Summary: An unexpected addition to Matt's roof shows that he isn't the only one defending New York City at night.

A/N: I was working on a high-fantasy DD piece when my brain insisted that needed to be done. NOW. Set post Avalon World Tour, but before end of Gargoyles s2. Feedback welcome.

~DD~

It had been a busy Sunday night, and Matt was coming home late…or early, depending on one's point of view—it was one of the rare occasions Daredevil could be spotted after dawn. Matt had taken a round-about route home to avoid being spotted, darting from cover to cover, at least until he was a hop, skip, and a jump away from his rooftop.

There was something new along his roofline. Cocking his head, Matt could make out a large shape perched on the corner of the roof, and a few sniffs picked up the scent of freshly chiseled granite. A statue…? Frowning in confusion, Matt approached the new arrival, stripping off his gloves as he closed in. He traced his fingers over the statue, confirming the details that his world on fire was giving him: a pair of wings held tight against the kneeling figure's back, broad shoulders, equally massive arms and legs, and a tail trailing down to the roof's tarpaper surface…a gargoyle. One would think the landlord would alert us about something like this…

An insistent beeping from below him cut off his inspection.

Spitting out a curse, Matt bolted downstairs to silence his alarm. The new statue was forgotten in his scramble to get ready for work.

~DD~

Despite the office being busy, Foggy and Karen had seen that by 1 pm the only reason Matt was still awake was pure Murdock stubbornness. The pair had ganged up on him and booted him out of the office with strict instructions to go home and SLEEP. Matt delivered the token protests until he could feel the power of Karen and Foggy's Looks burning into him—he relented and allowed Karen to escort him home.

Matt passed out the moment his head hit the pillow.

The clatter of his neighbors washing dishes woke him up hours later. He fumbled for his clock and slapped the top to find out what time it was—6:30 pm. Not exactly the 8 hours Foggy was hoping for, but better than nothing. A long hot shower, coffee, and a late breakfast left Matt feeling a bit more human. Grabbing a second mug of coffee, he gave a mental shrug and headed back up to the roof—it was the first decent spring day in well over a week and he might as well enjoy it…and he was still a little curious about the statue that had slipped his mind.

This was a favorite part of the day for Matt, taking in the flurry of sensory info that accompanied the shift from day to night. Parts of the Kitchen slowing down, others coming to life. The change in temperature as the sun dipped behind buildings and the horizon beyond. The shift in energies as the light faded into darkness.

The faint heartbeat.

Matt froze and swiveled his head, thinking that someone had gotten up onto the roof without him knowing, but he was the only one on the roof.

Another beat, louder this time.

Matt's head swiveled back, and he nearly jerked himself off the roof's ledge. That heartbeat was coming from the STATUE.

A faint, slow heartbeat that was steadily increasing in strength and tempo.

Matt got off the ledge and started to slowly back away.

An almost electric energy surrounded the statue and then there was a faint cracking noise. One crack quickly became many, making it seem like the statue was going to fall apart at any moment.

And it did…just not in the way Matt expected. The statue exploded, and Matt fell back, tripping over his own feet. As he shook flecks of rock from his hair, Matt couldn't believe what his senses were telling him: there was something standing on ledge were the statue had once been. And whatever the hell it was, it was big—well over six feet in height and a wingspan of twice that and then some. And it had an insanely strong heartbeat, like almost nothing he'd heard before.

And then, it turned to look down at Matt.

Two voices warred with each other in Matt's brain. One that sounded vaguely like his father was insisting that Matt try to look weak, draw his opponent in before unleashing hell. The one that sounded way too much like Stick screamed that Matt needed to attack NOW before his opponent could make any move. Then, before he could make up his mind, whatever plans that were racing through Matt's head got trashed.

"My apologies," its deep voice rumbled. "I did not realize this roof was taken."

Matt continued to blink owlishly in the direction of whatever the hell was now on his roof. At least it wasn't attacking him… "…Uh…What…?" Matt mentally slapped himself. Way to put that fine Columbia education to use there Murdock. Clearing his throat, Matt tried again. "Who-? What- What are you?"

It- He gave a rumbling sigh. "My name is Goliath and I am a gargoyle."

