Life and Mysteries - Part Two
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. Getting both if these parts out of the way -- then I work on my other abandoned fics!
The prison of Central City was an imposing brick building stationed towards the rear of the city, tucked away from the other parts of the districts. It still looked neglected from lack of use while the Sorceress was in power, just as tarnished as the rest of the city. The mass of the prison sprawled out to either side, wired fences winding back out of their line of sight as they arrived outside. Yinn looked up at the towering building as he spoke towards Cain. "You used to work here? This place is intimidating."
"It's supposed to be." The tin man answered. "If it looked inviting, everyone would be breaking the laws to get in. This place was built to make people follow the rules." He beckoned for them to follow as he approached the glass double doors of the entrance.
Cain was the first one to enter through the doors, Jeb shadowing close behind his father as they walked inside. The men behind the reception counter stood up when they recognized him, astonished looks being cast towards the entrance at these newcomers. One of the men whispered to the other. "Go get the Captain."
As the one guard disappeared back down the hallway beyond the counter, the remaining one smiled politely to Cain. "Afternoon, Sir. What can I do for you today?"
"We're here for an impromptu inspection." That pleasant facade was met with Cain's usual short response, blue eyes turning around the lobby before fixing on the guard across the counter.
The man's smile slipped momentarily. "Um. Do you have an appointment?"
"It wouldn't be 'impromptu' if I scheduled it, would it?" Cain scowled at the guard, his tone starting to get harder. This upstart looked like he hadn't seen more than a few moon cycles of service on the force and this rookie was trying to give him a hard time?
Jeb intervened, sensing his father's increasing impatience. "I'm sure that we can sort things out with your Captain when he arrives. The Head Advisor naturally wouldn't want to have to waste his precious time waiting for everything to pass through all the lower channels."
"Ad-advisor?" The guard stammered, looking past them to where Ambrose and Yinn were stepping inside. Ambrose's face was locked into a bland expression as he looked around the lobby. He approached the counter in order to stand next to Cain. "Is there a problem here, Mister Cain?"
"This gentleman seems to think that you need to have an appointment to perform an inspection, Advisor." The blond leaned forward, squinting towards the guard's identification badge. "Officer Hugh. That shouldn't be too difficult to remember in your report."
The guard looked close to apoplectic, eyes darting between the two of them. He was rescued as an older man came walking up that rear hallway in the company of the man who had gone to fetch him. His hair was silver with age, and Cain could read in the man's eyes that he was seasoned enough to be the Captain. The man paid him no mind initially, intent upon Ambrose as he stared at the advisor in surprise. "Advisor Ambrose. Why, this is a pleasant surprise. We had not expected to see you honoring our little workplace with a visit."
"I'm here for more than a visit, Captain." Ambrose murmured. "We are here to inspect the prison. I trust that you will be able to cater to our needs?"
"An inspection?" The man took measure of the four of them. "What's prompted you to decide to conduct such a thing? Have there been complaints against our facility?"
"Not at all. Being a direct representative of Her Majesty, it is my responsibility to insure that the systems under her control are operating up to her standards. The penal system has, much to my regret, not been given the proper attention that such an important branch of our government deserves." Ambrose gestured around. "Your facility is the finest representation of the penal system in the O.Z. I am sure that nothing here could possibly result in Her Majesty's displeasure."
It was just enough threat and flattery to be effective. The Captain nodded with only mild reluctance, as he made a signal to the guard behind the counter. There was a buzz which echoed around the room as the barrier swung up to allow them entry on the other side. Stepping to the side, the Captain swept an arm in the direction of the hallway. "Very well. Gentlemen, if you would please follow me, we can begin with a tour of the facility."
~~~~~~~~~~~
They ended up settling in the Captain's office, the older man pouring a drink for himself and for Ambrose as they continued on with their conversation. It all sounded very polite, yet Cain knew that both of the men were measuring each other up due to their uncertainty of their intentions. After some time of this pleasant exchange, the Captain promptly downed the entire contents of his glass, gruffly clearing his throat before speaking. "Let's not beat around the bush here, Advisor Ambrose. You could have cared less about that little tour. What is the real reason that you and your friends here have come to this institution today?"
