Work Text:
November 7, 1995
9:45 p.m.
A bar in Midtown, Manhattan
He’d promised her he wouldn’t go.
To Xanatos's farce of a wedding.
Back to her.
Her.
Despite everything she had done, he went running after her like a love-sick puppy.
Elisa grimaced at the intrusive imagery of Goliath groveling on his hands and knees after Demona. She knew it hadn’t happened like that, but she couldn’t keep the image from popping into her head anyway. She took a sip of her drink, hoping it would start to dull either the clarity of her imaginings or the sharpness of her anger, but she was two glasses of scotch in, and they had yet to curb either.
She didn't know why she couldn't shake off her anger. She'd been lied to before, had her trust broken.
But he'd never lied to her before.
And that hurt.
But thinking about why that hurt her so much stirred up other feelings that she didn't want to process.
So, to try and drown out those unwanted thoughts and feelings, she'd gone to a bar, one far enough from her home or any of the usual cop haunts in an effort to avoid bumping into anyone she knew. She normally didn’t hang out at bars, but drinking alone at home with only her cat for company was too depressing. Plus, the gargoyles had a tendency to stop by her place unannounced, and she just needed a night off; a night free of anything related to her job, the general craziness of the city, the gargoyles… and Goliath.
He had lied to her. But it was more than that. It was why he had lied to her, why he had attended the wedding of an enemy.
Because he knew she would be there.
“Idiot,” Elisa muttered to herself before she downed the last of her drink.
“Sorry?” said a deep, male voice.
Elisa blinked, wondering why someone had responded to her thoughts, when she realized she had spoken out loud. She was drunker than she thought.
Despite being a little annoyed at the intrusion, the timbre of the man’s voice caught her attention. She looked up from her glass and over to the man leaning casually against the bar next to her as he waited his turn to place an order with the bartender. She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed anyone was standing next to her until he said something.
She quickly scanned him out of an habitual reflex, cataloging features in case she needed to recall them later. He was tall, at least six feet, and leanly muscled. His skin was dark, and he had black, closely cropped hair. He looked to be roughly around her own age, give or take a year or two. His facial features were pleasing: high cheekbones, a square jaw, but then he smiled at her revealing straight white teeth, and a single dimple in his left cheek. His smile was earnest, reaching his dark eyes and shifting his entire countenance from mildly attractive to strikingly handsome.
“No, I’m sorry. I was just… thinking aloud about someone,” Elisa replied a little stunned as she gave him one more quick appreciative look up and down. A second look that didn’t go unnoticed based on the deepening upturn of his mouth and the way he shifted his body toward her.
“Clearly someone who's done you wrong,” the man said sympathetically.
“You could say that,” Elisa said as she peered back down into her glass.
“Can I buy you another drink?” the man asked, noticing her empty glass.
Elisa thought about it for only a second. She probably should just hail a cab and go home, but she decided she had nothing to lose by accepting his offer. Besides, there was something intriguing enough about him that she found herself wanting to stay.
“Sure,” she replied, throwing caution to the wind. “Why the hell not.”
The man gestured at the bartender who nodded in acknowledgement and made his way toward them.
“Another one for the lady and I'll have a glass of the same,” Elisa’s mystery man instructed. The bartender wordlessly took two fresh, clean glasses down from the shelf and set them on the bar before pouring a few ounces of scotch into each. Then he ambled away to the next patron.
The man sat down on the empty stool next to Elisa and took a sip of his drink.
“You have good taste,” he said admiringly.
Elisa snorted indignantly, and that got a raised eyebrow.
“If that was the case, I wouldn’t be here tonight,” she joked.
He laughed at that, and it was a rich, wonderful sound that put her at ease.
He asked for her name.
“Elisa,” she replied.
“Pretty.” He said it almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Pretty,” she teased him.
He rolled his eyes and laughed again. “My name’s Isaac,” he said, and he extended his hand to her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Isaac.” Elisa replied earnestly as she slid her hand into his with a smile that made Isaac's heart pound and changed his whole plans for the evening.
Issac had come to the bar for a night out with a few of his friends. He'd volunteered to put in their first drink order, and he’d approached the bar to do so when he'd noticed a gorgeous woman drinking alone. He came here often enough to know that she didn’t. But the way she was hunched over, her body curled around her drink screamed “leave me alone,” so he decided the wise course of action was to respect her wishes and admire her only from a distance.
That was the plan, anyway, until she spoke to him… or just out loud to herself, as it turned out.