~DD~

The moment they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Foggy pulled Matt aside. "Okay, what was that? You were less squirrelly when you had to face Landman after you didn't get the Bosch account the exact settlement they wanted then you were up there. This settlement case was a whole hell of a lot simpler—not even 50K—what gives?"

Matt blinked, fidgeting with his cane. "…I don't know. Something just felt…off with her. She- she smelled wrong."

"Your super sniffer nearly messed up this negotiation because Ms. Destine has funky BO?"

"No! It wasn't that she stunk…though she could have used a little less perfume. She—" Matt tilted his face up towards the offices of the CEO of Nightstone Unlimited, Dominique Destine, "She didn't smell human."

~DD~

After five visits, one gargoyle became two: Goliath brought along what could be described as a gargoyle hound.

Goliath introduced the newcomer as Matt stroked the suede-like hide. "We call him Bronx."

As the weeks passed, others were slowly introduced. Hudson bemoaned Matt's lack of a television, but gladly listened to Matt's records as he spoke of his friend Jeffrey Robbins. Lexington, who seemed hesitant at first, was curious about Matt's assistive technology and was soon talking about possible improvements or new devices. Angela was like her father and was curious about the philosophies and morals of his day job. Angela's mate, Broadway, was not happy about the bare state of Matt's kitchen and offered to cook—he was quite good at it and left Matt with plenty of leftovers. He was also interested in Matt's day job, but more from the 'cops-n-robbers' angle…along with Nelson & Murdock's ties to the vigilante Daredevil. Brooklyn felt like a bit of a kindred soul with his occasional snark and his quiet observations.

Months had passed since their first meeting, and Matt still hadn't asked Goliath if he could introduce Foggy.

~DD~

Now that Matt had an entire clan of gargoyles swinging by Hell's Kitchen at random intervals, it was only a matter of time that a gargoyle would encounter Daredevil. While he was out on patrol, Matt tended to keep an ear towards the skies, listening for the fluttering of their wings as they glided overhead—if one did get too close, he would duck for cover and remain hidden until they had passed by. But this was Matt Murdock—of course his luck would eventually run out.

He heard the tell-tale sounds of a fight from blocks away, and it sounded like a big one. As he closed in the construction site, he picked up more and more details—gunfire, screams, and…and the roars of two gargoyles.

Oh… Angela and Broadway.

By the time he arrived on the low-lying rooftop adjacent the construction site, it appeared that the pair had the situation completely handled—15 unconscious humans and a scattering of weapons and tools. Matt was about to leave when he spotted something the mates missed: a 16th man hidden behind a storage shed, his rifle ready to fire. The gunman spun out into the open and Matt pounced. Matt's weight crashing into the gunman from two stories up was enough to knock him to the ground and all it took was one punch to knock him out.

Startled, the two gargoyles spun and tensed, ready to attack or spring away, only to find one more unconscious human and a figure in red disappearing into the construction site. Broadway and Angela shared a look before going after the figure. They tried to find him, but they lost him in the maze of the Kitchen's dark alleys and abandoned buildings.

~DD~

Daredevil balances on the railing of a fire escape five stories up as he observes the police below him, responding to the 'anonymous' 911 call reporting gunfire in a warehouse. The gunfire had been from weapons dealers who had not been pleased about a certain vigilante sticking his horns in their business—business that had been driving Detective Mahoney and Matt crazy because of how slippery they were. They erased money trails, left no traceable evidence behind at their bases scattered around Manhattan, and used no names, their deals almost never face-to-face. Daredevil had roughed up Turk, but surprisingly, the man knew nothing.

Matt had gotten lucky tonight, overhearing one gang leader talking about going to a deal; Matt had gotten to the location first, beating the dealers there, allowing him to follow the dealers back to their base (he knew where to find that gang leader whenever it would be come necessary to…encourage him to see the error of his ways).

The result was a huge stash of illegal, untraceable weaponry and 10 unconscious weapons dealers, who all had an assortment of injuries. Not bad for one night's work.

Below him, Matt hears Brett talking to the detective who had been brought from East Harlem to assist—the dealers had been causing quite a bit of trouble up in the 23rd Precinct as well. What was her name…? Maza…? Either way, Matt approves what he has overhead about her in the past week—tough, took zero bullshit, and highly intelligent.

