Gargoyles Fan Fiction ❯ Of The Night ❯ Three Hundred, Seventy Two ( Chapter 12 )

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Of The Night

Twelve

As Brooklyn approached, he could make out what they were saying. It was a relief to finally know the subject.

“. . .a crush?” Lydia said, stunned. “Really. Imagine my surprise.”

“I’m serious,” the man returned sharply. “I’ve always. . .really been in love with you.”

Brooklyn felt, more than heard, the growl in his throat. His dislike of the man was growing increasingly large, and now he wasn’t so happy to know the subject. In his mind, this unknown human was suddenly a rival for the affections of the girl he considered his charge. For a while, she’d been a secret he could covet, something he could obsess over if he wanted to, because she was his in that sense.

She wasn’t that secret anymore, but the obsessive protectiveness he had for her hadn’t changed. In actuality, it had grown stronger. He wanted nothing more than her safety, and if this man was disturbing her, then that was a violation. He began listing ways of getting them apart in his head, one of which was backhanding the man. It wouldn’t kill him. . .

A little more violent than his usual thoughts. . . It left him unsettled, but not enough to stop the train of thought from being satisfying.

Lydia scoffed. But before Brooklyn was quite near enough to say anything, she burst out, “That’s a load of bullshit, and you know it!”

Silence dropped through the area around her as though someone had cut a cord. Eyes turned towards her, and even Brooklyn slowed his walk.

The man glanced around uncertainly, noticing the attention. Lowering his voice, he said, “I don’t think we should be talking this loud.”

“Oh, let them hear,” she snapped back. “I don’t mind. After all, I’m not the one with something to hide.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he hissed.

She laughed outright. “Really. Then why did you sneak up on me, huh?”

“I was. . .admiring you,” the man confessed. It made Brooklyn growl softly once more, though he was more interested in what was going on to interrupt. “I told you, I’m in love with you.”

Lydia abruptly threw up her hand, palm facing the man, fingers spread wide. “I think it’s time I laid out the numbers for you, bully.”

“I’m not a bully!” he bit out.

But she was going on, overriding him. “Three broken legs, seven fractures,” she began, taking a step back from him. “Seven broken ribs, eleven fractures. One broken arm, two fractures. One broken collarbone. One cracked pelvis – which, by the way, is a brand of pain you never want to feel twice. Three fractured vertebrae.” The man tried to interrupt, ignored completely as she went on. “Four torn ligaments, six sprains, one fractured cheek bone,” her voice was growing louder, “internal bleeding, one removed appendix, and three-hundred seventy-two stitches. Total.”

The silence, Brooklyn noted, had spread as far as the room. Some people had moved in closer to hear the conversation, not the least of which were Xanatos, Fox and Elisa.

“I did not,” she continued, “just describe the life of a warrior. I didn’t describe training for soldiers. I did not describe some unlucky person’s twenty years of life.”

“Veronica --” he tried to interrupt.

“In five years,” she sneered vehemently, “you did all that to me. First, second, third, forth, and fifth grade, for me, were spent in endless recovery. I didn’t enjoy one day of the week, least all of school days, because I knew you would be there. Even when we weren’t in the same class, you found me. On the playground, in the lunchroom, before or after school --”

“That’s not fair,” he finally managed.

“Then what is?” she all but yelled. “Tell me, go on, Matt. Tell me again that you did it all out of love. Tell me you caused five years of Hell because you had a crush on me.” She grinned, though it was on the maniacal side. “Tell me that when you saw all the other kids throwing rocks and debris at me, you picked up a rock bigger than your fist and struck me in the head with it, because you loved me.”

Matt was looking away, staring intently at the white-clothed table beside them. He didn’t answer.

For a long moment there was no noise whatsoever. Eyes kept moving between Lydia and Matt, waiting for one more word. It was a game of sorts, wondering who would break the silence first.

Finally, Lydia continued, though she was much quieter now. “You gave me forty-two scars, Matt. Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” With a sigh, she took another step back. “You shouldn’t have said anything to me.”

“I didn’t,” he started, before she could turn away. “I didn’t. . .think you were having such a hard time. I saw you excelling in school, getting straight A’s – I thought I wasn’t causing you any trouble.”

“I excelled in school,” she snapped, “because it was the only way I could see myself escaping you. I did everything I could to get away from you.”

