Wrenched
Title: Wrenched
Characters: Cain, Glitch, DG, Raw, Tutor.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Word Count: 1,600
Summary: Helping Glitch brings Cain a step closer to feeling human again.
A/N: Thanks to candacestls, surranndie, blackletter, oddsbobs, signy1, koslorollo for all the insightful beta comments over at ohzeebooks
Cain was awakened by a rustle, and a grunt, followed by a soft groan. Glitch, he realized. He cracked an eyelid, determining that it was still the middle of the night. He could see Glitch getting unsteadily to his feet. He thought about calling over, but didn’t want to wake DG. The kid had had an exhausting day, as had they all, barely escaping from the witch’s tower with their lives. Raw and the newcomer Tutor were deep in slumber as well. Glitch was probably just getting up to relieve himself, which hardly called for Cain to have to wake up more than he already had. Still, it nagged him, he didn’t want the zipperhead wandering off and getting lost, it would take valuable time and energy to round him up again. He sat up, watched Glitch weave out of the camp. After a moment, he got up and followed at a discreet distance. He kept expecting Glitch to pick a tree and stop. Glitch, however, continued to totter along, until Cain could keep silent no longer.
“Hey, Glitch!” he called softly. “Are you all right?”
“My head hurts,” Glitch informed him in an angry tone, not looking back, though he did stop walking. A moment later he sank to his knees, and sat down hard in a noisy crush of leaves.
Cain hurried forward, kneeling down behind him and catching him as he started to tip over. He moved his shoulder under Glitch’s head instinctively.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“My head hurts! I HATE IT WHEN MY HEAD HURTS!” Glitch shouted. It was startling to hear the soft-spoken man raise his voice, though he had heard a glimmer of that tone before, back in the wagon, when Glitch had warned him against being bitter and cynical. Cain suddenly remembered how Raw had mistaken them for Longcoats during their ruse earlier and hit Glitch with a wrench, and wondered if that was the problem.
He gingerly moved the dark hair back from the zigzagging metal teeth; Glitch yelped faintly and tried to twist away, but Cain had to harden his heart to it, hold on, and keep investigating. Some swelling had apparently developed over the last couple of hours, the skin around the aggravated zipper was discolored and painful-looking.
“All right, calm down,” he soothed. “We’ll get Raw to look at it.” His conscience gnawed at him, and he felt compelled to apologize. “I’m sorry we didn’t notice before, you seemed OK. And we were all sort of busy trying not to get killed.”
Glitch had stopped fighting him, and sagged against him, cheek against Cain’s shoulder. “Tired,” he groused faintly.
Normally Cain ignored the zipperhead’s naive complaints about how hungry or footsore he was, but Cain found that he could still be moved to pity, and that it hurt a little, somewhere in the region of the solar plexus.
“I know, Glitch,” he murmured. “You can sleep in a minute.” He was just contemplating whether to risk shouting for the others to come, or to try to walk Glitch back to camp, when a rustle of footsteps told him they were coming anyway, probably roused by Glitch’s shouting earlier. Indeed, Raw emerged from the trees first, followed by a slightly less stealthy DG, and then Tutor.
“What’s going on?” DG was the one to voice the collective question.
“The zipper. The wrench.” Cain explained tersely.
Raw growled in guilty alarm, and knelt down, DG dropped to her knees as well and gathered up Glitch’s hand. “Oh, Glitch, why didn’t you say something?” she asked him anxiously.
“I want some ice water,” Glitch pleaded suddenly.
“I’ll go get some water from the stream,” Tutor offered.
“Can you find it in the dark, old man?” Cain asked, in no mood for tact or another lost member of the group.
Tutor shot him a look that reminded Cain rather forcefully that he was talking to a shape shifter, and he didn’t ask again.
A moment later, Raw’s palms were resting gently over the back of Glitch’s head, DG was gripping his hand tenderly in both of hers, and Cain’s arms were wrapped tight around him. Raw was clearly concentrating, as he had done before with the fang bite, and Cain knew from experience that relief was imminent.