Amused by their interaction, Isaac abruptly changed his plans for the evening. She had a voice that matched her stunning beauty. It was throaty, yet light and clear, and effortlessly seductive. And her smile—her smile did him in.
Isaac looked out across the barroom back to the group he had come with. His best friend held up his hands in question clearly asking what was taking him so long to return with their drinks. Isaac surreptitiously tipped his head toward Elisa, and his friend took another look followed by an enthusiastic thumbs up in approval. Isaac knew he wasn't quite off the hook with his friends, they were going to want details later, and if he got shot down, they reserved the right to mock him mercilessly.
To hopefully prevent that outcome, Isaac turned his attention back to the stunning woman next to him before she noticed it had strayed.
“So, Elisa… what brought you here tonight, aside from what I’m guessing are boyfriend problems?” Isaac asked, fishing for an answer in his favor. He hadn't spotted a wedding band or an engagement ring, so he was hopeful.
“What makes you think I’m not just a tourist out experiencing Manhattan’s unique nightlife?” Elisa challenged, ignoring the other part of his question for the time being.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn't exactly a destination in the New York tour guides,” Isaac said with a wry smile.
Elisa glanced around the dingy bar, noting its cheap, worn laminated tables, minimal drink list, and the sour smell of old, stale beer, sweat, and tobacco. “I see your point,” she said with a light laugh.
Isaac shrugged. “It has its charms, though,” he said.
Elisa smiled in acquiescence as she languorously rolled the liquor glass in her hands while she chose her next words. “I needed a change of scenery,” she confessed, answering his first question. “And it definitely wasn’t because of a boyfriend,” she added, answering his second. Although Goliath was the main reason she found herself here, he was definitely not her boyfriend.
Isaac looked pleased, though he tried to maintain his composure with a laissez faire attitude. “No boyfriend. Got it. And not a lost tourist, either. Well… not a tourist, at any rate,” he amended.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Elisa said somewhat acerbically.
“Well, you don’t look lost because you don’t know where you are, let’s put it that way,” he said observantly.
Elisa made a soft, surprised huff at his insight and turned back to her drink. Isaac realized he’d touched a raw nerve and decided to change the subject before he lost his shot with her.
“So, Elisa… what do you do?”
“I’m a cop,” she replied. “A detective with the NYPD, to be specific.”
She took a sip of her drink and traced a gouge in the wood of the bartop with her finger as she waited for his reaction. Men, in Elisa’s experience, were often intimidated by a woman in a position of authority, and this was usually the point where they made up lame excuses to withdraw from conversation. But Isaac looked at her with surprise and intrigue, not revulsion.
“Detective? That's impressive.”
Elisa shrugged, but she wasn't displeased by his reaction.
“What about you? What do you do other than attempt to force deep and insightful conversations with strange women in bars.”
Isaac laughed. “I’m a paramedic,” he said.
Elisa arched an eyebrow. “Interesting. I wonder if we’ve met before? I’ve called for more ambulances than I’d care to.”
“I doubt it. Pretty sure I’d remember you.”
Elisa smiled a little at that in spite of herself. Isaac was quickly getting past her prickly facade.
They swapped work stories and had a few more drinks. At some point the bar grew too crowded to converse easily, so they moved to a quieter, more secluded table where they continued to talk. Elisa found Isaac easy to talk to. Nothing in their conversation felt forced, and he effortlessly met her quips with his own. He had plenty of stories from work, recountings of lives he had saved, but he told them in a way where it was almost as if he were merely a bystander, and not the one heroically saving lives. He also didn't cut in or talk over her. He actively listened to what she was saying, appearing to hang on her every word.
When he leaned in and asked if he could kiss her, Elisa barely hesitated to say yes. He kissed her softly, tentatively as if he feared he would frighten her off with a little passion, but she grabbed the back of his head, and kissed him until the room was spinning, and not just from the effects of the alcohol they had been drinking. They proceeded to make out like a couple of teenagers, and when he asked her if she wanted to take things somewhere else, Elisa surprised herself and said yes once more. Isaac left money on the table to cover their tab, plus a generous tip, before they made a hasty retreat. Elisa didn’t catch the whoops and cheers that went up from Issac’s group of friends as they exited together. But Isaac did, and he playfully flipped them off behind Elisa's back as he held the door open for her.
It turned out, Isaac’s apartment was conveniently located above the bar, so they relocated there. They proceeded to devour each other ravenously as soon as the door was shut securely behind them. Clothing came off in record time, their need fueled by alcohol and hormones, and they left a trail of discarded garments all the way to the bedroom.
