AVALON MISTS: A momentary escape from reality. Issue #14 First Released: Wednesday, May 8th, 1996 Editor's Notes: I suffered a disk failure that wiped out my subscription list. The backup was a week old, so all changes I made to the list in that time were lost. I was able to reconstruct some stuff from memory or from undeleted e-mail, but not everything. Apologies if I goofed somewhere. ****Top Ten Lists**** "Top 10 Reasons that Xanatos chose Owen over Puck" -- Ann White (AnnieBW@aol.com) 10. Owen's hair was shorter than his. 9. Xanatos is the only one allowed to have immortality! 8. He didn't want an assistant named after a hockey accessory. 7. Puck would NEVER stick his hand in the Cauldron of Life. 6. Two words - Ego stroking 5. Just think of the effort involved in hiring someone else to be his toady 4. It's the glasses! 3. It was either Owen or Demona 2. He'd have to join those poker games with Demona, Anasi, Puck, and Coldstone And the number one reason Xanatos chose Owen: 1. He knows what happens when Puck grants your wish. * * * * * "Top ten things that will never be seen on Gargoyles" --Mattshoe (mattshoe@holli.com) 10: Thailog taking Ross Perot's place to run for president (after all, he's got 20 billion dollars) 9: Ponderosa workers trying to get Broadway out of their all-you-can-eat buffet 8: Demona starts her own talk show (Topic: Why humans are inferior.) 7: Talon taking his old police job back. 6: Angela ever dating with the trio, yet never with Gabriel, either 5: Lexington getting his very own web site 4: Hudson being reconized as the longest living creature on the face of the earth. 3: Matt being forced by the illuminate to marry Elisa 2: Oberon ever growing up (mentally) 1: Thailog fighting for a spot on Hooser Millionare ****Fanfic**** Editor's note: This fanfic contains one word normally on my no-no list. You've been forewarned. "Mutual Commiseration Society" --DangerMom (DangerMom@aol.com) Author's notes: Dedicated to Tara and Kristina, for unknowingly providing the inspiration, with special acknowledgement to Lydia C. Marano* Rated semi-PG, for containing just a few words you won't hear on the Disney Afternoon!* (This story takes place after The Gathering, probably after Vendettas, but before any other of the new episodes.) * * * * Funny how everyone talks about the weather...in Manhattan, the hot topic for days had been the early summer heat wave. But no one seemed to be talking about the massive, pyrotechnic thunderstorm that had ended the sultry weather on the night of June 21. Funny, no one actually seemed to remember it, except for the members of a certain extended family, and a handful of the city s more unusual immigrants. Elisa Maza didn't remember much about that night either, but the gargoyles had filled her on what had happened while she and the rest of the city had slept. In a way, she was sorry she had missed all the excitement. However, considering the amount of excitement and magical occurrences she had experienced in the past few months, in another way she was just as glad to have missed out on it. She had more than enough on her mind, anyway--getting back to work, smoothing things out at work (good thing Dad still had some pull with the department), checking in with the family, smoothing things out with the family (good thing they had happened to run into Mom in Africa) and generally catching up on life in the real world. It seemed they had been gone forever. But by her third day back in the city, Elisa felt she had a pretty good handle on everything. Almost. Unfortunately, she could remember just enough about the night of June 21. Their joyful reunion with Hudson and the Trio was certainly a pleasant memory. That she didn' t mind. It was the other moment she wished she could forget...the scene that kept replaying itself in her mind every time she had nothing else to occupy her thoughts. ...Goliath carefully deposited Elisa and Cagney on the ledge outside her apartment. "We could not have survived this odyssey without you," he said with heartfelt gratitude. Elisa responded with a wry smile. "Hey, it was fun--most of the time." She turned and opened the window. "But...there really is no place like home," she said grinning as her pet raced inside and started purring. "See, even Cagney missed it." She faced Goliath hesitantly, unsure of how to say good-bye. "It was really nice of Hudson and Broadway to take care of him while I was gone." "The clan will always be there to take care of you," he promised fervently. "*I* will always be there for you." She couldn't bear to see what was in his eyes. "I know," she answered softly, as he gently put his powerful hands on her shoulders. He leaned closer to her. "If only we were--" Quickly she put her hand over his mouth. She'd break down if he completed the thought. "Shh. We are what we are." The first drops of warm rain broke the tension between them. Elisa summoned up a brave smile. "You'd better get going, or you'll be caught in the storm." Goliath looked at her for one uncertain second, then turned away from her.... And that memory kept triggering others ... flashes of the events of another stormy night. Seeing Goliath through gargoyle eyes. Flying across the city by his side. Saving his human form from certain death. Standing beside him, their human hands clasped together, for one achingly wonderful split-second before Puck's magic had wrenched them apart. Then she would hear the words he had tried to say before the sun had robbed him of speech. Words he had tried to repeat that night outside her window, before she had sent him off into the storm. She had watched him fly away. And despite his words of assurance, it had almost felt as if she was watching him fly out of her life forever. He might as well have. There would never be a life for them, not beyond friendship, not together. Not *ever*. It was a certainty that she was finding increasingly unbearable to think about. And each time she pulled herself out of the vicious circle of bittersweet memories, she would curse life for being the complicated, frustrating, unfair mess that it was. Finally she decided to seek refuge in doing something she rarely had the time for. Something relaxing, mundane, and completely human. A solitary pursuit, away from family, work, and gargoyles. She went for a walk in the park. Of course, she had to carefully avoid certain places, such as Belvedere Castle, and the jogging path where she had first seen Goliath turn to stone, but she managed. She wound up on the zoo side of the park, an ideal area for strolling and admiring summer in the city. It was a *nice* day. Elisa didn t have to be at work for several hours yet, and she made the most of it: watching the toddlers and pre-schoolers riding the carousel, enjoying the sunshine (of which she had way too little experience lately), having a vendor-cart hot dog for lunch and a delicious lemon ice for dessert. By the time she found a solitary bench in a fairly out-of-the-way spot, her brain was nicely set into neutral. Her worries and troubles receded as she sat and watched the city go by from a nice, safe distance. Then her afternoon of peace was abruptly shattered by the sight of the last person she expected to see taking a leisurely walk through Central Park on a summer afternoon. Owen Burnett. Elisa had always thought there was something slightly...odd about David Xanatos executive assistant, from the time of their first encounter. But never in a million years would she have guessed the secret that Goliath had revealed to her about the cool, calculating major-domo. He had stopped short on catching sight of her, studying her with the level, appraising stare that was his trademark. Then he started walking straight in her direction. As she watched him approach, Elisa could now see the slight resemblance to that master of trickery, Puck. There was no telling, though, just how deeply the similarity ran, and she didn't trust either aspect of this...person. Just the sight of him unnerved her. And what on earth had happened to his left hand? Perhaps one of Xanatos' sorcerous schemes had gone wrong, and now the human Owen was stuck with the result. Burnett halted just a few feet away from her bench. Elisa gazed up at him with a blank New York stare, fervently wishing she was anywhere else but here. "Detective Maza," he greeted her calmly. "Mr. Burnett," she replied, trying to match his casual tone. What could he possibly want with her? She was never so glad to be carrying her gun while off-duty. Human or changeling, bullets or cold iron...either way she could take him down, and maybe they'd buy her story that Owen Burnett had gone off the deep end and attacked her. "May I join you?" he asked. Elisa hid her apprehension as best she could, and shrugged. "It's a free country...but keep your distance," she added as he started to sit down. He paused, then shifted to put a few more inches between them. "I assure you, Detective, you have nothing to fear from me," he said, with something more than his usual bland sincerity. "Uh-huh. And have you got a bridge you want to sell, or just a nice spell you want to cast over me?" she retorted. For a moment, Owen said nothing, and Elisa could have sworn she saw an expression of pain pass quickly across his face. Then he said, "I gather your friends have updated you on...recent developments. So you must realize that I pose absolutely no threat to you, or to Goliath and his clan." "Power or no power, I still don't trust you," she said angrily. All the despair, weariness, and frustration that Elisa had been keeping bottled up inside for too long came boiling to the surface. "Damn you, Owen Burnett, whoever or whatever you are," she lashed out at him. "*You* did this to me. You ruined my life!" He stared at her, dumbfounded. "I--I beg your pardon?" It gave her a moment of cruel satisfaction to see the expression of total bewilderment on his usually smug face. "You know what I mean. How else could Xanatos have learned so much about magic and supposedly mythical beings? Who else could have gotten him interested in Castle Wyvern and gargoyles? Without you, there never would have been gargoyles in New York, in my life--" She halted her tirade just short of a sob, and fought for control of herself. "I haven't had a normal life for almost two years, and I hold you completely responsible." He drew away from her, and straightened his tie in a typical Owen gesture. "Mr. Xanatos' own studies and research would have led him to the gargoyles eventually. He found the Grimorum completely on his own, believe it or not. I merely provided him with additional knowledge, and logistical assistance, as needed," he explained pedantically. "Then I hold you both equally responsible," she snapped. "And do you know where I ve been the past couple of months? Do you know what ' ve been through, thanks to Avalon and its temperamental whims?" "I had nothing to do with that," he replied, looking offended. "Avalon works its own magic." "And so did you. You turned me into a gargoyle"! At least he had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "That was Demona's idea, not mine." Elisa almost laughed. "Oh, sure it was. 