Gargoyles Fanfic: "Rose"

It felt like he had been asleep for ages. He was in the clock tower. Or was it the castle? He was asleep in bed. Or was he a statue? He was a man. Or was he a gargoyle?

Everything else seemed normal. The gargoyles shed their stone skin, roaring, eyes ablaze. Elisa was already there, telling them about the Pack, or Dr. Sevarius, or Thailog, or Xanatos. It all seemed so very far away now, like a dream.

“You’re starting to notice.”

He turned around. The man before him had blonde hair, glasses, and a stony demeanor to match his stone hand. But even disoriented, he could tell that the man did not belong here.

“What’s happening? Is this some kind of trick?”

The man adjusted his glasses. “That would be out of character. What do you remember?”

“I remember… running. Fighting. Pain.” His eyes darkened. “It was all I knew. I thought it would never end.”

“When did it end?”

“When I found them.” He turned to them. Goliath. Elisa. Hudson. Brooklyn. Broadway. Lexington. Bronx. Angela. “I felt safe with them. For a while. But I think some part of me never stopped running. Never stopped looking over my shoulder.”

“Despite your power?”

“Power?” he laughed. “What is power? Just another problem. Another complication. Another thing to be afraid of.” He stared at his hand. Once they had been sealed in metal to mask his true nature. He was meant to look human after all. Claws would have been a dead giveaway.

“That power saved your life on numerous occasions.”

“It did,” he conceded. “It was an advantage. But it was also a crutch. It made me a target. It made me dangerous. It made me an enemy. I never wanted to fight. I only ever wanted to be safe.”

“Maybe that was too much to hope for.”

“Maybe it was. Maybe I should have been grateful. I had strength. I was programmed to fight. I even had magic. But none of it felt like it was really mine. It felt like… like a layer of stone skin protecting the flesh underneath.” He stared at his hand, his talon. “Like it was given to me on a whim. I started to wonder. What was underneath all of that? What was so precious that it needed so many layers of protection?”

“Perhaps nothing.”

He looked at the man. He could sense no malice. “Perhaps. When I was… made… I was designed to be a tool. I was never meant to think for myself. All they cared about was making a weapon. They didn’t intend for anything to be underneath all those flashy abilities. I was actually kind of glad to be rid of my powers. Afraid. But kind of glad.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “Like I was getting closer to finding the real me.”

He looked once again at the ones who took him in. They seemed farther away now, even though none of them had moved.

“But there never was a real me.” It was not a question, but he waited for the other to respond.

“No,” he said. “There never was.”

He stood silently with this revelation. And then he nodded. “So what was I, then? An illusion?”

“Something like that.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Will they remember?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “In dreams.”

“Was there a point to any of this?”

“I suspect someone was curious. They wanted to see what would happen. You were made to satisfy that curiosity. But this was never really your home. You were always just a visitor. Some part of you must have known this.”

He nodded. “It was a good dream. Strange but good.” He hesitated. “Can I… Can I say goodbye before I go?”

“I’m sorry. You are already gone. You have been gone for a while.”

He looked over his shoulder. They were far away now. Talking about patrolling. Saving the city from Demona. Reading Shakespeare. Fighting. Loving. Living.

It comforted him to know that they would go on, even without him.

“Are you ready?”

He laughed quietly. “How could anyone be ready?”

“Then it’s time to go.”

“Wait,” he said. “There is another—one whose life is bound to mine. Will she be okay?”

The other man stared at him.

“I guess it doesn’t matter if none of it was real.”

“Yes, none of it was real.” The other man then did something rare for him. He smiled. “But I never said it didn’t matter.”

* * *

He had been given one final gift. It was just a dream, but somehow that made it more precious.

He was looking down at the city, passing by overhead. Goliath was there, Elisa in his arms. Hudson was there too. And Brooklyn. Broadway. Lexington. Bronx. Angela.

And her.

Her hand was in his. When everything else melted away, he could still feel her hand and see her smile. She was still there when the city faded. She was still there when his friends faded. She was still there when he had forgotten his own name.

But even that was okay. He didn’t need a name.

He was a gargoyle.