisa and Angela, had a girlfriend on Avalon.

Brooklyn started at that thought, gliding lower. Perhaps he could find someone on Avalon! But how would he get there? There was no skiff to speak of, and the only other option was to ask Owen Burnett to send him there. Which Brooklyn was not eager to do. Besides, if he spent a day on Avalon, he would miss two weeks in New York. With the Quarrymen threatening them all, he couldn't afford to miss so much time. When Goliath and Elisa vanished for two months straight, he'd had one hell of a time keeping things together.

Again, he sighed. A distraction might be nice, at the very least. Even on such a nice night, a long flight wasn't much help to him.

As if on cue, he caught a glimpse of something in an alley below. He veered sharply and changed course, slowly gliding downwards.

Richard grunted as he was shoved to the pavement, his jaw scraping the rough asphalt. "What the hell is this?" he heard one of the punks who had attacked him shout. "Fifteen bucks? You shitting me?"

"I'm not too proud of it either," he muttered, and winced as the toe of a work boot jabbed him in the back. "Look, I'm poor, I'm nearly broke, and all I want to do tonight is go back to my closet-sized apartment and be miserable in peace."

He ignored the shouts above him, closing his eyes against the developing headache. What an apropos ending to this evening. If he was lucky, maybe they wouldn't bother with any serious bodily harm. A concussion he might be able to handle.

After a moment, he got the courage to lift his head and twist around to see what the muggers were up to. They were ignoring him, going through his wallet, arguing about something or other. The one holding his wallet was inspecting the folded-up sketches he'd crammed inside it, mostly of Caroline.

Two of the others were waving their guns around and didn't exactly look friendly. As he struggled cautiously to his feet, taking care to be as quiet as possible, Richard considered the odds. Most likely, they were going to kill or seriously harm him. He was naturally depressed, but not suicidally so.

He made a reckless decision, and took off running. It was a few moments before they realized what was going on, and followed in hot pursuit. Well, not exactly; they weren't exactly sober, and couldn't shoot and run at the same time. Fortunately, they didn't shoot.

But he was extremely tired, and drunken anger produced one hell of a lot of adrenalin. As he dashed towards the other end of the alley, his side began to ache and his head began to throb. He could hear them gaining on him, their shouts and their footsteps growing louder.

And then something grabbed him by the shoulders, and his feet abruptly left the ground.

Remo adjusted his tie. Not that it was crooked; he just didn't have anything better to do. For a Saturday night, it was actually rather slow. His best customers had yet to make an appearance and cause their usual confusion.

As if on cue, the door swung open to admit Annie and Caroline. They were so engrossed in an argument over blind dates that Annie nearly walked into the wall. Remo sidestepped the rush with practiced ease. "Let me guess. No reservations whatsoever?"

"Of course not," Annie said.

"Believe it or not, I actually do," Caroline answered. "Is Joe here yet?" Remo pointed towards a table in the corner. "Thanks!" With that, she was gone.

Remo blinked. "Not very talkative, is she?"

"She's nervous," Annie said succinctly, leaning to peer at the list. "Did some guy come in here looking for me? I got set up by a friend."

"I thought Heidi Fleiss was too busy with the courts." Remo was in the mood to be rude, and regretted it at the look he got. "Sorry, no. I take it you want to wait for him?"

She checked her watch. "I don't know. I'm early. If I'm early, I look desperate." Her gaze shot over to the bar. "If some guy named Matt Bluestone comes looking for me, I'm not here. At least, not until he sits down." With that, she went over to the bar and crouched down behind it before Remo could say a word. "Remember, I'm not here."

"You're not all here, that's for sure," Remo muttered as the door opened yet again. Seeing the new arrival, he bit back the snide comment. Just too easy, and he didn't know what chaos this one would cause.

He snapped his reservation book shut loudly, causing the new arrival to cease looking around and jump. "Ah, Senor Del. One for dinner?"

"Sort of." Del took him aside, pointing towards the table where Caroline and Joe were sitting. "I forgot to give her back some things I borrowed, and I don't want to give her the wrong idea. Do you think--"

"You're not here. Got it." Remo rolled his eyes as Del headed towards the bar.

As he tried to hide behind it, Caroline's ex was greeted with a shove. "This is my spot! Find your own spying place!" Remo was trying his best not to laugh as Del stood, dusted himself off, and retreated to the men's room before Caroline could turn and see him.

Remo consequently wasn't surprised when a soaking wet Charlie walked in. "Is Del here?"

"The men's room." Remo turned back to his book, but nearly jumped a foot when an icy, damp hand landed on his shoulder.

Charlie leaned towards him conspiratorially. "Uh, look, if you see any gargoyles, you didn't see me."

"I'm trying to convince myself of that now," Remo muttered as Charlie headed off to the men's room. So much for a slow night.