Ambrose sat his glass down on the top of the man's desk. His smile was fixedly polite. It looked far too practiced to be genuine. "I want access to the archives for all the prisoners who have been de-brained during the history of this facility."
The Captain placed his emptied glass down as his eyes set in a level stare towards Ambrose. Cain watched as disapproval hardened the man's weathered features, the outwardly pleasant mask deteriorating quickly in the face of the advisor's blunt request. "I think that I must have misheard you, Advisor Ambrose. There's no way that I can grant you access to something like that. The archives are sealed, and for good reason."
"Then I'll endeavor to repeat myself, sir, and make my intent far more clear: Let me and my associates into the prison archives or kindly hand your badge to Mister Cain." Ambrose's own polite facade was straining, as Cain felt one of the advisor's sharp elbows nudge him hard in the ribs. The tin man took the signal, prompting him to raise a waiting palm. He wasn't sure if it was a bluff on the part of Ambrose but he wanted to solidify the advisor's statements. If the telltale chips of ice freezing in the darkness of the man's eyes was any indication, Cain sensed that Ambrose had meant it.
That gave the uniformed man across the desk pause, as he noted the hardness of Ambrose's stare moments after Cain. He made an attempt to stand his ground against the advisor's demands, which the tin man knew was a common trait among men who stuck firmly to the rules. It was a rare find in lawmen these days; Cain's opinion of the Captain had just marginally improved. Yet Cain had braved the territory that was Ambrose's stubborn streak many times before, and that land ran a few miles wide.
Finally, the Captain relented with a sigh of defeat. He shook his head and reached a hand down out of sight behind the desk, which immediately made Cain reach towards his holster as a whisper of paranoia made him alarmed. Yet it was only an aged, sturdy set of keys on a ring that came back up into sight, not the weapon that the tin man had found himself anticipating. He felt Ambrose's fingers pat the top of his gun hand, as the advisor calmed the blond's risen hackles. "All right, then. I guess I've got no choice in the matter."
The Captain stood slowly up, abandoning his position behind the desk as he looked them all over with a sour expression. "I'll let you into the archives since you're that determined. But I don't want any of you boys coming back to give me any grief about it later; I tried to warn you away from this. Follow me and I'll let you in."
They rose together, filing out of the Captain's office as the aged official led them deeper into the corridors of the prison. It seemed to Cain that they were still towards the outer levels of security. There were a few scattered cells along the path they took, but these were reserved for low-end law offenders, or those who needed a night to sleep off their liquor, or just those unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Aside from a snoring drunk stretched out on one of the benches in a cell, the rest of them were empty. Which meant that the denizens of Central City were on their best behavior, or else the institutions of law were still practicing loose enforcement. Cain's guess leaned towards the latter.
Yinn had begun to fidget nervously. Ambrose quickly took notice of this, falling back in his pace to catch the younger man up to him. As Cain and Jeb stayed close to the Captain, the advisor whispered to the other. "Yinn? Are you all right?"
"Yes." The young man answered swiftly, before nodding as if to convince himself. "Yes. The atmosphere of this place is just bothersome, is all. I feel as if malicious spirits were lurking all around me, waiting to attack. Perhaps all prisons are like this?"
"That might be the case." Ambrose murmured back, pressing the heel of his hand against the curve of Yinn's shoulder to show that he could sympathize with the other's feelings. "Institutions like this tend to be full of unhappy people. I've heard a theory that it can take an effect on a place over extended periods of time. Though I'd like to hope that we don't have to worry about any malicious ghosts here. I'm much more comfortable dealing with things that I trust Cain could shoot if we needed him to."
"I am not sure that Mister Cain's gun will be able to protect you in this matter, Ambrose." Yinn said quietly, falling silent just as the Captain came to a stop in front of a set of thick iron doors. The advisor watched as the man began sorting through the different keys in search of the correct one. His mind was trying to puzzle through the implications in Yinn's ominous tone even as the chief struggled with the old lock to get the door open. The metal hinges shrieked in protest, but Cain helped the older man to wedge the double doors the rest of the way apart.