But everything came to a record-scratching halt when Isaac saw her scar. The one on her chest from life-saving surgery when she was shot.
“Do you have a heart condition?” he asked bluntly and somewhat breathlessly as he stared uncomfortably at her chest. It was the way a doctor would—clinically, and that was not a turn on for Elisa.
“No. I was shot a year ago, but I’m fine now. Don’t worry about it,” Elisa replied dismissively. She always felt a little self-conscious about her scar, but she was determined not to let it define her or get in the way of her living her life.
Isaac’s eyes opened wide with shock and fascination at that revelation, but before he could ask her any follow-up questions, she pushed him onto the bed and straddled him. He quickly forgot about it after that.
“Tell me what you like,” Isaac asked her between passionate kisses.
“Talk to me,” Elisa said breathlessly as his hands skimmed up her sides to cup her breasts. “Tell me what you’re doing, what you want to do to me.”
Isaac acquiesced, and things progressed quickly from there. Elisa enjoyed the distraction, but despite Isaac’s heroic performance, she found her thoughts kept drifting. She didn’t think of the man who was touching her, moving inside her.
She kept thinking of him.
She thought of him as she orgasmed and bit her tongue to refrain from calling out the wrong name.
Afterward, when Isaac had fallen into a drunken, satiated stupor, Elisa quietly slipped out of his bed and stumbled about his apartment in the dark to find her scattered clothing. She managed to locate everything except for her panties, but she had made so much noise she worried she would wake Isaac up, so she gave up, got dressed in the dark, and took a cab home without them.
After a long, hot shower, Elisa sat at her dining table in nothing but her robe, sipping a cup of coffee with Cagney, her cat, purring softly away on her lap as she contemplated her recent life choices. Regret often followed an impulsive act, and she’d never done something this reckless before, not even in college. She hadn’t planned on a one-night stand, and she certainly hadn’t been prepared for it. Thankfully Issac had a condom. She groaned in regret and made a mental note to get tested.
God, what were you thinking? she lamented.
You hadn’t been, she reminded herself. That was the problem. You were angry, inebriated, and… lonely.
God, she was so lonely.
Sure, she had her family, her partner Matt, and her coworkers. She had the gargoyles, but their presence in her life necessitated a certain level of secrecy that tended to isolate her. She wouldn't trade the clan for anything in the world, but she went home to an empty apartment every single night, and she just needed to be wanted, touched, and adored, to not feel so alone, even if it was just for one god-damn night.
But now… after experiencing an intimate connection with another human being for the first time in years, she somehow felt more alone than ever.
Because it hadn't been with him, an intrusive voice in her head told her.
Shut up, Elisa told the voice.
Unfortunately, it was too late to put that cat back in the bag, and with nothing but the oppressive quiet of her apartment for her thoughts to spiral in, she was forced to confront the matter of the third person in bed with her and Isaac tonight.
She'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't had the odd sex dream about Goliath or entertained the occasional waking fantasy about him, but what happened tonight wasn't an odd hiccup in her subconscious. It had gone beyond novel curiosity and fantasy.
It had been aching desire and yearning, but not for the handsome man she had shared one intimate encounter with.
But she and Goliath… they were just friends. He could be nothing but a friend. A really good friend she had a deep connection and bond with, but a friend nonetheless. She wasn’t attracted to him. She couldn’t be. He wasn’t even human!
Isaac was human! He was the kind of man she should be with. She just wasn't as drawn to him as she was to—
Nope.
She wasn't going to go there. She was going to shove that thought deep, deep down.
Isaac was a healthy, attractive man who had given her the first orgasm she hadn't given herself in a long time.
But he wasn't who you were thinking about when you came.
Elisa tamped that thought down with the others, too.
It had been unlike her to let a strange man take her home. But there had been a reason why she’d been so willing to go home with him, something she found so irresistible that she'd slept with him, despite how risky and unlike her it had been.
With an epiphany like a frying pan to the head, she realized it had been his voice. It was low and rich like dark chocolate and similar enough to the large gargoyle leader’s that she’d allowed herself to be seduced by him for an evening. His voice lacked the gravitas and command of Goliath’s, the unique way he spoke—dignified and articulate… or the distinct way he said her name, like he was savoring it, wrapping it in velvet, caressing it, like the way she imagined he would use his tongue on—
Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Elisa interrupted her own thoughts before they could progress. She slumped dejectedly over her cup. She wasn't just hopelessly attracted to Goliath, she had feelings for him. She'd had feelings for him since the first night they’d met. The night he’d saved her life when she fell off the side of the castle.
