Caledon Rising: New Friends-Part 1 by Brian McCrary

Caledon Rising 6 - New Friends Part One

by Brian McCrary - fenris@phnx.uswest.net

DISCLAIMER -- As everyone knows, Gargoyles and its various characters

are the property of Buena Vista television and the Almighty Mouse. This

story and any subsequent stories I might write with these characters are

for my own pleasure and the enjoyment of others, and not for profit --

so don't sue me. Any additional characters to the Gargoyles universe

that may appear herein are my own creations, so please don't borrow them

without my permission. Now, on with the show!

SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: The actions and attitudes of the character John

DiTagglia in this story in no way reflect my own attitude and beliefs

towards women -- he's the bad guy, okay? He's *supposed* to be someone

you can hate. Please, no nasty comments about his activities.

P.S. If you like my work, send me feedback; it keeps me writing!

ooooo

Hudson rode the thermals high above the city, reveling in his temporary

privacy. There were times, he reflected, when even 'television' was not

enough of a distraction from his memories. Times like tonight, for

example. His shoulders twitched, causing him to momentarily lose his

balance in the currents of air that held him aloft. As he stabilized

himself, his thoughts drifted back to the chaos that had chased him out

to seek the solace of the open sky.

ooooo

"Dammit, Lex," Brooklyn's voice snarled from the other room, "I thought

you said you were going to fix my bike tonight! But here you are, glued

to that stupid computer again!"

"Hey," Lexington replied hotly, "I said I'd take a look at it when I

had a chance! It's not like it does me any good to fix it anyway, with

the way you smash it up all the time!"

"What do you mean?" Brooklyn growled back in a dangerous tone of

voice. "It's my bike, how I ride it's my business!"

"Well, if it's your bike, why don't *you* learn how to fix it, instead

of relying on me to do your work for you?"

Hudson stirred uncomfortably in his chair and tried to ignore the

dispute escalating in the next room. He knew that tensions between the

rookery brothers had been getting worse ever since Broadway and Angela

had returned from their trip to the Ukraine as a mated pair, with

Brooklyn's short temper providing most of the friction. It didn't help

that Caitrin, the girl Brooklyn had met from the Hidden Clan, was forced

to abandon her gargoyle form once Goliath returned. That by itself

shouldn't have been a problem; both the Wyvern and Hidden Clans accepted

interspecies relationships as a matter of course. But for some reason

she refused to explain, now that she was human again she refused to see

Brooklyn anymore.

The elder gargoyle shook his head; he knew that there was some secret

behind Caitrin's attitude towards her relationship with Brooklyn; he

just hoped the pair would resolve it before it tore the brick-red

gargoyle apart.

Hudson's reverie was interrupted by a loud crash followed with renewed

shouting from the next room. Wrestling himself out of his chair, he

stormed through the doorway to find Lexington and Broadway facing each

other with eyes lit up, the shattered remains of Lexington's monitor

scattered across the floor. "What's the meaning o' this?" Hudson roared

with the force he used in his days as clan leader. "Ye're rookery

brothers and warriors, not hatchlings!"

"He smashed my computer!" Lexington snarled, gesturing at the wreckage.

"Just because I wouldn't drop what I was doing and jump at his

command!"

"It was an accident; I hit it with my tail! And you're supposed to

follow my orders!" Brooklyn snarled back. "Besides, you spend too much

time playing with that junk as it is!"

"That's enough out of both of ye!" Hudson snapped, the scorn in his

voice enough to settle both the young warriors down. "Lexington, it's

not a lot I'm knowing about these new gadgets, but it looks to me like

only one piece o' yer computer be broken. Is it going to be that hard

to fix?"

"Well, no," Lexington admitted. "It's just the monitor; I can run

downstairs and get a spare in a few minutes."

"Well, then; not that I'm excusing it, mind, but it seems Brooklyn's

crime was not so great after all, was it?" Hudson pointed out. He

turned before Brooklyn could speak. "Now as for you; second-in-command

you may be, but do you really think Goliath wants you ordering us around

like your personal servants?"

The question shocked Brooklyn out of his anger. "No -- no, of course

not," he stammered, his eyes finally losing their glow. "It's just that

-- oh, hell, I don't know what's wrong with me; sorry, Lex." He offered

his hand by way of apology.

Lexington held back for a moment, then took it with a smile. "S'okay,

Brooklyn; I guess it was an accident."

"Aye, well, I'm glad that's all settled," Hudson said firmly, "and you

lads won't be upsetting an old gargoyle again tonight." He shook his

wings out a little, and headed for the door. "Now why don't you two

clean this mess up before Goliath and Elisa get back and ask what's been

going on, eh?"

"Where are you going, Hudson?" Lexington asked as he started picking up

pieces of the shattered monitor's casing.

"I'm off to let the night air clean some of the cobwebs out of my

head," Hudson declared. "And with a bit of luck, by the time I get back

I'll have forgotten all about this."

ooooo

Hudson sighed as the currents in the night sky carried him out over the

river that was his namesake. Though he would have rather faced a Viking

horde single-handed than admit it, he was lonely, lonely in a way no

gargoyle surrounded by his clan should be. He was the last of his

hatching, his rookery brothers and sisters dead a thousand years and

more ago. At a time when he and the other elders should be taking it a

little easier and passing the 'gargoyle way' on to new generations, he

was alone in a time when the 'gargoyle way' was changing almost nightly,

changing to the point where it seemed that more and more he was the one

looking for guidance, and looking to those who should be looking to him,

at that.

Nor did it help that there were elders of his physical age in the

Hidden Clan; those elders had grown up and grown old with this changing

world, not thrust blindly into it after a thousand years of stone sleep.

He'd talked with a couple of them who were visiting the Caledon Rising

offices, and found their viewpoints even more bewildering than those of

the younger members of his own clan. At least Brooklyn, Lexington, and

the rest had their roots in his own era, even if they were adapting to

this new world faster than he was.

Tiring at last, Hudson came to rest atop one of the iron spires that

helped support the massive bridges the humans had built to span 'his'

river. There he leaned against one of the cables that supported the

span, his wings caped against the chill breeze that he was convinced he

felt more with each passing night. As he rested, his one good eye

tracked the flow of the traffic that was the lifeblood of the city, a

flow that slowed in these, the early hours of the morning, but never

truly stopped.

Lost in his thoughts, it was several moments before he noticed an

anomaly in that smooth flow. A car had halted on the bridge below him,

briefly snarling the traffic as it pulled off into the emergency lane.

A lone occupant emerged, but instead of performing any of the usual

incomprehensible rituals humans employed when their cars broke down --

raising the hood, slamming the door, kicking the tires -- the figure

moved away from the car and down the pedestrian walkway.

His curiosity piqued, Hudson unfurled his wings and dropped into the

air, gliding down to take a closer look. He slipped between the cables

with the ease of long practice, finally grasping hand- and clawholds

where the support girders cast a pool of shadow over the cables.

The figure continued along the walkway, unaware it was being observed,

its shoulders hunched against the night. Its pace was uneven, its gait

marked with an unsteadiness which Hudson contemptuously attributed to

intoxication. "Just as well the fool left his machine before he killed

someone," he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly the figure stumbled to its knees with a gasp of pain audible

to the gargoyle's sharp hearing. Hudson's perspective seemed to shift

as he realized pain, not alcohol, was the cause of the human's weaving

footsteps. He almost dropped down to offer his assistance, then paused

as the figure righted itself and continued on its way, the hood of its

coat drawn tightly against the cold wind blowing off the river.

Hudson settled back against the cables to which he clung. "Aye, and

what help can I offer," he sighed to himself. "Belike as not I'd

frighten the fellow right out of his wits." He braced himself to launch

off the bridge, then paused as he realized the human was no longer

moving along the walkway. He watched, puzzled, as the figure struggled

with the chains that blocked the stairs the bridgeworkers used to reach

the underside of the bridge. The human crossed the small platform that

marked the head of the stairs and stared down at the black waters of the

river.