The door opened yet again, and he looked up, expecting the worst. But he relaxed when he realized that he didn't know the newcomer; all his regular customers, it appeared, had some sort of mental or emotional problem. This one seemed a bit nervous, but nothing more. Red hair, six foot one, not really out of the ordinary.

"Do you have a reservation for Bluestone?" he asked before Remo could get out the standard greeting.

Back to the book. "Wonder of wonders, I do. Two for seven-thirty?" The man nodded. "And your second?"

"I'm not sure," was the response as the man looked anxiously about, running a hand through his short hair. "Did an Annie Spidaro come in here?"

A small hand was poking above the rim of the bar, giving him a frantic thumbs-down. Remo smirked; enough was enough. "She's cowering behind the bar. Smoking or non-smoking?"

The icy glare she gave him as she dragged herself out of hiding almost made the parade of weirdness worth it.

As he soared upward again with his cargo held securely by the shoulders, Brooklyn was not reassured by the total lack of reaction. After a few moments, Brooklyn ventured to speak. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, just fine," a sarcastic, but slightly hysterical voice answered from between his talons. "I've had to work late, head home to my empty apartment only to be mugged, and now I'm hanging several hundred feet over Manhattan. Whoever you are, whatever you are, I'd love it if you just PUT ME DOWN!"

Brooklyn winced; well, at least the guy was alert. "Would you rather I left you down there? Or should I just let you go now?"

There was a pause. "Let me rephrase that. Could you please set me down someplace safe, solid, and free of violent psychopaths?"

"In New York? Are you kidding?"

"No." That one word was emphasized in such a way that Brooklyn decided to find the nearest rooftop to land on.

He veered left, and was rewarded as he spotted an empty and appropriately dark rooftop. Just before landing, he opened his talons in time to let his cargo land on his feet. The man stumbled a bit, regained his balance, and turned to face Brooklyn with a wary, only partially credulous expression on his face as the reddish gargoyle touched down for a somewhat unsteady landing.

There followed a rather long and uncomfortable silence as they stared at each other, and Brooklyn got a decent look at his cargo. Tall (by human standards), thin, with curly brown hair and glasses that he nervously pushed up a beaklike nose. For some reason, he looked oddly familiar, but Brooklyn had no idea why.

After a moment, the man sighed and broke the silence. "I'm guessing you're one of those gargoyles from the news riot reports."

Groaning, Brooklyn put a hand to his head. "I'm not going to hurt--"

"Yes, yes. I guessed that too. You've had plenty of chances to." A thoughtful look crossed his face, and he seemed to be inspecting Brooklyn for a while, muttering something about directing line and color. He shook his head to clear it, and blinked. "I cannot believe this. So what was the point of taking me on that scenic tour?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "Easiest way to keep either of us from being blown away. If I had some friends with me, it might have been different."

"Friends? There are more--" That thoughtful, interested look returned again, and vanished as quickly as it had come. "Out of curiosity, you...gargoyles...don't have any plans to take over New York, do you?"

Brooklyn burst out laughing. "Patrol, maybe, but why would we want to take over?"

The man nodded, relieved. "Good. For a moment there I thought Charlie was right about something for once." He shuddered. "So what do I call you?"

The crimson gargoyle grinned and extended a hand. "Name's Brooklyn."

"Richard. Richard Korinski." Still somewhat dazed, he accepted the handshake gingerly. "Well, it's official. This is now the second strangest night of my life."

"Second strangest?"

"You haven't met the woman I work for." Richard shivered slightly against the cold. "I suppose I should be getting down and back to my apartment." He looked over the edge. "I would lose my wallet the day I skip lunch."

Brooklyn grinned and produced a small billfold with papers sticking out of it. "Like this one?" Richard snatched it, surprised. "It's amazing what you can do with a tail."

"Thanks." Richard inspected it, pulling out and refolding what looked like a pencil sketch or two. Artist, Brooklyn assumed quietly as he bent to pick up a stray sketch, looking at the figure. Or at least someone head over heels in love.

He was aware of the expectant look Richard was giving him, and handed it over. "Sorry. Friend of yours?"

"Caroline? A friend? The jury's still out on that." Suddenly, Richard clapped a hand to his forehead. "Caroline! Oh, damn. I can't go back to my apartment. I left the keys on the drafting table at her place."

This was getting complicated. "Well, do you need a lift to her place or what?" Brooklyn was starting to smell shades of a soap opera unfolding.

"And try to climb in that window again?" Richard shook his head, then looked up abruptly. "Wait a minute. She mumbled something about a dinner date."

Brooklyn paused. "You're going to charge in and ask for her keys?"

"Well, it's better than breaking and entering. Mind dumping me off in the alley behind Remo's?"