As they stepped inside, Ambrose had to fight back a cough. The air within was thick and stagnant, much like the oldest parts of the places he had explored in his life. This place had been untouched for annuals. When the Captain flipped the switch for the room, the lights hesitated in coming on, surging dully from a lack of use. He turned back towards the group, face set. "Here you are, gentlemen. This room should have everything that you asked for."
Looking around at the shelves piled perilously full with boxes, Jeb blinked towards his father in confusion. Cain met his son's confused look with his own, turning towards the Captain with a frown. "How do you expect us to find de-brainment files in all of this mess?"
The Captain snorted as he headed towards the doors, turning to glance at Cain over a shoulder. "These are the de-brainment files. Good luck in your browsing, boys."
Ambrose's mouth fell ajar as the man left them to their work, eyes slowly scanning to take in the entire scope of the task ahead as a surge of shock traveled through his system like an electrical streak. He had anticipated that they would be searching through some information -- but this room was stuffed to the brim. And every file in every box represented someone who had gone through the same procedure he had. It confirmed the very suspicions that he had been harboring.
Cain came to hover beside him, searching his face carefully with those unwavering blue eyes. "Ambrose? You sure that you're going to be up for this?"
"I've come this far, Cain." Ambrose said quietly, reaching for the buttons of his jacket to remove it. They were going to be here for a while. "I'm not going to lose my courage now. Jeb, Yinn, if you'd please start pulling down boxes then we can get started."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Any luck so far?" Jeb called over towards where Ambrose and Cain were flipping through files.
"Nothing." Ambrose grumbled in complaint, disgustedly stuffing a folder back into the box beside him. "The least they could have done was had the decency to organize these somehow. It's as if they just tucked these all away without any care or concern -- these are all people, for the sake of the gods."
"Somehow, I doubt that the people in power during these last fifteen annuals really cared much about that fact." Cain balanced an open file in one hand, thumbing through the photographs and attached records for the individuals who had been de-brained as part of their "rehabilitation". He shook his head as the file came up empty of any sign of the kid that had spawned this entire affair. "These people were as forgotten as their memories."
“It’s so sad.” Yinn had his own pile of files to search through in order to help the process, leaving Jeb to shift the browsed boxes out of their way once they were done with them. Despite the increasing stack of searched containers, they had yet to make much of a dent among the archive’s collection. “To think that these many people had so much stolen from them.. And that there is no true justice for their loss now that the world is once again in order.”
“Can’t save ‘em all, kid.” Cain grunted. He looked sharply towards Ambrose as the relative quiet of their searching was interrupted by the advisor dropping a handful of folders on the floor with a loud shuffle of paper. “Be careful, would you? We already have enough to search through without you jumbling everything into one bigger mess.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I was startled.” Ambrose was defensive, answering Cain’s curtness with a gaze as pathetic as that of a drenched kitten.
Pushing up to stand, the tin man pressed a hand against his hip as the joint gave him some resistance. His body wasn’t as limber as it used to be. Cain rubbed at it absently as he shuffled over to stand above where Ambrose was seated. “Did you find something?”
“Nothing on the kid. But I did find something quite unexpected in all this mess.”
“What’s that?” Yinn glanced in their direction, curiously listening in.
Ambrose pinched a page between two fingers, holding it up for Cain to see. The tin man’s pale eyes scanned it over, then widened slightly. “This is you.”
“That’s right.” The advisor’s mouth split into a grin. “Isn’t this an absolutely wonderful picture of me, Cain?”
“Sure, sweetheart.” Plucking the paper out of those spindly fingers, the tin man flipped up the tiny photograph that Ambrose was admiring, taking more interest in reading the typed contents on the page underneath.
They had charged the former headcase with treason, which would have escalated his trial and imprisonment, had there been anything so structured during that chaotic time. Someone had listed him as a high-risk prisoner; Cain was surprised to discover that Ambrose managed to escape from the cells they had kept him in, not once but twice during the period of incarceration prior to his de-brainment. The rest of Ambrose’s situation, Cain had reasoned out on his own, and certainly did not want the advisor to fill him in on any potential errors in his judgment. There was one small detail, though, which snared his attention, which he might have overlooked if not for annuals of experience. It was a line at the top of the page that perked the tin man’s curiosity.