Brooklyn decided now would be a good time to break it up. He wove through the crowd, for a moment creating the only sound other than breathing. “Lydia,” he said, once he was part of the innermost ring.

She looked over her shoulder to see him, giving him a reassuring “I’m okay” kind of smile. Then she threw one more look at Matt before turning away fully, intent on walking away, letting the event die.

And then, with a righteous tone, Matt blurted, “If that’s the case, then I motivated you through school. You should be thanking me!”

Lydia stopped short, and all around, murmurs broke out. Nearest him, Brooklyn heard Elisa say, “He didn’t just say that.”

Fox replied a simple, “I think he did.”

“Now,” Xanatos threw in, “would be a great time to shut up.”

Brooklyn, himself, wanted to throw that Matt person out of the nearest window. The only thing that stopped him was Lydia’s expression, which he could see clearly. Utter disbelief crossed her features before she turned back around, meeting Matt’s gaze.

And Matt seemed to realize his mistake. With the air of someone about to panic, he waved his arms in front of him. “Wait, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to --”

“No,” Lydia interrupted, lifting a hand for silence. “No, you’re completely right.”

“He’s in trouble,” Elisa breathed quietly.

“He’s as good as dead,” Fox corrected.

“I never thought of it like that,” Lydia went on, coming closer to him. Matt wisely stepped back. “On the one hand, you terrorized me. But on the other, it was a kind of motivation.” She was nearly within arm’s reach now. “So, Matt, for ‘motivating’ me,” she grabbed his lapels, “I so completely thank you,” she finished, each word punctuated clearly.

In one swift motion, she stood on her toes and kissed him. Shock went through the crowd – rage went through Brooklyn – and Matt’s eyes bugged out. Not a second later, he pushed her back, roughly. For a brief instant, a thin string of blood connected their lips, then broke into smaller droplets.

Matt hissed in pain, holding his mouth. With shocked eyes on Lydia, he blurted, “You bit me!”

Carelessly, she strode to the table, daintily lifting a napkin to wipe the blood off her lip. Though Brooklyn had instinctively moved forward at the kiss, he now stood as frozen as everyone else – although his eyes weren’t bugged, nor his mouth hanging open as some of the crowds’ were.

“You – you bloodied my lip!” Matt snapped, only just noticing. He threw a glare at Lydia.

Lydia, on the other hand, had meanwhile taken a sip of champagne. Now she gave a laugh, amusement in her eyes. Without so much as a glance at him, she said, “When I’ve given you four hundred stitches, then you can complain about me making you bleed.”

This time the scene truly ended, as Lydia – tall glass of champagne in hand – turned from Matt to walk towards a balcony on the far side of the room. She breezed past Brooklyn without a glance, as she had everyone else. Just about everyone watched as she left the room, eyes swinging back to the still-stunned man by the table after a moment, holding his bloody lip.

Brooklyn was the first to move, stalking over to the man. No words could’ve described the red-hot anger in him then, barely held beneath the surface.

Matt backed up quick, but still managed only one step before Brooklyn had him by his shirtfront. “If you ever see her again,” he growled threateningly, “you’ll be wishing you hadn’t.” Then he released the smaller human, whom stumbled back another few steps, before turning to follow after Lydia.

“G. . .gargoyle,” he heard Matt breath in shock. In his head, Brooklyn smiled ever so slightly.

Elisa gave a low whistle, setting a clearly disapproving on Matt. Goliath, beside her, had the same expression, though he growled his displeasure rather than whistling it. The last Brooklyn knew about what was happening behind him, he could hear Xanatos speaking, seemingly to the boy.

Ah, but what would he do now, concerning Lydia? She had followed the balcony around a curve, out of sight of anybody who wasn’t in the doorway. When he spotted her, she was sitting on the stone wall, head bent, the glass she’d taken with resting beside her – and halfway gone.

He remained where he was, going over what he could do now in his head. One option would be to go and sit beside her, maybe apologize for her hard life. Another thought was to drape one of his wings around her shoulders, knowing it tended to amuse her.

If only that Matt kid hadn’t shown up. The night had been going well, in his opinion. They’d danced, which he had found more than a little pleasurable. He didn’t think, beforehand, that she would let him touch her waist the way he had to in order to dance. But she also let his hand rest there long after the music stopped. He had thought, for one of the briefest moments, that Lydia had been looking at him with love in her eyes. It made him giddy, hopeful; he quit caring about her being human and he being a gargoyle.