'Turn Elisa Maza into a gargoyle. Turn Goliath and his clan into humans.' I'll bet those were her exact words, weren't they?" she asked sarcastically. A smile danced across Owen s face, one slightly reminiscent of his other self. "No, not quite," he admitted. Elisa shook her head in disgust. "She probably wanted me and every other person in Manhattan dead. God only knows what she had in mind for the gargoyles." "She was not particularly careful in the wording of her wishes," Owen explained, almost primly. "It made the correct interpretation of her desires somewhat difficult. But the entire situation turned out rather well, all things considered," he finished with another smile, one that was pure, unrepentant Puck. His sudden insouciance was infuriating. Elisa shot to her feet, nearly trembling with fresh rage. "I met a few of your...relations during my travels," she said, "and not usually under pleasant circumstances. Trickery and deception. That's the way your kind operates, isn't it, Puck?" All emotion fled from Owen's face, and he stiffened, almost as if she had physically struck him. "Not *my* kind, Detective," he said hollowly. "Not any longer. I am now...one of a kind." His head dropped to his chest, and he was as still as a stone gargoyle. "Unique. Alone," he finished, his voice filled with utter dejection. Elisa was stunned. She could almost feel his despair, and realized there was nothing of the Trickster in him now. This was just Owen Burnett, a human soul laid open and vulnerable to her...the one person in New York who was probably living in the same sort of hopeless misery she was. In her desire to lash out at him, as a convenient target for her own frustrations, she hadn't fully comprehended what had actually been done to him by Oberon. Eternally exiled, his powers harshly regulated...and bound by his own volition to serve David Xanatos and his family for a *very* long time. Goliath had told her that Puck had *wanted* to stay in the human world. But apparently he had forgotten one particular human adage... "Be careful what you wish for...." Poor little trickster. Elisa sighed, bemused at how easy it was to feel sorry for him. She quietly resumed her seat on the other end of the bench. He looked up at her, his expression wary. "Well, Owen," she began casually, "welcome to the real world. Life's a bitch, isn't it? He almost smiled. "I am not *that* unfamiliar with the vagaries of human existence, Detective. But...I appreciate the sentiment...and your attempt at sympathy." "Let's just say I don't envy the situation you've ended up in," she said. "And if you don't mind my asking, what the hell are you doing in the park in the middle of the afternoon? I can't believe your boss gave you a day off." "As a matter of fact, he did," Owen replied. "I was rather surprised myself. Perhaps he felt he owed me something of a normal existence, now that things have changed." He glanced at her briefly, then looked out at the pleasant scenery before them. "I didn't know what to with my time. I spent hours walking through the city, and then I saw the park. It looked so green, so inviting..." He trailed off, and Elisa had the feeling he was seeing something else besides Central Park. "It reminds you of Avalon," she guessed. He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I always told Mr. Xanatos not to underestimate you. Your insight and perception do you credit, Elisa." Elisa found herself strangely pleased by the compliment, and not offended by the unexpected familiarity. "Hey, after what I've been through, I can recognize homesickness when I see it. Only I didn't have a thousand years away from Manhattan.'' A sigh escaped from Owen. "I never thought I would miss it so," he whispered. "I couldn' t bear the thought of going back, but now that I can't--" Abruptly, he sat upright, and cleared his throat, apparently embarrassed by this second display of weakness before her. "--I shall have to make the best of it," he finished, sounding almost like the old Owen again. He looked at Elisa, with a speculative glint in his blue eyes. "As you have done, I imagine." His lightning-quick personality shifts were starting to unnerve her again, but Elisa was not going to rise to this bait. "Imagine what you want," she told him coolly, "but at least I've got my friends, while you've made yourself nothing more than a glorified baby-sitter." "Touche," he responded. He glanced at his watch, then stood up. "I must thank you for helping to make my day off...unexpectedly interesting, but I'm afraid I must be going. And I assume you'll be on duty soon, as well." Elisa looked at her own watch, surprised by how late it had gotten. When she looked up, Burnett was already walking away. She jumped to her feet and called after him, "Owen!" He slowly turned around. "Yes, Elisa?" Something strange about this whole business had been nagging at her, unrealized until just now. "Answer me truthfully," she said. "Did you come here today looking for me?" "No," he replied. "I did not." For some inexplicable reason, she believed him. "Then why did you want to talk to me?" "Simply to tell you that you needn't be afraid of me anymore," he explained. "I had no idea our conversation would become so...personal and intense." She nodded. "Uh-huh. So our running into each other was just a coincidence." The smile he gave her this time was an uncanny combination of Owen and Puck. "Strictly a coincidence," he assured her. "Have a good evening, Detective." "The same to you, Mr. Burnett," she replied as he finally left her. She hurried off in the opposite direction, for she just had enough time to get home and feed Cagney before heading to work. Maybe it wasn't so strange that they'd encountered each other, she mused. Face it, they were the two unhappiest people in the city. It was probably destined that they would have met today. After all, misery loves company. ~The End * * * * * "SOMETHING WARNER THIS WAY COMES" -- Constance Cochran (ccochran@barnard.columbia.edu) Time: first season of "Gargoyles" Scene: the Aerie Building, in the Great Hall of Castle Wyvern. The elevator doors slide open, revealing Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner. They are all wearing Mickey-Mouse caps. Yakko sports sunglasses, Wakko is struggling with a map larger than he is, and Dot holds a cute plush stuffed Disney character. They bound out of the elevator, only to find their path blocked by Owen Burnett, cellular phone and leather agenda in hand. He peers down his nose at them, disdainful. Owen: May I help you? Dot: Is this Cinderella's Castle? Owen: I *beg* your pardon? Yakko shoves Wakko. Yakko: See! I told you we took a wrong turn at the Magic Mountain. Wakko gives a martyred sigh. Wakko: I can't 'elp it. You got mustard all over the map. Completely ignoring Owen, the Warners wander into the Great Hall. Heads titled back, their eyes wide with wonder, they look all around them. Dot, spotting the glittering chandelier, lets out an awed, breathless "Ohhhh." Owen runs after them and steps in their way. Owen: Just a minute. You can't come in here. Yakko: Why not? Is it still under construction? Dot: Wow! A new attraction! Owen begins pushing the Warners back towards the elevator. Unfazed, they stick their legs out straight, taking a route of passive resistance. Once they are in the elevator, Owen hits the "down" button and steps back. Owen: Now don't come back! He watches with smug satisfaction as the elevator doors slide shut with a "ping." Yakko (off screen): You know, you could really spruce this place up with some wall-to-wall carpeting and a billiard table. Startled, Owen turns around. Wakko is hanging up-side down from the chandelier, swinging back and forth, apparently under the mistaken idea that it is some kind of ride. Dot is lounging like a princess on the big table in front the massive fireplace, and Yakko is studying a tapestry, his fingers to his chin in a contemplative manner. Yakko: Ahhhhhhhhhhhh...I don't know. Somehow I think fleur-de-lis wall paper would work better. Don't you? Yakko spies the Grimoirum Arcanorum in its glass case. Yakko: Hey, what's that... He reaches a paw out to touch the glass. Owen leaps to the book's defense, standing with his back against the case as he glares down at Yakko. Owen: (voice calm; a tad annoyed) Don't touch that. (he turns and calls up to Wakko, who is still swinging wildly on the chandelier) That will be quite enough, young man! Wakko, surprised, stops swinging and gapes, impressed by Owen's tone of authority. Owen: Come down here this instant! Wakko: But I can't. Owen: (pushes up his glasses): And why not? Wakko: I'm stuck. It's too far down. >From Wakko's point of view, we see the stone floor, dizzyingly far away. Wakko wraps both arms around the stem of the chandelier and closes his eyes, looking endearingly pathetic. Yakko: Don't worry, Wakko. We'll save you. Yakko and Dot begin rushing around the hall, picking up chairs, the computer monitor, anything else they can get their hands on, and stacking them under the chandelier. Owen, for the first time ever, begins to look like he is losing control. He scrambles around after Dot, who has just picked up what looks like a valuable old chair of medieval lineage. Yakko is perched halfway up the pile, and Dot passes the chair up to him. Yakko puts the chair in place. Yakko (calling up): Okay, Wakko. You can come down now. Wakko opens his eyes, looks down, and gets a big-happy-face look on his features. He climbs down. Owen eyes the towering pile, an eyebrow cocked in disgust. Owen: Mr. Xanatos will be seriously displeased. Yakko: Who's Mr. Xanatos? Owen: My employer, and the owner of this castle. Yakko: Ohhhh, I get it. So you're the butler or something? Owen: Of sorts. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot whip off-screen and reappear a split-second later. Yakko and Wakko are in tuxedos; Yakko has a monocle; Dot wears a dress and pearls. Yakko (in a corny, upper-crust English accent): Jeeves, be a good man and fetch us tea. There's a good chap. Owen, still calm, opens his mouth to say something, but there is a footfall behind him. Xanatos steps out of the shadows of a doorway into the light, followed by Demona. Xanatos: Owen, is there a problem here? Owen turns, a bit desperately, away from the Warners towards his employer. Owen: Nothing I can't handle, sir. I... Inexplicably back in their regular costumes, Yakko and Wakko leap up into Demona's arms at the same time Dot leaps up into Xanatos'. Yakko, Wakko, Dot (in chorus): Hellllooooo NURSE! Yakko (going limp in Demona's arms): Be gentle with me. I'm fragile. Demona lets out a snarl of disgust, plucks the Warner brothers off of her, and flings them to the floor. Undeterred, they wrap their arms around her ankles. Yakko: Oh please take me back! I don't care about he species barrier. I love you! Wakko: I don't take rejection well...have pity! Xanatos looks down, somewhat amused, at his handful of Dot. Dot (coy, batting her eyelashes): Well, hello tall, dark, and wealthy. Demona: Xanatos, what ARE these disgusting little creatures? Xanatos puts Dot down, and he and Demona turn expectantly to Owen. Owen looks at the Warners, and his brows knit. Owen: Well, sir, they appear to be ... that is, their anatomy closely resembles that of ... they could perhaps ... I have no idea, sir. Xanatos (unconcerned): Very well, Owen. Just get them out of here. We are nearing the completion of the final phase of our plan, and I can't have them underfoot. Wakko's eyes get big, round, and dewy. Wakko: Y-you want us to leave? Dot: You don't like us anymore? (*sniff*) Yakko takes his siblings' paws and defiantly throws up his chin. Yakko: Come on, sibs. WE know when we're not wanted. We can go to a *better* amusement park. WE can go to Six Flags! Xanatos and Demona leave the hall. As the Warners move towards the elevator, Owen lets out a sigh of relief and runs his hand across his brow. He sags, exhausted, against the table. The Warners glance back and see Owen in this posture. Yakko gives him a compassionate look. Yakko: Wait. No, sibs, we can't desert him now. (gestures extravagantly) Look at him. Dot (sweet): The poor man. She walks up to Owen and pats him consolingly on the arm. Yakko: If only there was something we could do to cheer him up... Owen, recovered from his moment of weakness, straightens his tie. Owen: Please don't. (he flicks open the cellular phone and hits a few numbers) Security? We have a problem on level one. Yakko: I've got it! Sibs, there's only one thing to do at a time like this! The Warners (in chorus): Form a conga line! >From out of nowhere comes a shower of confetti and a beat of Caribbean music. The two Hippos, Dr. Scratch-an-sniff, Goliath, Slappy and Skippy, Freakazoid, The Tick, and the studio nurse start snaking around the room in a conga line. Yakko, linked to Wakko and Dot, takes hold of the studio nurse's waist, and they join the line. All: Ya-da-da-da-da-HEY! Ya-da-da-da-da-HEY! The line curves into a circle around Owen, who stands clutching the phone and the leather agenda with a blank-eyed stare on his face, much as if to say "this is NOT happening." Finally, Owen shrugs, and carefully puts the cellular phone and the agenda on the table. He removes his glasses, tucks them into his shirt pocket. Going into a whirling spin, he emerges as a grinning Puck, who joins the conga line. The calypso-like music echoes up to the vaults of the ceiling of the Great Hall, mingling with the confetti. Fade Out. End Clip: Scene: Exterior, the Warner's water tower. The Warner logo swings open, revealing Yakko, Wakko, Dot, and Broadway. Yakko offers a jar of peppers to the gargoyle. Yakko (to Broadway): Jalapena? Fade Out. "The Exile" --Jill Morrison (morrisjm@sbu.edu) Author's note: This story bares no relation whatsoever to my story in the fanfic archive, "X-iles." That was named before the Gathering even aired. "The Exile" is dedicated to all the Owenites on the mailing list. :-) This is largely speculation, so be forewarned. *** A week after the Gathering... 6 a.m. He practiced a karate kata as he waited for his master in the gym, same time, same place, almost as though nothing had happened. Almost. The concentration of the physical exercise was a needed distraction - it'd always been a source of pride to him that he'd relied solely on the physical resources of this body in these spars, and not on his gifts. Of course, that wasn't an option, now ... He ran through the kata again, quicker. There was the advantage of height - rather enjoyable to someone usually scarcely four feet tall. He'd always enjoyed it ... Owen Burnett was a tall man, and quick ... Who was he kidding? *He* was a tall man. Owen was no longer the mask, but the reality. Complete with stone left hand. He'd considered the testing of the Cauldron to be part and parcel of his service to David Xanatos. He'd not planned to be trapped in this body. Not forever. There was a sound behind him; he turned. David Xanatos paused before stepping into the room. "Good morning, Owen." "Mr. Xanatos." There was *that* look on his employer's face again, that considering gaze that had so rarely left since Oberon had come looking for his errant servant. Xanatos nodded to him, and paused. Brown eyes flickered to the heavily bound stone arm. It didn't take much to perceive his thoughts. It was a week later, but thing were just getting back to "normal" ... there were still a lot of unanswered questions. "I was human when I put my arm into the Cauldron, sir. So my human form is still affected." "I see ... well, then ... anytime you're ready, Owen." That arm threw his balance all off - he lost every match. Damn ... just when he was beginning to catch up to Xanatos ... The man paused before taking his stance for number five. "I'm sorry." It took him by surprise. "Mr. Xanatos?" "The arm. I'm sorry. I didn't know ..." He caught himself before sounding *too* humble. "That's enough for today, I think. Bring the Addington files to my office in about half an hour. The old coot's giving us trouble with the Gen-U-Tech merger." "Yes, sir." 9 a.m. He went up into the kitchen to get himself and Mr. Xanatos some coffee (*That* was one thing he liked about this human world.) and ran into Fox. Janine Renard was much more direct then her husband - her speculating gaze was straight-out. One week after giving birth and she was already squeezing back into the tight clothing she favored - but, then, that was Fox for you. Alexander was cradled in her arms ... he gave the infant a cursory glance as he passed. ~ Hope you're worth it, kid. ~ "`Morning, Owen." "Good morning, Mrs. Xanatos." "It's Fox - you know that." She kept watching him. "You know ... should we keep calling you that? I mean ... isn't your given name ..." *Damn*, he'd wondered when that was going to come up. But he didn't manage to cut her off in time. "... Robin?" ~ After all this time in this world, all I can think of when I hear that is 'Batman.' ~ The woman had an infuriating smile on her face. "Mrs. Xanatos, I've gone by 'Owen' for too long. I'm afraid I wouldn't even remember to answer to that name. And besides ..." He stirred sugar into his coffee. "... it really isn't who I am, anymore." The smile slipped off Fox's face, and she looked down at her sleeping son. "Yes ... and thank you. I mean ..." "Of course, Mrs. Xanatos." He picked up the coffee mugs and turned to leave. The words came out in a rush. "Owen, do you think that you could train me? Then you wouldn't have to ..." He paused, not turning around. "It does not matter. Oberon would not let me back, regardless ... but if you wish it, I will try ... Fox." She watched him go, hugging little Alex to her, troubled. 