Hudson watched with growing concern as the figure stood at the railing.

Elisa had told the clan how sometimes humans who were despondent sought

out places like this, high places where they could -- the figure moved

suddenly, swinging its legs over the railing.

"Ach, the damned fool!" Hudson growled as he flung himself away from

the cables. He dove through the night sky even as the other

straightened on the far side of the rail, then stepped off the bridge.

Hudson's wings snapped tight to his body as he plunged after the

falling form, his dive intersecting with the human's fall a dozen yards

above the water. His wings snapped open as his outstretched arms

captured his target, his mind registering surprise at the light weight

of his burden. He looked down as the slight form twisted in his arms,

the cowl of the coat slipping back in the draft of their passage above

the river. For a moment he locked his gaze with a pair of shocked,

frightened eyes before the woman's bruised face relaxed into

unconsciousness.

ooooo

"C'mon, Cagney, off the bed," Elisa yawned, the prospect of actually

getting a decent amount of sleep before her next shift making it almost

impossible to keep her eyes open. She stretched and smiled as her cat

leapt off the bed in a huff, the twinge of assorted pleasantly sore

muscles reminding her of the evening she had just spent with Goliath.

No doubt he was noticing a few sore spots of his own on his flight back

to the castle. Elisa's relaxed smiled quirked with remembered deviltry

as she recalled the shocked look on her lover's face when she had proved

beyond any question that not only gargoyles knew about the effectiveness

of the 'love bite'.

She was snuggled under the covers and just reaching for the lights when

the sound of a heavy weight landing on her balcony came through her

bedroom window. Elisa frowned and climbed back out of bed, grabbing for

a robe against the night air's chill.

"Goliath, what's the matter? Did you forget -- ?" she stopped,

nonplused, as Hudson stepped through her balcony doors, an obviously

unconscious human in his arms. "Hudson, what on earth --?"

"Sorry lass, but I didna know where else to take her, and I didna want

to leave her on the bridge where she might be likely to jump again,"

Hudson began, his agitation showing in the increased presence of his

scottish brogue.

Elisa felt the beginnings of a headache as her dream of a full eight

hours of sleep began to slip away. "Whoa, wait a minute, back up," she

demanded, one hand raised as she quickly knotted the sash of her robe.

"What are you talking about? Are you saying she jumped off a bridge and

you caught her?"

"Lass, yer nae usually so slow," Hudson opined, earning a dirty look

from Elisa. "Aye, jump she did, from one o' the bridges that cross my

river." He looked down at the unconscious woman. "'Twas nought but

blind luck I was there to see her and keep her from making a hole in the

water."

"But why should she jump? Was she being chased?"

"Well, as to that, this might have sommat to do wi' it," Hudson

growled, his hand gently pushing back the woman's hood. Elisa gasped as

for the first time she saw the bruises and scrapes that covered her

features; then her detective's instincts kicked in, making her examine

the injuries with a police officer's analytical eye. 20

In addition to the fresh bruises and scrapes, including two black eyes,

a broken nose and a split lip, Elisa noted the yellowing pattern of

older, fading bruises under the new ones. She also noted with a grimace

the tell-tale pattern of fingermarks around her throat that spoke of

someone choking her, with the same yellowing signs of earlier incidents.

All her training came up with one answer: repeated battery by a husband

or lover -- husband, she decided with a frown as she spotted the pale

mark where a wedding band had recently been removed from the third

finger of her left hand. A quick check of her eyes showed her pupils

were equal and responsive -- no concussion, then, just exhaustion.

"I'm assumin' there's more to it than we can see," Hudson continued as

he laid his burden on Elisa's couch. "From the way she was limping as

she walked there must be other hurts hidden from our sight."

"All right, it's obvious that she needs more help than the usual

'bash-the-mugger-and-fly-away'," Elisa agreed, "but what made you decide

to bring her to me?"

"Lass, where else was I to take her? I canna very well walk into a

hospital with her, nor would it be wise to take her to the castle. Not

that we couldna have cared for her, but she's had enough shocks. First,

whoever did this to her," and his eyes took on a glow that did not bode

well for the long-term future of that person, "and then the drop from

the bridge, followed by being caught by the likes of me." He looked

down at the woman, a hint of sadness crossing his craggy features. "One

look at ma' face and she fainted dead away."

Elisa laid a comforting hand on his arm. "You mustn't take it to heart

so, Hudson," she said. "People just aren't used to having winged

protectors in this day and age. Think of all the friends the clan has

made once they got past the surprise of your existence."

"Oh, dinna fash yerself, lass," Hudson smiled wanly. "It has ever been

so when gargoyles and humans mix together; some accept us, some fear us.

I shouldna let it get the best of me." He straightened his shoulders.

"Be that as it may, will you be able to help this lass out o' her

troubles?"

Elisa nodded decisively. "That shouldn't be a problem; the public's

tolerance for this sort of crime is nowhere near what it used to be, and

there's a lot of support services in place for women who are the victims

of an abusive relationship. Unfortunately there are always some who

don't seek help, or are too afraid to, until it's too late." 20

She sat down in the chair across from her surprise guest. She checked

the coat's pockets but, not surprisingly, there was no identification.

She looked again at the victim's face. Underneath the bruises, Elisa

realized, was a very attractive woman, she estimated somewhere in her

mid to late thirties. The short, dark brown hair framed a face that was

full of character, with dramatic eyebrows accentuating large, expressive

eyes. The generous mouth, bruised now and swollen from the beating,

seemed designed to laugh. There was something about her face that seemed

familiar; Elisa was sure she had seen the stranger before, but where?

With a sigh she decided she would have to set that puzzle aside for

later.

Elisa looked up and noticed for the first time the lightening of the

sky outside. "Hudson, you're never going to make it back to the castle

before dawn."

"Aye, I can see that, lass," the elder agreed, a frown on his face as

he in turn looked out the windows.

"Well, don't worry about it; you know where the 'bedroom' is. You get

settled in while I give Goliath a call so they won't worry about you."

A few weeks ago, and with some misgivings, Elisa had accepted Xanatos'

offer of assistance in crafting a safe hiding place for any of the

gargoyles who might be caught at her apartment by sunrise. At first she

had balked when Owen Burnett had described the idea to her; the thought

of receiving any favors from Xanatos, no matter how beneficial, still

rankled her. In the end she gave in when Owen reminded her of Goliath's

narrow escape on the balcony of her old apartment. A few moments'

difference and the big gargoyle might not have survived his first

encounter with the nascent Quarrymen. Even though she had moved soon

after, she was still known to them as a gargoyle sympathizer; any of the

clan trapped in stone sleep at her place were at risk.

With that in mind, a concealed room was installed in the back of

Elisa's walk-in closet. Never had she been so grateful for her lack of

interest in fashion, for the space left for her clothes after the

construction was completed would scarcely have served an impoverished

college student. 20

Hudson settled into the small enclosure and tried to make himself

comfortable as he waited for the dawn to overtake him. The cubbyhole

was crafted with concealment rather than comfort in mind; a single, dim

bulb illuminated the space, its walls soundproofed to deaden the

inevitable cries of a waking gargoyle. The floor was bare, to

facilitate cleaning up the shards of stone skin that would be left

behind. Other than that, there were no amenities.

A few minutes later Elisa deposited the phone back in its cradle.

She'd just managed to get word to Goliath before the sun put him to

sleep for another day, promising that Hudson would give him all the

details the next night. She took a quick peek into her closet and noted

the determination underlying the tiredness on the old gargoyle's face.

With a small smile she shut the door to Hudson's hiding place, the

preset latches catching with a resounding snap.

Returning to the living room, Elisa checked to see that Hudson's find

was still sleeping, then picked up the phone once more.