After all, if Elisa and Goliath could love beyond species and appearances, why couldn’t he and Lydia do the same?

Almost without realizing it, Brooklyn had descended to a crouch, forgetting the sophisticated front they’d all been putting up for this event. In his most natural pose, he rested there, on his haunches, still debating over what he would say or do – if he would say or do anything at all.

Elisa answered his prayers, touching him on the shoulder so he knew she was there. Then she whispered, so Lydia wouldn’t hear, “Don’t say anything about it.”

He blinked, surprised. Just as quietly, he asked, “Then what should I say?”

“Anything,” Elisa told him. “Distract her. Find a way to make her happy, to make her forget.” With a playful smirk, she added, “You can do that, can’t you?”

He resisted the urge to chuckle. “I think I could pull it off.” After all, what else had he and Lydia been doing their entire time together, if not enjoying each other’s company? She’d already confessed to him that she’d never had a real friend before, that she’d never trusted another person before, and that she’d smiled more in the few months she knew him than the last five years of her life.

Elisa left him as he rose to his full height, finally stepping out onto the balcony. He crossed over to her opposite side, placing himself strategically so looking at him would have her avoid looking back in the room. Sometimes, he admitted silently, the way his mind worked was insanely beneficial in subtle ways.

“You know,” he commented offhandedly, “I don’t think it’s good for your dress, to be sitting on stone like that.”

She gave a silent laugh, smiling ever so slightly. “I don’t think I’ll be wearing it again.”

He shrugged. “You never know.” He noticed, as he looked at her now, that he could see four scars on her left arm alone. He had never seen them before; they were barely visible. That thought, unfortunately, led back to the recent knowledge of her some three hundred seventy-two stitches. Forty-two scars, she’d said.

She wasn’t replying, he noted. He had to think of something else.

Standing straight up was tough for someone unused to it, enough so that he hopped up onto the wall to crouch beside her, rather than remain the way he was. Looking over at her, he started, “Just out of curiosity, do you think you could jump from here and be okay?”

She scoffed. “Not on these heels; not in the least.” She tilted a glance at him. “And I know what you’re doing.”

“What, asking questions?” he replied innocently.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Hey, am I here to help or what?” he said smoothly. Reaching over, he ghosted the backs of his fingers along her upper arm, raising goosebumps. “You know me. I’ve always got a plan.” She shivered once, a reaction to the goosebumps no doubt. He raised his hand further, catching her chin and lifting so she looked up higher. “And quit looking down.”

She smiled a warm kind of smile, keeping it up even after he’d released her chin. “Yes sir, Mr. Second In Command,” she replied with a sarcastic undertone. She lifted her hand in salute.

He chuckled. “That’s what I like to hear, soldier,” he returned, saluting back.

She scooted over closer to sit up against him, leaning into him. The motion knocked over her champagne glass, though she didn’t retrieve it. It covered the stone halfway, not enough in the glass to have made it dribble or stream.

Though she couldn’t see it, thanks to the glamour spell, his wings were arched behind him. He draped one over her, waiting to see her reaction. She glanced over, saw nothing, then smirked up at him.

“That’s a wing, right?” she asked.

He nodded. “So am I forgiven?”

“For pissing me off earlier?”

“I still don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t get it either, I just got mad is all.” She frowned. “Yeah, you’re forgiven. I think you’ve earned it.”

He considered his options now, thinking she would probably enjoy getting away from the party. But that would mean gliding off with her, and it was a cold October night, and she was a human, barely covered. . . He dashed that thought away. It wouldn’t help to make her shiver.

Then he glanced up, at the tower Goliath slept on.

He said, “Want to go someplace more private?”

“Depends. Is it colder?”

“The wind would be,” he allowed, “but that’s what leather wings are for.” He gave a sly look and she responded by smiling warmly.

“Sure. Take me there.”

He pulled her onto his back, then set to climbing up the stone. He noticed a few humans staring at them as they went, but he didn’t acknowledge it. As far as he was concerned, the party was over. From this point on, the two of them were going to be alone and just talk, as they’d done so many times before.

It was a good plan.