Life and Mysteries - Part One

[streamedwords]

Story Title: Life and Mysteries
Author: Streamedwords
Rating: PG
Pairings: Cain/Ambrose
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am merely doing this for my own entertainment
Summary: Ambrose takes on a new project -- woe to the world.
Author's note: Months and months later, and this is what I finally deliver? BOO-YAH, BABY! This is a continuation from my previous fics, JaSA and DH. Reference my journal if you need to catch up.  I hope this posts correctly.  I'm out of practice!

"Remind me again what it is that we're looking for?" Cain muttered, casting withering looks to the eager consumers that kept bumping into him in the cramped market of Central City's business district. The different booths were littered with colorful things, clothes, trinkets, baubles, delicacies. It was also stuffed to the brim with women of all ages, shapes and varieties, from which Cain and his companion stood out like a sore thumb.

Ambrose was especially one who drew attention.  He was dressed in his dapper uniform as the Queen's advisor, the rich orange and yellow braiding striking a contrast with the somber streets of the marketplace.  His hand would rise to absently acknowledge those who recognized him, responding to their bows or respectful nods.  Cain felt underdressed in his own attire, having just thrown his coat on over his own uniform, that gray duster masking it enough that the blond was able to travel through the crowds without notice.  The former tin man smiled awkwardly, tipping his hat to a pair of elderly women who pushed him out of their way in their haste to access one of the booths which was having a sale.
"A wedding present." Ambrose tried to remain patient with his lover, despite the tin man having been pestering him for the past twenty minutes to see if he was ready to leave. The wedding for DG and Jeb was looming close. Being that Cain was Jeb's father -- and Ambrose a pseudo-father -- and that DG was their dear friend, Ambrose was determined not to settle for just any old gift. He had come here on a mission: To find the perfect wedding present. When a cluster of women threatened to separate him from Cain, Ambrose reached back and gripped hold of the blond's hand to drag him along. "This would go faster if you actually suggested something, instead of leaving me to make all the decisions myself."

Cain frowned at the advisor's complaint. "You're the one who came and dragged me away from my office in order to go on this little 'gift hunt'. It's not my fault that you didn't come prepared with an idea for what you wanted to purchase for them. I was under the impression that you always had a plan before you did anything."

"Some things should be done spontaneously." The advisor retorted as he pulled Cain in the direction of the booths on the other side of the street. In retrospect, Ambrose decided that he should have just asked Azkadellia to come along with him. At least the princess could shop for longer than five minutes without becoming frustrated. Cain was as bad as a sleepy child, and just as full of complaints.

Then again, Ambrose imagined that the sight of the former Sorceress walking through the marketplace would have probably started a stampede of consumers trying to flee.  He just had to make due with his current resource, even if the tin man couldn't even shop well enough to buy himself a loaf of bread.

Ambrose paused by a few booths, holding up different trinkets from the bins that he thought might catch Cain's eye.  The tin man merely shook his head at everything, as helpful as a rock, which caused his lover to eventually sigh in frustration.  "You can't script out the perfect gift. Not really. You just have to look around until you see something which speaks to you, that persuades you that it is exactly what you were looking for. That's when you know that it's a fantastic present! Now, start making suggestions."

"We could just get a new horse for Jeb. He's still borrowing one from the palace." Cain muttered. "And a motorbike for DG. She always talks about the one she had back on the Otherside." The tin man found himself colliding into Ambrose's back as the advisor suddenly stopped walking.

Ambrose spun around, looking up at him in exasperation. "I have been straining my brain for the last three days trying to think up something, and you somehow manage to come up with the perfect ideas in a matter of seconds. Why didn't you just say those suggestions when I asked you three days ago?"

"You seemed to like stressing yourself out over it, sweetheart. Far be it from me to spoil your good time."

The advisor threw his hands up in the air, head shaking as he cut past the tin man, stalking away from Cain through the crowd. Watching him go, Cain was unable to help a private grin before he hurried to catch up with that fuming figure. He draped an arm across Ambrose's shoulders, squeezing him up against his side. "Aw, come on. Aren't you at least going to thank me for having such brilliant ideas?"

