Summary: Abbie is not the only cop with a relic from the past in her inventory.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gargoyles or Sleepy Hollow—Disney and Fox do, respectively.
"Put the weapon down and put your hands on your head!"
A pity, normally those words were far more reassuring when spoken by Lieutenant Mills. But coming from the woman before him—still dark-skinned, still fierce despite jeans and scarlet jacket—the instruction had a different feel entirely.
Ichabod glanced at the shovel in his hands and briefly thought about maintaining his grip on it. Until, that is, a shot rang out, hitting the metal blade with a violent twang. There was no recourse except to drop the object.
The "showdown," as Miss Mills sometimes called it, was the culmination of several days search. After a particularly grueling session with a whole legion of undead Red Coats they thought that they might take a break for a while—at least for their enemy forces to reorganize in preparation for their next assault. Instead a particularly friendly museum curator had been regrettably found stone cold, with an emphasis on the stone aspect. It had taken them a single day and another sighting to discover the origin of said disaster—a demoness with the power of flight.
But not just any demoness—this one had apparently mastered the element of witchcraft, making her more difficult to destroy.
They'd followed her trail to an old mausoleum in the woods, but that wasn't the problem. For it seemed that she had brought "backup." It wasn't long before another one of the creatures were sighted—a male this time.
Which is when events took a strange bent. Around the same time the male appeared a human female was spotted at the scene of every crime. Upon making his observations known to the Lieutenant she'd done some investigating of her own, revealing that the second demon and the human female were in league with one another.
Thus when they next crossed paths it was the human whom they followed, not the monster—leading to his current predicament.
They'd been fighting practically half the night, with dawn having only just commenced, though for his part most of what he'd been doing was running once the weapon Miss Mills provided him with ran out of ammunition. He'd had the mind to put it in his pocket this time, rather than dropping the thing. Whilst dodging an onslaught of bullets he'd tumbled into a barn, trying for shelter, only to find himself at the feet of the male demon.
Gazing up at the creature in horror, he'd been transfixed by the appearance of rage tearing across the demon's features, his claws ready to tear his victims apart. Yet, the being remained still. Still as a statue, actually, just like the victim they'd found in the Museum dedicated to Witch trials (they allowed children in there?!)
Crane stood in the dim light, shaky and alarmed as he could still hear the female outside, cursing under her breath. Then he'd been curious, his "dangerous curiosity" as Abbie liked to call it. Why was the demon frozen, for one? Was it perchance a replica?
Not willing to take any chances, his first thought had been to destroy the statue. He'd snatched up an old shovel, the edge red with rust and gritty with age, but just as he was raising it over his head to swing the dark-haired woman called out her warming. Bringing events "up to speed," as Miss Mills was wont to say.
Taking one extra breath to ascertain if she was serious—which she was, if her dark eyes were anything to go by—he began to slowly set it down.
Until, that is, they both heard the click of another weapon entering the fray.
"I'd rather you didn't, Crane," the Lieutenant gritted out, her own gun aimed at the strange woman. His attacker's eyes flickered, registering the newly arrived enemy, but her hands remained steady on the .45 she had gripped within her hands. The two of them could have been sisters in pose and appearance, both long-haired and poised for a fight. It was surprising, if not alarming, to say the least. Especially when the next words out of the stranger's mouth were:
"Look, you have no idea what you're dealing with here. Just…step back from the Gargoyle."
Ichabod blinked. Gargoyle? He looked back at the giant statue in the room and registered its features…its wings. They did look rather like something he might see on the outside of a church, back in England before the war. His family home had even had one or two of the kind, although far less detailed.
But Abbie was determined, shaking her head with a fierce scowl, "actually, we do. We know that you're in league with the demons, so why don't you just hand yourself in and get this over with?"
A flicker of confusion and a jerk of her head was all they got as a physical response, "demon? What are you talking about?"
"You aided and abetted the demoness who turned the museum curator into one of Medusa's lawn ornaments, then joined her with another demon in tow."
"Listen, you've got the wrong guy. I'm a cop, too."