12 p.m. He'd been up on the turrets, inspecting the remainder of the Oberon-induced damage - and apparently Xanatos had expected him back later, for he surprised the man. The corner of the copy of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" still stuck out from beneath the Addington files, where Xanatos had hastily thrust it when his assistant walked through the office door. Owen glanced at the slim volume. "Most of that's not true, sir." "Hmmm ... oh, this." His employer gave a rather forced laugh. "I thought that perhaps ..." "Of course, sir." He placed the damage report on the desk. "You'll have to ask Demona something about how that came about." "Demona? What's she got to do with ... oh, no. Not ... MacBeth?" The edge of his mouth twitched, something that merely Owen would never allow. "Who do you think was the model for Lady MacBeth?" Xanatos began to laugh, and after a moment, Owen joined him. When the brief moment of mirth subsided, though, the two men stared at each other. David Xanatos had been offered a choice from a Puck: a wish, or a lifetime of service from his best employee, a man who had already proven his wealth of ... how had he put it? ... interesting talents. He'd never ceased to be amazed that the man had chosen Owen ... but the point was, Xanatos had realized that *something* was vaguely supernatural about Owen Burnett. He didn't think that the man had realized exactly *what*. Or perhaps he had .. but now they were all forced to acknowledge it. "Demona has a very ... developed ... sense of revenge, sir. But she never did *prove* who told the playwright that story. And he got it all wrong, anyway - MacBeth was never supposed to be the villain." He adjusted his glasses. "Come to think of it, the Sisters weren't too happy about that one, either ..." "So, that's how you led me to Demona ... you already knew her. How ..." "A long story, sir, and one for another time ..." He paused. Owen Burnett would never have simply cut Xanatos off like that. The man looked slightly surprised, but to his credit, shrugged it off. "Anyway ... I have a request." He waited, noting the difference. A *request*. "Fox is getting rather stir-crazy. Do you think that you could, well, ... babysit tonight?" He'd wondered when that was coming. "Certainly, sir. If I am to be young Alexander's tutor, I suppose he must get used to me." 3 p.m. Another thing he'd been expecting occurred later that afternoon - Detective Elisa Maza arrived at the door. "A moment, Detective Maza. I will see if Mr. Xanatos will see you." The woman gave him a direct look, putting her hands in her pockets. "Never mind, "Owen" ... it's you I wanted to see." He paused, raised an eyebrow. "You're ..." "Yes. I am." She took a deep breath. "That time with the Mirror, and Demona ... why?" What a remarkably general question. "I had to follow her commands ... the Mirror had bound me to her. She wanted "the human Elisa Maza" destroyed ... and I'm not inclined to murder, detective. It seemed the best way to get around it. Then she wanted me to do to the rest of the humans what I did to you ... so I did. Then she wanted "the gargoyles" changed to humans ... I simply interpreted "the gargoyles" differently than she did." "Any chance that you could ..." "Not now, detective. Not now." A single, cold smile. "Give Alexander a few years, and perhaps you could talk him into it." Maza hesitated. "What?" "I'm neither blind nor deaf, detective Maza." "I suppose not ... thank you, anyway, for ..." "Of course." He held the door open for her, a clear dismissal. She watched at him for a moment, then left. ~ Huma ... ~ He caught himself. 6 p.m. The Xanatos' were planning on going to dinner and some sort of show ... Fox was clearly torn at leaving Alexander and getting out for a while. But finally, she surrendered him to Owen. Babies were *not* something he was used to. The kid was developing quickly, common with Fay children, and made a grab for his glasses almost immediately. He jerked his head out of the way. "We should be back before midnight, Owen," Xanatos told him. "You ..." "We will be fine, sir." Fox gave him one last take-care-of-my-kid or you'll- wish-all-of-you-was- stone look, and put her hand on her husband's arm. "Remember, Mrs. Xanatos, I *can* use my powers to protect Alexander. He is quite safe, I can assure you." Finally, they left. Owen sighed, put the baby down in the cradle he'd placed next to his desk, and started on paperwork. 8 p.m. Not long after sunset, he got the other visitor he'd been expecting. The big shadow in the window did not alarm him ... he simply put down his pen, checked on Alexander, and raised his voice. "It's open." Goliath stepped inside, glanced at the infant, and glared at him. Owen simply raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" The big guy surprised him. With a bit of a growl, Goliath reached right across the desk, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and hoisted him right off of his feet. He struggled ... but the gargoyle was much stronger than he. ~ Come on, kid, cry ... then I can say I'm protecting you ... ~ Alexander laughed, a baby gurgle that nevertheless conveyed much amusement that his babysitter was being manhandled by a big, lavender, beast. ~ Ingrate. ~ The gargoyle held Owen at arm's length, and looked him in the eye. "So ... which was it?" "I .. urk! ... beg your pardon?" "You said 'a dream ... or a prophecy?' And I will ask you again .. which?" "Oh, that ... ugh, Goliath, it's rather hard to talk when you've got my tie caught in you claws ..." The gargoyle loosened his grip a little .. but not enough for him to wriggle free. "That's better ... I honestly don't know." He sighed. "I controlled the basics, but the rest came from your subconscious. Basically, *you* created your worst nightmare." Goliath's level gaze said that he wasn't buying it. Alexander chortled again. "Honest! Xanatos in power, your clan wounded or dead, one of them a traitor ... isn't that what you fear the most? I simply created the details ... Alexander's name, for example - they've been discussing that for months." The grip tightened a little more. He squirmed. "Really!" Finally, the gargoyle released him, setting him down besides the desk. Owen rubbed at his neck. "Personally, *I* hope it wasn't a prophecy ..." He glanced at the baby. "... that would mean that I had failed most adominably." Goliath growled. "I thought you said that *I* made that up - it could hardly be a prophecy, then." "Ah, but do not hidden fears have a source, and often some truth? I don't mean that the young one will turn out to be a traitor ..." He said hastily when the words earned him another narrowing of the eyes. "... just that anything can happen." With another soft growl, the gargoyle shook his head, and glanced at Alex. "I will believe you, for I do not think that you would protect the child ... to the extent that you did ... if you believed *that* would happen." "Thank you ... I think." Goliath hesitated. "That ... it was an honorable thing you did, to return to the battle. I am sorry for what ..." That did it. "If one more person tells me 'thank you,' or that they are sorry about ... about my powers, I'm going to... I made my choice, Goliath. I will live with it." He looked the big gargoyle right in the eye. Silence, even from Alexander. Then, Goliath actually smiled. "I think, perhaps, that Halcyon Renard rubbed off on you more than you know." "Yes, well ..." He turned, and began to hide the un-Owen-like outburst by restacking the papers that had been knocked astray. "Perhaps." Alexander Xanatos showed no fear at all as he gazed up at his father's enemy, laughing. There was a bit of tenderness in Goliath's gaze as he looked down at the child. Owen, watching, thought of Elisa Maza as a gargoyle, of Goliath as a human. If halfling Fay such as, well, himself and Fox were possible, why not gargoyle/human crossbreeds? ~ That, little Alex, is one of the first things we are going to work on ... ~ 10 p.m. The baby grew restless after the gargoyle left, refusing to go back to sleep. ~ He's going to be as nocturnal as his grandmother tends to be ... ~ A bottle worked for a while. Then, a chance to flex the meager magic he had left as he created several will o' the wisps for the baby to watch ... he supposed that counted as tutoring. By 10, however, he was out of ideas, and the baby was crying again. ~ Xanatos, this was *not* in the job description. ~ Wait, kids liked to be read to, right? Surely there was something somewhere ... He had an idea. Xanatos' office was just down the hall. The book was right where he'd left it. He took book and baby back to the Great Hall, sat down in front of the fire. "OK, Alex ... history lesson." "Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour ..." Wonder of wonders, it worked. 11 p.m. "Trip away; Make no stay; Meet me all by break of day." He took a deep breath, the irritatingly squeaky voice he'd used for Oberon hurting his throat, and changed back to his own voice. "If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here while these visions did appear..." Owen looked down at the baby - Alexander was fast asleep. "I'm not sure if that's a testament to my storytelling ability, or a subtle insult ..." He glanced down at the play. "Well ... I guess it wasn't all that much off the mark, after all. Just ... not particularly dignified, if you know what I mean." His charge sighed in his sleep. "I guess not." He laid the infant back in the cradle, considered Oberon's words about protecting the child, and tried to construct a shield and an alarm about the boy. It worked. After a moment's consideration, he went out into the courtyard, and looked out at the city. It was beautiful, really ... from the distance of the Aerie, all light against darkness. Avalon was lovely ... but so, in its own way, was New York. ~ Why, oh Robin Goodfellow? Why were you so stubborn, why did you not want to go back? ~ A light rain began to fall, a chill breeze in the air for all it was late June. It was never cold in Avalon, and the magic springs kept the land green, so there was no need for rain. The wet drops were streaking his glasses - he took them off. Avalon was boring - life in the Aerie was never boring. And he had the sneaking suspicion that little Alexander was going to make things even more interesting. Humans ... and gargoyles ... are fascinating. "Honorable," Goliath had called his actions. He wasn't quite certain why he'd done what he'd done himself ... returning when he'd had the chance to get away. Honor was a mortal notion; few of the Fay heeded it. But he