"It's a rare event. I might award you a medal for your efforts." Ambrose muttered darkly, only tolerating Cain's embrace because the tin man's public displays of anything bordering affection were too few. He didn't want to discourage it by shrugging the blond away.

"You can probably comission one or both of them from the palace, right?"

"Yes.  A horse will be very easy to get hold of, provided that you know what breed Jeb would like.  The motorbike naturally will take longer, since it will need to be constructed, but I know that if I oversee the design process and make it up to her standards, then it shouldn't be that difficult a gift to get for her."  Ambrose explained, before adding, "Though I might want to add some modifications of my own.  Just a plain old motorbike would hardly do for our DG."

"Don't add anything too crazy to it.  DG is too much of a daredevil for you to encourage her reckless whims by adding more speed capacity to a vehicle."

"Oh, nothing too crazy."  Ambrose shrugged.  "Perhaps just a rocket-propulsion system to give her sonic speeds, and flight capabilities, and even a missile or two for when traffic in the city is annoyingly congested."

"I hope that you're joking, sweetheart."

"I'm perfectly serious.  And when the Queen has me pitched off the highest peak for endangering her beloved daughter, I'll tell everyone that it was your idea all along."

Cain snickered at the sarcasm, knowing that it was the closest Ambrose was going to come to admitting that he'd come up with the perfect solution. He winced as his quiet laughter caused the advisor to elbow him in the ribs, Cain's hand coming up to rub the tender flesh. They made their way out past the rows of booths, heading back in the direction of the palace. A small hand reached up to tug at the edge of Cain's jacket. "Shine your shoes for a copper, Sir?"

"No, thanks." The tin man murmured, distracted by checking to see if Ambrose were still stewing in anger. "Aw, Ambrose.. Stop pouting, would you?"

"I'm not pouting." Ambrose protested. He found his own sleeve getting tugged on, as the boy tried again. "Shine your shoes for a copper, Sir?"

"No, thank you." The advisor answered, glaring up to Cain. "I should make you sleep in the lab tonight, Cain. It would serve you right!"

Ambrose found himself unable to proceed the next few steps, as that small hand continued to clutch his sleeve. "Shine your shoes for a copper, Sir?"

"You just asked me that, and I said--" The advisor twisted in the direction of the boy with a frown. Then Cain heard a strangled sound come out of Ambrose, as his lover's hand immediately clamped down on the tin man's forearm hard enough to bruise. Raising an eyebrow, Cain glanced towards the boy to see what it was which had so affected Ambrose. He also found himself staring in shock, some emotion twisting up his stomach like someone punched it.

They both stared down at the boy, who couldn't have been more than ten annuals. He was scrawny, a waif of a youth, one of Central City's unfortunates. Cain wagered that his clothes had suffered the worst, ragged as they were, like some cast-offs which had already been neglected. His eyes were big for his face, startling green, and he peered back up at them from under a mop of unruly red hair. He looked like many of the kids which Cain had seen throughout the poorer districts of Central. Yet those details, and the kid's obvious lack of wealth, was not what stopped them. That wasn't what caused Ambrose to appear like he was on the verge of an emotional or mental breakdown, so white in the face that Cain wondered if his blood had ceased to pump.

It was what was reflected in the depths of those green eyes. Curiosity, confusion.

And the all-too-familiar tragedy of that interlocking line of silver which ran up from the peak of the boy's forehead.

"Good Gods.." Ambrose whispered weakly, as his grip dissolved itself from Cain's arm. The advisor's face was frozen into a perfect mask of horror. He knelt down in front of the boy, not even noticing that the tails of his fine uniform jacket were dragging upon the dirty street below. Ambrose's eyes were wider than Cain had ever seen them, staring at the child as if the risk of blinking would make this phantom that much more terrible to behold.

The boy brought his gaze down with Ambrose as the advisor knelt in front of him. He blinked a couple times, then murmured, "Shine your shoes for a copper, Sir?"

Cain's hand landed gently on Ambrose's shoulder, firm support to keep the man from falling over, since he seemed about to do just that. Since the advisor had been rendered speechless, he spoke instead, voice gruff. "What's your name?"

