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Lexington used the tip of his talon to pry a small chunk of concrete from the banister. He pinched it tightly between thumb and forefinger, examining it like one would a specimen under a microscope, and then flicked it in a high arch away from the Clocktower. It fumbled in the wind before gravity sucked it down, shrinking as it descended, eventually swallowed by the city lights. It didn't occur to him until after it had likely hit the sidewalk many stories below that it could have hit someone, and then he felt even worse than he had when he perched out there in the first place.
Is that how it was going to start? he wondered, closing his eyes and swallowing hard, hands clenching around his kneecaps. Casual disregard for potential harm he could cause? Today it was just a pebble, but maybe tomorrow--
Lex willed himself to stop but he'd never been much good at shutting up the anxious voice in his head; it was bigger, more forceful than his own. Panic and fear were no strangers to him, much more like persistent, pushy roommates that called his brain home. Sure, he could keep himself under control in the depths of a fight, but only because adrenaline was louder. Once it was all over, as soon as it was quiet, they would resume their shouting, and Lexington couldn't hide from something that stripped him bare.
If he couldn't overcome even that, what made him think he would stand a chance against the monster hiding somewhere inside of him?
Because surely it was a monster. What Goliath had described, that twisted future, could only have been orchestrated by one. Brooklyn and Broadway had regarded it like it was a story, and Goliath assured them as much; it was nothing more than shadow puppets on the wall, Puck's fingers pulling all the strings. Just a demented dream.
But Lexington, with his analytic mind, saw the possibility. The probability. It seemed like hocus pocus science fiction to the others, but Lex understood the kind of technology Xanatos would need to take over the city like that--the country, the world--and he knew that it existed right now, in the present. All it would take would be a nudge in the right (wrong?) direction. For all they knew, Xanatos was on that path already.
If the technology was already there, if Xanatos was fully capable and willing, if what Goliath had seen was not a dream, but a prophecy ... did that mean it was inevitable? Even if it didn't happen exactly as Goliath saw it, to know that it existed within the realm of possibility meant that the bare bones for it to build on were all there.
What were his bones made out of?
Lex wrapped his arms around his knees, balanced only on the very edge of his feet on the banister. In his ears, the buffering of high winds, and below, distant, impatient honking. The orange clockface behind him kept the time.
None of the others seemed quite as disturbed as he was after hearing the wicked tale, despite each of their appalling roles. In fact, Brooklyn and Broadway were enthralled, like they were watching a movie, eager for the next part to unravel.
But their roles, however far removed they were from who Brooklyn and Broadway were now, remained good at their core. Noble, even. They fought to the very end for a righteous cause. Lexington could see that in them clear as day; their integrity righting their moral compass against all odds, always pursuing the right thing, no matter the costs, even if it meant being blind to what would come next. Being good was innate to them, deep down.
In the end, even Xanatos wasn't the true villain.
Deep down, Lexington only felt fear.
"I know it ain't true," Hudson had said at the conclusion of Goliath's retelling, withdrawing the blade at his hip and holding it high, proud. "Xanatos would never beat me in a fight."
And they'd all roared with laughter--all except Lexington, who felt like he shouldn't be there, like he was a bomb placed in their midst. They were still laughing, Lexington could hear it through the closed doors behind him, but he didn't know at what, having excused himself without their notice sometime after the story was finished, when Goliath was already in the middle of telling another of his Avalon adventures.
It was out there, alone, perched on the corner of the balcony, overlooking the familiar Manhattan landscape, that Lexington searched himself for an answer: what was inside of him that mirrored what was inside of Demona? Xanatos? The Pack?
Even the mere thought of the Pack made his vision blind slightly as his eyes pulsed with a brief flash of light. Their betrayal, a wound left to air by time, was still painful to the touch. Just picturing their faces made his blood boil, and how many times had he imagined getting back at them, how often did he see himself beating his fists into each of their lying, backstabbing faces, what number of half-plans had he envisioned to make sure they all got what they deserved--
A gasp tore through him so hard he nearly lost his balance, reaching back with both hands on the balcony to keep himself from tilting right off the edge.
Was that what made him different from the others? His inability to let go, move on, forgive? Was that to be his downfall?
It wasn't unlike Demona, was it, to hold onto a grudge this long? It wasn't unlike Xanatos, was it, to plot revenge?
It wasn't unlike the Pack, was it, to imagine he would enjoy it?
The only difference between them was that Demona and Xanatos and the Pack had all acted on their violent thoughts, but was that just a matter of time for Lexington? Was it inevitable that he follow in their footsteps?
Never in Lex's life had he ever felt dizzy at great heights, but the world was now rapidly spinning all around him. He eased off the edge of the balcony until solid concrete was beneath his feet again, closing his eyes against the mental image of them slipping right into Xanatos' shoes.