The wind shifts, and moments later, Matt picks up the now familiar scent of leather-granite-wind…coming from Maza.

Interesting.

~DD~

Someone had gotten lucky—a blade had slipped between the armor plates and firmly lodged itself in his side. As Matt fought against the pain and struggled to stay on his feet, he mentally berated himself—there was no way in hell he was going to be found in a back alley because of seven low level thugs. The remaining four were closing in, pinning him against the wall of the dead-end alley they were in, taunting him, eager for the devil's blood.

Then there was the crunch of brick overhead and a blood curdling growl.

The men staggered back when a four-legged heavy form dropping between them and the Devil—a form carrying the scent of leather-granite.

Bronx…

The garg-beast snarled and snapped and charged at the thugs, and the men scattered like leaves, screaming about demons and hell spawn.

With a satisfied snort, Bronx turned back to Matt and whined as he gently nudged him in his good side.

Matt scratched Bronx behind the ears and leaned against him for support. "Looks bad, I know. Would you believe I've had worse?"

Another heavy thump accompanied by the fluttering of wings a few yards away.

"Goliath…?"

The large gargoyle's tympani heartbeat stuttered for a moment. "I'm sorry, but have we met…?"

Matt tugged off his mask and gave the gargoyle a weak grin. "Surprise."

"Murdock?" Getting over his shock quickly, Goliath closed the gap between them. "You've been injured—I can take you to a hospital."

Matt brushed off his concern, "It's a nightly thing. And no hospitals—hard to explain the outfit and they play havoc with my senses." His hand shot out, grabbing Goliath's wrist before his talons could touch the knife's handle, "Leave it in. It's probably the only thing keeping me from leaking like sieve right now." With his other hand, Matt dug around in his pockets, fishing out his burner phone and hit the speed dial. "I do know a nurse…but she's up in Harlem and she might be at work…" The phone rang six times before Claire picked up and Matt breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're lucky it's my night off, Matt. How bad is it? I can be at your place in under 30 minutes. Or is there somewhere else I need to go? Do I need to call Luke?" He could hear rustling in the background—Claire was grabbing her things and getting ready to head out.

"I currently have a three-inch blade in my side. I don't think its knicked anything major, but its going to bleed a lot when it comes out… Don't worry about Luke and stay where you are—I'm coming to you." He lifted his face to Goliath, his brows raised in question—the gargoyle nodded. "A friend is bringing me to you. We should be there in about 10 minutes…? And just to warn you, Claire: my friend…isn't exactly normal."

Claire's snort came through loud and clear. "I would expect nothing less from you, Matt. I'll be waiting…and keep pressure on that wound."

"Yes ma'am." Matt hung up and turned his attention back to Goliath as he tugged his mask back on. "So, uh, how exactly are we going to do this…?"

It wasn't exactly the most dignified, but it was the quickest—Goliath climbed up the six-story building with Matt clinging from his back with Bronx following and once up on the roof, Matt found himself scooped up in a bridal carry. Snapping his wings open, the big gargoyle took a literal flying leap off the apartment building, promptly caught an updraft and angled himself towards Harlem.

Matt had gotten offers from others in the clan to go flying, but he'd turned them all down. Now, he was wishing he hadn't—if it wasn't for the knife still in his side, he would've found the entire experience rather enjoyable.

"You're allowed to ask questions…" Matt murmured, just loud enough to be heard above the rushing wind, as he rested his head on Goliath's shoulder. "I know you're curious—everyone usually is about this. And my-my adrenaline is starting to crash…I need something else to focus on…to keep me awake…"

"The accident gave something in return, when it took your sight? I have noticed how you tilt your head when you wish to focus in on something, rather like how Bronx does it. No offense."

Matt chuckled, then cringed. "I've heard worse."

"Hudson has noticed it as well—his friend Robbins has keen hearing as well, but Hudson has commented that yours seems to be even more so."