"'Kid', Sir. Everyone just calls me 'Kid'." The boy shrugged thin shoulders.

"'Kid'"?  Ambrose echoed faintly.

"Yeah.  'Hey, Kid.' Or... 'Get lost, Kid!'  Or.. 'Look, it's the Kid'."  He explained brightly.

"How long have you .. er.. how long have you had that there?" Cain gestured towards the zipper.

"Dunno. Can't remember. Or for as long as I can remember, I should say."  The youth blinked.  "Shine your shoes for a copper, Sir?"

"Do you know where you live?" The tin man searched around them, trying to find anyone who seemed to have some claim on this kid. No one paid any notice to the kid, or to them, as they milled around the street.

The boy's answer was another shrug. He reached up a hand that was stained with dirt, scratching at a rounded cheek. It left a smear of black in its wake, though the kid paid it no notice. Since Cain was deviating from the normal script of interaction, that green gaze landed back down on Ambrose. "Shine your shoes for a copper, Sir?"

"No, thank you." Ambrose repeated, his voice thick with emotion. Cain patted him, before accepting the hand offered blindly back to him, using it to haul the advisor up to stand. Ambrose leaned against him, unable to take his eyes off the kid. "What.. what kind of person could do something so abominable to a.. a child?  He's just a boy." His eyes rose up to Cain's face, full of sorrow, as they searched for an answer.

Cain slid his arm around Ambrose with a subtle shake of his head. "It's been a cruel season, sweetheart. Come on.. let's get back to the palace. We'll get you a nice stiff drink or something."  He fished inside of his coat, withdrawing a few coins, which he placed in the boy's hand.

The boy's mouth opened, staring at the shining money balanced on a small palm.  "Thank you, Sir!"  Cain watched him carefully tuck the coins into a frayed pocket, patting it securely.  With a firm nod, he turned his attention back towards Ambrose, who was standing there watching the event with a lost expression.

In a daze, Ambrose allowed himself to be drawn along by the bigger man. He seemed unable to manage saying anything else, submitting over to the trusted guidance of the blond. Cain gave one last glance to the kid over his shoulder, who was already calling out to another passerby on the street, "Shine your shoes for a copper, Sir?"

"You going to be okay?" Cain asked the advisor once they'd turned a corner, schooling his voice to be as gentle as he could manage. He couldn't remember if Ambrose had encountered any other zipperheads since his re-brainment. It was understandable that such an event would leave him shaken.  Especially when confronted with finding that it had been done to a kid.  Cain would have probably strung up anyone who ordered such a thing to happen.  Glitch would have been heartbroken, would have thrown himself to the ground with spastic intensity -- Ambrose was just more subtle expressing his sorrow, internalizing it like he commonly did with his emotions.  Comfort was still difficult for the tin man to manage, but he was determined to at least try his best, as Cain gave the smaller figure a squeeze.

"It just.. I can't..." The advisor's gift for speech had escaped him, as Ambrose blinked ahead of them while Cain walked them back in the direction of the palace. He shook his head in silence, a scowl forming on his brow.

Then Cain saw him get that look. That decisive look, which said that he had just made up his mind about something, and nothing was going to sway a determined Ambrose. Cain blinked after the advisor as the man pulled away from him and turned around, heading back in the direction that they had just come.

"Ambrose? What are you... doing?"

