Disclaimer:

"Gargoyles" et al belongs to Disney. "Now and Again"
et al belongs to Glenn Gordon Caron and CBS
Productions. No permission, no profit, no lawyers.
This is a little something I came up with after seeing
the second ep of N&A. For those who are wondering why
I chose to write this particular crossover - before I
discovered a ton of fellow N&A fans, my only source of
discussion about the show came from The Gargoyles Saga
comment room... where off-topic posts are always
welcome. Hence, this is in part for the folks on the
TGS comment room. :)

It takes place in the middle of "On the Town," and in
the Gargoyles timeline, the afternoon after "Hunter's
Moon." Feedback is appreciated.


The Waiting Game
by Amanda Ohlin


What was he going to do?

For several moments, all Michael could do was stand
there in the middle of the sidewalk, staring up at the
office building. Funny, he'd never noticed how tall
the skyscraper was until now. Of course, he'd never
had any trouble getting in until now... and
threatening one of the security guards hadn't helped.
That just had to be the stupidest thing he'd ever
done. 

No, the stupidest thing he'd ever done was accept that
offer in the first place. He should have seen the
doctor's speech for what it was: a grandiose sales
pitch. Michael had heard and delivered plenty of those
working for Grand Empire to know. 

And now he was standing in the middle of downtown,
staring up at his old office like an idiot. Roger was
up there, he knew it; somewhere on the seventeenth
floor, probably being ordered around by Craig Spence
and rolling his eyes at what an ass the kid was. He
had a sudden mental picture of himself picking Craig
up and throwing the weasel out the window of that posh
corner office, but brushed it away immediately. It
still brought a brief smile to his face; although he'd
never bring himself to do something like that, the
thought was still satisfying. 

Frightening, too. He wouldn't have hurt the guard on
duty if it had come to that - Lou wasn't a bad sort -
but he really *could* have snapped the man's spine in
two if he tried. The boxer he'd faced off against was
a pro, the type who could take a blow and keep going.
One punch, and he'd gone down. Michael hadn't even
been trying to really hurt the guy, but they had to
carry him out of the ring. He could have sworn he'd
heard one of the medics saying something about a
concussion. All from one punch. Michael shuddered. 

People were staring at him, and he turned and rejoined
the flow of foot traffic, heading away from the
building. He had to think. There had to be some way to
see Roger short of waiting for his best friend to
leave the building. But he couldn't just wait until
Roger came out; he'd be a sitting duck. Day security
was pretty tight, but the night security was generally
lousy. Maybe if he waited until dark...

He caught himself, realizing just what he was
planning. What on earth was he thinking? Assuming he
even broke in to see Roger, then what? What could he
tell Roger that wouldn't get him killed? Sighing,
Michael walked faster, turning onto Broadway and
heading south. He still wasn't even sure what had
compelled him to take off in the first place. For
once, he hadn't bothered to imagine what could happen,
picture any possible future... this time, everything
afterwards was a blank. No pre-planned scenarios, no
spectrum of possibilities. 

But none of his old scenarios could have prepared him
for being flattened by a train. 

Michael crossed Battery Park in a daze, barely aware
of the crowds milling about him. He finally stopped at
the railing, staring blankly at the view. The late
afternoon sun hung low over the Hudson, its brightness
turning the Statue of Liberty into a small silhouette.
Michael smiled wistfully. For a whole week of nothing
but training, tests, and evaluations, he hadn't once
stopped to watch a proper sunset. He hadn't had the
chance. 

And he'd never have the chance again once Morris' men
caught up to him. He didn't want to think about what
would happen to him if they did. They were probably
scouring the city right now. 

What *was* he doing out here? 

Sitting down on the nearest bench, he shut his eyes,
leaning back with a sigh. That was one question he
already had an answer for. He still had his memories,
however tenuous. Of Heather, last Christmas, suddenly
worried that the slippers were a lousy gift, launching
into a rambling explanation of why she'd bought them.
Of Lisa, scolding him for the hundredth time to eat
healthy. Heather trying to get her date out of the
house before Michael could scare Nick away. Lisa,
murmuring in her sleep despite her insistence that she
never did that. Heather quoting from whatever TV show
she was obsessed with at the moment. Lisa's warm,
throaty laughter. Heather's chorus recital. And, of
course, Lisa wearing that orange dress.

But the memories were growing hazy already. The
farther he reached back for them, the more indistinct
they became. With nothing to remind him of his family,
memory was becoming old and withered as time passed.
And while it had been seven months for the rest of the
world, for Michael it had only been a week. Just to
see them again, just to make sure they were safe and
happy... if he could do it without endangering them...

Groaning, he buried his head in his hands. He was
crazy, absolutely crazy. This entire hashed-out plan
was insane. Still, he didn't know what else to do. 

******

What was she going to do?

Elisa sighed as she dodged the crowds in the financial
district, shooting a baleful glare over her shoulder
at the Eyrie Building. The castle above the clouds was
clearly visible in the clear April sky. While it had
been erected there stone by stone by the highest-paid
contractors in the country, it looked precariously
balanced atop the tower of steel and glass, ready to
fall off at any moment. Maybe it was the angle of the
sunlight. Or maybe it was just her worries taking
shape.