It was strange, Cain thought, watching his three companions in the moonlight, he’d initially cringed from Raw’s touch, he’d flinched from DG earlier when she’d flung her arms around him, feeling trapped and still unready for so much contact after such a long isolation. But they’d both edged him a little closer to humanity again, and now, with Glitch a heavy, helpless weight against him, he felt closer still, closer to having a heart that did more than just pump blood through his veins, closer to having…
Having what? What was this feeling? What were these people to him now, what had they become? A resistance unit, fighting the witch, surely. Friends? He could grant them that much at least, after all they’d been through together. Or was it becoming something more? He recoiled from the idea as soon as it suggested itself, determined not to let sentimentality and one overly trusting headcase curled against his chest muddle his thinking. He already had a family, thank you very much, even if they were gone, he couldn’t go getting past and present muddled up, couldn’t confuse his wife and son with the rag-tag group of misfits he’d somehow accumulated.
At this moment, Raw drew back his fingers, just as Tutor returned in careful silence. DG’s former teacher knelt stiffly, pressed the cup rim to Glitch’s mouth and helped him take a sip. “There you are, Advisor. Slowly, now.” The quiet dignity in the man’s voice reminded Cain that these two had been colleagues, once, a very long time ago. It was a strange thought, stranger still to imagine DG part of that royal circle as well.
The healing, together with their company and the cool water, finally seemed to soothe Glitch.
So much so, in fact, that he fell asleep before their eyes, leaving the rest of them wide-awake and stressed and unable to move without waking him. They all sat there as long as they could, until finally, Cain announced quietly he was going to have to lay him down. If they were going to stand a chance of getting through the Papay Fields again tomorrow, they would need to be rested and at the top of their game. Raw went for their things, what few they had, and they simply moved camp. Cain eased Glitch down onto his tattered red coat, cushioning his head with Raw’s folded fur jacket, and covering him with his own gray duster. The rest of the companions gradually settled, closer together than they had been before, Cain choosing his place last of all. He stretched out on the bare ground, with his back pressed lightly to Glitch’s, so that if he got up again during the rest of the night, Cain would know.
As their camp again sank into the even whispers of sleeping breath, Cain remained awake, his mind whirling with the things he’d seen today. Machines as big as houses and a dog who turned into a man and Longcoat armies more vast than he’d ever feared… but he kept going back to the image of Glitch, calmly and confidently taking out four opponents with a skillful grace Cain would never have expected of him.
He’d seriously misjudged the man. He was big enough to admit that. He’d thought no one in the O.Z. had made as big a sacrifice as he had, but he’d been wrong. He’d initially assumed that Glitch’s situation was his own doing, that his talk of being advisor to the queen had been the delusions of a criminal headcase, that was until he’d seen the painting in the palace, and more recently, the poster. Glitch had saved him from freezing anyway, even though Cain had been so gruff and unforgiving to him, had stood by DG even when she’d been confused and lost, believed the best in Raw even when evidence had suggested contrary…he’d even stood up for this Tutor person who’d just joined their path.
‘Mr. Suspicious’ Glitch had called him. Maybe he was, but he’d had cause to be. But not about Glitch. Not any more.
He finally let himself drop into an exhausted sleep, the warmth of another’s shoulder pressing against his a welcome patch of comfort in a chill night.
The following morning, Glitch was up with the sun, and greeted Cain with a charming grin, as Cain turned over and blinked up at him.
“The name’s Glitch,” the man informed him cheerfully. “Do I know you?”
This phenomenon didn’t faze Cain any longer; bizarre as it was, he knew the drill.
“Good Morning to you, too, Sweetheart,” Cain replied. And if he found his typical sardonic reply was tempered with a bit more sincerity than usual, he told himself this was only because he was so relieved to see Glitch back to his chipper self.
“Ah, Cain.” Glitch beamed down at him with pleased recognition. “I trust you slept well. There’s nothing like a night under the….” He glanced around then. “Um. Did you move some trees?”
“What?”
“Wasn’t there a purple maple…” he pointed upward uncertainly, and a little to the left.
Cain realized Glitch didn’t remember a thing about his middle of the night episode, or their change of campsite, but maybe it was better that way. It was easier for Cain, at any rate, to pretend it had never happened. He sat up. “Let’s get some breakfast started,” he suggested. “Why don’t you go wake up the others?” As he’d predicted, Glitch forgot all about trees and went over to rouse DG.
Cain gathered up the coats that Glitch had left scattered when he’d woken up.
He brushed leaves off the ragged red material with care. Maybe every bitter cynic needed a wide-eyed optimist around, and vice versa, just to keep things balanced. Maybe they were becoming something rather close to family.