"What I have to, Cain, if I am going to have any peace tonight."  The advisor called back vaguely, before disappearing back around the corner, leaving Cain to stare after him without comprehension.
~~~~~~~~

"You are out of your mind."

Cain was pacing in Ambrose's lab, still trying to come up with the perfect reasons why he couldn't allow this to happen, why it was wrong, why it just wasn't going to work. The tin man's icy gaze darted continuously in the direction of the advisor, who had basically ignored everything that Cain had been saying to him since their return to the palace.

Ambrose had his elbows propped up on his worktable, chin in his hands as he smiled with a lazy delight, watching the red-haired child hungrily devouring a steaming bowl of stew stationed between them. Cain had not expected that the advisor would actually go back there and bring the kid! Yet Ambrose had already made his intentions clear. He had brought the boy directly to his laboratory despite Cain's protests, and had even commanded the kitchen staff to prepare an early meal for his young guest. While Cain was firmly against the situation, Ambrose seemed to be taking it in with glee.

The advisor looked away from the boy, snorting softly at Cain. "Would you stop with your worrying? What harm is there in me giving this young lad a proper meal? Poor thing looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks. Look at how fast he's putting all that away!" Ambrose leaned forward, shaking a finger at the youth which was only half-stern. "Don't eat too fast or else it will make your stomach hurt. Or get you sick. Or.. is that right, Cain?" He looked quickly to the tin man for clarification.

"It could make him sick, yeah." The tin man mumbled, before remembering that he wasn't supposed to be contributing to Ambrose's madness. "You aren't fooling me, Ambrose. I know that you're planning to do more than just give him some food and send him on his way, aren't you?"

Ambrose's face was the picture of innocence personified, as he gestured towards his chest. "Me? Plans? Why, what utter nonsense, Wyatt! I am merely playing it by ear for the moment. I have absolutely nothing plotted out." The advisor smiled back down to the youth, winking at him. "We're just enjoying a warm meal and some good company, aren't we, Kid?"

"Yeah!" Kid answered, returning Ambrose's wink between spoonfuls of soup. He looked around him, now that he'd consumed most of the meal and was slowing down. "Where is this place again?"

"You're inside my laboratory, in the royal palace of Central City." Ambrose informed him. "Now, let's try again: What do we touch in here?"

"Absolutely nothing!" The kid answered, with a nod.

"That's right. Very good." Quite pleased, he raised his eyebrows towards Cain with a smug smile. "See? He's already retaining information."

"You've had to repeat that twelve times before he answered correctly." The tin man pointed out, dragging over another stool as he sat beside the table. He folded his arms together on the tabletop, watching the kid go back to eating. "Ambrose. Sweetheart. Just tell me what you're thinking. Please." Cain pleaded with all the patience he could muster.

Ambrose's face twisted, as the blond appealed to him, unable to resist it when the tin man used that charm on him. He sighed heavily. "Okay, so maybe I might have some plans forming. I mean, it's not really so unreasonable of me, is it? No one was watching him, and he doesn't remember if anyone was taking care of him. So if I decide to become responsible for him instead, then how does that raise any issues?"

"You want to play 'Daddy' to this zipperhead?" Cain blurted out in his shock, which got him a hard glare from the advisor. The tin man spread his hands out. "Sorry. It's habit."

The kid had emptied through his second bowl of stew and was watching them volley their words back and forth in silence. Ambrose forced his glare away, so that he could regard the boy more gently. "What if I said that I wanted us to play 'Daddy'? What would you have to say about that, Cain?"

"I would have to defer to my earlier statement: You are out of your mind."

"Oh, come on, Cain." Ambrose thumped a finger down on the table. "I never said that this was going to be a permanent situation. However, I feel that there needs to be some accountability to what's happened to him. There's a mystery to be solved here, for this boy's sake. De-brainment doesn't just happen. There must be some record of this boy's identity, as well as information on when or why this was done. It's an atrocity, Cain. You can't tell me that your sense of justice isn't nagging at you; it won't let you walk away from this kid without having some answers."