She still didn't like the idea of the clan staying
there again. Hell, yes, David Xanatos owed them for
saving his son; that much was true. But that didn't
mean his pledge to pay them back for that favor was.
Not even fatherhood - and nearly losing your kid -
could change a man like Xanatos overnight. Whatever
his agenda was, she was going to find out. And soon.

Xanatos wasn't bothering her this time around. She
kept running through the events of the previous night
in her mind - mostly, just the last few words with
Goliath before sunrise:

"You know how I feel about you, right?"

"How we both feel, yes."

"Good." And then she had kissed him.

Kissed him! No thought, no hesitation; she'd just
thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was
so completely on impulse, so unexpected, that it had
surprised even her. Goliath obviously hadn't seen that
one coming. Spontaneity was not something he was used
to. 

Then again, perhaps she wasn't either. The moment of
truth, the look on his face just before the sun
rose... at first, it had suffused her with warmth,
having finally shown him how she really felt. Seven
hours' sleep and a couple hours of stress later, the
feeling had ebbed away, even in the unseasonably warm
afternoon sun. Once she left the building, reality had
struck almost immediately. 

Of course, her partner had to call at two p.m. and
wake her from an otherwise sound sleep; the only
consolation was that Matt had sounded as dead tired as
she was. He'd said they needed to talk before shift -
something about that damn Gargoyles Task Force and
what they were going to do about the press. Matt's
obnoxious UFO stories, as distracting as they could
be, were not going to be enough to "pacify the
parasites," as he'd put it. So they'd agreed to meet
at Battery Park an hour before sunset to discuss a
game plan. 

She crossed the street, wandering through the park
almost aimlessly. When sunset came, she'd have to go
see Goliath... and then they'd have to talk. "Talk" -
the word bounced around in her brain like a
meaningless little label. What was she going to say to
him? She shoved her hands in her pockets as she walked
along the water's edge to the place where Matt had
said to meet. Usually, a couple had to talk about
themselves - when the phrase "We have to talk" was
uttered, it was always followed by "about us." 

_Is there even an "us" to talk about?_ 

The thought literally stopped her in her tracks. That
kiss... it had seemed so right at the time, but now
she didn't know. Now that reality had started to set
in, she found herself wading through doubts. There
hadn't been time for Goliath to react aside from that
goofy smile... was that really how he felt?

Trudging over to the meeting place, she found a spot
on the railing and leaned back against it, turning her
back to the view. There was no sign of Matt in the
crowds, and it was four-thirty already. Elisa groaned.
It was typical of Bluestone to insist on a meeting at
an ungodly hour and then show up late. 

Inevitably, her thoughts returned to Goliath. If he
did feel the same way she did... if that kiss had been
worth it... what *would* they talk about? Where on
Earth could they begin, and how could they proceed?
She didn't know. They were born in different worlds,
in different millenniums, to different *species*. All
they had in common was sleep schedules and the need to
protect. She could just hear her parents now if they
found out. As for the rest of the family... well, with
Beth's odd sense of humor, her sister could go either
way. After his encounter with Sevarius, Derek would
probably understand. Besides, if he and Maggie weren't
becoming serious, Elisa would eat her favorite jacket.


She nearly smacked herself in the head. Why was she
thinking about this? One kiss and she was already
agonizing how her parents would react! She was making
too much of everything. But maybe... they'd gone too
fast. After everything that had happened - the
Canmores, nearly getting killed, getting saved by a
supposed enemy - it could have just been the heat of
the moment. Perhaps they weren't ready for this.

Four-fifty. Dammit, where was Matt? As hard as she
looked, there wasn't a red head or a trenchcoat to be
seen. Of course, he'd probably been tied up in
traffic. But this waiting was irritating, especially
when it caused her to worry about everything. Besides,
her feet hurt like hell; she'd been forced to park
several blocks away. She had to sit down. 

She finally noticed the man then. He was seated on a
nearby bench with his head buried in his hands,
seemingly oblivious to the crowds around him. Elisa
hesitated, studying the man for a moment. He was
wearing a tank top and sweats and sneakers; probably a
jogger out for a rush hour run. Although he certainly
didn't seem to be going anywhere at the moment. She
was suddenly aware of the appraising look she was
giving him, almost laughing at herself. What struck
her, however, was the pose he was in. It seemed that
she wasn't the only one having one of those days. 

Curiosity seized her then, and she strolled over to
the bench. "Hey, is this seat taken?"

******

The friendly words were flung at him with no warning,
a lifeline yanking him back from the doubts he was
drowning in. Michael jerked up, surprised, blinking at
the source of the voice in confusion. "What?"

"I said," the dark-haired woman repeated, "this seat
taken?"

Caught off guard, he could only stare at her for a few
moments before he found his voice. "I, ah..." For a
brief, irrational moment, he wondered if she wasn't
working for Morris. But something about her told him
otherwise. Besides, he was likely to get caught soon
anyway, so why not? "No, no, it's open."

She obeyed, sinking down beside him with a sigh.
"Thanks. Another minute on my feet would have killed
me."  

"No problem." They sat in silence for a few moments,
as she leaned back and checked her watch, paying
little attention to him. Obviously, all she'd wanted
was a seat. Michael glanced at her shoes. "Lousy
parking space?"

"What?"

"Well, you're wearing Reeboks, it's rush hour..." He
trailed off. "Just guessing."

"Good guess." Now she was studying him. Michael
squirmed a bit under her scrutiny, although there was
nothing in it but simple curiosity.