"You all right?"
Lexington all but leapt over the banister. "Jeez, Broadway," he said, only needing to hear the voice to know who it was. He turned chin over shoulder to find Broadway leaning against a stone pillar. "Scare me to death, why don't you?"
"Sorry," Broadway said, smiling, but his apology was genuine. His eyes studied Lex's tense body for only a moment before the smile dropped. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Lexington clipped, facing the city again, elbows biting into the concrete edge.
Broadway took a breath to say something else, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening beyond him. Lex closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Guys, Elisa is getting us some pizza, what toppings do you--"
Lexington wasn't looking, but he knew Brooklyn was taking in the scene with as much confusion as Broadway, and didn't have to look to know they were probably gesturing to each other in an attempt to silently communicate, but then they started whispering, neither of them particularly quiet about it, and finally Lex rolled his eyes and huffed and spun around.
"Nothing is wrong," he said, hands out and slightly raised. "I am fine." He punctuated his statement with a forced smile, as if it were proof.
"Uh-huh." Brooklyn raised a hairless, doubtful brow.
"And I'm the Queen of England," Broadway mumbled, which made Brooklyn snort.
Lex's eye twitched. Despite their attempts at lightening the mood with humor, he could read the clear concern in their faces, and he knew they could read him just as well. Stubborn denial was less than pointless with these two in particular, they'd get him to talk sooner or later.
But how could he talk about it? How could he even say it out loud? It was painful enough just mulling it over in his mind. What if it came to life in their minds, too, if he told them?
If he was being honest, it bothered him that they didn't realize what was wrong. How would they have felt if they had turned out to be the one sitting in that chair in Goliath's vision? The man behind the curtain, the one who killed them all?
Was it any more than just a scary story to them? Were their glasses so rose-colored that they failed to see how possible it was? Did they not see every ugly thing inside of him that would lead him to that chair?
They didn't see it. How, Lex didn't know, but Broadway and Brooklyn stared back at him just the same as they had before they heard the story--dream, alternate reality, whatever it was--like it hadn't changed a thing.
Didn't it change everything?
Lexington leaned his lower back into the corner and crossed his arms. The toughened flesh at his heel pressed hard into the concrete. Broadway and Brooklyn were quiet, patient, and Lex searched the clockface behind and above them for the right words. He didn't find them there, only the enormous minute hand slowly rotating, and he wondered if it was counting down to the inevitable.
"That ... vision Goliath had," Lexington began, chewing his bottom lip with his right-lower fang. "Didn't it ... bother you?"
Broadway and Brooklyn exchanged glances, then slowly approached Lex in stride.
"I mean, it was dark, even for a fae," Brooklyn said, hoisting himself onto the banister to Lexington's right, elbows on his knees. "Can't imagine what it must have been like for Goliath, seeing all that, thinking it was real."
Lex rubbed his palms along his upper arms. He could tell when Goliath was telling the story that there were parts he shivered at--like when he saw Hudson's statue. Goliath had reached for Hudson, clapped a hand on the elder gargoyle's knee, as if to reassure himself that he was, indeed, still alive. Or when Broadway had died in his arms; Goliath's voice trembled, and he had needed a moment to gather himself.
Lex let out a long breath. If he'd been in Goliath's place, he would have broken long before any of that had happened, anxious to undo all that he'd seen and given Puck the Phoenix Gate without hesitation. One of likely many reasons he would never make a good leader; he didn't do well under pressure, and couldn't make impartial decisions.
Maybe that was another reason Lexington was more like Demona than the rest of his clan; he was driven by all the wrong emotions, couldn't keep his heart out of his head. Even now, he was all too aware of the stark differences between Goliath's reaction to this torture and what his own would have been: while it clearly bothered Goliath, he had moved on, hadn't said a word about getting back at Puck for putting him through all of that, but Lexington? Lexington would be beyond angry. Furious. He was furious as it was, and it hadn't even happened to him.
He didn't see any of it, and yet it played in his mind like a film reel.
Broadway rested his hip on the ledge on Lexington's left, thick arms crossed over his wide belly. "Is that what's bothering you? The story?"
"How do we know it was just a story?" Lexington didn't look at either of them, couldn't, scraping his heel harder across the concrete. "How do we know it's not all possible?"
"Well, Goliath wasn't gone for forty years, for starters." Brooklyn ducked his head down, trying to find Lexington's eyes with his own narrowed ones. "And, I mean, come on, do you really think that I would ever, ever fall in love with Demona?" He shivered with his whole body, all the way down to his toes. "I think a part of my soul died just thinking about it."