She thought of the way it had felt when his large hands reached out for her as she plummeted, the way his talons curled protectively around her. She recalled the weight of his hand when he rested it on her waist the night they’d danced together on Halloween. The way he’d moved and twirled her body effortlessly about the improvised dance floor.
He could easily do whatever he wanted with her body. He could hurt her, maim her, kill her, but he only ever touched her with gentleness.
What would his touch be like if his intent was to arouse, to love, to make her come?
Elisa shivered at the thought.
Attraction doesn't mean love, she told herself. You're merely attracted to the taboo nature of him.
But the words rang hollow.
Frustrated and unsettled, she stood up, forcing Cagney to hop down to the floor, meowing in protest. She grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet above the fridge, even though she was still pretty buzzed from earlier, and liberally poured some into her empty coffee mug. She downed it quickly and then tossed back another for good measure.
The alcohol burned its way down her throat, and the mild discomfort distracted her momentarily, but the fire hadn’t even dissipated when she heard a light knock at her window. Elisa startled, nearly dropping her mug, and looked up to see the very individual she was trying and failing so hard not to think about standing outside on her roof. Her stomach filled with traitorous butterflies at the sight of him. Too many conflicting feelings filled her and warred within her. Desire to see him, anger at seeing him. Want and need and joy and hurt, a melange too confusing to straighten out even when she was sober, let alone when she was drunk.
She couldn’t confront him right now. Not when her feelings were so twisted up and confused.
But she couldn’t ignore him either.
She screwed up her courage and set her mug down on the table before she walked somewhat unsteadily toward the window. She reached out to undo the latch but fumbled with it a little, making her pause long enough that she looked up and saw the mournful expression on his face. She wanted to give him a piece of her mind… but he looked so sad.
She opened the window only wide enough to speak through it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she said.
That was a truth and a lie.
It was true she didn't want to talk. She didn’t want to confront him about last night just yet, but there was so much she wanted to say, too, and even more that she wanted to do to him.
Ugh, you just got laid; why are you still so horny? she admonished herself.
Because Isaac wasn't who you really wanted.
“I see I have caught you at a bad time,” Goliath said graciously, noticing her damp hair and state of dress—or lack thereof. “I will come back another night.”
His voice.
It sent a shiver of ecstasy down Elisa's spine that pooled between her thighs. Her heart pounded as she thought of the man who had touched her so intimately just a few hours ago and how she had mentally replaced his lips, his hands, his body with Goliath’s. Her imaginings had been so vivid that as she looked at Goliath now, she felt like he had been the one to do those things to her.
She clutched the neckline of her robe together when she remembered how little she was wearing, and to try and stem the imagery and the desire he evoked in her.
He turned to leave, and she panicked as she realized she really didn’t want him to go. She called out to him almost involuntarily.
“No, wait!”
Goliath paused and looked back at her over his shoulder. When Elisa realized he was waiting for her to speak she had to come up with a reason to invite him in.
“Would you… would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” she asked and opened the window all the way for him.
His eyes raked past her and landed on the open bottle of whiskey sitting on her counter. He cocked a brow at her.
“Or whiskey?” she added, noticing his gaze.
“I would take a dram, I suppose,” he said. He’d never had scotch before, even though he knew it hailed from his homeland; it wasn't a drink in his time. He was more familiar with fermented drinks like mead, ale, and cider, but he didn't want Elisa to feel awkward drinking alone.
He settled his wings around his shoulders and bent his great frame to step through the window. Elisa went into her kitchen for another glass, and while he waited, Goliath heard a meow and felt something small and warm bump against his feet.
“Hello, Cagney,” he said warmly as he leaned down to give the cat a few pats on the head. Elisa’s gray cat purred and chirped a few times, arching his back and butting his head against his talons before he bolted off back to Elisa’s bedroom.
By then, Elisa had returned with another glass. She poured a few ounces of whiskey into it, and handed it to him. His talons lightly brushed her fingers as he took the glass from her, and she felt a tantalizing jolt at his brief touch. She pulled her hand away quickly like she had touched a hot stove.