"...so now I'm stuck in Cats. I mean, it's work, but I've got better parts than that. I did Maggie in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof a while back." Annie took a bite of a breadstick. "Of course, I got trashed by this drunken drama critic, and that was it."

Matt was trying to imagine her in Liz Taylor's shoes, couldn't, and gave up. "All critics are morons. They get paid to see movies and plays, eat popcorn, and then complain about it to the rest of us the next morning."

"I'll drink to that." She took a long sip of the wine. "So that pretty much sums up my life. What about you, Detective? Anything exciting?"

Oh, not much. Gargoyles, Illuminati projects, mad geneticists, robots, and a partner who's in love with a gargoyle. Same old, same old. He grinned and took a swallow of the wine. "The usual homicides, felonies, plus Captain Chavez telling me what an asshole I am when she's done chewing out my partner. Nothing interesting, except when those terrorists blew up the clock tower."

Annie looked impressed, which, he could tell, was rare. "That was your station?" He nodded. "Huh. What's the deal with all the rumors of monsters living there and blowing it up?"

"I don't know what was living up there, monsters or whatever," he lied outright. "But the guys who blew it up were a couple of terrorists going after whoever was up there. Not our guests."

She smirked. "You sure?"

"One of them smashed through the wall five feet from my desk, and it was human. I'm sure."

With a shrug, she chewed on her breadstick. "Okay. You win for the weird life contest."

"You want to order now?" They'd been subsisting for twenty minutes on breadsticks and wine.

"I'm not hungry. Getting drunk is a good goal tonight."

Matt shrugged. "Fine with me. Any plans after we get ourselves completely smashed?" Even after the bar incident, he was starting to relax. Annie wasn't flawless, but she was pretty interesting. And not a mention of carpets or cleaning.

Grinning wickedly, she leaned forward. "I've been told I got some interesting birthmarks."

"Check!" As Matt waved at the waiter, his attention was drawn to a scene unfolding not far away. A man in glasses and suit was sneaking out of the men's room and easing along the wall, dashing behind a potted plant as he approached a table where another couple was sitting. Even stranger, he was shadowed by a little guy with a baseball cap and a wild, completely out-of-it look in his eyes.

Annie followed his gaze and groaned. "Oh, for God's sake. Beavis and Butthead in person." She stood up and beckoned. "Come on. Maybe a badge'll break this up."

She strode over to the two huddled in the relative concealment of the fern, with a bemused Matt following. As they approached, Matt could make out their conversation.

"...told you to stay in the men's room. Trust me, if there are any flying monsters out to get you, they're not going to come in here."

"How do you know that?" the nervous little guy said. "They have to eat, too."

His partner looked imploringly at the ceiling. "I don't know, Charlie. Maybe they don't meet the dress code restrictions. Now will you go away?"

Charlie turned, then stopped and shook his head. "You know, Del, they don't have to worry about dress code. They could just walk right in and--"

"All right, boys," Annie said, hands on hips. "Mind explaining why you're sabotaging my friend's date?"

Del rolled his eyes. "Number one: I do not sabotage. If I want a woman, I don't have to. Number two: This is not sabotage, it's subterfuge. Caroline still has the key to that storage locker I put all that equipment in, and I'm just trying to devise a tactful way to retrieve it."

"Yeah, what are you going to do, arrest us?" Charlie piped up. "This is legal."

Matt got the hint and stepped up, whipping out his badge. "I'm afraid not, gentlemen. Bluestone, NYPD. You're violating Code 346, Section 19a of New York statutes on disturbing the peace." He tucked away the badge and folded his arms. "This is punishable by arrest, but if you leave now, I might try to forget this whole thing happened."

Their expressions made it hard to keep a straight face.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," Richard muttered as he watched New York pass beneath him. The shock of his situation still hadn't quite hit him, which mildly surprised him; after all, he was flying over Rockefeller Center on the back of a gargoyle that could talk, had saved him from a mugging and was named after a part of the city they were flying over.

Even scarier, Charlie had actually been right about something for once. Well, maybe only slightly, but slightly was too much. To say that things were getting strange was an understatement.

Brooklyn glanced back at him. "Too high for you?"

"What?" Richard blinked. "Oh, that. No, that's not it. Just thinking." He let out a deep sigh, wondering just what he was going to say to Caroline with Joe there. Plus, he was starting to wonder just how much Remo knew about his infatuation with her. Behind all his snide remarks, the maitre'd was too smart for his own good.

He was suddenly aware that he'd trailed off, and that his 'ride' was still waiting. "All right. It's worse. Would you mind landing for a minute?" The gargoyle immediately shifted course, heading for a statue-littered rooftop.

This time, the landing was smoother, and Richard didn't stumble or wobble as much. As Brooklyn landed, he caped his wings (a nice trick, Richard noted) and looked at him curiously. "You all right?"

"Give me a minute." Richard wiped his brow. "If you advertised nightly rides, you'd probably make a fortune in the thrill-ride business."