couldn't have left Oberon to take the baby. Not when he'd seen how the Xanatoses had prepared for it. Not when they were counting on ... Owen. He still had interests here. He wanted to see how this troublesome ... (a smile) ... child grew up, wanted to see how Xanatos dealt with being a parent. He wanted to see if the gargoyles and Xanatos would maintain this little alliance. If Demona, his old acquaintance, would ever reconcile with her clan, especially when she discovered her daughter. If a human/gargoyle romance would ever work out ... But the disturbing thing was, he was involved now. No more the observant bystander. He was what no Fay would ever be ... truly involved in these lives. He'd taken sides. He'd helped them against his own people. It was ... appropriate, his punishment. His magic was gone, save what he could glean from his duties protecting and teaching Alexander. But, rules were made to be bent ... He smiled. Owen Burnett, once Puck, stood out in the rain of a New York night, watching the city move below him. The exile ... was content. "All's Well" --Tara O'Shea (TaraLJC) Author's note: this story takes place during and after "The Gathering" parts 1 & 2. As such, I feel I should add "Additional material by Lydia Marano". It was actually written as a prologue to the planned sequel to "Games", which depends entirely upon what happens or doesn't happen in those seven episodes that have not yet aired. But since I have to wait, and I needed to solve obvious problems, the prologue ended up, well . . . this. Which still kinda depends on what does or doesn't happen in "Hunter's Moon" but I think I'm safe. Somewhere on the coast of Maine June 20, 1996 If they had simply knocked, perhaps things would have gone differently. Perhaps. But they didn't knock. They rended and tore, and the door splintered and then fell, teetering drunkenly on one hinge. The wind off the sea came howling in, making the candles sputter, and several went out entirely. Framed in the doorway of the lighthouse were three figures, eyes glowing green in the dimness. Their feet did not touch the ground, their hair and shimmering white dresses remained untouched by the torrent. Rowan looked up from her book, and carefully marked her place and tucked her shawl closer around her shoulders. "Phoebe, Luna, Selene. You've excellent timing; I've just put the kettle on for tea. Won't you come in?" "This is no social visit." Selene frowned. "Isn't it? I thought I was being quite sociable." "You know why we are here?" Luna asked. "Of course. I'd have to be blind, deaf, and stupid not to have noticed. Tell me, do you take sugar?" She addressed Phoebe, who remained silent. "It is the time of the gathering. Lord Oberon has marked your absense. We have come to take you home." Selene snapped. "Home. What an interesting concept. Let me see if I understand the situation, as it were. One thousand and one years ago, we--with the exception of you three who were left to stand sentinel--were banished from Avalon, on the pretext that we needed to learn humility. Now, we are banished from the World as well?" "You have been from the shores of your homeland far too long, little sister. Are you not happy to return?" Luna smiled sweetly. "I am not happy, you are correct. I am not happy, because I am not being given a choice. Obviously, Oberon has yet to learn his own lesson. Until he has, I do not recognise his authority in this matter. You may bear that answer back to our home in my stead." "I'm afraid that is not an option." Luna shook her head. "Isn't it?" "We were sent to fetch you, not act as courier," Selene's patience was growing thin. "Well, bully for you." Rowan stood, hands on her hips, irked at last. "Do not make this difficult," Phoebe cautioned. "I'm not." Rowan sighed. "Really, it's the most deceptively simple idea in the world. I'm not leaving." "Right this way, sir--" Owen held the elevator door open as Petros Xanatos stepped out into the enclosed balcony where the other expectant grandparents waited. "Petros Xanatos, this is Halcyon Renard, Fox's father." Owen indicated the gentleman in the wheelchair. "A pleasure to meet you at last," Renard offered a weak handshake, and Petros noted the older man's breathing was shallow. He collapsed back against the cushioned chair, and raised his hand, gesturing to the man to his right. "This is my aide-de-camp, Preston Vogel." Petros' eyes widened, and he glanced back and forth between Burnett and Vogel. "A--are you two related?" he asked, incredulously. Vogel stiffened, obviously very put out, while Owen merely smiled tightly. "I assure you, sir, we are *not*." Owen continued, introducing the striking, dark-haired woman to Renard's left. "And may I present Fox's mother, Anastasia Renard." "It's no longer Renard. I've remarried," Anastasia corrected, smiling sweetly. "Remarried?" Halcyon started. "When? Who?" "My first husband," she replied. Now that was a first, thought Petros. Owen Burnett actually looked *flustered*. "I--I have some things to attend to--elsewhere," Owen backed into the elevator, looking white as a sheet. Anastasia shrugged, and before Petros could ask, David appeared, smiling broadly, a newborn baby in his arms. The elevator doors closed on the choruses of ooohs and aaahs, and Mr. Burnett was, however temporarily, forgotten. Owen straightened his tie before the full-length mirror, and frowned. Glancing from one end of the corridor to the other, he waited until he was satisfied the stone hallway was deserted. Stepping through the mirror, he was greeted by the sound of wind and rain, and the very unpleasant smell of burned plastic and ozone. The door to Rowan's lighthouse was off its hinges, and slamming against the frame with each gust. Several candles had burned down to nubs in the living room, and the unpleasant smell came from a scorched and half melted tea kettle, still smoking atop a lit gas burner. Without thinking, he removed it from the range, a towel wrapped around the warped handle. Tugging the door closed, he was greeted by silence. "Rowan?" he called, and started as a small white owl came flying down from the staircase, to land on the arm of an ancient wicker rocking chair next to the cold hearth. "What have you for me, little one?" he asked the bird, who regarded him with wide blue eyes serenely. It flapped its wings as Owen reached for it, and smoothed its feathers. Staring into the mirror-like pupils, the memories Rowan had stored in the bird flooded his brain. Releasing it, the owl streaked past him and out the door, leaving behind two feathers, which floated down to the damp carpet while he clenched and unclenched his fists. She was gone. As the masses poured into the castle from every corner of the World, few marked the glowing green spark that flitted from cloud to cloud, descending not towards the throne room, which was being readied for the reception, but to the northwest tower. In his apartments, Oberon, Lord of Faerie, King of Avalon, unchanging ruler of the third race, raised an eyebrow as the spark grew, filling the room with a second of intense brightness before several figures solidified at its centre. Rowan landed badly. This was mostly due to the fact that the sisters had dropped her from where they hovered, a good two metres from the floor. "Do you need us more, my lord?" Selene asked as she and her sisters floated gently to the floor. "No. Leave us," Oberon waved them away. Brushing her dark hair from her eyes, Rowan found a blue hand extended before her. "So good to see you, my dear." Oberon laughed, withdrawing the offending hand good naturedly. She batted it away and got to her feet unaided. "Funny, I would have thought you would have rather done this in the great hall. It's not nearly as humiliating this way." Somehow, he failed to register the fact that Fionnuala ni Aine, called Rowan, seemed less than amused. In fact, she looked downright furious, in a cold, silent way. Very unlike her, actually. "Unfortunately, I cannot say the same. If you will pardon me, I will be leaving now." "I'm sure you are anxious to return to your rooms--" "Yes, your lapdogs made quite the mess of them when they abducted me, I am quite anxious to be home before the wind and rain ruin my good rug." "My dear, whatever are you talking about?" "Why, Lord Oberon, you surely cannot expect me to stay." her eyes widened in mocking innocence, and at last his good nature flagged and the glimmer of anger shone is his eyes. "I more than expect it," he said coldly. "I order it." "And who are you, to order me?" "How dare you address me in this manner!" he loomed over her. "I dare quite easily." "Obviously, you have yet to learn humility." "Oh, I see, *that* is the humility you expected me to learn. You expected me to humble myself before *you*. Whatever made you think ten centuries in exile would bring about that merry change? You have done nothing, as yet, to merit my bowing before you, let alone swearing fealty." He struck her. She did not fall, but staggered. When she met his eyes again, her grey eyes brimmed with fury, and bright blood welled from the cut where his ring caught her cheekbone to slip down her cheek like a red tear. "Don't try my patience, girl." "Oh, I know the limits of your patience all too well, *my lord*." She probed her tender cheek with her tongue, and then turned to go. "Fionnuala!" he grasped her arm and spun her around to face him. "I thought ten centuries would be time enough for you to mend your manners." "I am no longer the girl you banished." she wrenched her arm from his grasp, and squaring her shoulders, turned her back on him and walked out of the room with even, measured steps. She glanced back, wiping the blood from her cheek absently. "My name is Rowan." Avalon June 21, 1996 "Hello there, little sister." Raven smirked as he entered the great hall, and saw Rowan leaning against the