Stranger things had happened.
Characters: Cain, Glitch, DG, Raw, Tutor.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Word Count: 1,600
Summary: Helping Glitch brings Cain a step closer to feeling human again.
A/N: Thanks to candacestls, surranndie, blackletter, oddsbobs, signy1, koslorollo for all the insightful beta comments over at ohzeebooks
Cain was awakened by a rustle, and a grunt, followed by a soft groan. Glitch, he realized. He cracked an eyelid, determining that it was still the middle of the night. He could see Glitch getting unsteadily to his feet. He thought about calling over, but didn’t want to wake DG. The kid had had an exhausting day, as had they all, barely escaping from the witch’s tower with their lives. Raw and the newcomer Tutor were deep in slumber as well. Glitch was probably just getting up to relieve himself, which hardly called for Cain to have to wake up more than he already had. Still, it nagged him, he didn’t want the zipperhead wandering off and getting lost, it would take valuable time and energy to round him up again. He sat up, watched Glitch weave out of the camp. After a moment, he got up and followed at a discreet distance. He kept expecting Glitch to pick a tree and stop. Glitch, however, continued to totter along, until Cain could keep silent no longer.
“Hey, Glitch!” he called softly. “Are you all right?”
“My head hurts,” Glitch informed him in an angry tone, not looking back, though he did stop walking. A moment later he sank to his knees, and sat down hard in a noisy crush of leaves.
Cain hurried forward, kneeling down behind him and catching him as he started to tip over. He moved his shoulder under Glitch’s head instinctively.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“My head hurts! I HATE IT WHEN MY HEAD HURTS!” Glitch shouted. It was startling to hear the soft-spoken man raise his voice, though he had heard a glimmer of that tone before, back in the wagon, when Glitch had warned him against being bitter and cynical. Cain suddenly remembered how Raw had mistaken them for Longcoats during their ruse earlier and hit Glitch with a wrench, and wondered if that was the problem.
He gingerly moved the dark hair back from the zigzagging metal teeth; Glitch yelped faintly and tried to twist away, but Cain had to harden his heart to it, hold on, and keep investigating. Some swelling had apparently developed over the last couple of hours, the skin around the aggravated zipper was discolored and painful-looking.
“All right, calm down,” he soothed. “We’ll get Raw to look at it.” His conscience gnawed at him, and he felt compelled to apologize. “I’m sorry we didn’t notice before, you seemed OK. And we were all sort of busy trying not to get killed.”
Glitch had stopped fighting him, and sagged against him, cheek against Cain’s shoulder. “Tired,” he groused faintly.
Normally Cain ignored the zipperhead’s naive complaints about how hungry or footsore he was, but Cain found that he could still be moved to pity, and that it hurt a little, somewhere in the region of the solar plexus.
“I know, Glitch,” he murmured. “You can sleep in a minute.” He was just contemplating whether to risk shouting for the others to come, or to try to walk Glitch back to camp, when a rustle of footsteps told him they were coming anyway, probably roused by Glitch’s shouting earlier. Indeed, Raw emerged from the trees first, followed by a slightly less stealthy DG, and then Tutor.
“What’s going on?” DG was the one to voice the collective question.
“The zipper. The wrench.” Cain explained tersely.
Raw growled in guilty alarm, and knelt down, DG dropped to her knees as well and gathered up Glitch’s hand. “Oh, Glitch, why didn’t you say something?” she asked him anxiously.
“I want some ice water,” Glitch pleaded suddenly.
“I’ll go get some water from the stream,” Tutor offered.
“Can you find it in the dark, old man?” Cain asked, in no mood for tact or another lost member of the group.
Tutor shot him a look that reminded Cain rather forcefully that he was talking to a shape shifter, and he didn’t ask again.
A moment later, Raw’s palms were resting gently over the back of Glitch’s head, DG was gripping his hand tenderly in both of hers, and Cain’s arms were wrapped tight around him. Raw was clearly concentrating, as he had done before with the fang bite, and Cain knew from experience that relief was imminent.