He received a grin of sharp white teeth and a short laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment."

There followed a long silence, partially from unease and mostly from exhaustion. The night's events were starting to wear on Richard, and his companion didn't look much better. Richard could not knock the sensation that he'd seen the gargoyle before, but that was impossible. Until half an hour before, he couldn't recall seeing a shadow remotely resembling a gargoyle, having ignored the recent newscast entirely.

Actually, the gargoyle--Brooklyn--didn't look tired as much as depressed. Well, with a bunch of fanatics out to blow his kind away, who wouldn't be? That raised another question, and Richard remembered Brooklyn's comment about having friends. If there were more, why weren't they with him?

"Huh?" Brooklyn looked up, dazed, and Richard kicked himself for asking out loud. "Oh, yeah. I sort of had to blow them off."

Suddenly, Richard felt an overpowering urge to talk to his companion on the roof. He didn't know why, and didn't really care. "Are there a lot more of you?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "About six and a half, in New York. There are supposed to be more elsewhere, but I haven't had time to travel much." He anticipated the next question. "Don't ask about the half. You don't want to know."

"I won't." Richard leaned back against a statue. "You want to get moving?"

"Do you?"

The silence answered both their questions, and the two sighed in unison. "So what's worse?" Brooklyn asked suddenly. At Richard's confused expression, he added, "..than fear of heights?"

"Nothing really," Richard muttered. He looked down at his feet for a moment, aware that the gargoyle was waiting. Rationally, he realized how nuts the situation was; he was discussing life with a creature that was supposed to be a stone waterspout. But then again, he had to tell someone, and considering his options, Brooklyn was his best bet. Who was he going to tell, anyway?

He looked up again, tossing his arms up. "Have you ever....ever been inexplicably attracted to someone, even though your common sense screams at you not to be?"

"I'm not sure I follow." But Brooklyn's eyes seemed to light up.

Richard, without really knowing it, was pacing. "No, I'm serious. Say you meet someone who's not bad looking, and not an obnoxious bitch, and you sort of like her, even though she's already taken--" here Brooklyn was nodding-- "even though you know that if you tried for her, you'd drive each other insane in a matter of days, but part of you still wants to give it a shot--"

"--even though you know it would never work," Brooklyn finished. Richard stared at him, and the gargoyle sighed and sat down on the ledge, letting his tail hang over the side. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm out here."

Dumbly, Richard eased himself to sit on the edge of a statue across from Brooklyn. "Welcome to the club of the rejected." The gargoyle shot him a fleeting grin. "You don't happen to smoke, do you?"

"Not really. At least, not enough to count."

"I don't either. I think I'd like one right now."

"So you want to get going?"

Richard sighed again. "I think I'll wait until her date ends and bang on her door at three a.m. again."

"It's only eight-thirty."

"Don't remind me."

The gargoyle looked up at the sky for a moment, then picked up a loose sketch that had fallen from Richard's wallet. "This is her, isn't it? Caroline?" Richard snatched it away. "Sorry. It's a good likeness."

Instead of a sullen retort, Richard gave the picture a long, searching look. "I wonder what she'd do if she found this," he muttered. "What would she think if she knew I occasionally doodled sketches of her while I was drafting her strip?" He paused. "She almost did once, though. It was a near miss; I poured out my heart in this saccharine love-letter, and when I came to my senses, I was so relieved when she missed seeing it entirely."

"A love letter," Brooklyn murmured. "That might have worked."

Curiosity sparked. "Who is she?"

"Angela." Brooklyn sighed. "She fell for a friend of mine."

Richard rubbed at his glasses absently. "Couldn't tell her either?"

"Well, I tried. I mean, I didn't say it flat-out, but I went after her. Maybe I was a little pushy." Brooklyn shrugged. "I don't know. It's not Angela, but I'm tired of being alone."

"Speak for yourself," Richard muttered unhappily. "My life is such that I'm destined to be alone." He scowled. "Besides, where would I find an attractive, intelligent woman that I can stand who could stand me?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "There's got to be someone out there. New York's a big town."

The only immediate response that brought from Richard was a snort. Then something about that comment struck him as funny, and he chuckled to himself (a rare occurrence indeed). At his companion's puzzled expression, he pointed out, "You should take your own advice."

"What? There aren't any others in New York."

"There's more out there than New York. Trust me." Richard recalled, with some nostalgia, the month or so he'd spent in Paris. Then something else hit him. "Paris!" he exclaimed. "Those things I thought I saw that night--they were gargoyles!"

"Huh?"

Richard swallowed. "Oh, nothing." But his mind was racing. Shrugging it off, he explained what had happened.