"15th Precinct, Sergeant Stokes speaking."

"Stokes, this is Detective Maza from the 23rd; put me through to

Detective Haynes, please."

"Right away, detective." The phone buzzed for a few seconds.

"Detective Haynes speaking."

"Julia, this is Elisa," she said, her voice warming.

"Elisa, what a pleasant surprise!" the female voice on the other end of

the line replied. "I haven't heard from you in ages, with you on nights

and me on days ... this isn't a social call, is it?"

Elisa chuckled. "Still reading my mind, Julia? I thought you gave

that up after we got out of the academy."

"Well, old habits die hard and all that." Julia's voice took on a

professional tone. "What do you have for me?"

"I've got what looks like a classic spousal abuse case; I wanted to

clue you in before I called the ambulance to have her transported to the

hospital."

"Critical injuries? No, forget I asked that; if they were critical,

you would have called the ambulance first. Where are you now?"

"If you can believe it, my apartment." Elisa paused for a moment, hen

plunged ahead with the cover story she'd decided to use. "I found her

resting against my door when I got back from running some errands.

Apparently someone who knows I'm a cop and didn't want to get involved

left her here for me. No ID on her, either."

"Well, call the ambulance and I'll meet you at the hospital; Manhattan

General, right?"

"Right," Elisa agreed.

"Good. I'll bring along an identification kit in case your mystery

guest doesn't wake up for a while, and we can start trying to find out

who she is, and who did this to her."

ooooo

The first thing she was aware of was the pain. It began with a dull

aching in her arms and legs, then focused into a sharp stab in the ribs

when she shifted her position. That brought her further awake, and made

her aware of the all too familiar tightness of her swollen face.

"Please, no ..." she whispered, tears leaking from her closed eyes. 20

He had found her once again packing a suitcase and proceeded to teach

her another 'lesson' for trying to leave him. Lying crumpled on the

floor, certain that *this* time he had broken every bone in her body,

she had finally realized there was only one way she would ever be free

of him. He was too rich, too powerful, and he had too many rich and

powerful friends. He would never be prosecuted, and she would never be

able to escape beyond his reach -- not in this world.

Later, after he left, she had slipped out of the house; always before

she had waited at least a few weeks before trying to run, to let the

bruises start to fade and the sprains start to heal. By leaving

immediately she hoped to catch him off guard, so the trail would have a

chance to cool. Now she needed transportation; a cab wouldn't do, even

for the short distance she had to go. Not only would the driver

question her destination, it would leave evidence for her husband to

find. She wanted to deny him that evidence, to leave him thinking that

perhaps she had finally escaped him.

Crumpled in the bottom of her purse was a slip of paper with the phone

number of a friend she'd made at the last shelter in which she'd tried

to hide. Marian made her way to the closest pay phone, praying that the

number was still good.

Karen recognized her voice immediately, even through the blurring

caused by a bitten tongue and swollen lips. "Don't worry, Marian, I'll

be right there," she had said. An hour later they had sat in the

darkest booth of a 24-hour diner, Marian with her coat's hood pulled up

around her face, Karen with anger snapping in her eyes.

ooooo

"I don't understand you, Marian," Karen said, her voice filled with

exasperation. "Why *won't* you go to the police? My God, if this isn't

enough evidence for them --!"

Marian smiled sadly, wincing as her cut lip pulled. "Do you think this

is the first time I've looked this way? I went to the police the first

time, and the second. The first time he had it dismissed as a fall down

a flight of stairs, the second an assault by a burglar." She shrugged

at Karen's look of disbelief. "John's 'family' has a lot of friends in

high places, and the 'family' does not approve either of wives who want

to leave their husbands, or of wives who go to the police."

"But these days, with the federal task forces, and all the crackdowns

--!"

"All it means is that all the stupid, little fish have been gobbled up,

while the smart, big fish just swim deeper. John's 'family' is full of

"big fish"."

Karen took a deep breath. "How can I help, then?"

Marian reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Thank you,

Karen." She opened her purse and pulled out a folded bundle of

currency; with a shock Karen realized it was a solid stack of hundred

dollar bills. "John doesn't know I know the combination to his safe,"

she said quietly. "I want to buy your car from you --"

"You don't need to pay me, Marian," her friend protested.

"Yes, I do," Marian said firmly. "I know you're still getting back on

your own feet, and I --or rather, John-- can afford it." She peeled off

half the stack and pushed it across the table. "Don't worry, there's

more where that came from."

Karen stared down at the pile of money, easily ten times what her

beat-up old '72 Plymouth was worth. The money represented not only a

better car, but a cushion against uncertainty while she put her life

back together. After a moment's hesitation she swept up the cash and

stuffed it into her own pocketbook. She then pulled out her keys and

separated those to the old car parked outside by the curb. "All right,

now what?" she asked as she pushed the car keys across the table.

"Now? Now you sit and finish your coffee, then call a cab," Marian

replied. Before Karen could object, she continued. "Anything else you

did for me would only put you in danger; I know you'd risk it, but I

couldn't stand it if something happened to you because of me."

"And you?"

"I'll leave the state," Marian lied. "Once I get a good distance away

I'll abandon your car and switch to buses and trains. I may go to

California; I still have a few friends there from my modeling days."

She patted Karen's hand at her friend's worried look. "I promise I'll

be careful; he won't touch me again." The last came out with the ring

of truth, though Karen would have been horrified if she knew why.

A few minutes later Marian left the diner, Karen's car keys clenched in

her hand. She slowly climbed behind the wheel, her cracked ribs making

even that simple maneuver an exercise in pain. She glanced a last time

towards her friend, still sitting in the booth. Marian knew Karen would

be upset when the police reported her abandoned car to her. She would

figure out from its location the hiding place Marian had chosen, and

perhaps blame herself for not stopping her. Marian wished there was

some way she could explain, but Karen would never accept that this was

the only solution that made sense.

With a sigh, Marian pulled away from the curb and towards her

appointment on the bridge.

ooooo

Elisa looked up as Doctor Jarret, the on-duty physician, walked into

the waiting area. He spotted the two police officers standing together

and came over to them. "Well, your patient seems to have been fairly

lucky, considering," he began. "None of her injuries are life

threatening in and of themselves." Jarret glanced again at the chart in

his hands. "In addition to multiple bruises, contusions and cuts, she

has three cracked ribs, a bruised kidney, broken nose, and a mild

concussion. She was in shock when you brought her in, but she's been

stabilized since then."

"When can we talk to her, doctor?" Julia asked, looking up from her

notebook where she had jotted down his catalog of Marian's injuries.

"We still need to find out who she is, and," her voice grew hard, "who

did this to her."

Jarret frowned. "She's asleep now. I'd rather she woke up naturally;

her body has been through a lot of stress and needs to recuperate as

much as possible before it goes through any more." He glanced at his

watch. "She should wake up sometime in the next hour or so, if you want

to wait."

Just then Julia's beeper went off. She checked the message screen, one

eyebrow quirking up in mild surprise. "That was quick," she said, half

to herself.

"What is it?" Elisa asked.

"I phoned our Jane Doe's description into missing persons, just in case

someone filed a report on her; seems we've already got a possible

match." She pulled out her cel phone and punched in a number. "This is

Detective Haynes, put me through to Sergeant Stokes. -- Hi, Joe, Julia

here; you've got a match for me? -- Uh huh, right, yeah, that sounds

like a match, all right. What's the name?" Julia's face registered

surprise as she let out a soft whistle. "No kidding -- What? What

idiot did that? You know what we're dealing with here! -- Oh he did,

did he? Well, Joe, you just call that rookie at the 15th and tell him

he'd better not be planning on sitting down anytime soon, 'cause I'm

going to make a meal out of his ASS!" Julia broke the connection with a

curse.

"Well? What's the story?" Elisa asked, her impatience evident in her

voice.