It was strange, Cain thought, watching his three companions in the moonlight, he’d initially cringed from Raw’s touch, he’d flinched from DG earlier when she’d flung her arms around him, feeling trapped and still unready for so much contact after such a long isolation. But they’d both edged him a little closer to humanity again, and now, with Glitch a heavy, helpless weight against him, he felt closer still, closer to having a heart that did more than just pump blood through his veins, closer to having…
Having what? What was this feeling? What were these people to him now, what had they become? A resistance unit, fighting the witch, surely. Friends? He could grant them that much at least, after all they’d been through together. Or was it becoming something more? He recoiled from the idea as soon as it suggested itself, determined not to let sentimentality and one overly trusting headcase curled against his chest muddle his thinking. He already had a family, thank you very much, even if they were gone, he couldn’t go getting past and present muddled up, couldn’t confuse his wife and son with the rag-tag group of misfits he’d somehow accumulated.
At this moment, Raw drew back his fingers, just as Tutor returned in careful silence. DG’s former teacher knelt stiffly, pressed the cup rim to Glitch’s mouth and helped him take a sip. “There you are, Advisor. Slowly, now.” The quiet dignity in the man’s voice reminded Cain that these two had been colleagues, once, a very long time ago. It was a strange thought, stranger still to imagine DG part of that royal circle as well.
The healing, together with their company and the cool water, finally seemed to soothe Glitch.
So much so, in fact, that he fell asleep before their eyes, leaving the rest of them wide-awake and stressed and unable to move without waking him. They all sat there as long as they could, until finally, Cain announced quietly he was going to have to lay him down. If they were going to stand a chance of getting through the Papay Fields again tomorrow, they would need to be rested and at the top of their game. Raw went for their things, what few they had, and they simply moved camp. Cain eased Glitch down onto his tattered red coat, cushioning his head with Raw’s folded fur jacket, and covering him with his own gray duster. The rest of the companions gradually settled, closer together than they had been before, Cain choosing his place last of all. He stretched out on the bare ground, with his back pressed lightly to Glitch’s, so that if he got up again during the rest of the night, Cain would know.
As their camp again sank into the even whispers of sleeping breath, Cain remained awake, his mind whirling with the things he’d seen today. Machines as big as houses and a dog who turned into a man and Longcoat armies more vast than he’d ever feared… but he kept going back to the image of Glitch, calmly and confidently taking out four opponents with a skillful grace Cain would never have expected of him.
He’d seriously misjudged the man. He was big enough to admit that. He’d thought no one in the O.Z. had made as big a sacrifice as he had, but he’d been wrong. He’d initially assumed that Glitch’s situation was his own doing, that his talk of being advisor to the queen had been the delusions of a criminal headcase, that was until he’d seen the painting in the palace, and more recently, the poster. Glitch had saved him from freezing anyway, even though Cain had been so gruff and unforgiving to him, had stood by DG even when she’d been confused and lost, believed the best in Raw even when evidence had suggested contrary…he’d even stood up for this Tutor person who’d just joined their path.
‘Mr. Suspicious’ Glitch had called him. Maybe he was, but he’d had cause to be. But not about Glitch. Not any more.
He finally let himself drop into an exhausted sleep, the warmth of another’s shoulder pressing against his a welcome patch of comfort in a chill night.
The following morning, Glitch was up with the sun, and greeted Cain with a charming grin, as Cain turned over and blinked up at him.
“The name’s Glitch,” the man informed him cheerfully. “Do I know you?”
This phenomenon didn’t faze Cain any longer; bizarre as it was, he knew the drill.
“Good Morning to you, too, Sweetheart,” Cain replied. And if he found his typical sardonic reply was tempered with a bit more sincerity than usual, he told himself this was only because he was so relieved to see Glitch back to his chipper self.
“Ah, Cain.” Glitch beamed down at him with pleased recognition. “I trust you slept well. There’s nothing like a night under the….” He glanced around then. “Um. Did you move some trees?”
“What?”
“Wasn’t there a purple maple…” he pointed upward uncertainly, and a little to the left.
Cain realized Glitch didn’t remember a thing about his middle of the night episode, or their change of campsite, but maybe it was better that way. It was easier for Cain, at any rate, to pretend it had never happened. He sat up. “Let’s get some breakfast started,” he suggested. “Why don’t you go wake up the others?” As he’d predicted, Glitch forgot all about trees and went over to rouse DG.
Cain gathered up the coats that Glitch had left scattered when he’d woken up.
He brushed leaves off the ragged red material with care. Maybe every bitter cynic needed a wide-eyed optimist around, and vice versa, just to keep things balanced. Maybe they were becoming something rather close to family.
Stranger things had happened.