(flashback)

Another disappointing day. One painting sold, and it was just a portrait some tourists had requested. To top it off, the yuppie couple was constantly arguing, and it took him ten minutes of throat-clearing and general sarcasm to shut them up. The woman kept whining, "Brendan, I told you that isn't my good side," even after they'd paid and walked away.

Richard sighed, watching evening descend over the Seine. It was a perfect scene to paint, but totally unoriginal, and he had a headache. Might as well head back to the miniscule apartment that was actually smaller than his old one. Sighing again, he finished packing up his supplies, tucked his canvas under his arm, and started walking down the dusky streets, his gaze fixed on the stones beneath his feet.

He had gone a few blocks, deciding to take the scenic route, passing some rather ornate mansions and estates. As he turned a corner, a shadow in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Richard's head jerked up in time to see three--no, four--winged shapes darting back and forth behind the silhouette of another chateau.

Hands shaking, he scrabbled to hold on to his canvas, staring enraptured at the dimly lit scene. There wasn't much in the way of detail, but those were too big to be birds or bats! Human sized, with wings?

As he scrabbled for his camera, trying to get a shot to sketch later, he ran face to face with a rather unsympathetic police officer. It was a full ten minutes before he could convince the officer that he was harmless, and finally was alone on the street again.

But when he turned back to the horizon, the shadows were gone.

"Huh," Brooklyn said. "Goliath said there were other clans. Japan, Brazil...." He trailed off, thinking. If there were other clans in other countries, maybe there were a few in the States, not so far away. Maybe he wouldn't have to make a world tour. "Maybe you're right."

"There's a first." Richard turned back towards the skyline with a sigh.

Brooklyn, although he didn't know why, was becoming more and more interested in this human, even though his attitude left something to be desired. Perhaps because it was good to know he wasn't the only one in his situation. "So this Caroline--what's so special about her?"

Richard threw up his hands. "That's what I've been asking myself." He screwed his features into a thoughtful expression. "I don't know. She's fairly attractive, actually cares about other people, and means well, I guess." At those words, he reconsidered. "Then again, she's too perky for her own good, has that damned cat, lousy taste in friends, worries constantly. And there was always Julia..." The artist trailed off, staring at Brooklyn. "Why was I depressed about her again?"

The crimson gargoyle almost laughed. "Don't look at me. It's your love life." He frowned and gazed out at the skyline. "Women. Why do they make us miserable?"

"Because we let them." Richard was looking him up and down again, then shook his head. "Sorry. Artistic habit."

Brooklyn shrugged. "No prob. So what now?"

"Well, I can't crawl back to my apartment, and it's already--" Richard checked his watch, then stared. "Eight-thirty-five? We've only been up here five minutes."

Incredulous, Brooklyn leaned forward as Richard turned his wrist to show the digital face. "You're kidding. Sure it hasn't stopped?"

"It's a digital watch. I'd know if it did." Richard grinned, an expression that was extremely rare. Brooklyn returned the expression, suddenly feeling better. For once, he didn't question it as Richard added, "So there's still time to get my keys."

Brooklyn stood up and stretched his wings. "All right. Let's get a move on."

The takeoff this time was a little smoother.

As the gargoyle and his passenger glided away from the building, two odd figures materialized from the shadows. The larger of the two, a white-maned little man with pointed ears, gaudy clothes, and a wide, smug grin snapped his fingers at the toddler hovering beside him. "Now, you see, Master Alex," he said, "it's quite easy to get people to talk about their problems when the time is right. Even if you're not a shrink."

The unspoken question that followed sent him into a fit of giggles. "'What's a shrink?' Oh...let's just say it's a type of doctor that half the people in this city need to talk to."

The moment they walked out of Remo's, Annie exploded into fits of hysterical laughter. "Oh my God! Did you see the looks on their faces? I should have brought a camera for that one!"

"I still can't believe they bought it," Matt said, grinning. "I wonder if that counts as an abuse of power?"

Annie shrugged. "It was for a good cause." A slow, catlike smile spread across her face. "Now what were we going to do?"

Matt returned her grin, but his smile faded as a whoosh of air heralded a winged shadow passing overhead. Despite her usual attitude, Annie looked up, let out a squeal, and grabbed his arm. "Oh man oh man oh man!" he heard a voice shout behind them. "It's one of those monsters! They're taking over! Aaaahh!"

Closing his eyes, Matt let out a sigh. Well, at least Brooklyn was all right, but he thought he'd gotten rid of this guy. "Look, kid," he said, putting on his best stern cop expression, "I warned you before about this."

"Uh, I forgot my hat," Charlie answered quickly, as Brooklyn's shadow descended into the alley. "Oh man oh man, what are we going to do?"

Annie was still fiercely clutching on to his arm, and Matt realized that he was the only one who had a clue what was going on. Considering the sudden anti-gargoyle backlash, he decided to keep things quiet. "You two stay here," he said, reluctantly dislodging Annie from his elbow. "Better yet, get inside. I'll check this out."