Goliath didn't appear to notice her reaction as he brought the tumbler up to his nose and took a delicate sniff of the amber liquid. The vapor from the alcohol nearly seared the inside of his nose, but without further hesitation he tossed the drink back in one gulp. It was strong. Stronger than anything he’d ever had before, and it burned its way down his throat, but he didn’t flinch or make any other sign of discomfort. He briefly contemplated why humans found this pleasurable, but the moment the burn dissipated, a burst of complex flavor hit his palate. He exhaled, breathing out spice and smoke that reminded him of peat fires on cold Scottish winter nights. He could almost smell the heather on the moors and hear the wind through the pine trees, and the crash of waves on the rocky cliffs of Wyvern Hill.
A feeling of melancholy washed over him, and he felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He quickly blinked them away before he looked at the now empty glass in his talons with awe.
Perhaps he was still reeling from his recent excursion back to Scotland through the Phoenix Gate, but somehow, this magical cordial bottled up that same experience, transporting him right back. Back to his home. Back to his time—hitting him with an intense wave of homesickness.
Elisa watched his reaction curiously. They’d never shared a drink before, but clearly he was not inexperienced. He didn’t react much to the drink; it only made his eyes water a little. The whiskey, strong as it was, probably had little to no effect on him otherwise, considering his size and mass. That thought gave her pause. She’d never considered what it would take for Goliath to get drunk, but she assumed he would need to drink at least half the bottle to even feel buzzed. The thought of an intoxicated Goliath made her smile. He seemed like he would be the type to get overly sentimental and recite sonnets and poetry
“Would you care for another?” she teased when she noticed him looking longingly at the bottle.
He sheepishly held his glass out to her. “It is not very often that I indulge,” he said.
“Neither do I,” Elisa said as she gave him a generous pour. This time he took a smaller, more appreciative sip instead of downing it all in one gulp. “But I guess we’re both getting into our cups tonight.”
She poured herself another drink and then sat back down at the table, making sure to keep her robe closed so that she didn’t flash any bare thigh (or more) at him.
“Hmm,” Goliath mused as he remained stoically standing. “These last few nights have been… difficult.” His eyes went out of focus like he was looking past her to memories he was reliving.
Elisa bitterly hoped he found some remorse wherever he had mentally wandered off to.
“I’ll say,” she said quietly as she looked down at the contents of her own mug. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were hard as steel, and she tightly gripped the mug in her hand as she recalled why she had been so mad at him in the first place, what had driven her to a bar and into the arms of a stranger tonight.
“You promised me you wouldn’t go,” she seethed. “You promised.”
“I made a promise to her, too, long ago,” Goliath said mournfully.
Elisa ground her jaw in frustration. What was it going to take to get through his thick skull?
“She has tried to kill me, Goliath!” she shouted. “Moreover, she has tried to kill you. Multiple times. Whatever promises you made to her are null and void now.”
“Just because she no longer keeps her promises, it does not mean I should break mine!” Goliath lashed out, a vicious snarl in his voice.
“And yet… you broke your promise to me over someone who you know doesn’t love you back," Elisa threw back at him.
Goliath opened his mouth to protest and then shut it sheepishly when he realized he had nothing to say in rebuttal.
“She doesn’t deserve your devotion, Goliath,” Elisa said pointedly before he could think of something to say. “Not anymore. Not after all the things she has done.”
Goliath growled in frustration, his face hard as stone. “I know that now,” he said bitterly before he tossed back the rest of his whiskey and set the glass less than gently back onto the table.
Elisa sighed and set down her mug. She hadn’t meant for things to be so confrontational. Silence stretched out between them for an uncomfortable length of time. Elisa wondered why Goliath hadn't stormed off in a huff like he had last night. For some reason he seemed resolute to stay and talk things out, even if they weren’t currently saying anything. She decided to set aside her anger for the time being. She didn't know everything Goliath had been through the night before, but she knew he had been rejected by his partner again, someone he had once loved, and that must have stung. What he really needed right now was compassion. He needed a friend, not an antagonist.
“Tell me what happened,” Elisa said, trying a gentler approach.
Goliath glanced obliquely at her as he read her expression, then he folded his arms across his chest as he prepared himself to recount the events of the night before. He started out slow, talking about Xanatos’s wedding, then he told her about the Phoenix Gate, a different wedding, and vows he had made over a thousand years ago.
“The only good thing that came of this is that I now possess the Phoenix Gate, not Demona or Xanatos,” he finished.
A year ago, Elisa would have laughed at the idea of a magical time-traveling talisman, but now she didn’t even bat an eye. Nothing surprised her anymore.