"And you wouldn't be the first to cross over to the other other side," he could practically hear the good Lieutenant's thoughts whirring in memory of another officer's actions, not too long ago. But he was still caught on the Woman in Red's descriptor. Gargoyle. Gargoyle? Where had he heard that before? While the two ladies were continuing their stare-down he cautiously edged forward, craning his head to examine the demon more fully. When he had there was quite the revelation to be found.
"-still doesn't explain what you were doing here with a demon, flying like a bat outta he-."
"Not now, Crane!"
"No, I'm pretty sure you should see this," the shovel he'd been holding up now rested on his shoulder, casual at best.
She growled low in her throat, eliciting a raised eyebrow from her mirror, "fine, what is it?"
"This fellow seems to be wearing a wedding ring."
There was a blank moment of silence before out came a baffled, "what?!"
Their stranger released half of her grip from the gun to hold up her left hand, the simple band and imbedded diamond glinting slightly as a shaft of morning light trickled through the barn's slatted wall.
"Like I said, you have no idea what you're dealing with."
"My name is Detective Elisa Maza, and this is both my partner and husband…Goliath." Thus she began once they'd set aside their differences—and weapons—in order to make some sense of the situation. Abbie sat on a bale of moldy hay as "Elisa" began her explanation, the other officer leaning against a support beam. Neither one was completely comfortable around the other, but there was a kind of shared amusement as the two talked while watching Crane examine Maza's supposed spouse.
"Goliath. Like the bible story?" Mills frowned at the reference, wondering if this was yet another point of reference she should be looking up.
"Apparently it was a nickname given to him in the Middle Ages," at the slow, disbelieving blink the sitting woman gave her Elisa only shrugged, "is that really such a surprise?"
"No, just…" Abbie licked her lips thoughtfully and looked away.
Elisa waited, arms crossed.
"Look, it was hard enough accepting that a Revolutionary War soldier has been blowing up my toaster, much less someone from…earlier appearing."
"It wasn't his fault, I can tell you that," Maza laughed lightly, looking fondly at her 'Big Guy', "but I've gotta admit, I'm surprised to hear this coming from someone with Ichabod Crane on a leash. Please tell me you've told him about 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,'" as she made her demand Elisa's arms crossed, revealing her saving piece of jewelry. Previously Abbie had only caught a short glimpse of the thing, but held innocently in sight she could see that it was braided with Celtic scrollwork. The single diamond was simple, buried deep within the band so that it didn't catch on anything.
Part of her wanted to ask…was brimming with curiosity as to how they…but both of them had bigger fish to fry.
"So," Mills began shortly, "you wanna tell me just what we're dealing with, here, Miss Believer?"
The other woman gave her a look, but easily followed the change of topic otherwise, "well, you said demon…and you're not far off. Her name's Demona and she's a Gargoyle by night…human by day."
"What?!" At her shriek of alarm Crane looked once their way before ascertaining that all was well and turning back to his task at hand—examining the statue before him.
"Yep," the other cop grimaced, "she traded up being vulnerable for being human a while back. Aaaand she's kind of immortal. Side effect of being paired with Macbeth. So you aren't likely to kill her any time soon—we know, we tried."
"Wait," pinching the bridge of her nose, the Lieutenant held up a hand to sop the onslaught of information, "you're telling me that we are dealing with an immortal, shape-changing Gargoyle. Plus we've got some guy from Shakespeare's work thrown into the mix?"
Elisa shrugged, "just another beautiful day in the neighborhood."
"Right," Abbie sighed, "so, how did you, ah, you two get thrown into the mix, then?"
She had the presence of mind to look mildly uncomfortable, a surprising expression from someone who had so far been blunt and honest with her actions and opinions.
"Demona is Goliath's Ex."
"From the…the dark ages."
"Yes. He was turned to stone 'cause of a curse. She was left behind."
"That's just grand."
"…with the guilt of their clan's death's on her, including their kid, resulting in Demona becoming the most bitter Gargoyle this side of Avalon."
"—their daughter actually survived, though. And married. Her name's Angela."