"We've got a match all right, and you were right, her face is familiar;

does the name 'Marian FitzWalter' ring a bell?"

Elisa's mind searched for a moment, then clicked. "Sure, she was one

of the top models in the country about ten years ago, then she just

stopped working. You mean that's her in there?" she said, horrified at

the damage that had been done to whom had been considered one of the

world's most beautiful women.

Julia nodded, her mouth grim. "The name's Marian DiTagglia now; her

husband filed the report. Also filed a description of the condition in

which she was likely to be."

"Did he give any explanation as to how she got in that condition?"

Elisa asked, surprised that the man would leave himself open to possible

prosecution like that.

"According to him, she was having an affair, and her lover did it to

her," Julia replied cynically. "He's quote, 'extremely concerned that

she be found and given the proper care', unquote."

"I'll just bet," Elisa said in an equally skeptical tone of voice.

"Oh, it gets better," Julia continued disgustedly. "Some helpful

rookie called our distraught husband as soon as they had a match. He's

on his way over here right now."

"Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit is right." Julia approached Jarret and tapped him on the

shoulder. "Doctor, we have a problem; we're going to have to talk to

your patient ASAP." She quickly explained the situation, including the

imminent arrival of the man possibly responsible for his patient's

condition.

Jarret frowned, a determined expression on his face. "All right, we'll

see if she can handle it, but her health comes first."

"Of course," Julia agreed. "Elisa, why don't you call in for a couple

of uniforms in case this concerned husband decides to make a scene?"

"Good idea." She glanced at her watch. "I'll give Captain Chavez a

call; she's got even less use than most us for this kind of thing."

ooooo

"Marian? Can you hear me?"

Julia looked on as Doctor Jarret leaned over the bed. She caught the

flinch of the patient in the bed when he spoke her name, then watched

carefully as she opened her eyes. Julia was expecting many emotions,

but was unprepared for the complete look of despair that covered

Marian's face.

"He's found me, hasn't he?" Marian whispered, defeat evident in every

syllable.

Julia stepped up to the foot of the bed. "Marian DiTagglia?" she

asked. The woman closed her eyes with a small nod. "I'm Detective

Haynes; I'm here to help you in any way I can."

"Help? There is no help," Marian murmured. "No help, and no escape

..."

Julia tried to speak confidently, knowing from past experience how

helpless women who were the victims of repeated abuse sometimes felt.

"You shouldn't think like that," she said. "There are laws that will

protect you, and will put whoever did this to you where they belong --"

Marian's eyes snapped open, a desperate anger warring with her despair.

"Your laws don't work, detective; they didn't work before, and they

won't work now. All they do is make things worse." Her eyes drifted

shut, the effort of maintaining her outburst too much for her weakened

condition.

"If you'll just give me a statement, the police will protect you. If

you're afraid of your husband, we can arrange a shelter for you ..."

"You've talked to my husband?"

"I haven't talked to him myself, no," Julia admitted. "He filed a

missing persons report, and included a description of your condition;

that's how we identified you."

"Did he tell you what happened to me?" Marian asked with only mild

curiosity.

Julia hesitated. "He said -- he said you were having an affair, and

that your lover did this to you."

Marian seemed to shrink back into the hospital bed. "Well, that's

understandable then, isn't it?" she whispered. "An adulteress shouldn't

be surprised when something like this happens, should she?"

"Is that what happened, Mrs. DiTagglia?" Julia asked, her disbelief

clear in her voice. "Are you corroborating your husband's statement?"

"If that's what he said happened, then it must be true," Marian replied

in a dead voice.

Doctor Jarret looked up from where he was monitoring Marian's vital

signs. "Detective, I'm going have to insist on a break; she still needs

her rest."

"Very well, Doctor," Julia agreed reluctantly. "Mrs. DiTagglia --

Marian, we'll talk again when you're stronger. Until then, I promise

you'll be safe. We'll have an officer stationed outside your door, and

you won't have to see anyone you don't want to. And I do mean *anyone*.

Do you understand?"

Marian gave a short nod without opening her eyes, a single tear

trickling down her cheek. Doctor Jarret adjusted the IV and checked her

monitors, then shooed Julia out of the room, closing the door behind him

as they left.

Elisa was waiting impatiently when Julia exited the room. "Captain

Chavez is sending over a couple of uniforms. Did you get anything we

can use?"

Julia shook her head. "She won't give us anything. I can't understand

her attitude; she doesn't sound like she's in denial, she sounds like

she's given up."

"I can," Elisa said, grimly. "I did some more checking while you were

in there; there have been at least three other incidents over the last

four years involving Marian and evidence of abuse, and not once have any

charges been filed."

"What?!" Julia said, stunned. "I don't believe it!"

"Oh, you can believe it," Elisa said, her voice furious. "Remember her

last name?"

"What? DiTagglia? Wait -- you mean she married into *those*

DiTagglias?"

Elisa nodded. "She probably didn't know it at the time, but she did,

and her husband John is the favorite nephew of the head of the

'family'." 20

She paused as the two uniformed officers arrived. Officer Marks she

sent to wait in admitting for DiTagglia's arrival. Officer Thomas

Brown, who was solid enough to serve as a replacement door if the other

should suddenly vanish, she assigned to watch the room.

Elisa returned to her conversation with Julia. "The problem is, it

looks like every failure of the system has just made Marian more certain

we can't help her. He controls all her money, and every attempt she's

made to rely on public assistance to get away from him has been a

disaster."

"What about her own family? Won't they help her?"

The dark-haired detective shook her head. "She has no family left; her

last blood relative, a great-aunt, died when she was just breaking out

as a big model." Elisa paused and bit her lip. "Julia, what I'm going

to tell you now is just between us; it can't go any further, and it

can't go into any report."

Julia frowned. "All right, Elisa, I've known you long enough to know

you wouldn't ask it of me if it wasn't important."

"I wasn't entirely honest about how she came to my attention," Elisa

said, lowering her voice. "I know who found her and brought her to me.

The trouble is, he can't risk any public scrutiny, and if the real story

came out, there would be publicity."

"Did he see anything that we can use?" Julia asked eagerly.

"No .. but he did stop her from putting a hole in the Hudson River,"

Elisa replied in a flat tone of voice.

"I suppose I should be surprised, but I'm not," Julia said after a

moment's silence. "You work this job long enough, you get to where you

recognize all the stages: denial, fear, anger, acceptance ... that woman

in there," she concluded, "has been pushed farther than anyone I've seen

-- not just from the beatings, but from her inability to escape." She

shook her head. "The question now is, what do we do about it? If the

past track record is any indication, the system can't protect her, even

if she was willing to trust it again, which she patently is not."

"I do have an idea," Elisa said slowly, "but again, you'll have to

trust me on it. There may be a way I can get her out of sight until she

can get back on her feet, and it's a place where even she should feel

safe. The question is whether or not she'll go along with me, given her

mental state right now."

Just then one of the hospital security staff came up to them. "Excuse

me, detectives? The officer in the lobby sent me to find you; seems

this lady's husband," he hooked a thumb at Marian's room, "has arrived

and is raising a stink about not being allowed to see his wife."

Julia turned to Elisa and laid a hand on her arm. "All right, Elisa,

I'll trust that you know what you're doing. You talk to Marian and get

her to go along with you; I'll stall John-boy 'til you give me the

all-clear."

ooooo

John DiTagglia glowered at the impassive face of the police officer who

blocked his way. Intolerable! To be stymied, so close to his goal, and

by a minor flunky of the city government, Why couldn't it at least been

one of the officers with which his family had an ... understanding?

He looked at the clock behind the admissions desk and angrily noted the

time. The morning was passing; the longer this took, the more chance

there was it might leak to the media, or worse, to his uncle.

Uncle Fred, Don Frederico DiTagglia to those who were not much-loved

blood family members, had made it very clear the last time John had

'disciplined' Marian that he wanted no more repeat performances. Much

as he disapproved of John's strong-willed wife trying to leave him, he

disapproved of the methods used to try and make her behave even more.