"All right, I'll play along with that logic." Cain sat back in his chair, regarding the advisor. "Let's say that we take this kid in until we can find out his situation. Let's say that we manage to find some kind of record for him to tell us who he is, where he came from, and why they pulled his brain out. What if we get all of that information, but it leads us absolutely nowhere? You were a rare case, Ambrose. The Witch needed your marbles, so your brain was shelved away and protected inside of a glass jar for annuals." He nodded solemnly towards the boy. "This kid could be nobody, an anonymous kid that got a bad deal at the hands of a twisted dictatorship. I know how de-brainments work, sweetheart: They don't bother to keep the brains of nobodies in stock for long."

Ambrose looked away, as a hand crept up seemingly of its own accord to touch the scar that sat as a reminder at the edge of his hairline. His voice had lost its determined edge, troubled. "It's barbaric. The practice should never have been developed. Thank the Gods that it's rarely done here."

"You haven't been to the prison here in Central, have you?" Cain frowned at the man, watching Ambrose stroke that scar.

"There are governments officials appointed to maintain the penal system here. They speak quite highly of how advanced Central City's penitentiaries are. Why?"

The tin man shook his head, looking back to the kid. "I think that you'd be surprised if you visited them for yourself. No prison system is perfect, Ambrose. The people that you delegate things to are always going to tell you what they think you want to hear. It really wouldn't hurt for you to at least check in once in a while to make sure that you're getting the full story. You'll probably end up surprised."

Ambrose searched the blond's face, trying to fathom his meaning. "I won't like what I see, will I?"

"It's not that bad. We're not inhumane, like the Witch and her people were. The system is good for what it is. But it could use improvement; it always can."

"Oh? In your days as a tin man, how many criminals that you caught were de-brained?"

"I worked for quite a few annuals, Ambrose..." Cain said hesitantly, not sure if he wanted to answer the question.

"How many?" The advisor persisted. "Out of all the criminals that you apprehended, give me an estimated number."

Sighing, Cain reached up to adjust his hat. "Well. Let's say that I caught fifty guys. Out of those fifty, maybe ten would get the operation done. But I was sent after some pretty bad people, sweetheart. I wasn't chasing after petty crooks like DeMilo all of my career."

"Ten out of fifty?!" Ambrose gaped at the man, as numbers went churning through his mind. He noticed that the kid had emptied his bowl again, as the boy nudged him. The topic was dropped for now while Ambrose filled the bowl back up, smiling encouragingly to the youth. "Here you go, Kid. Still more where that came from."

"Thanks." The boy slid the bowl back in front of him when Ambrose was done, shoveling more stew into his mouth.

Thoughtful, Ambrose watched the boy consume a series of spoonfuls, before he murmured to Cain. "I think that we should visit the prison. Tomorrow. You can show me around so that I can see how everything runs."

"Going to try and make sweeping changes to the penal system, Advisor?" The blond teased him gently.

"Oh, Gods no. I'm much too busy with my own responsibilities to oversee a rehaul of that magnitude." Ambrose shook his head quickly. Then, he smirked, eyeing the blond. "I'm going to delegate that project entirely to you, Mister Cain."

Cain met that announcement with a flat stare. "What?"

That smirk blossomed to a grin, as Ambrose nodded. "Yes. You're an experienced tin man with a brain in that thick head of yours. I am going to put it to use. Consider yourself promoted."

"That's quite a jump in promotion." Cain murmured. "From tin man to overseeing the entire prison system?"

Ambrose shrugged, replying flippantly. "Look at it as a benefit from sleeping with the Queen's right hand man." He erupted into laughter when those words made Cain cough, the blond turning scarlet. "So... Are we keeping the kid here, then?"

Already exasperated from the advisor's teasing, the law man breathed out. "I'm not playing babysitter, Ambrose..."

Ambrose chuckled softly, as he ladled out another helping of stew into the boy's bowl. Placing it down, he grinned to the kid. "That's Cain-speak for 'Yes'. Or it will be soon enough. Now, what do we touch in here?"

"Absolutely nothing." The boy piped up happily, as he began to dig into his food again.

"Very good." Nodding his approval, Ambrose folded his arms atop the table, resting his chin lightly atop them as he quietly watched the boy eat. Cain sat in stiff silence, head turned so that he could scowl out the window. It wasn't acceptance, but Ambrose considered it a step towards victory that the tin man was no longer arguing.
~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't difficult for Ambrose to excuse himself from dinner that night without raising any attention, since the inventor was infamous for often missing the evening meal whenever he was involved in some particular project or another. Cain managed to come up with his own vague reason why he had to skip out as well, even tolerating the fact that them missing dinner at the same time earned him a strange grin from DG when he'd given her the message. The tin man went directly to their suite, knowing that Ambrose had escorted the kid there from his laboratory for the night.