Political Prisoner #3 of 15.
“You weren’t the only one de-brained, were you?”
“Hm?” Ambrose blinked up from where he had moved on through the next few files. “Oh, well no. All of Her Majesty’s advisors had the operation performed on them by the Witch.”
“So there was more than one of you advising the Queen?”
“Naturally. I was merely the best one at it, which is why I was named Head Advisor. But it’s not like I was the only one helping her to run this country.”
“And let me guess - there were 15 of you?”
“If we’re counting me, then yes, that would be accurate.” Ambrose quirked an eyebrow. “How did you manage such a lucky guess, Cain?”
“I didn’t.” He held the paper back down for Ambrose to take. “They coded you all in one group, which they do whenever a large group of individuals is arrested at one time. That file probably contains information on all of you.”
Frowning, Ambrose looked back down at the opened file in his hands, directing a carefully scrutinizing eye at the photographs. “Oh. That would explain why these people all looked so familiar.” He winced lightly, then reached up to rub a set of fingers across his forehead as if fighting off a headache. “That was a bit of a glitch.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be you without your marbles being scattered.” Ambrose looked on the verge of pouting, until Cain rested a hand gently on the top of the advisor’s chestnut curls, and added affectionately, “That’s just how I like you best.”
“What do you think happened to those other people?” Yinn asked curiously, before looking back down to the files in his own hands. “Well, to all of these people.”
Cain shrugged. “Most of them were probably kept in containment for awhile, then released when they proved to be of no further harm to society. Some of them were probably de-brained and then tossed out to fend for themselves immediately. Others might have been killed in the process, or died shortly after. It’s very difficult for some people to function after de-brainment. Like tossing an infant into the woods to fend for itself.”
On the floor beside him, Ambrose shuddered visibly. Cain patted him lightly on his shoulder. “Knowing your luck, headcase, you were probably adopted by a pack of bears or something.”
“You think?” The advisor perked up as he considered the possibilities. “Hm. Not bears, no.”
“Ambrose was adopted by me.” Yinn pointed out with a subtle smirk. “He was the stray that I took in as my pet. If anything, I would guess that he’d been roaming with a pack of wild geese, as loud and audacious as he was when we first met him.”
“He tends to preen like a bird.” Cain agreed.
“I do not preen!” Ambrose argued defensively, paying little mind to the fact that his hand immediately reached up to smooth some of his hair back into place. He scowled as the other three men chuckled. “Anyhow - you’re all deviating from the plan here. We’re looking for the kid’s file, remember?”
Yinn stretched out his hand towards Ambrose. “If you don’t mind, may I look through that file of yours? I would be interested to learn more about these other advisors.”
“Go right ahead, Yinn.” The advisor quickly handed over the stack of documents. Ambrose then shot and upward glance at Cain. “So, are you intending to hover there and think up more witty insults about my character, or will you kindly get back to work?”
“Yes, sir.” With a quiet snort, the tin man moved back to his own set of boxes, as Jeb placed another full one down near his father.
~~~~~~~
“I think I found something.” Cain looked up from the file in his hands towards the others, before frowning. The blond then prodded Ambrose with a foot once he’d discovered that the advisor had dozed off. “Hey! Wake up.”
“Hn.. hn? What?” Ambrose blinked up at the tin man groggily, rubbing at his eyes.
They’d sent Yinn and Jeb home a few hours back, considering that there were few boxes left and both of the young men had invested most of their day towards Ambrose’s latest project. Ambrose stretched his limbs, grunting when Cain roughly dumped a file into his lap. He scrambled to take hold of it while blinking the last of the bleary film from his eyes from the rude awakening. “Wow. Cain, is this..?”
“Looks to be the kid. Hard to tell by the poor quality of the photograph, but I think I have enough experience identifying criminals from these things that I can wager a sure guess. The annuals match up, the basic description. Put a few more annuals and a layer of dirt on, and I think there’s a perfect match.”