"A man might strike his wife, Johnny," Uncle Fred had said in that

patient, old world way of his. "He might be forced to discipline her

repeatedly, to make her properly aware of her place in the natural order

of things; but it should be done with restraint, out of love, for no

woman is truly happy until she knows her place. 20

"You, Johnny, strike out of rage. It is not the way of a man to do

such things, to so injure his wife that she must see a doctor. It is

not right that I must disturb my friends, so that your lack of restraint

does not embarrass the Family." He shook his head. "You are in line to

sit in my chair someday; how am I to leave it to you if you cannot deal

with one woman?"

"Please, Uncle Fred, advise me; what should I do?" John had asked, his

voice (he hoped) properly respectful.

"You must make peace with her, and stop these constant battles," Uncle

Fred declared. "If you cannot, then end it quickly and cleanly; do not

again attempt to 'discipline' her into behaving. A quiet funeral, a

period of mourning, and then you can find a more suitable wife, one who

knows her place and will give you sons -- but first, one last time, try

to make peace!"

And so he had tried, and for a brief time it had worked. Marian had

been properly quiet and subservient, obeying his instructions, learning

how to prepare the food he liked, learning ... other things he liked, as

well. He had begun to believe she had finally learned her place --

until he had come home unexpectedly and found her packing a suitcase.

By the time his temper cooled, the damage had already been done.

Marian lay on the floor of the bedroom, her face bloody and her clothes

in tatters, her shallow breathing the only proof she was still alive. 20

John had gone downstairs and dismissed the help for the evening with

the excuse that the mistress of the house was 'unwell'. DiTagglia's

servants all knew just exactly what illness had stricken their mistress,

and what their fate would be if they breathed a single word of it. They

left without speaking that word, even among themselves.

After the house was empty he left to make the necessary preparations

for his wife's disappearance. Her death would have been neater, but not

even the Family's influence would silence the questions that would be

raised if Marian turned up dead in her current condition. She had to

disappear, but disappear in a manner that suggested desertion, not

murder.

ooooo

By the time he'd returned to the house, she was gone. For a moment

blind panic set in, then the cold, calculating side of his nature reared

its head. He went to the local police precinct, portraying the

distraught husband, and filed a missing persons report. Normally such

reports could not be filed until the missing person had been absent for

at least 48 hours, but he used his description of his wife's injuries at

the hands of her supposed lover along with his family's name as a way of

circumventing the rule.09

Next he had gone home and begun calling any of her acquaintances he

could, continuing his act as the worried husband. He knew there was an

element of risk in doing so; one of them was almost certain to leak the

story to the tabloids. With luck, though, he would have all the loose

ends tied up before any edition could hit the street.

Then had come the phone call from the police station; his wife was at

Manhattan General, where she had been brought in by a police detective,

one Elisa Maza.

Maza's name was known to John, as a tough cop whose actions had

adversely affected his family's profits from time to time, but also as a

cop who had apparently begun to show an interest in the political

machinery of the city. John convinced himself on the drive to the

hospital that she could be reasoned with, only to have that dream

shattered when he ran into the immovable object that was Officer Marks.

ooooo

Elisa closed the door gently behind her. "Marian? My name is

Detective Maza; I'm the one who brought you to the hospital. I need to

talk to you."

The woman in the bed opened her eyes, her face devoid of expression.

"Why?"

"So we can try to make certain this doesn't happen to you again," Elisa

replied firmly.

Marian looked up at the ceiling. "I thought I had made certain of

that," she said softly. "Do you believe in God, Detective?"20

"I believe there's something out there," Elisa said after a moment, not

sure where the conversation was going.

"I used to believe, a long time ago -- then I married John." Marian's

eyes drifted closed. "It was soon after that that I stopped believing.

I couldn't believe in a God who would allow men like him to exist." She

reopened her eyes, confusion clear on her face. "You say -- you brought

me into the hospital?"

"That's right."

"How -- how did you find me?"

Elisa gave Marian the story she had originally told Julia. "Someone

cared enough to bring you to me so I could help you," Elisa finished.

"Won't you let me try?"

"Yes, someone cared; I was ready to die, but He wouldn't let me go. He

even sent one of His angels to save me." Marian looked Elisa straight

in the eye. "You won't believe me, but that's what happened, detective.

I was ready to die; I stepped off the bridge, but God sent an angel to

save my life."

"An --angel?" Elisa replied, the surprise in her voice taken for doubt

by the battered woman.

"Yes, an angel. I couldn't see him clearly; it was dark under the

bridge, and I only caught a glimpse of him before I fainted. His face

was wise and just, like one of the prophets on the ceiling of the

Sistine Chapel. His arms were strong and gentle, and his wings held us

aloft." She closed her eyes again, resting back against her pillow.

~Well,~ Elisa thought to herself, ~they've been called devils often

enough. Being called an angel's an improvement, at least.~

"Marian," Elisa continued, "if you really do believe God intervened to

save your life, doesn't it follow that you should do whatever you can to

preserve it? That you shouldn't give up hope?" Elisa paused for a

moment. "I know a place you can stay where whoever hurt you can't reach

you, where you can rest until you're strong enough to make your own

decisions about your future. It's absolutely secure, I promise; an army

would be hard pressed to break in."

Marian reopened her eyes, afraid to hope. "You're -- you're sure it

would be safe? That no one could get to me?" she asked, her voice

showing real emotion for the first time.

"Believe me, anyone who tried would end up as a spot of grease on the

floor," Elisa replied with absolute conviction. 20

"Where is it?"

"You've heard of David Xanatos?" Elisa asked.

"The trillionaire, the one who has Bill Gates make house calls? Who

hasn't?" Marian replied with a touch of her old personality.

"Well, he owes me, big time, for reasons we don't need to go into.

There are apartments at the top of the Eyrie Building, secure quarters

for visiting executives and officials from the foreign governments with

which he sometimes deals. We can move you into one of those. Xanatos

has a small army of security people, top professionals who are

absolutely loyal, as well as ... other defenses. Once you're up there,

you'll be safe from anything."

Marian looked long and hard at Elisa, afraid to hope, longing to trust

... "All right, detective, I'll give it a try."

"Good! Now, you relax while I make the arrangements; I'll be back in a

little while for you. In the meantime, Officer Brown will be right

outside."

Once outside the room, Elisa stepped over to the nurse's station and

paged Julia to the phone. "How's it going?"

"Doctor Jarret and I have him filling out every form we can think of,

including some I believe his admitting people created just for this

occasion; and I thought *our* paperwork was bad!" She paused for a

second. "Elisa, this scum is guilty as sin; I can smell it on him. Are

you having any luck with Marian?"

Elisa quickly outlined her discussion with the woman they were trying

to help. "You keep him busy for a little while longer and I'll have her

out of here and out of his reach."

After she hung up the hospital phone Elisa pulled out her cel phone,

punching in the number she'd been given when the Clan moved back to the

Eyrie Building.

"This is Owen Burnett; how may I help you, Detective Maza?"

Elisa didn't bother worrying how Owen had known it was her; she was

fairly certain she wouldn't like the answer, whatever it was. "Owen, I

need to speak to Xanatos."

"Mr. Xanatos is in a rather important meeting, detective," Owen

replied. "I can take a message for you, or perhaps I could be of

assistance --"

"This can't wait," Elisa interrupted. "I need to speak to him,

personally. Tell him -- tell him I need a favor."

Elisa could almost hear Owen's eyebrow crawling up his forehead. "Very

well, detective, one moment." There was a pause, then a new voice

spoke. "Detective Maza, how good to hear from you," Xanatos said.

"Uh, right," Elisa replied. She cleared her voice and continued.

"Listen, I've got a problem here, and you're the only one I know who can

help me with it." She quickly went through the morning's events,

finishing with her idea for Marian's safe haven.