Ambrose was being secretive about hosting their guest. It was rather laughable to Cain, though he humored his lover by conducting himself in similar fashion. He had not told DG about the kid, nor anyone else who had questioned him about his day. If they were lucky, then they would have some answers soon, the kid would be sent to wherever he belonged, and Ambrose might drop this little project that he'd grown so intent on. Cain paused at the door to the suite, rapping on the door two times, then three. Ambrose had insisted on them coming up with some kind of signal, so that the advisor could shoo the kid into another room if unexpected company showed up to visit.

The door cracked open, a brown eye peeking out at the tin man as Ambrose confirmed who he was. Then the advisor snatched hold of Cain's sleeve, dragging him hurriedly inside. "Don't just stand there, come in."

"I think you're being overly paranoid about this." The blond muttered as he removed his hat, tossing it down on the coffee table as Ambrose promptly began to secure each lock into place. Cain saw that the advisor's jacket was off, his white shirt wet in places from water having splashed it. "It's not like we kidnapped the kid, or committed some crime by bringing him here. If you were going to be this worried about everything, then why did you even bother bringing him back with us?"

"I just don't want people to ask a lot of questions." Ambrose explained as he stepped over behind Cain, helping the man to get his coat off. He folded it over an arm, worriedly biting down on his bottom lip for a moment. "If DG or the Queen were to find out that we had him here, then they might start getting attached to him. That would make things so much more difficult when we send the boy away."

Cain reached up to the collar of his uniform jacket, undoing the catches with a quick look around. "Where is the kid, anyway?"

"I've got him soaking in the bath. He was pretty filthy." Ambrose murmured as he went to hang Cain's coat up in the closet nearby. "Already had to empty the tub twice just to get the water to stay clean. I was just about to start working on getting his hair washed. You going to come in to help, or...?"

"No thanks." The tin man snorted, reaching for the Central City Times which was folded up next to his preferred armchair. "You get to enjoy that all by yourself, Ambrose. I'm going to catch up on the news."

Shrugging, the advisor turned back towards the bathroom. "Suit yourself. Just because you are the one with the fatherly experience here, while I am merely improvising myself through everything, that doesn't mean that I need your advice or assistance in these matters."

Cain rolled his eyes at the obvious intent of Ambrose to make him feel guilty enough to help. He slapped the paper down, grumbling under his breath as the law man got back up in order to trail along in the direction which Ambrose had vanished. Cain came to stand in the opened doorway of the bathroom, fitting his shoulder against the doorframe. "Just what is it that you think you need my help with?"

"I don't know.. Couldn't you just stand there and give me tips or something?" Ambrose asked, the advisor having settled onto his knees next to the bathtub. The kid was sitting in the bubbly water, enamoured with them as his fingers traced patterns through the bubbles. His eyes were dancing with happiness when they raised up to notice Cain standing there, the kid's face lighting up with a beaming smile of recognition. "It's Cain!"

"That's right." Ambrose answered encouragingly, as he began to roll up his sleeves up past his elbows, smiling quickly over to the blond. "I taught him both of our names. We're trying to think up a different name for him, other than 'Kid'. At least until we find out what his actual name is, anyway. Any ideas for a name, Cain?"

Blue eyes flatly studied the two of them, before the tin man drawled dryly, "How 'bout 'Red'?"

Ambrose scoffed. "Something other than a descriptor, if possible. We know he's a kid, we know his hair is red. Those aren't proper names -- those sound more like things you'd name a horse." Leaning up, the advisor took hold of the boy's head in order to bend it closer for him to work. Ambrose's lips pinched thoughtfully together. "We can probably get the hair washed without too much trouble, if we do one side at a time. It's grown away from the zipper enough that we don't have to worry about getting the metal wet. So long as we get it dried quickly when we're finished."

"Just don't get it too hot or too cold." The boy warned him as Ambrose reached for a bottle of shampoo, beginning to lather it in on the closest side of that bowed head. "It aches when it gets too cold, and it burns when it gets too hot."