wall, scowling. "Whatever has put such a frown on your face?" "Don't touch me, don't talk to me, don't even come near me." "Whoa." Coyote intoned as Rowan swept past them, an icy breeze in her wake. "Now there's someone who spent too much time in the world, eh?" Raven laughed, clapping the other childe on the back as they got in the receiving line. Rowan remained sullen as she avoided the knots of happily reunited brethren. She watched Odin All-father approach the dais, and then turned her attention to the milling crowds, putting faces to names, and names to new faces until a glimmer of green caught her eye. She scowled even harder as the Sisters appeared in a flash, bearing the struggling Bean Sidhe in their hands. Obviously, Oberon had a taste for public humiliation after all, as the assembled host of fairy laughed at their fallen kinswoman. The Bean Sidhe immediately picked a fight with Odin. Sickened, Rowan turned to go as Oberon chuckled, but when Titania's mirror swayed precariously, he put a stop to the live entertainment with a thought. Rowan could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head as he stood, and approached the fay frozen in ice. "Bean sidhe, you were called to the Gathering, and you disobeyed. Have you anything to say in your defense?" He looked out and found Rowan's eyes in the crowd. "I thought not," he said smugly. "You pride yourself on you siren voice. That pride has lead to this transgression. So we will remove your voice until we hear true humility in your silence." He pointed, and a metal muzzle fixed itself over the Bean Sidhe's mouth even as the ice melted to a puddle in the centre of the dais. Rowan watched as the helpless fay touched the metal, disbelieving, and looked away from her grinning brethren. "The Gathering is nearly complete, my lord Oberon, save only for Queen Titania--" Luna began. "--and your servant, Puck." Selene finished, a dangerous gleam in her eye. "My queen comes and goes as she pleases. Puck is another matter." Again, Oberon's eyes sought Rowan's, and she weathered his gaze in silence. But she could feel her heart beating wildly inside her chest like the wings of a bird in a cage that had grown too small. "He forgets that he is mine to command." "We could hunt him down for you, lord." Selene offered, and Rowan flinched at the delight in the sister's eyes at the prospect. "No." He rose from the throne. "You three have done quite enough. I prefer to fetch the Puck myself." Rowan could feel the blood draining from her cheeks as he approached the mirror. She fought her way forward, through the crowd, and watched as Oberon held the six-holed whistle before the gargoyle beast's muzzle. "Find me the one who crafted this." Boudicca began to howl, and Rowan could feel hands close on her shoulders. Selene and Luna smiled without mirth as Oberon leashed the hound and stood once more before the mirror. "Now we journey to the mortal world." He looked back at the assembled host, and Rowan could feel her lips forming a single word, though no sound issued forth from her throat. "Stay put, this won't take long." As he disappeared through the mirror, into a section of Central Park Rowan knew all too well, the weird sisters' grip tightened on her arms, until she was sure if she looked down she would see purple bruises in the shape of their fingers. But she did not look down, her eyes were frozen to the mirror's surface, barely three metres from where she stood, yet light-years away, for all the good it did her. "No . . ." she finally whispered as the portal closed, and her own small white face was reflected in the glass. Selene released her. "If my lady were here . . ." "Don't be foolish," Phoebe spoke for the first time, and laid a hand on Rowan's shoulder, her smile unexpectedly kind. "Our Lord Oberon has taken her to wife once more, you will find no quarter there." "Then I am alone." "How can you be, with your family all about you?" "My heart is in the World, and I fear that it will die there." "But the Gathering has begun. Who would train the boy in the use of his powers?" Somehow, despite the fact that they had all been trying to kill one another no fewer than thirty seconds before, Oberon was not unwilling to admit the Gargoyle's idea of a tutor for the child had much merit. "What about . . . him?" Goliath said, gesturing to Owen. "What *about* him?" Oberon glowered. "I've got a sunny disposition, and I'm always kind to animals," Owen offered helpfully, thinking for one crazy moment how *very* much like Rowan he sounded. He shoved that thought away before it could do any more emotional harm that even thinking it already had. "Puck would make a fine teacher," Titania purred. "He wishes to stay, and he is already protective of the boy." "I suppose I could give the kid a few pointers," Owen mused, catching on relatively quickly to the queen's ploy. Oberon, however, was oblivious to his wife's subtle manipulations. "Very well, Puck." he smiled without mirth. "You have made your choice, and you shall live with it . . . Forever." The smile vanished from Owen's countenance. Pleased with this reaction, Oberon continued. "You are eternally banished from Avalon, Puck. Never again will you sample its paradise." *Rowan.* "No, wait! Not eternally!" he cried, backing away, but Oberon raised his hand, and Owen was wrapped in chains of power that lifted him off the floor. "We hereby strip you of all your powers, save when you are training or protecting the boy. Such is your punishment." Owen screamed with the pain, but Oberon was not moved. "So speaks Oberon." "No . . . please, my lord." Owen knelt before the lord he had forsaken and pleaded, begged even. But he could not tell him why, could not, or it would be his life he was pleading for. "Please reconsider. I'll do anything." "Pathetic," Oberon intoned. Behind him, Titania's face was a mask. Not of anger, or even disgust, but of sorrow. Somehow, she knew. At least someone knew. *Forgive me, my love.* Owen straightened his shoulders, and once more assumed the mortal form he had worn for so long, removing his spectacles from his shirt pocket. "Forgive me, my lord. You must do as you see fit." He fought to keep his tone level, and serene. "I will stay here with young Alexander." Rowan sat on the steps of the dais, staring woefully at Titania's Mirror, her cheek cupped in her hand. The hall had long since emptied out, and she could hear the faint sounds of revelers elsewhere in the castle. At least for tonight, by Oberon's decree as much as by the fact that it was solstice, time passed in Avalon as it did in the World, and she was not troubled by the thought that each hour Lord Oberon was away, a day passed in the World. However, that didn't make the wait any less excruciating. Still she waited, until at last she was rewarded by the faint green glow that heralded fay magic. A weary Lord Oberon stepped through, and Rowans eyes widened as he was followed by an equally weary lady wife. She scrambled to her feet, sketching a quick curtsey. "My lord Oberon--" she began, and he chuckled. "Ah, so now I am your lord?" "Please . . . please, my lord, what news of the Puck?" "The Puck is banished from Avalon's shores, my child." Titania said gently. "How long, lady?" Rowan looked stricken. "Forever." Oberon intoned, none too pleased with losing his best servant. "No." Rowan shook her head, eyes brimming with sudden tears. She looked from her lady to the lord of Avalon, not comprehending. "It cannot be." "He has been stripped of his birthright, and will live the rest of his days as mortal as his master." "But that will kill him! As surely as any iron blade!" "We know that you are fond of your foster brother, Fionnuala--" Oberon began, but Rowan shook her head, blinded by tears. "Then you must banish me as well, my lord." "I will do nothing of the sort." "Why not?" she shouted, dashing away her tears with the back of her hand "Did I not disregard your summons? Did I not show you the exact same disrespect, display the same wanton temper and for even less reason than Owen-- than the Puck had? Why will you not visit the same punishment upon me?" "You know very well why not!" Oberon snapped. "Do I, my lord? I do not understand why you would be so extreme in your actions, or as one sided in your meeting out punishments. Enlighten me, please do!" "Fionnuala--" the queen's gentle tone held a warning, but her husband did not rise to the bait. He continued to coolly regard the seething fay, who looked as if she would like nothing so much as to spit on him and quit this plane forever, had his magic not bound her to the island. The silence was excruciating, until Rowan turned her gaze to the queen's. "Never again shall any call me by that name. I renounce my birthright, and demand I be allowed to live out my days in the mortal world." "You do not know what you are asking." "Don't I?" "Foolish child, you have forgotten the true meaning of mortality. Are you so quick to wish for human death?" "Then so be it! Or I shall throw myself from the cliffs when I quit this room, and the result is the same, the death of Fionnuala ni Aine." "Spare me the theatrics and adolescent histrionics. We are tired, and would retire to our rooms. We advise you do the same." "I will, my lord. On my mother's blood, I swear it!" Rowan called after them, fists clenched. "Do you think she will do herself harm? She seemed quite adamant," Titania frowned as they retired to their well-appointed chambers to break their fast. "She won't. She can't. I will not allow it," Oberon assured his wife. "Husband, would you mind very much telling me what exactly Rowan was going on about?" Titania asked sweetly, raising a goblet of sweet wine to her lips. "Didn't I mention it?" Oberon began, trying, badly, to feign surprise. "No." she lowered her fork to a bowl of melon. "The Three were dispatched to fetch her home last night." "Then