"I remember Miss FitzWalter," Xanatos replied when Elisa finished. "I

met her at several functions before she married. Of course, I'll be

glad to be of assistance." He paused, then spoke again, a little of his

old deviltry in his voice. "Was that really so bad, detective, asking

for my help?"

""Xanatos, it's like this; regardless what you've done to me and mine,

I'm a police officer, and the force is my extended family. My family

failed this woman, and I'd deal with the Devil himself to set that

right."

"I see," Xanatos replied, amused. "And since you don't have the

Devils' phone number --"

"I settled for second best. Right," Elisa laughed a little. Shocked,

she realized that she was beginning to like the ruthless businessman.

She would never trust him, but she was beginning to like him.

"Don't worry, Detective Maza, I'll instruct Owen to have quarters made

ready for our guest, and I'll send one of our helicopters to the

hospital's helipad. I'll also alert our medical staff they have a

convalescent patient arriving, so they can prepare to care for her. Good

enough?"

"Thank you; I'm not exaggerating when I say you've probably just saved

this woman's life."

The line was quiet for a moment. "You're serious, aren't you?" Xanatos

said as last. "She's at that much risk?"

"Either from her husband's hands or her own, yes," Elisa replied.

"Given what she's been through, it was just blind luck she isn't dead

now."

"Very well, detective," Xanatos replied firmly. "We'll keep her safe,

never fear. I promise you, anyone who tries to reach her will be

squashed like a bug."

ooooo

John angrily scrawled his signature across bottom of the latest of the

forms the hospital staff had required from him, though why they needed a

complete genealogy of his maternal line going back three generations was

beyond him. No, it wasn't; he knew they were stalling, probably in

hopes of getting Marian to file a complaint against him. For now he

would play along, acting the part of the frightened and concerned

spouse. So long as that detective who kept watching him with

ill-concealed dislike didn't drag out her handcuffs, he knew he was in

the clear.

He checked the stack of forms; they hadn't brought him any more for a

while, which hopefully meant they'd finally run out of red tape with

which to hinder him. He double-checked to make sure they all were

finished, then picked up the stack and approached the admitting desk.

"Here," he said, dropping the papers in front of the clerk.

"Everything you've asked for, and then some. "Now will someone tell me

where my wife is, or do I have to call my attorneys?"

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, sir," the woman replied coolly.

"I'll call the doctor now; if he says it's all right, we'll take you to

her."

John sensed someone coming up behind him. He stiffened a bit when he

realized it was the police detective, then relaxed; no handcuffs.

"Well, Mr. DiTagglia, all finished?" she asked, an almost cheerful tone

to her voice.

John began to worry. "Yes, and unless you have some objection, I'm

finally going to see my wife ..."

"Why Mr. DiTagglia, I hope you don't think we were deliberately keeping

you two apart. In cases of this nature we have to be very careful, but

you've made it so clear how much you love your wife, it was really only

a formality."

Now John was really getting worried. "Where's that doctor?" he snarled

at the receptionist.

"Mr. DiTagglia, there you are!" Doctor Jarret said as he approached.

"Where else would I be? I've been sitting here all morning, filling out

paperwork!"

"But then, where's your wife?" Doctor Jarret asked, his expression one

of carefully schooled concern.

"What do you mean, 'Where's my wife'!" John shouted as he felt the

situation slipping away from him. "You're supposed to be taking care of

her!"

"Yes, well, that is supposed to be the case," Doctor Jarret agreed,

"but just now I checked in on her and she was gone. I'd assumed you'd

taken her home with you."

"How can I take her anywhere when I can't get in to see her!" John

yelled into the doctor's face.

"Now, calm down, Mr. DiTagglia," Julia said warningly. "We don't want

an incident, do we?"

"Incident? My *wife* is missing! Again!" he screamed, for once truly

sounding like the concerned husband he had been pretending to be all

morning.

"And we'll try to find her," Julia promised. "Doctor? Is there any way

she could have left without anyone seeing her?"20

"Well, ordinarily no, but we're severely short-handed today, and we

were extremely busy with that multiple car wreck earlier ... I suppose

she could have dressed herself and slipped out one of the other exits.

We're a hospital, not a prison, after all."

Julia turned her attention back to DiTagglia. "Mr. DiTagglia? We did

inform your wife you were waiting to see her. Is there any reason you

can think of why she would want to avoid you?"

John thought quickly; whether they were involved with her new escape or

not, they still suspected him of being responsible for her condition.

"I don't know," he began, faking uncertainty. "I suppose ... she could

be too ashamed to face me, now that her affair is out in the open?

Maybe that's why she ran off in the first place."

"I ... see," the detective replied, skepticism plain in her voice.

"Well, all we can do now is send out a new missing persons report, and

hope someone spots her soon." 20

"What about this hospital's criminal negligence in letting her wander

off when she's severely injured? Aren't you going to do something about

that?"

Julia shook her head. "No crime is involved here. Mrs. DiTagglia was

not in custody. She was transported here by a police officer because we

were concerned for her well-being, and because whoever had assaulted her

*did* commit a crime."

"Nor is the hospital liable for her departure," Doctor Jarret

interjected. "Mrs. DiTagglia was not committed to our facility for

psychiatric care, nor was she a minor under our supervision. Nor were

any of her injuries of such a critical nature that uninterrupted

treatment was essential to her well-being. She was free to come and go

as she pleased. We are, of course, sorry she felt it necessary to leave

our care, but we had no hold on her."

"We'll just see about that!" John snarled, shaking his fist at them as

he headed for the exit. "You will both be hearing from my attorneys!"

ooooo

Once Elisa saw Marian safely settled in, she retreated to the rooms

Xanatos had given Goliath during his stint as a human. To the clan's

surprise Goliath had kept the rooms, enjoying their privacy for the

occasional evening with his love. Now she used the large (and very

sturdy) bed to catch a little of the sleep she's missed during the

morning.

A few hours later Elisa stood on the parapet as the sun went down, for

a change her eyes focused somewhere else than on her lover. Owen had

reported that Marian was doing reasonably well, although her mental

state still left much to be desired. The psychiatric counselor who had

talked to her had said that it was no more than to be expected. While he

would not go into details that would violate the doctor-patient

relationship, he explained that she had received wounds far more

grievous than her physical ones, and only time and care would heal them.

As the last rays of the sun vanished the clan awoke around her with

their trademark roars. As she covered her ears Elisa recalled the time

Xanatos had jokingly suggested recording their cries and programming

them as the alarm in a digital alarm clock; certainly nothing possessed

of an evolved central nervous system could sleep through the noise.

"Hi, Guys!" she called as soon as they finished stretching. 20

"Hi, Elisa! -- Hello, Elisa! -- Hi, 'Lis!" the various greetings went.

Broadway and Lexington headed immediately into the castle, the former to

his treasured kitchen, the latter to his equally sacred computer.

Brooklyn and Angela stayed, exchanging small talk with Elisa.

There was a slight vibration and a gust of breeze as Goliath landed

next to her.

"Good evening, beloved," he rumbled in the bass voice that always sent a

shiver down her spine. "Is all well with you tonight, and with Hudson?"

"Everything's fine, Goliath; Hudson should be here in a few minutes.

If you don't mind, I'll wait till he gets here to explain what's going

on. A lot happened today, and since it all started with Hudson, it's

only fair for him to hear how it turned out."

True to her word, Hudson arrived at the castle a scant ten minutes

later. "Evening, Hudson," Elisa called. "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as could be, crammed into that little box! Lass, you turned

off the light when you closed the door!"

"Oooops ... sorry, Hudson,"she apologized, trying to sound sincere and

failing miserably as Brooklyn and Angela dissolved in laughter and even

Goliath looked suspiciously like he might actually chuckle. "Did you

get out all right?" She asked at last.