"I know, believe me." Ambrose blanched, able to sympathize. He dimly recalled the headache which had plagued him during their trek through the Northern realms, when the temperatures had made his own zipper blisteringly cold. "I promise to be as careful as I can."

Grunting quietly, the boy's eyes closed as he gave himself over to Ambrose's care. Despite himself, Cain watched the advisor's fingers work through the kid's red hair and found himself a bit envious. He'd never received that kind of attention from Ambrose before. Ambrose's eyes were locked on those hairs, working the soap carefully through with his long fingers, taking extra caution the closer they got to those silver teeth.

When finished, he cupped up some of the water, lifting it up in order to rinse out the soap in the boy's hair. He repeated the process until all of the shampoo was gone, humming quietly to himself much like he did whenever he was engrossed in some invention of his. Ambrose tapped the kid's thin shoulder. "Time for the other side. Turn around for me, please?"

Once the boy had settled again, Ambrose copied the process of getting the kid's hair washed. His ministrations were gentle, moving with a certainty that Cain knew from experience could often prove incredibly soothing. Sometimes, if Ambrose really put his effort into it, the man's fingers could even lull Cain to sleep. It was really no different in this case, as Cain saw the boy's head bobbing tiredly where he slumped in the bath.  Within minutes, the kid's chin was resting down against his chest.  Ambrose's head angled to check if the youth were still awake, chuckling quietly as he whispered up to Cain. "I think I put him to sleep."

"Looks like it. The kid's had a pretty exciting day. Probably tuckered out."

"We should get him to bed, then."

Ambrose reached for the stopper to drain the tub, leaning the kid to rest back against the side as he turned to grab some of the towels which he'd set out. He briskly rubbed one over the boy's head to dry it, tentatively blotting at the zipper to dry any moisture clinging to its surface. Ambrose wrapped the boy up in a cocoon of towels to prepare for lifting him.  When he shifted to try gathering the kid up, the advisor found himself getting shouldered gently to the side, as Cain bent in to scoop the sleeping child up out of the tub. He blinked up at the blond, as Cain said lamely, "You'd probably drop him on the way out. I'll handle him."

"I set him up in the spare bedroom. You can take him in there. I'll be in once I get tidied up in here."

"Sure." With a nod, the law man stepped out of the bathroom with the damp bundle in his arms. The kid weighed next to nothing, Cain observed. He could remember when Jeb had weighed about this much, small and limp when he'd carried his son up to his bed just like this. Cain could hear the advisor moving around in the bathroom, cleaning up.

Coming into the spare room, Cain carried the kid over to the bed. He didn't see any clothes laid out for the boy to sleep in. Putting those raggedy old clothes back on would have defeated the purpose of bathing him clean. The blond looked around, then stepped hurriedly out of the room in the direction of the bedroom that he shared with Ambrose. Cain slid the door of the closet open, searching through the items hanging up, before pulling out one of his casual buttoned shirts. It would fit the kid like a tent, but the fabric was soft enough that it would be comfortable to sleep in.

He brought the shirt back into the spare room, the kid having curled up right where he'd left him. Cain slid a hand under the boy's back in order to sit him up, causing the boy to mumble nonsense in complaint. Ignoring the sleep-grumbles, Cain got the kid's arms through the sleeves, while the boy leaned tiredly against him. That wet head rolled against the man's shoulder, leaving the fabric of his shirt damp as Cain managed to get the buttons done. That borrowed shirt did indeed swallow up the kid's small limbs, just as Cain had judged it would.

When Ambrose finally joined him in the room, Cain was just finishing getting the blankets drawn back up over the kid. The advisor noted the shirt, nodding as he whispered, "I was going to suggest that. His old clothes are beyond saving. We can probably find him some new things tomorrow while we're out."

Cain saw him reach down, a pale hand brushing back through those wet red hairs. The kid was still scowling from where the law man had disturbed his sleep, but when Ambrose rolled the ball of his thumb beneath the base of that zipper, that frowning countenance smoothed away into slumbering bliss. Cain studied his lover's face, seeing a fraction of that peace reflected back in Ambrose's composed expression. "We should let him sleep. That sounds like a fine idea for us as well, since we've got an early day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Sure, Cain." Ambrose whispered, as he withdrew his hand. Cain stepped out into the hallway first, both he and the advisor casting glances back into the spare room before Ambrose quietly shut the door.