"Demona. Goliath," Abbie grimaced, "Angela."
"Sounds like something from the Old Testament, I know."
Abbie leaned back, eyes flickering to her partner, "oh, I'm becoming rather familiar with the book, I assure you. Crane, stop that!"
He'd been examining Goliath the entire time with child-like curiosity, even to the point of trying to see if the creature's wedding ring moved within his clenched fist. Ichabod had begun tracing the wings like a particularly obsessive Darwin-era naturalist when Abbie had called out. Mostly his enthusiasm was amusing, and harmless, but an attempt to climb on the statue's—the Gargoyle's—back was a bit much.
Huffing with exasperation, she turned to find Maza smiling, and not just at her lanky companion and his antics. When Abbie arched an eyebrow at her she merely shrugged.
"I'm not really all that worried. Goliath's carried heavier than your boy there in the past. Crane's nothing but a big, tall scarecrow."
"Don't I know it," she muttered, "I keep trying to get him to change out of the coat at least—he was buried in it for heaven's sake—but the man is determined to keep it. Even when I put 'em in the trash he digs them out."
Elisa's shoulder lifted in a half-shrug, "they're a lifeline probably—one of the few things he has left that's familiar. He'll give them up eventually, like a comfort blanket that's become threadbare. Just give him some time."
Mills said nothing for a moment, only looking back thoughtfully, "you sound like a pro. With all this, I mean."
Elisa laughed, tossing her dark blue-black hair, and for the first time Abbie noticed a streak of silver shot through the thick mass, "I guess you could say that I am. I've helped six Gargoyles acclimate to a very modern world—seven if you count Katana, Brooklyn's mate. Plus I've been lost in strange places a time or two myself and I know how it feels. When you feel like you'll never find your way back," her pause was paired with a self-conscious little smile and the younger cop wondered at it. Probably a story for another day.
"You know, I get the feeling that it'd do your 'partner' some good to actually meet the 'Big Guy.' They can talk a bit, commiserate," she waved at the gangly time traveling soldier, who was currently measuring the length of Goliath's teeth against that of his pointer finger.
"Probably," Abbie conceded.
"You can call me, too, if you also need to talk. Complain about our mutual life-changing events," the look the shorter woman shot her was as sharp as broken glass and Maza held up her hands in surrender, "look, all I'm saying is that it's a lot to take in. So if you need help or a magic consultant, or…maybe just someone to rant to about your man, then I'm available."
The look had become a scowl, "he's not my man."
"Well, he seems to like you," the observation was made with a smirk as Ichabod Crane beamed across the way at Lietenant Mills, pointing down to the curving tail at his feet which so fascinated him now.
"We're friends. Partners," she hastened to add, "and he's married. To a witch. Who burned at the stake a long time ago…and comes to him in visions," by the end of her short and rather unbelievable explanation Abbie was rubbing her forehead while Elisa's brows almost reached her hairline.
"And I thought Demona was bad," when the Lieutenant opened her mouth to try and explain a second time, her opposite waved it away, "no, no, I get it. Things are…complicated. Goliath was still attached to Demona when he first woke up, too. At least Crane's wife is, well, was a good one."
"Right," she scrubbed her head where some of her hair was coming loose from its ponytail, "anyway, can we get back to stopping this Demona character? She's already turned one person to stone, who's she gonna attack next? And how did she know to come here in the first place?"
"Well, something a certain conspiracy-theory chasing friend of mine told me indicated that another of Hakon's descendents just died, releasing a bit of magic that's free for the taking. Someone by the name of…Corbin?"
AN: This is kind of a pointless interlude. I mostly wanted to write it in order to see how Elisa Maza and Abbie Mills, both cops with time-travelers on their hands, would react when speaking with one another. Additionally I wanted to try my hand at writing Ichabod's thought process, which I think turned out well. :)
The urge to write a meet-up was also inspired by the fact that Sheriff Corbin is played by Clancy Brown, who also played Hakon and Wolf from the original Gargoyles series (among a boatload of other things! Holy cow, he's voice-actor-famous).