"Are you nuts?" Annie exclaimed. "There's a thing with wings and claws in a dark alley, and you're going to run in there alone?"

"Fine, then you can go in," Matt said.

She let go of him and grabbed Charlie by the arm, dragging him towards the restaurant. With a sigh, Matt started into the alley. When he was sure he was alone, he called out, "Brooklyn? That you?"

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw a familiar crimson gargoyle turn and squint at him, and an unfamiliar man turn and blink in confusion. Realizing who it was, Brooklyn removed his claws from the brick. "Matt? What, did Elisa send you after me?"

"Sort of. I have a date. Or had." How he was going to explain this to Annie, he didn't know.

The other man adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat loudly. "Excuse me, can someone please explain what's going on?"

"Oh, ah, well, Matt's a friend of a friend," Brooklyn said quickly. "Richard Korinski, Matt Bluestone."

Matt and Richard shook hands briefly, then Richard pulled away, shaking his head. "I really don't want to know the whole story. I'm just going to go in there, get the keys from Caroline, and get out."

"First, I'd better figure out how to explain this to Annie," Matt muttered.

"Annie? And you?" Richard stared. "Ouch. Desperation or blind date?"

"Blind date," Annie and Matt said in unison. Matt gulped and spun to see Annie standing there, Charlie cowering behind her. Fortunately, she was at the far end of the alley, under a streetlight, and couldn't quite see the entire scene. Glancing back, Matt could see that Brooklyn had maneuvered himself behind the dumpster. "Okay, Bluestone, you can't be in too much trouble if you're talking about me!"

"I'm fine," Matt shouted back. "Nothing here, just another guy who wants to bug your friend."

At that, Annie snorted. "Richard, you have no life!"

"Considering the source, I'll take that as a compliment," Richard grumbled. "You can harass her yourself if you like. I left my keys on the drafting table when I threw Charlie out."

Annie sighed and headed into the darkness, Charlie tagging behind reluctantly. She grinned mischievously at Matt as she approached. "So you're not in any trouble."

Matt shook his head, but Brooklyn chose that moment to sneeze violently. As the two men winced, Annie peered at the dark shape behind the boxes. "Who's that?"

"Just a bum," Richard said quickly, and Brooklyn let out a snort. Annie did not look convinced.

Brooklyn coughed again and spoke up. "If you guys don't tell her, I will."

"Tell me what?" Annie fixed her gaze on Matt, who was carefully choosing his words. "You're lying to me already, and we haven't even slept together?"

"Not entirely," Matt said. "You remember the precinct? Well, it's true that no monsters damaged the clock tower. But I sort of fibbed when I said I didn't know of any." Her eyes widened, and he continued hastily, "And I was telling the truth when I said we're all okay."

Annie looked from Richard, to Matt, to the shape that was slowly rising from his hiding place. "Are you telling me that's--"

"Yeah," Brooklyn said, poking his head out. "Name's Brooklyn," he added, as Annie stared, open-mouthed. "And I'm not a bum."

She shook her head. "Damn! Are you telling me Charlie was right about monsters taking over?" Brooklyn started laughing. "Oh, that's real funny, buster."

"I think he was a little off in that respect," Matt answered, relaxing. He hadn't expected Annie to faint or anything, but a scream from those vocal cords would have woken up half the city.

"Speaking of which," Annie muttered, "what do we do with Tiny Tim back there?"

Matt and Richard exchanged glances.

Charlie started to follow Annie into the darkness, but couldn't. With a gulp, he dashed back around the corner. He didn't have the guts to help her, but he could find someone to do it for him. His mind was so preoccupied with the horrors she must be facing that he didn't watch where he was going.

Which explained why he ran smack into Del as his boss was reentering Remo's for another try.

Del was not thrilled to see him. "Charlie, what the--"

"They've got Annie! You gotta help her!" Charlie grabbed Del's arm and started to drag him towards the alleyway.

"What?" Del yanked his arm free and grabbed Charlie by the shoulders. "All right, Charlie, talk slowly. Where exactly did you take a blow to the head?"

"On the top when the doctor dropped me," Charlie answered automatically. As Del blinked in confusion, he got a grip on the older man's arm. "Anyway, that cop went in the alley after one of those gargoyles, and then she went in after him, and they haven't come out yet, and I don't know what they're doing, or what's been done to them--"

Del snorted. "I think I have an idea of what they're doing." But he allowed himself to be pushed down the alley, Charlie hiding behind him. "Oh, all right. Hey, Annie, you here?" he shouted in the darkness. "Forrest Gump here thinks you're in trouble."

A movement behind a clump of boxes and a giggle answered him, and he gave Charlie a knowing smirk. "I told you." More confident, he strode towards the shape in the darkness, Charlie right beside him as they heard Annie laugh again. "Why don't we give them a taste of their own medicine?"