what she said is true? She ignored the summons?" Titania set down her fork. "Childish stubbornness, nothing more," Oberon tried to wave it away. "She is my servant, I would know of these things," Titania's tone remained light, but her smile was strained. "As you wish, my lady." Oberon smiled, and brushed her knuckles with his lips. But she would not be charmed by him in this matter. "I am quite put out, the girl was a most faithful servant until recently. Her words were . . ." Titania shuddered, and then fixed her husband with a glare. "My lord, you showed undue favoritism." "Don't be absurd." Oberon stiffened. "She clearly defied you, yet you shrug it off as t'were nothing. But your servant the Puck--" "Was mine to punish," he reminded her. "And so the girl is mine. I would investigate the matter myself, my husband." Oberon opened his mouth, and then shut it. "As you wish." he bowed his head. Titania smiled. Rowan stared at the sea, tucking her hair behind her ears even as the breeze tried to tangle the midnight strands into impenetrable knots. "Stop that," she whispered, and the wind laughed. She'd forgotten how troublesome the breezes on Avalon could be when they got over-excited. The whitecapped waves below mocked her as they crashed against the rocky shore. She'd been quite serious. But she soon discovered, if she tried to do herself harm, the breezes themselves would catch her and bear her back to the grassy slope. After one brief free fall, she decided she would have to find another way. While she realised that throwing herself from the cliffs would be a fantastically romantic gesture, it was not, at this time, practical. But she was still feeling remarkably lost, alone, and despondent. Life was not good. She had already started back towards the castle when the reedy sounds of a flute were carried to her ear by the capricious breezes. She froze. *Could it be--?* Chasing the sound, she ran through the forest until she burst into a clearing. It was not the Puck, crouched on the moss covered rock, but a young fay in blue jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket, with the smiling head of a coyote. He lowered the flute, one ear twitching, and Rowan's shoulders slumped. "Sorry to interrupt, 'Bozho." "Hey, I haven't heard that one in a while." The furry muzzle shrank, the hair growing darker and within seconds, she was greeted by the smiling face of young Peter Maza. "Why don't you hang around for a bit?" he held up the tobacco pouch around his neck, and began to roll them both cigarettes. "I thought you'd be hanging out with Brandon." She lit the cig with a green flame from her fingertip, and blew out a cloud of blue smoke. "You don't like Raven much, do you." Coyote watched her from beneath dark brows, breathing in a lungful of smoke, and releasing it in a cloud that bore suspicious resemblance to his namesake. She chuckled as the tobacco smoke coyote yipped silently, and ran through the air until the breezes sundered it. "My half-brother and I do not get along." She said softly. "You were pretty rude this morning." "I had reason to be." "Why come back, if you're not happy here?" She looked at him incredulously, and then began to laugh. She laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks. She laughed until her lungs ached, and she drew in dry, shuddering breaths. Coyote watched her calmly, with only a slightly puzzled look. "Thanks, I needed that." She giggled. "I wish I knew what was so funny." "As do I," a voice rang out, and the two tricksters looked up to see Queen Titania framed by two birch trees. Rowan's grin died abruptly, and her cheeks were bloodless. Coyote could feel the lines of tension between them like living things. "Leave us, Nanabozho." "As is your will, my queen." Coyote sketched a bow. Catching Rowan's eye, he winked, and then vanished through the trees. Rowan remained seated in the grass, and made no move to rise. The two women regarded each other in silence, for the space of a few seconds. Then Rowan plucked a blade of grass, and pressing it between her thumbs, began to play a tune with the makeshift whistle. "Your words were unforgivable--" Titania began, and Rowan tossed aside the leaf. "I was not looking for forgiveness." "And yet Lord Oberon would grant it, if you would but bow your head to him." Titania frowned. "He loves you." "I do not return his love." Rowan shrugged. "I never asked for any special treatment." "And it galls you that he gives it." "What do you care?" Titania laid a hand on Rowan's shoulder, and smoothed her hair back from her brow. "Oh, child, do you think I have no heart?" She drew the girl into a hug, and Rowan felt tears smarting her eyes once again. "Well, you remarried that idiot, after all he did. So you may have a heart, but I'm seriously beginning to wonder if you have a *brain*." "Someone has to keep Lord Oberon in check. Even then, he goes to extremes. I did not want to see him banish the Puck any more than you, but what could I do?" "You could have defied him!" "No, child. I could not." "But it wasn't the Puck's fault! It's mine." Rowan sank down on Coyote's rock, hugging her arms to herself. "How so?" "I put the thought in his head. He would have been loyal, I'm sure of it, if I hadn't poisoned him against his lord." "You give him too little credit. I think this rebellion was a long time in coming." "Perhaps." "Does he know?" "Know what, my lady?" "That you love him." "Yes. And I know that he loves me too. That is why I cannot stand the thought of being banished from his sight for all eternity. For every day and night that pass here, my heart breaks that he spends the better part of a month alone. And me here three days already!" Looking into the girl's eyes, Titania was reminded of the stricken look on Owen's face when Oberon made his pronouncement. "So you have done your best to get yourself banished to the World." "Aye, if that is the only way, I would gladly give up my nature to be with him. I know he would do the same if t'were me." "Now I think you give him too much credit." "You don't know him the way I do. Owen is ever playing roles, presenting himself in the exact manner people expect of him. His true nature he shows rarely, but I have seen it. I know it well, and I trust him. But Lord Oberon is the original King of the Double Standard. He'll never grant me a boon, so the best I could hope for was a moment of headless anger. Even he couldn't go back on such a punishment, if it were made before the assembled hosts of fairy." "Let us see if we cannot remedy that situation, shall we?" The hall was full to bursting with the returned Children, and Oberon and Titania sat together on the dais. After three days of receiving the renewed pledges of loyalty and fealty, there were only a few stragglers left; the line was only a dozen or so deep. Oberon looked up in genuine surprise when the last supplicant proved to be Rowan. She bowed low, with a flourish, her dark hair hiding her face from him. "Have you come finally to your senses, my child?" "Indeed I have." "Then it is my pleasure to forgive you your transgressions, and welcome you back into the fold, once you have sworn fealty to me." "Alas, my regained senses will not allow such a thing. I will not take my former words back, but say again, louder still, that you are *not* my lord." Her voice rose, ringing out into the suddenly hushed hall, bouncing off the stone walls as jaws dropped among all those assembled. She faced the masses, head held high. "Oberon interprets his edicts as he sees fit. Translated: he will abide by his own word if and when it pleases him. Which is to say, not at all--if it is to his advantage. I will not call him lord, nor will I recognise his authority over me." Shaking with anger, Rowan turned back to the king of Faerie, grey eyes alight with fury. "You are no more worthy of my fealty and respect than a wretched cur in the street. For your exalted word of honour is little more than a dog's bark in the night, holding even less worth, for at least a dog is true to its nature!" With that, she spat on him, and then waited. Her wait was not long. Oberon had sat, seething, yet still, through the whole performance. On cue, he wiped the spittle from his cheek, and began to rise. However, the Queen was faster. In one smooth motion, she rose and slapped Rowan across the face. Green flames crackled about her head and shoulders, and her hair was lifted by an invisible wind. "Fionnuala ni Aine, called Rowan, your behaviour here has been a disgrace. You have disgraced yourself before your lord, and what's more, shamed us all with your wanton temper. You were my faithful servant, and for that I was willing to grant you leniency. But this affront is too much to be born." Raising her hands, tendrils of power shot out, surrounding Rowan and lifting her from the marble floor. "You foolishly begged for banishment, so we will give it to you. We hereby strip you of all your powers, save when you are bound by geas to honour a boon. Never again will you walk upon the land of your birth. Never again shall you know the gifts that were your birthright. You shall be called Rowan, mortal, and live your life as any of the human race. So speaks Titania." With a cry, Rowan fell to the floor, human joints and muscles protesting. She chewed on her lip, eyes flitting from the frozen king to the furious queen. Now was the true test. "My queen has done what I could not," Oberon began, so softly that Rowan was sure only they three could hear him. "And I must stand by her edict." "To the World with you, then, and out of our sight forever." Titania pointed to the mirror, and Rowan pulled herself to her feet, taking one last look back at the silent hall. The Bean Sidhe looked sympathetic, at least. The rest seemed shocked, appalled, or frightened, and she wondered just how many had longed to do what only she could