“Small comfort, I suppose,” she agreed. “But why would you even want Demona back after everything she’s done to you?”
“You would not understand,” Goliath said. Elisa was so young, so human, and as far as he knew, she had never had her heart broken the way he had. How could she relate?
Elisa folded her arms across her chest stubbornly. “Try me.”
Goliath looked away again. He didn’t have to explain it to her, but he had already been dishonest with her. If he wanted to repair the rift that had formed in their friendship because of his deception, he had to be raw, open, and honest. He had to bare his soul to her.
“I am one of the last of my kind… and she, the only female.”
Elisa suspected that Goliath had hoped he and Demona would be their species’ Adam and Eve 2.0. It was something she could understand to a degree, but it also roiled her stomach to think of Goliath and Demona together like that.
“So, you would grovel at her feet despite everything she has done, just for the sake of making babies?” Elisa said appalled. “Jesus, do you honestly want her to be a mother?”
“She already is. Or at least… she was,” Goliath replied sadly. Then he walked over to the windows and stared pensively out into the night sky while Elisa picked her jaw up off the floor over that revelatory bomb.
“We bore a child together once,” he continued in the same mournful tone. “The egg had yet to hatch along with our other rookery children when my clan was slaughtered. I charged Princess Katharine with their care… but if the eggs ever hatched, the hatchlings lived and died a long time ago. Despite all that has passed between Demona and I, we still created a life together… and I thought if I could just get through to her… then perhaps we could bring new life to our clan once more.”
Elisa knew of the lost eggs, of course, but she had somehow failed to consider that one of them was his, biologically… or perhaps she just didn't want to allow herself to realize it. She had never thought of him as a father before, and she felt an unexpectedly intense stab of jealousy and resentment toward Demona. She'd had everything with Goliath, a life, a family. And she’d thrown it all away over petty grievances and prejudices that Elisa herself had faced in her own life.
Elisa also realized for the first time that Goliath had lost more than just his clan in the slaughter. He’d lost his children. He’d lost his clan’s entire future. It was a pain so unfathomable she couldn't bear to imagine it, and she was amazed that he could stand and express his grief so calmly. But his grief was also leading him down an irrational and reckless path, and though she was loath to do it, she had to tell him some hard truths and snap him out of it.
“Goliath, that's a noble, selfless idea, but you can't recover a species with only one breeding pair. The genetic pool would be… well, it wouldn’t be good. I'm sorry, it's not really possible.”
He looked back at her, and the sorrow and hopelessness in his eyes shattered her heart. He tried to hide it, but the scars of his losses had not healed much, and reminding him that no matter what he did, his entire species would die out in one generation, was like pouring salt into a raw, festering wound. He was on the verge of breaking down in front of her, and she instantly felt regret for her words. She had wanted to help him see reason; she hadn’t wanted to hurt him like this.
“Gargoyles mate for life, Elisa, and I loved her. I loved her more than anything,” Goliath said passionately, his voice thick with emotion. “I had to try to reach her, to get through to her. Have you ever loved someone so deeply that you would walk through fire itself to save them?”
I would walk through fire for you, she thought, but her mouth said, “No. I haven’t been that lucky… or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.”
She wistfully contemplated what it would be like to be loved by someone like that. That deeply, that completely, that unconditionally.
Loved by him, you mean, a part of her brain whispered, but she chose to ignore it.
“But it’s really over now between you two, isn’t it?” Elisa asked, her tone gentle and compassionate.
Goliath looked back out the window. He closed his eyes and nodded once with finality. His wings and shoulders drooped with that wordless admission, in fact his whole body appeared to deflate. This was not a side of him that he allowed the others to see that much. The worn down, defeated leader. His vulnerability.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly.
Elisa’s eyes widened in surprise at his apology. He turned back to look at her, his eyes clear and his expression earnest.
“I came here intending to apologize to you tonight. You asked me not to go to Xanatos’s wedding, you feared a trap, and you were right. I do not know yet whether or not I should have gone, but I told you I would not go, and I went anyway. I broke my promise to you, and for that… I am sorry.”
“I forgive you,” Elisa replied softly, but sincerely.
“Thank you,” Goliath said humbly.
Her forgiveness took some of the weight off him, but there was still so much pain and grief in his eyes. It haunted her, and she stood up to go to him, to comfort him, but as she did, the room spun, and suddenly she felt the distinct sensation of falling. She closed her eyes and waited for the painful embrace of the floor, but instead she felt strong arms gently encircle her. She opened her eyes to see Goliath looking back at her, his arms securely around her.