"And Xanatos might fancy himself big and powerful enough to take over the world," Broadway said, nudging Lexington with his elbow. "But the guy can't even keep his guns from being stolen by Dracon, for crying out loud."
"Like his Steel Clan would really stand a chance against us, the mutates, all the other gargoyles that Goliath met, not to mention the humans! They might not have wings and claws, but I've seen them throw down before, they've got some muscle."
"Demona would never join our side anyway! She'd by rubbing her hands together in whatever cave she lives in, enjoying all the destruction--"
"I killed you all."
Broadway and Brooklyn's banter abruptly stopped. They both stared at Lexington, whose eyes were firmly locked on the concrete floor, and distinctly damp.
"All of you were good, all of you fought and died doing the right thing, and I killed you." Lex sobbed, shoulders shaking, and dropped his face into his palms.
"Oh, Lex." Broadway knelt in front of the smallest of the trio, large hands around his arms. "Lex, that was the most unrealistic part of all."
Another hand--Brooklyn's--cupped the bald globe of Lexington's head and followed the curve down his neck. "Never, not in a million years, would you turn out anything like that."
"But I am like that," Lexington managed through a sob, lowering his hands, but he couldn't make out their faces through his tears. "I'm angry. I'm bitter. I'm mean. I'm not like you guys, I'm not like Goliath. When bad things happen to me, to the people I love--" he looked at each of them, "--I want to hurt whoever did it. I want them to feel the pain I feel. I am like that." His next breath caught in his throat. "I'm like them."
"Who?" Broadway asked, squeezing Lexington's trembling shoulders.
"Demona. Xanatos. The Pack." Lex's chest heaved with the admission. "I'm just like them."
"Like hell you are," Brooklyn scoffed, reaching out to take Lex by the chin, steering his face toward him. "You and them? Not even on the same planet. So what if you're not perfect? Neither are we! We all keep an eye on each other. Take care of each other. That's what clan is for. If it wasn't for you guys, I'd probably be hunting down Demona right now. I'll always be angry with her after what she did at Wyvern, not to mention tricking me into hurting Goliath."
"And I would have smashed Dracon's skull in ages ago if it wasn't for all of you," Broadway said, eyes flicking away at the admission, though his shoulders seemed to lift a little higher, as if a weight had been taken from them. "We keep each other from becoming like Demona, Xanatos, the Pack. That's why we'll never be like them."
"You wanna know how I know it was all just a story?" Brooklyn used his thumb to wipe away a tear at Lex's cheek. "Because Puck doesn't know us at all. If Goliath showed up after forty years of being gone, I wouldn't punch him. I would hug him." He smiled, soft and gentle. "And so would Broadway. And so would you."
"Puck wanted to hurt Goliath, and the best way he could do that was by making him think that being gone would make all of us become the worst versions of ourselves," Broadway said, and he was smiling, too. "But he didn't take into account one really important thing."
Lex sniffled. "What?"
"That we love each other, dork." Brooklyn pressed his forehead to Lex's cheek, and Broadway did the same to the other side. Wings wrapped all around him, and being in the center of a cocoon of warmth made his heart swell, and there wasn't enough room for all the ugly things inside of him, and the voice in his mind was silenced over the sound of kisses being peppered on his face and head. He couldn't help it; he laughed, relishing in the affection.
Maybe he did have some things in common with Demona, Xanatos, the Pack. On bad days, maybe even too much.
But he had this, and they didn't, and the film reel in his head started to fade, like waking from a bad dream.
"It was all just ..." Broadway gestured with one hand in the air.
"Hocus pocus," Lexington said, still crying a little, though it was no longer from sadness. "Science fiction."
"Exactly," Broadway agreed, planting one more kiss on the corner of Lex's mouth.
"Hocus Pocus Science Fiction would be the sickest name for a band," Brooklyn said, eyes lighting up. "Especially for a gargoyle band. D'you think Elisa could hook us up with some instruments?" He came to his feet with an abrupt jolt. "Shit, the pizza!" He sprang into a run toward the Clocktower door, wings flat at his back. "Elisa! Pepperoni!"
Broadway and Lex laughed after him, arms still around each other. "You ready to come inside?" Broadway asked, nuzzling his forehead against Lex's chin.
"I just need a minute," Lex said, wiping at his eyes. He didn't know Angela well enough yet to cry in front of her. "But thanks. Really."
Broadway smiled. "Of course."
Broadway kissed Lex again, this time on the mouth, before standing and leaving him alone in the corner once more. Facing the city, Lexington searched for the familiar outline of the Eyrie Building in the distance.
You know, when he really thought about it, Hudson was right. He would definitely beat Xanatos in a fight.