have done and lived. Coyote, damn his eyes and bless his soul, winked. Stepping to the glass, she watched as her reflection melted away, replaced by a late summer sunset in central park. One lone jogger was on the paths, and she could hear birdsong, almost feel the breeze lift her hair. She glanced back at Oberon, but his face was as if carved of stone. She dared not look at Titania, but taking a deep breath, stepped through the mirror, and disappeared. Glancing back through the green edged portal, she could see Titania, her back to the assembled host, and her husband, smiling. Rowan schooled her expression until the portal began to shrink, and only when it finally blinked out of existence did she spread her arms and laugh, twirling around in the grass like a child. Manhattan September 21, 1996 The Eyrie building security guard was just locking the glass doors as a young woman came up. She smiled charmingly, and gestured to the bolt. He took one look at the hair down to there, and leather, linen, velvet and silk monstrosity she probably called high fashion, and shook his head, turning his watch face so that she could see it was closer to seven than six. "Come back tomorrow!" he called through the shatter resistant glass, and her face fell. She pushed, and he yelped as the key jumped out of his hand. "I really need to come inside," she insisted, wedging her leg in the crack between the doors. "No you don't." "Oh yes I do. Summer's ending, and as you can tell, I'm hardly dressed for weather." "C'mon, lady, don't do this to me--" the rent-a-cop sighed, trying to push her back out again. "I just need to see Owen Burnett." "Is he expectin' ya?" "Um . . . definitely not." "Out!" he shoved, but she managed to get another inch or two of leg in. "I promise you, it'll be fine." "Oh yeah? And who are you?" She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, frowning. "Rowan." she said simply, and pushed her way further inside. "Lady, you could be the queen a' England, for all I care. But you can't be in here after closing time. Mr. Xanatos'll fire me himself--" "That all depends, Burt," came a voice from behind. The guard turned, keys slipping from his fingers a second time, and Rowan used this opportunity to slither the rest of the way into the lobby. David Xanatos leaned against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets, one eyebrow cocked playfully. "Ms. Rowan, I can say with complete certainty that you are the very last person I expected to find forcing her way into the Eyrie Building." "Is that a good thing?" she asked, chewing on a piece of hair. "Considering the events of several months ago . . . I'm not sure." A slow smile crept across her face. "You can add, yes?" He nodded. "Then I can assume you put two and two together . . ?" "Let's just say that I wouldn't miss this reunion for the world." David offered her his arm, and looking back over his shoulder, made eye contact with Burt. "You're right, if it had been anyone else, I probably would have fired you." "Look who I found trying to break in." David stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching his major domo attempt to spoon feed his son, who seemed ever so much happier aiming purposefully for Owen's glasses. From the state of him, Alex's aim was definitely improving. Owen looked up, placid and serene as always, wiping off a smear of peas with a dishtowel. Then David stepped aside, revealing a dark-haired young woman, hands clasped behind her, grey eyes shining with all sorts of emotions. Owen just kept looking from Xanatos to Rowan and back again, his mouth moving, but no sounds issuing forth as he stood frozen with the dishtowel in one hand. Alexander gurgled happily, waving a strained-carrots-covered fist in delight. "I think he looks sufficiently surprised, don't you?" David asked. "I'd say so," Rowan agreed. "*Rowan?*" he finally managed, and she laughed as he forgot for a second butlers weren't prone to wild displays of emotion, and swept her into his arms and spun her around the room. She buried her face in his shoulder, and hugged with all her might. Unfortunately, he did the same. "Ow!" She started. "Careful, we humans bruise easily!" She punched his shoulder and he set her on her feet. she rubbed the small of her back, and then pulled his left arm out. "You idiot! It's still stone!" "Human?" he asked, frowning. "I couldn't let you stay and have all the fun without me, now could I?" "But --who . . ?" Owen asked, still not yet over the shock of seeing her. "Titania banished me. Don't be angry with her, I asked her to do it. It was the only way, Oberon would not." "Of course he wouldn't--" "And I did finally get the last word, oh I wish you could have seen his face! It was *priceless*." "Rowan--" "I called him no better than a wretched cur, and likened his word of honour to a dog's bark in the night--" He placed his right hand over her mouth, and at last she ceased her babbling. Her grey eyes sparkled above his fingers, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. David lifted Alexander from his high-chair, never caring in the least that strained carrots were not the typical fashion accessory to Armani jackets, and started for the door when Rowan's eyes lit upon the child, and she slipped from the protective and slightly possessive circle of Burnett's arms. "Is this the wee little thing that caused such a fuss?" she asked, touching the soft red curls. "Ah, he's a fine one, he is." She laughed as the baby grabbed her finger, and began to suck it, green eyes wide and slightly unfocussed. "Aren't you, boyo?" she said in a sing-song, tickling his stomach. "Aren't you, now?" "Would you like to hold him?" Xanatos watched Owen out of the corner of his eye. "Are you sure? My kind have an interesting track record with human babies." "You said yourself, you're one of my kind now." "Good point." Rowan took the burbling baby, who made fussy noises until she balanced him on her hip and rocked a little. "You know, we haven't hired a nanny--" "Sir!" Owen blanched, and Rowan laughed. "It could have been worse, I could have been from Queens." "So you'll say yes?" Xanatos prompted, and it was Rowan's turn to drop her jaw. "You're serious?" "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't." "Oh, wouldn't that just be too pat? It would be like living a Disney film." "It all comes down to Fox's decision, of course," he added stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Of course," Rowan nodded, and Alexander grasped a fistful of dark hair. She carefully pried his chubby digits loose, and took great delight in noisily kissing them. Alex laughed, delighted, and a row of green winged giraffes circled her head. "And talented too!" she looked up in amusement at the galloping hybrids, before they dissipated. "Yes you are, yes you are!" she tickled him. Owen just kept looking back and forth between the two of them, and Rowan shifted Alexander to her other hip, lifting her hair out of his greedy grasp as she leaned down to the child's ear. "This is fascinating, isn't is Sasha?" she said in a stage whisper. "He cannot decide if he would take me to bed or to wife--Or both, or neither, as the case may be. As this mental exercise is obviously very taxing, perhaps you should retire to your room before he bursts a blood vessel? Could be messy . . ." David took the child from her arms, and winked before leaving them. "He's certainly . . . mellowed." Rowan observed as the door clicked shut and they were alone at last "Fatherhood agrees with him." "Aye, it does. "You shouldn't have come." "How could I have not?" "But it is too much--" "It is no less than I know you would have done for me, were I exiled not just from my home, but from my heart." She traced his frown with a fingertip, and coaxed it into a sad smile instead. "Besides, even before I knew of your punishment, I was prepared to fight to stay here, in the World. I thought I could just say 'No, thanks', and that would be the end of it. However, I forget how . . . persuasive the Sisters can be when they've got it into their heads that they've a task to perform." She chuckled, and he brushed her cheek with his fingertips. "At least this was my choice. I am no longer one of Oberon's Children," she said softly as he drew his hand away. "Yet always his child, magic or no magic," he replied, and she drew back, pale. "You cannot think I didn't know." "He doesn't even know I know. He would never have let me go." "No more than Mr. Xanatos could have stood by and watched his own son be taken from him." "That was different. No one was trying to take me, I wanted my freedom." "Still, I can almost understand Lord Oberon's dilemma." "Which the Queen circumvented nicely. I knew it was right for me to throw my lot in with hers, though I admit, there were times when I had my doubts." "Then you don't regret your choice?" he said seriously, and she hugged him. "With you to share my exile? What's to regret?" There was no response, and she glanced up, seeing the perplexed look on his face, beneath the smudges of dried pureed vegetables. "What??" "Did you just propose?" He raised a brow. "I don't know, did I?" she laughed. "That's something I never thought of . . ." He stroked his chin. "What?" she prodded. "Owen and Rowan Burnett." "You've got to admit, it's got a certain ring to it--" whatever else she might have said she forgot relatively immediatly as he bent down and kissed her, and she decided this was a much more fantastically romantic gesture than throwing herself off the cliff would have been. Then Alexander started crying (a fact they both noticed since the entire bloody castle was wired with intercoms permanently tuned to the nursery now). "What do nannies do, exactly?" she asked, as they straightened their clothing, and headed towards the living quarters. "You'll learn," he assured her. ****That's all, folks.****