"Aye," he admitted grumpily. "Though the inside o' the door may be a

wee bit worse for wear!" He caped his wings. "Ah well, any sleep you

wake from is a good sleep, as my own clan leader used to say. Now, what

news of the lass I brought you?"

"Let's get the everyone together so I only have to go through this

once," she said. "You'll see why once I've explained."

Once the clan was gathered Elisa launched into a detailed description

of the day's events. More than once she found herself stopping and

elaborating on some idiotic quirk in the human judicial system. Even

though they had encountered the flaws in that system before, none of the

clan, Hudson especially, could understand how Marian's husband could

repeatedly escape punishment for his actions.

In the end Elisa had to say, "I know it's not right, but it's the way

the system works -- or doesn't, in this case. What's important right

now is that she's safe, and we're going to keep her that way. 09

"Until she moves out, though, you'll have to be careful of flights

around the building. Noise isn't a problem; her floor is completely

soundproofed, and while she has access to the arboretum, it's only

during the daylight hours. The castle itself, of course, is sealed off

from accidental visitors. Just stick to the high thermals when leaving

or arriving, and you should be okay."

"That's all well and good," Hudson said, "but what's to be done about

the caitiff dog who beat her in the first place?"20

Elisa shrugged. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but there's very little that

can be done. Officially, there's no evidence that he's committed a

crime, and with Marian unwilling to testify, no prosecutor is going to

touch the case."

"So he goes free? This does not seem right," Goliath growled. "In the

time from which we came, the woman's kin would deal with any rogue who

dared to behave so."

"Aye," Hudson agreed, "if the lass did not make short work of him

herself. Highland women were not raised to be trifled with, not if

their men valued their skins."

"What about gargoyle females?" Elisa asked. "Was there ever a case

where a male beat his mate like this?"

The clan stared at Elisa in shock, then looked at each other before

bursting out laughing. She waited, her temper rising as they howled and

guffawed, finally bringing themselves back under control when they saw

how upset she was getting.

"I am sorry, my Elisa," Goliath said at last, for even his stoic

demeanor had shattered. "But can you imagine any male surviving the

laying of hands on a female? Can you imagine what my daughter, or

*Demona*, would do to such a fool? We males are brave, Elisa, but we

are *not* insane!"

"Okay, sure, those two can take care of themselves, but surely not all

your females were warriors. What if one of the weaker females was

beaten?"

"We do not abuse our females," Goliath said gravely. "They are the

vessels of the clan's future. No male would behave so."

"Well, as to that ..." Hudson began. "It did happen once, long ago; a

male who became fixated on a female attacked her when she rejected him.

She fought him off, but was badly injured doing so."

"I never heard of this," Goliath said, his brows lifting in surprise.

"As I said, it happened long and long ago, when I was a youngling."

"What happened to him, Hudson?" Brooklyn asked.

The old warrior shuddered. "The elders turned him over to the injured

female's rookery sisters for punishment. They bound him, castrated him,

then suspended him head first over a cliff by a rope that barely

supported his weight, so that when he turned to stone at dawn ..." The

males of the clan all looked green at Hudson's description.09

"Well, times change," Elisa said. "We're brought up these days to rely

on the law to handle such things. And as to her kin, not only doesn't

she have any to speak of, *his* 'kin' are both rich and powerful. The

best we can do for her is get her well, keep her safe, and find a way

for her to regain control of her life without living in fear of her

husband."

"We'll just see about that," Hudson muttered.

ooooo

End of Part One

Send any comments to: fenris@phnx.uswest.net

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Caledon Rising 7 - New Friends Part Two

By Brian McCrary -fenris@phnx.uswest.net

DISCLAIMER -- As everyone knows, Gargoyles and its various characters

are the property of Buena Vista television and the Almighty Mouse. This

story and any subsequent stories I might write with these characters are

for my own pleasure and the enjoyment of others, and not for profit --

so don't sue me. Any additional characters to the Gargoyles universe

that may appear herein are my own creations, so please don't borrow them

without my permission. Now, on with the show!

P.S. If you like my work, send me feedback; it keeps me writing!

SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: The actions and attitudes of the character John

DiTagglia in this story in no way reflect my own attitude and beliefs

towards women -- he's the bad guy, okay? He's *supposed* to be someone

you can hate. Please, no nasty comments about his activities.

ooooo

Marian sat on a sheltered bench deep in the Arboretum, the slanting

rays of the afternoon sun casting a rainbow in the mist from the

artificial waterfall. Idly, she studied the way the water cascaded down

the artfully arranged cliff face that covered the one solid wall of the

enclosure. Xanatos had spared no expense when creating his own little

slice of the Garden of Eden, but if everything she had been hearing was

true, he was a much-reformed Serpent these days.

Certainly she had no grounds for complaint; if not for his shelter, she

knew she would be dead by now, either by her own hands or her husband's.

As it was, the nightmares were fading, her body was mending, and the

counselor was making progress on healing the even deeper wounds in her

soul. She would never be the woman she might have been had she not,

heedless of the concerned warnings of her friends, married the man who

would become her tormentor, but she could take her life back from him. 20

It shocked Marian a little that she was starting to believe it

possible; she had thought all hope dead within her, ground out by the

cruel blows of her husband and the indifference of the system. But her

counselor had shown her where the embers still burned, and with his

help, had slowly fanned them back to life. Now she was beginning to

look ahead, to try and come up with a plan for resuming her life.

"There's no need to rush, Marian," Fox Xanatos had said. "You're

welcome here for as long as you need." And wasn't that a surprise; Fox

Reynard, who made a brief appearance on the runway circuit with her

striking facial tattoo before moving on to acting, now the wife of one

of the richest men in the world. Marian remembered her from those days,

a new face when more voluptuous models were coming into vogue. They had

worked a couple of the same shows, although at that time Marian had

begun her own transition away from the runways. She recalled Fox's

forceful personality, her calm acceptance that greatness was her due;

strange to see her happy as a wife and mother.

Marian winced as the old sorrow stabbed through her. Children, that

had been the start of it. John had been charming and loving, and very

careful to keep his true business concealed from her. Then they found

out she could not give him children, that she was barren. Children were

very important to John, to his Family. He grew cold and distant, and he

grew careless. Marian learned the truth at last, and with that

knowledge came her first attempt to leave. 20

That was the first of the beatings, of "teaching her her place". There

were to be many others, some as simple as a slap, some much, much worse.

She was a possession, a trophy, and John was a collector. That she was

a flawed trophy was irrelevant; what was his, remained his, until he

decided otherwise. 20

Marian shivered and hunched down into herself. The counselor had

warned her against dwelling on the past until she was stronger, but

sometimes it rose up and overwhelmed her, drowning her resolve. He

would never let go; he would hunt her, no matter where she went, no

matter what she did. 20

A warning chime sounded, rousing Marian out of the darkness into which

her thoughts had spiraled. Sunset was approaching, and the automated

caretakers of Xanatos' private garden were getting ready to perform

their nightly duties. It seemed odd to her, closing off the Arboretum

all night long, but she would be the first to admit she knew nothing

about what it took to maintain the lush growth around her. No doubt the

fertilizers and insecticides used to grow and protect the plantlife were

both unpleasant and harmful to any people who inhaled them.

The chime sounded again; with a sigh, Marian wrestled herself back into

the wheelchair the doctors insisted she still needed and returned to her

rooms.

ooooo

"So, how is the lass doing?" Hudson asked, repeating the question he

had asked every night since Marian had taken up residence in the

building.

"She's doing fine, Hudson," Elisa replied reassuringly. "Her doctors

are very happy with her progress, and her counselor says, quote, "She's

a strong woman who's dealing as well as can be expected with what she's

gone through," unquote." Elisa smiled as Hudson nodded, his eyes

focusing elsewhere as he took in what she'd just said.