“How many boxes were left when you found this?”
“Boxes?” Cain snorted, glancing down to the stack of files beside him. “Sweetheart, that was the last file.”
Ambrose pushed himself up, surveying their handiwork. There were so many boxes that they had gone through, it was hard to count them all. And the sheer number of files that were stored in each box was unfathomable. “Well. I suppose that we had better put all of this stuff back, now that we’ve found what we came looking for.”
Cain fixed him with a level stare. “We? I found the file for you. I did my share. Tidying up the mess you made? That’s all yours, sweetheart.” With a tiny smirk in place, Cain settled his hat back atop his head as he headed for the door, leaving a stammering advisor in his wake.
"C-Cain? Cain! Don't you dare leave me with all this to put back! Cain? Hey, get back in here!"
~~~~~~
When Cain opened the door to the suite, he caught a glimpse of the kid diving down underneath the coffee table. It was rather impressive just how squirrelly the boy could be, and more impressive how fast his reflexes were as a result. Cain, however, wasn't going to shower the kid with cooing reassurances, as Ambrose would have done. He deliberately ignored the boy and his hiding spot as he shrugged out of his coat and hung his hat in its usual place.
Out of the corner of his eye, the tin man saw the kid peering out at him from under the shadow of the table. Cain sighed. "You going to hide under there all night? Didn't Ambrose leave some kind of note for you or something?"
"The note?" Blinking, the kid edged back a bit under the table. Cain heard him rustling through his clothes before there was a whisper of unfolding paper. "..Oh. Ohhhhhhh. That's right."
Cain folded his arms across his chest as he turned to watch the kid crawl out from under the table. He waited patiently while the kid referred to the slip of paper in his hands again, before the boy said hesitently, "You're 'Cain', right?"
"That'd be me." The blond walked past where the kid was standing, heading towards the adjoining kitchen. "Did you manage to find the kitchens on your own, or should I assume that you haven't eaten anything yet?" Cain heard the boy's stomach let out a rumbling growl of hunger pains in answer to Cain's question. He nodded, beckoning the kid to follow him. "Let's get some food in you, then. I wouldn't want Ambrose coming back here to find you passed out from lack of eating or anything. Would never hear the end of it."
The kid was a red-headed shadow for Cain as he moved around the kitchen. He was no expert at cooking; Adora had always been the one to handle that more domestic chore. Cain's normal idea of cooking something was to put whatever animal he'd caught over an open fire until it was good and burnt. Dealing with these gadgets went over his head. "Um. Uh. So, how about a sandwich?"
"Sandwich is fine."
Cain nodded. That was one obstacle out of the way -- figuring out what to feed the kid. He began to search the contents of the kitchen with more purpose, now that he had a better idea what to look for. It wasn't hard at all to find some bread and put stuff between two slices. The blond became absorbed in the task, adding this and that from things as he found them. Cain sniffed a jar here and there in order to make his best guess as to if the contents were edible or not.
Finally, he stood back to admire his handiwork.
The kid had wanted a sandwich. Cain had delivered. Sure, it looked rather large, maybe too large for the kid to even grab hold of. The blond fished a fork out for the boy to use. As an afterthought, he grabbed one of the apples that Ambrose had in a bowl nearby. He glanced behind him to see that the kid was eyeing the sandwich with intense hunger. Cain clapped a hand down on the top of the food to keep the stack in place as he transferred it to the table in the kitchen. "There. A sandwich. Hope that you like, um... everything, because it's got everything in it."
When Ambrose returned to the suite, the kid had meticulously dismantled all the work that Cain had put into constructing the sandwich. He was nibbling on a hunk of meat slathered in butter when the advisor came walking into the kitchen with a sour expression on his face. A look that became even more severe when Ambrose took in the condition of his kitchen. "What in nine hells happened in here? Did the kitchen explode again?"
"No explosions." Cain muttered darkly. "I made the kid something to eat. Apparently your note wasn't enough to help him find the kitchens."