With that, he leapt around the corner, Charlie following. "Surprii--" The shout died in his throat as the crimson gargoyle turned, rising up to almost seven feet with eyes glowing white and wings fully extended.

"I'm trying to sleep!" it growled. "Do you mind?"

Charlie and Del screamed in unison before turning and running like the IRS was after them.

Annie poked her head up from the trash cans she and Matt were hiding behind. "That was easy."

Richard snorted. "Two for the price of one. You know who they're going to run screaming to."

"Poor Caroline. But Remo'll kick them out." She looked down at her partner in the sound effects department. "Are you okay down there?"

Matt coughed. "I can think of more comfortable places to be doing this."

"Is that a hint?"

"No it's not!" Richard exclaimed, storming over as Matt sat up, shaking his head. "You two can go off and enjoy yourselves after I get my keys back." He scowled at Annie's blank expression. "I'm not as blind as Caroline; I saw you steal the spare key."

Brooklyn blinked. "So we went through all that for nothing."

"Yes." Richard continued to glare at Annie, who sighed and stood up. "If you want me to corroborate our story that Larry and Curly were hallucinating, you're going to have to humor me."

Annie smirked. "I still have the note."

To her shock, Richard shrugged. "Go ahead and show it to her. It doesn't matter."

"Speaking of which," Matt said, "what should I tell Elisa when she calls me tomorrow to screech that you never showed up?"

"Nothing." Brooklyn seemed unbothered, shocking Matt as well. "I'm going to head back myself and see if Broadway needs a patrol partner."

There was a long silence as Annie and Matt stared at their friends. "You sure there's no Pod People around here?" Annie muttered. "Is that the same manic-depressive jerk I saw an hour ago?"

"I don't know," Matt whispered back. "I don't think I want to know, for that matter."

Above them, a certain teacher and student were extremely amused.

As Broadway, Angela, and Hudson glided towards the spires of Castle Wyvern, Broadway let out a deep sigh. Four hours, and no sign whatsoever of Brooklyn. He hoped nothing bad had happened to his rookery brother; it would be all his fault.

He cast a surreptitious glance at Angela. His lovely angel, who had chosen him above all others. Including Brooklyn. Broadway was not entirely dense. He knew why Brooklyn was so moody, and he couldn't help but feel guilty, even though common sense told him that it wasn't his fault. She chose me! If Brook would just lighten up a bit, let himself be included again, maybe he would be all right. Broadway was seriously considering getting Owen/Puck to arrange a short trip to Avalon for his friend if things didn't improve. When Brooklyn became depressed, he really was depressing.

He was still preoccupied with those thoughts as they filed into the living room, not noticing Lex's hasty jump out of Hudson's chair. Sarah was on the couch, her attention divided between the laptop in front of her, the television, and the ever-present coffee mug. "Nice try, lad," Hudson scolded the small gargoyle cheerfully. "I'm not entirely blind yet."

"Sorry," Lex said defensively as he moved to sit beside Sarah. "Hey, guys, I've got to tell you--"

"Later, lad," Hudson said, looking at Broadway's stricken expression.

"But--"

"Lex, it can wait," Broadway sighed.

"Look, I've got to--"

Angela turned to Broadway, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Guys--"

Sighing, Sarah turned towards the hallway to the kitchen. "Hey, Brook! How bleedin' long does it take to get drinks?"

"Brooklyn?!?" three surprised gargoyles responded as their missing clan member strode out of the kitchen, carrying a pot of coffee, a six-pack of Coke, and a bag of potato chips. He looked to be in ten times better spirits, and Broadway's mood shifted from guilty to genuinely confused.

Lex leaned over to Sarah. "Thanks."

"That's what being a loudmouth is for, mate," she whispered back as she turned to the other four. "Took you long enough," she added cheerfully as he handed her the pot and she refilled her mug. "Usually only takes me five minutes."

"Well, we're not all as talented as you at the fine art of coffee-making," Brooklyn retorted as he set the six-pack down and turned to grin at his surprised clan mates. "Back already?"

Angela recovered enough to nod. "We were looking for you. Where were you? What happened? Are you all right?"

"Flying around, nothing, fine." The grin he sent them was neither forced nor false, and Broadway relaxed. He didn't know why Brooklyn was in such a good mood, but it was genuine. It had been a long time since he'd seen his rookery brother so cheerful. As Brooklyn flopped down on the couch next to Sarah and Lex, she yelped at the jolt. "Sorry about that," he said, obviously not meaning a word.

Hudson, Broadway and Angela merely stood there, confused. "Are you going to join us or what?" Sarah finally asked, taking a long sip of her mug.