The rest of the clan was slightly bemused by the intense interest

Hudson was showing in the woman he'd saved. Every night he asked for a

progress report, and every night he would corner either Owen or Xanatos

and make certain no attempt had been made to breach the Eyrie Building's

security. 20

Hudson cleared his throat, regaining Elisa's attention. "Have ye had

any luck putting paid to the bastard who did this to her?" he asked yet

again, his eyes glowing softly.

Elisa shook her head with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Hudson; I know you don't

like it, but there's nothing the legal system can do to him without a

complaint from Marian, and given his track record, probably damned

little we could do even if she did sign a complaint." Hudson's

expression darkened, and Elisa hastily continued. "That doesn't mean

we're completely powerless. We've kept him from finding where she ended

up, despite his best efforts to buy, bully or steal the information from

someone. And I have some friends on the organized crime unit who are

paying particular attention to him right now, and leaking to his family

why it's happening. John DiTagglia is by no means getting off scot

free."

"But he won't be punished for what he did to her," Hudson said with

finality.

"I'm afraid not," Elisa agreed sadly.

Goliath's hand fell on Hudson's shoulder. "Elisa has done what she

can, old friend; the woman is safe now, that is the important thing."

"Aye, I suppose you're right," Hudson sighed. A wicked smile suddenly

appeared on his face. "But that doesn't mean I canna dream aboot

finding him strolling through the park some night, now does it?" he

asked.

"We all have our dreams, Hudson," Goliath replied solemnly with a small

smile as the rest of the clan chuckled.

ooooo

John perched nervously on the edge of his chair, trying as best he

could to ignore the two muscle-bound goons who had delivered his uncle's

"invitation". Their silent, brooding presence was a grim reminder as to

how far out of favor he had fallen; what remained to be seen was whether

or not it was a fall from which he would be able to get up.

The heavy, mahogany double doors on the far side of the room swung

silently open on their oiled hinges, allowing his uncle's consigliori to

step through. "Your uncle will see you now, Mr. DiTagglia," he said,

crooking his figure.

John rose from his chair and felt rather than saw the shift of his

escort as they started to follow. Relief washed through him as the

consigliori gave his head a small shake, arresting their movement. So

his fate wasn't determined yet; he still had a chance to survive this.

That brief moment of confidence faded when he saw his uncle's

expression; he'd seen that same bland face more than once, usually just

before some nuisance ceased to annoy the Family for good. Nervously he

cleared his throat. "How are you feeling today, Uncle Frederico?"

Frederico DiTagglia's expression remained unchanged, an even worse

sign. Silently he gestured to the chair on the far side of the desk.

When John was seated his uncle steepled his fingers and looked over them

at his nephew. "What are we to do with you?" he said at last.

John was smart enough not to try and bluff his way through. "I am

sorry, Uncle," he said, hanging his head. "I lost control."

"So. At least you do not lie about it to my face, eh, Johnny?" John

risked a glance up; his uncle's expression had shifted to an infinitely

safer one of anger and disdain, much preferable to the death mask he had

worn when John entered the room. "But you make me wait to hear the

truth from your lips; you make me send for you to hear your explanation,

to tell me why the police are suddenly so interested you, and why you

are using the Family's resources in a search for a wife you did not

bother to tell me was missing. I ask you again; what are we to do with

you?"

John squared his shoulders. "I was wrong, Uncle," he said gravely. "I

ask your forgiveness." Though outwardly he remained calm, inwardly he

trembled as his uncle shook his head.

"No, Johnny, no easy forgiveness, not this time. This time forgiveness

must be earned." Uncle Frederico leaned back in his chair. "From this

moment forward you are cut off from the Family business; all your

interests are transferred to your brother Paulo. Let the police watch

you all they want, they will see nothing." He held up his hand as John

opened his mouth to speak. "That is not all; your sole duty now is to

resolve your marriage difficulties. Your wife is a liability we cannot

afford; you will eliminate that liability."

"Gladly, Uncle," John said, "but I can't find her! She vanished from

that hospital, and no one knows where she went!"

"*I* know where she is," Frederico said calmly. "She has taken

sanctuary with David Xanatos, in his Eyrie Building, and while she is

there we cannot touch her."

"But, Uncle, if we know she's there, surely we can send someone in to

--"

His uncle's hand slammed onto the desk like a shot. "Do not dispute

with me!" he shouted. "You *will not* make any attempt on her while she

remains under his roof! Is that understood?"

"Yes, Uncle," John agreed, shrinking back into his chair. "But why

--?"

"You do not need to know the reasons," his uncle stated, his left hand

fingering a small pin just visible under his lapel. "It is enough for

you to know that those are my orders."

"Then what do you want me to do, Uncle?" John asked.

"You wait," he said firmly. "You need to learn the value of patience,

and this is as good a way as any. Your wife cannot stay under Xanatos'

protection indefinitely; sooner or later, she will leave the Eyrie

Building, and those I have watching will tell us. Then, and only then,

you will act."

ooooo

More time passed, and Marian set aside her wheelchair and crutches,

working daily with her physical therapists to rebuild her strength. At

her counselor's suggestion she began self-defense classes, finding in

Fox a frighteningly competent teacher. 20

"You know," Fox said, eyeing her friend critically as they relaxed in

the steamroom one afternoon following a strenuous workout, "it's amazing

how little you've changed since I knew you. You could probably call up

any modeling agency in town and go back to work tomorrow, especially now

that you're all buffed out." She playfully poked Marian in a sharply

defined biceps.

"Oh, please," Marian laughed, "Can you really see me sauntering down a

runway again after all these years? Competing with all those hordes of

teenagers who were always trying to claw their way up there with us? No

thank you!" she said firmly, though she was secretly pleased at the

compliment. 20

"I'm serious," Fox said. "The lean and muscular look is all the rage

now, and you've always had that incredible bone structure. You mention

the name of 'Marian FitzWalter' to any of a dozen top fashion

photographers and they go all dreamy-eyed." She shrugged as Marian

stared at her in frank disbelief. "It's something to consider, anyway."

Marian leaned back as Fox poured more water over the heated stones in

the center of the room. "I -- I don't think I'm ready for that," she

said at last. She ran her hands unconsciously over her arms, over her

face. The bruises were all gone, the last fractures healed. The damage

done to her nose by several breaks had been expertly corrected by a

plastic surgeon flown in especially for the job. No evidence remained

of the dark side of her marriage, at least on the surface.

Inside was another matter. The nightmares were almost gone, though the

counselor warned her that intense stress would almost certainly cause

reoccurrences. She was still uncomfortable around any man who reminded

her of her husband; it had taken considerable effort on her part to

relax around David Xanatos, his Greek heritage lending him the dark good

looks that triggered her reactions. And the idea of leaving the safety

of the Eyrie building terrified her. She knew he was waiting out there,

waiting to punish her disobedience. 20

"Well," Fox said at last, noting her friend's withdrawal, "it was just

an idea. There's no rush, Marian; you're welcome here for as long as

you need." She chuckled a little. "To be honest, I'm glad for the

company; the only other woman that I see socially around here is

Detective Maza, and she and I have some -- issues that make it a little

difficult to relax around each other. Besides," and she smiled

wickedly, "just between us, she has absolutely *no* fashion sense!"

Marian laughed, then frowned. "But if there's bad blood between you

two, why is she here so much? It can't be just to see me; how did she

know she could bring me here in the first place?"

"Oh, well, she has some friends on David's staff," Fox evaded. "One of

his troubleshooters is her boyfriend. She comes around to see him, and,

well, we manage to get along."

ooooo

Marian looked out through the tinted glass of the limousine's windows,

her nervousness evident in the tense lines of her body. "Do you really

think this is a good idea?" she asked for about the fifth time.

David and Fox both nodded reassuringly. "You need to get out and

about, Marian," Fox said, "and this as good a place to start as any.

Pierre has the shop reserved just for us; the only other people who will

be there will be his