“Nice catch,” she said breathlessly, gazing dazedly into his dark eyes.
“Perhaps you have had enough to drink,” he suggested.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Elisa agreed as she continued to stare into his face. Did his eyes have flecks of amethyst in them? She'd never noticed before. They were so… different. So inhuman, and yet entirely too human for comfort. It was odd now to think she had thought him a monster when she first encountered him. How differently she thought of him now. He was her most trusted confidant, her dearest friend, and though she tried not to think of it, her heart knew what he really was to her. It spoke to her of it with every wild beat in her chest.
She felt a cool draft on her thigh, and she tore her gaze away from Goliath to discover the slit of her robe had slid dangerously open. One leg was visible all the way up to her hip, and the front had opened almost down to her navel, exposing a generous amount of cleavage. One sneeze, and she would bare it all to the large gargoyle.
Goliath noticed just a split second after she did, and for a moment his eyes roamed over her before he realized what he was doing and snapped them respectfully back up to her face.
He was so close.
Close enough Elisa could smell the whiskey on his breath, see the thick vein in his neck pulsing with each quickened heartbeat, and feel a soft vibration in his chest that rattled with each exhale. As they gazed wordlessly at each other, she had the sudden urge to press her lips to his. She wanted him to untie her robe and take her to the floor, to feel his hands on her body. But she was frozen by indecision, cowardice, fear… and shame. What kind of person was she to want Goliath when she had been intimate with someone else just a few hours ago? And yet… she had to acknowledge that she did want him. She wanted him deep in her bones, to the very atoms of her being. A repressed, aching, gnawing need for him that she’d only managed to take the edge off with another man.
But as they stared at each other, Elisa saw something in him that made her feel that, perhaps, her desires weren’t so one-sided.
Touch me, she thought loudly. Oh, god, please just touch me. Do something!
But she couldn’t say it out loud. She was paralyzed with fear. Fear of how easily she could love him. Fear of how loving him would change her life forever in many unforeseeable ways.
Goliath on the other hand, was completely unaware of her struggles as he was too busy dealing with his own.
Ever since the night Elisa had been temporarily turned into a gargoyle by Puck, he had looked at her differently. Before, he had admired her deeply, cherished her friendship and loyalty, but when he saw her as a gargoyle, something unlocked inside him. He was instantly and intensely attracted to her. He was drawn to her. He wanted her. He never thought he could ever have those feelings again for someone else, and it thrilled and terrified him.
He thought once she was human again those feelings would go away. To his dismay and delight, they had not. His feelings were not, as he had initially suspected, a result of Puck’s spell of transformation; they had only been revealed by it.
But what could he possibly do about them?
When he had gone to Xanatos’s wedding, a small part of him had hoped he could win Demona back if he reminded her of their previously shared vows, but another, larger part of him knew it was futile. His efforts were the last floundering gasps of a dead relationship, of a people on the verge of extinction. He knew she was never going to be his again. He knew she would reject him. But he had to try, if only to assuage his own conscience. When he had walked away, finally washing his hands of Demona, his bond to her finally snapped. It had hurt, like a part of his soul had been viciously excised from his body, but he'd had the strength to do it—because of Elisa. Because of her unwavering friendship and support. She gave him the strength and confidence he needed to slowly fix the broken pieces of his heart and soul so that he could stand on his own, free from Demona.
A part of him would always love his Angel of the Night, but she had died a thousand years ago along with the rest of their clan. The creature walking around with her face, the one responsible for all of the loss, grief, and horror he had experienced, was not his mate. Not anymore.
But this human female… he didn’t know what to do with her.
She was incredibly fierce, loyal, kind, courageous…
Lovely.
He yearned for her, he ached for her, and that confused him more than anything because he did not know what he should do about those feelings. His body certainly had an idea, and for a moment, as he held her tightly against himself, he gave in and allowed himself to want, and oh, how he wanted. He wanted to run his hand up her exposed thigh and then farther up to cup her firm backside. He wanted to pull the robe from her body and caress the bare skin he knew was smoother than silk. He wanted to taste her, run his tongue down her throat, to lavish attention on her breasts, and work his way down farther still to the secretive space betwixt her thighs. He wanted to hear her cries of pleasure, his name said with passion. He wanted to take her to the floor and lose himself in the warmth of her body. To give himself to her, completely.