"Oh." Ambrose went from looking mad to looking guilty. He smiled wanly to the kid. "Sorry. I didn't think that it would take as long as it did. But you'll be happy to know that we found your file in all the mess!"
"I have a file?" The kid blinked at the advisor, picking up a carrot stick from the next layer of the sandwich.
"That's right." Ambrose took a seat at the table with them, opening up the file as he did so. "I read through it on the way here. Your name is Mikel Danvers. You were born here in Central City. And despite your deceptively small size, you are actually thirteen annuals old. There's even a picture of you. See?" He held it up for the boy to study.
"My name is Mikel Danvers?" The kid considered it. "Hm. I guess that sounds right. I mean, it sounds a little familiar."
Cain spoke to Ambrose across the table. "Did the file say anything about the kid's parents? Any idea where they might be?"
"Well.." Ambrose paused, glancing quickly to the boy. "It did, yes. It does mention their names in the file, as well as their last known location."
"And where was that?" Cain wasn't sure that he liked how cautious Ambrose was being with his words.
"Central City prison. There's a reference to their process numbers here in Mikel's file." Ambrose shifted his eyes from the file to Cain. "Apparently they were also de-brained."
"Why?" Cain scowled. "I don't understand. First the kid, and now his parents? What the hell could the whole family have done that was bad enough for them all to get their brains plucked out of their heads?"
Ambrose folded the file shut with a sigh, shaking his head. "I don't know the real reason, actually. Their crime was listed as treason, the same as mine. Hell, the same as most of the de-brainment files that we looked through today. It seems that the Witch and her cronies decided that anyone who opposed their operations were labeled as traitors. That allowed them to process the prisoners that much faster. Anyone who stood up to them enough was apparently de-brained."
"Or put in a suit. Or killed." Cain pointed out. He glanced in the kid's -- no, Mikel's -- direction, only to find that the boy had stopped eating. Clearing his throat, the tin man pushed up from his chair. "Hey, Ambrose... why don't we take this discussion to another room? Let the kid finish eating in peace, without all this doom and gloom talk."
Ambrose made a face. "You're right. Sorry, kid. You probably don't want to hear any of this. It was rude of me to talk so casually about it in front of you."
They rose together, leaving the boy to his sandwich. Ambrose led Cain into the living room so that they would be far enough away from the kitchen that they would not be overheard. He dropped down heavily into his armchair, giving time for Cain to get settled in the chair beside him before opening the file back up again. "So, it would appear that there are no parents to return this kid back to, Cain."
"We can't keep him here like this for very much longer." Cain pointed out. "A few more days, maybe, but eventually the others are going to discover that we've got him hiding out here."
"I know that. I know." Ambrose's brow furrowed with frustration. "To be honest, I'd thought that finding information on him was going to solve the mystery." He glanced over to Cain. "You were right on with your prediction last night. We found out who the boy is, but it hasn't led us any further in this situation. All I'm left with is a name."
Cain considered his lover's words. "There are homes here. We can always take him to one of those."
"An orphanage?" Ambrose shook his head, doubtful. "I don't know, Cain. There are so many kids in those places already -- and they have slim chances as it is for getting adopted. A kid that has been de-brained is considerably less likely to end up being adopted into someone's home. I would feel like we were just pushing him off to become someone else's problem."
"Then it looks like we keep him here for as long as we need to." Cain murmured. "Or at least until we figure out what to do with him. I don't want to just toss the kid back out onto the street."
"He's growing on you, isn't he?"
Cain eyed the grin that Ambrose was directing at him, then snorted. He pushed up out of his chair with a shake of his head. "Don't get any of those funny ideas of yours. It's a temporary situation, like you said. I am going to bed. Make sure to get the kid settled before you turn in."
"Of course." Ambrose indicated the file in his lap with a flourish of a hand. "I just want to read through these a while longer, to see if anything comes up. Goodnight, Cain."
The blond nodded a response, pausing to glance inside the kitchen on his way towards the bedroom. Most of the sandwich was gone, yet the boy still had a few layers to go. Ambrose would just have to clean up the mess before bed tonight. That gave Cain a sense of amused satisfaction that was going to make him sleep well through the night.