"And touch, and taste, and smell…along every other sense I have. I can identify you all by scent alone, but your heartbeats are even more individualized. Your's…your's is like… The only time I've heard something like it, is when I heard Thor's…" Matt paused as he sensed that they had crossed into the Harlem neighborhood. He gave Goliath the address but struggled to describe what to look for.

"Don't worry—I've become familiar with the layout of this city."

Claire, to her credit, did not flip out when saw who had delivered Matt to her fire escape—her heart raced for a moment as she paused and stared, then just as quickly shrugged it off. "Huh. Guess those stories are true too…" She guided Matt past the open window as he made introductions and then to her towel draped couch; she also gestured for Goliath to follow and the gargoyle somehow managed to tuck his wings in enough to squeeze his way inside.

"You know of us…?"

Nodding, Claire tugged off Matt's gloves and mask, quickly checking for additional injuries as she did so, "I hear a lot of things in the ER. I heard about this one long before I hauled his dumb ass out of a dumpster. And could you help me get this armor off him?"

Goliath snorted, "A dumpster? I have a feeling there is quite the tale there…"

"You don't have to tell him everything, Claire…" groaned Matt, then yelped as the dagger was removed and the rest of the armor peeled away.

Claire quickly took charge of the situation, stitching Matt back up as she instructed her unorthodox assistant to keep pressure there…wipe this area clean…hand me that gauze. She only paused when there was a clatter on the fire escape and spotted a grumbling Bronx.

"He can come in too, as long as he doesn't get underfoot."

Within a half hour of arriving at Claire's, Matt was patched up. She had shooed Goliath off to the bathroom, insisting that he thoroughly scrub down his hands, and was now securing the bandages to Matt's side under Bronx's watchful eye. "Does Foggy know?"

Matt knew she wasn't talking about his latest injury. "Its… Its not my secret to tell. And I don't really know how I could even begin with this."

"You're a lawyer, Matt—I'm sure you have some fancy lawyer training that can help you come up with the right words. Foggy deserves to know, especially considering what happened the last time you kept something big from him. And Goliath seems like the kind of guy who could use all the friends he can get, and it would help Foggy to know you've got other help out there…"

Matt didn't protest when she insisted he rest on her couch, though he did pout a little when she told him she expected to find him still on her couch when she woke up early that morning before her early shift.

"And if he tries to sneak off, you have my permission to sit on him."

"I don't think that will be necessary…" Goliath chuckled as Bronx rested his large head on Matt's chest—Matt muttered a protest and attempted to push Bronx away, but the garg-beast wouldn't budge, and Matt settled for stroking Bronx's shoulders.

They bid Claire good night and in the following quiet, Matt listened as she changed and settled into her bed and finally fell asleep.

"I…I'm sorry, Goliath. I should've told you about this, instead of lying about why I wasn't at my place at night."

"It's all right. Everyone is entitled to a secret or two, and I understand if this one is a difficult one to share. Although, this" the gargoyle lifted the mask he'd been inspecting before placing on the chair where the rest of the armor lay abandoned, "does explain a few things for me. We gargoyles are warriors born and we can recognize a fellow warrior. I could tell you had a warrior's heart just from how you held yourself. When you spoke of how your father had been a boxer, I thought that explained it. But, only a true warrior—one that has seen combat and protected his home and his clan—has that fire that burns in their soul. You, Matthew, have that fire."

Matt could only duck his head as he felt his cheeks burn. "Uh, thank you…?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, even in this day and age. Although, I do see one problem…" Goliath leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, "…What will you do when Broadway finds out…?"

Matt snorted, then cringed as his side twinged at the sudden movement. "I'll figure something out. I always have." He paused, toying with a loose thread on the blanket with his free hand as he remembered Claire's words. "Goliath…I'd like to tell Foggy about you and the others. I don't like keeping secrets from him and the last big secret he found out-" He waved his hand towards the Daredevil suit, "-did not go over very well. If you're worried that he'll-"

"I would very much like to meet your friend, Matthew."

~DD~

A few nights later, Matt stood next to Foggy, listening to his pounding heart as he introduced him to Goliath and Bronx.

"…Well…uh…" Foggy made a smacking noise with his mouth as he searched for his next words. "I guess this explains the stories Brett has told me about Daredevil suddenly being able to summon hellhounds."