Gingerly, they obeyed; Hudson claimed his chair, Angela settled on the smaller chair, and Broadway took the beanbag. "You're sure you're fine?" Broadway asked quietly, leaning towards Brooklyn. "Because you know Sarah and caffeine..."

"Don't worry," Brooklyn muttered. "She's just switched to decaf. Trouble is," he added louder as Sarah spit out the coffee, "I haven't told her yet."

Not even Hudson's best powers of persuasion could stave off the resulting barrage of pillows and cushions.

Richard glanced at the clock and shrugged. One a.m. Hmm. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't a bit tired. Unconcerned, he turned back to his sketches, but not before flicking a pencil at Caroline's cat. The hairball promptly jumped off the drafting table, and Richard smiled.

He looked up again as the door opened to admit both Annie and Caroline, who were arguing about something or other. While Annie was merely a bit disheveled, Caroline was soaking wet and clearly unhappy. The green dress had seen better days. Concerned, Richard set his pencil down. He could guess what had happened to Annie, but he didn't think Caroline's "date" (the thought of her and Joe still made him want to burst out laughing) had gone quite so well.

"..can not believe they did that," Caroline was saying as she tossed her purse on the couch and realized that they weren't alone. "Richard? What are you doing here?"

Richard brandished his keys. "Left them here after I evicted Charlie. What happened to you?"

"Everything bad that could have." Caroline blinked. "Wait a minute--how'd you get back in?" She moved into the kitchen and grabbed a dishtowel to wipe her face with.

Annie flopped down on the couch, and Richard coughed. "Don't trust her around your silverware."

"Give me the key back, Annie," Caroline said, her voice muffled by the towel she was scrubbing her head with. "Speaking of Charlie, do you know anything about a bunch of monsters in an alley?"

Richard exchanged a glance with Annie, who rolled her eyes. "Only if you mean the armed felons. Why?"

"Wait a second." Caroline dashed upstairs, then came back down five minutes later in jeans and a tank top, still trying to dry her red hair. Annie turned to Richard and mouthed, You know nothing.

Caroline grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, cracked it open, and downed the contents in one gulp. As Annie and Richard stared at her, she sighed. "This has been the most miserable night of my life. First, Del and Charlie come charging into Remo's, yelling about monsters eating you and Annie." Richard put on his best innocent expression. "Charlie was so hysterical he managed to dive onto our dinner."

Annie snorted. "You should have seen Remo's face. It was hard to tell if he was really angry or if he was enjoying the opportunity to call the cops on them!"

"Well, it sort of helped that you had one with you," Caroline said. "I guess your date went better than mine."

"A date with Marilyn Manson would have been better." Annie rolled her eyes. "Tell him the rest," she added, giving Richard a nasty grin. Her smile faded as she saw genuine interest cross his face.

Caroline sighed loudly. "Well, then after I tried to clean the linguini off my dress, Joe and I decided to head off to see Jerry Maguire."

"I've got to see that," Annie interrupted.

"So do I! We got in there only to be in a crowded theater, stuck in front of this obnoxious yuppie couple who didn't stop arguing and had seen the movie anyway! When Joe turned around and politely asked them to stop, the guy started picking a fight with him. Then the ushers threw our entire row out when the riot started.

"And then, we were going to go back to Joe's, but his car broke down on Fifth Street and these guys came after us. Then it got really weird--these things with wings and tails dropped down and started beating on the muggers while we made a break for it! I don't know how Joe got the car running again, but it got us a couple of blocks before it died." Richard cast a thoughtful glance at his sketches.

Caroline took a deep breath. "By the time the tow truck got to us, I decided to take a taxi home. Joe really didn't argue; he seemed kind of distracted all night." She loaded a few dishes in the dishwasher. "And that is how lousy my night was. How was yours?"

"Best blind date I've been on in a long time." Annie waggled her eyebrows, and Richard snorted. "We even had a few hours before Maria called. You know, that friend of Ma's who set us up? His boss?" She grinned. "I grabbed the phone and told her to leave us alone or I'll send my mother over to harass her."

"Annie's famous charm strikes again," Richard said as she stuck her tongue out at him. But this time there were no flying projectiles targeting his head.

Yawning, Annie stood and stretched. "Well, I'm going home to crash. I'm wiped, and he still had to pull a shift tonight." She grabbed her purse and headed out the door, but not before tossing the extra key to Caroline. "See you around."

As the door slammed shut, Caroline shook her head and laughed softly to herself. "So it's just you and me?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he said calmly as she sat across from him, watching him scribble away.

There was a long, comfortable silence as they sat there, and Caroline looked at him curiously. "I can't remember the last time I've seen you in a good mood. What happened to you tonight?"

"Let's just say that I had a very enlightening evening," was his only response as he looked at the sketch of his newest acquaintance, shoving it beneath a blank sheet of paper before Caroline could catch a glimpse of wings, tail, and claws.