~~~~~~~~

They woke early the next morning with the intention to visit the prison as Ambrose had requested. Cain was ready first, as usual, so he went to check on the kid while the advisor finished getting dressed. He found that the boy was still soundly asleep, stretched out and snoring peacefully. The law man left him to his rest as he went to see how close Ambrose was to being ready.

He found the advisor standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom, fussing nervously with the braids of his uniform. It was the black one which Ambrose wore when he wanted to seem more intimidating. Of course, his manner was anything but imposing, considering how badly he was fidgeting already. Cain walked up to stand behind him, a hand reaching around Ambrose to rest his fingers heavily on the smaller man's. "Calm down. It's not that scary a place."

"Sorry." Ambrose flushed, embarassed by his own lack of control over his aggitation. "I can't say that I have ever enjoyed the atmosphere of prisons. After my own internment, before the.." he gestured upwards, "..operation, they give me a queasy stomach when I remember what it was like to be inside the bars."

"You'll be fine." Cain reassured him, patting those twitching fingers until Ambrose finally dropped his hands to his sides. "Didn't you say that you arranged for people to come with us?"

Nodding, the advisor turned from the mirror, building up his courage. "They should be waiting outside. I should stop holding us up. There's just one more thing that I need to do before we depart."

Cain watched him bend over the writing desk in the corner of the living area, so that Ambrose could ink something on a sheet of paper with a few fluent strokes of his quill. The law man never understood why his lover insisted on using such an antiquated method of writing -- ink pens suited Cain just fine. All that Ambrose would tell him is that he found script written with a quill far more artful to the eye than other writing utensils.

Once finished, the advisor took up the paper and shook it gently to dry the ink, as Ambrose quietly opened up the door to the spare room. Intrigued, Cain followed along, looking in from the hallway. He saw Ambrose place that paper on the nightstand beside the sleeping boy, well within sight when the youth would wake up. Satisfied with his efforts, the advisor came back out and shut the door, as Cain asked, "What was that?"

"Information. Reminders. We aren't going to be here when he wakes up, after all. I wrote down where he was, why he was here, and who we were so that way we didn't surprise him when we came back." Ambrose explained as he led Cain towards the door to the suite. "It's always disorienting, waking up in a new place. I don't want him to panic. I also gave him directions to the kitchen and back in case he got hungry."

Cain nodded. "Makes sense. Good to know that you've got it covered."

"I just know what he'll be going through when he opens his eyes." The advisor smiled faintly as they walked out together, heading down the corridor on their way out of the palace. "Sometimes all it takes is just a little nudge of information in order to jog the synapses."

"Lucky for this kid that he had the expert on All Things Zipperhead take him under a wing."  The tin man winced as his remark got him a thump against his ribs, which left a pulsing throb of pain in its wake.  Cain wondered exactly how Ambrose managed to hit the perfect, most painful spot every time.

"I'd watch what you say today, Cain."  His lover warned him at a half-growl.  "If things go as I anticipate they will, then I am going to be in a terrible sort of mood before the day is over."

Cain was surprised when he saw Jeb standing outside waiting for them. His son was dressed in a crisp military uniform, smiling faintly in greeting when Ambrose led him outside. Beside him was Yinn, Ambrose's friend who had come to work with them inside the palace. Yinn waved warmly to them both, bowing formally as the pair came to stand in front of him. "Good afternoon, Sirs."

"Enough of that." Ambrose snorted as he hurriedly waved him to straighten. "I'm glad that you both could make it on such short notice. I was horribly ambiguous in my letters."

"It's not a problem, Ambrose." Jeb responded politely, glancing towards his father. "Though I'll admit that I was wondering what had spurred this visit so suddenly."

The tin man shook his head subtly, nodding towards the advisor. "That's entirely Ambrose. Talk to him about it."

Ambrose looked between father and son. "I just thought that it was the right time. Really, I am not sure how things are going to turn out today, which is why I asked both of you specifically to come. You're here, Jeb and Yinn, to provide a third-party perspective on things. And to keep Cain or I from getting too angry."

"Someone from the prison has made you angry?" Yinn asked.

"Not yet." Cain drawled. "But the day is still early for that to happen." He tilted his head back to squint up towards the sky, before nodding. "Let's get going."