He took a shaky breath to steady himself, and the scent of her filled his nostrils. The scent of her hair and her skin, her natural scent as well as the floral scent of her soap, mingling together in an intoxicating aroma that made his will crumble. His nostrils flared, and he felt himself stirring beneath his loincloth. His hand twitched as he strained against the impulse to touch her… and just before he caved, just before he crossed the line and moved his hand to caress the firm flesh of her thigh, he noticed there was something off about the way she smelled, something different.
He sniffed discreetly.
There was a note of something sharp and musky about her. Something that had nearly gone undetected, mostly washed away and masked with soap, but not entirely.
Something male and human.
Something carnal.
Like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head, Goliath abruptly set Elisa roughly on her feet as he tucked his wings tightly around himself. As he tried to regain his composure Elisa glared at him and clutched her robe tightly back around herself. Her cheeks were flushed with anger or embarrassment or perhaps something else entirely, he couldn’t tell.
But he had lived adjacent to humans long enough to know what sex smelled like on them.
“Is there someone here with you?” he asked gruffly as his eyes darted about.
“No. Of course not. Why?” Elisa said, furrowing her brow in confusion. For a moment she had been certain Goliath was about to cross that forbidden line they had wordlessly established. And she had shocked herself even further by realizing she would have let him if he had. But the mood had changed quicker than a cab driver turning off their service light at the end of their shift.
Goliath glanced around as though he wasn't sure he believed her, but he hadn’t noticed the scent of anyone else but Elisa in her apartment when he had first arrived, and he had never detected the scent of anyone but her before. No man lived there, and no man had been there this evening.
She had been somewhere else tonight.
With someone else.
He was seized by a shockingly intense feeling of jealousy, of betrayal.
How could she?!
And then with sickening swiftness, he realized how much of a hypocrite he was, and his jealousy faded into a profound sense of sadness and loss.
Of course she deserved to try and find love with her own kind.
She was not his, and he was not hers… and never would they belong to each other.
“Never mind, I... I do not know what came over me,” he said, shaking his head, almost with relief. He hadn't done anything irreversible. Their friendship was still intact.
Elisa eyed him suspiciously, wondering why he had been acting like she was hiding someone in her closet.
“I should return to my patrol," Goliath announced abruptly.
“Alone?” Elisa asked, concerned for his safety.
“Yes.”
“I don’t like it when you patrol alone.”
Goliath sighed. “Since it bothers you, I will tie in with Hudson and Bronx,” he said with a tip of his head.
“Thank you. I… I worry.”
Goliath gave her a small, almost sad smile.
“Thank you for the whiskey,” he said before he opened the window and stepped out onto the roof. “Until next time, Elisa.”
“Give my best to the others,” Elisa called after him.
Goliath nodded before he unfurled his wings and leapt off her roof. Elisa shut the window behind him and locked it.
She turned back to her dark, quiet, empty apartment and sighed with resignation before occupying herself with cleaning up. She put away the bottle of whiskey and removed the empty glasses from the table.
As she rinsed out the delicate glass tumbler Goliath had used, it slipped from her fingers and shattered as it struck the bottom of the sink. She cursed and started carefully picking up the broken shards, and as she did, tears slipped down her cheeks. She scrubbed them away angrily with the back of her hand as she futilely tried to push back the painful epiphany that was working its way to the surface, and she was desperately trying to ignore. Something Goliath had said.
“Is there someone here with you?”
She felt sick to her stomach.
He knew.
Somehow, Goliath knew she had been with someone else tonight. That she had been intimate with someone else.
And it had upset him.
She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
He had no right to be mad or jealous. He had no claim on her. God, he had just been chasing after his ex the night before! But the way he had looked at her when her robe had slipped out of place. The look on his face. The visible desire he had shown for a brief second. And for a moment she was certain he was going to…
No. She quickly slammed the door shut on that idea. They could never have a relationship beyond friendship. To even entertain the idea was foolishness.
But if that was the case, then why did her body, her heart, long so much for him? Why did she feel so complete, so whole when he was around, and so bereft when he was gone? Like she felt now.
Everything about him was what she wanted in a partner. He was intelligent, noble, courageous, kind...
But he wasn’t human.
The aftermath of her desperate actions that night and the unfairness of her situation with Goliath overwhelmed her, and a broken sob escaped her throat unbidden. She tried to squash it down, to repress it, but only more tears fell until she was quietly sobbing.
Elisa dropped the broken shards of glass back into the sink as she slid to the floor, clutching her knees to herself as she wept bitterly over what could never be.