"Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run"
Title: Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Cain, DG, Glitch, Raw, Tutor (includes other major and minor characters)
Pairing: Cain/DG
Rating: 14+ (subject to change)
Summary: The fade to black was merely the blink of an eye. Respite for only seconds. After all, the road is long.
Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: Cain watches as DG, Glitch, and Tutor are driven by devotion, guilt, and love in an ill-conceived attempt to help Lavender, though the woman sleeps on without hope of waking or recovery. However, one last obstacle stands between the companions and the answers they seek from the guild of the east.
Chapter Sixteen: Straight on 'til Morning
The Fields of the Papay. Again.
Cain had nothing against the place. Really. The Papay were gentle enough now, like they'd been when he was a boy. There was also no denying how beautiful the fields were this annual-time. The land had been dead and stark and bare a whole seven annuals before he'd gone into the suit; he'd come out to find nothing had changed.
Turned out all he'd needed to do was be a little patient.
In the days since they'd last passed through, the winds had scattered the dried petals across the surrounding lands; ten minutes prior to reaching the edge of the fields, the ground was covered in a fine layer of white that reminded him all too much of sugared snow. The bricks of the route had all but disappeared.
He didn't call them to a stop, not when the forest ceased so abruptly to give way to grassy meadow, nor when the ground became carpeted in so many felled petals. It was only when Glitch, in the lead, hesitated just beyond the first line of trees that Cain made a half-hearted excuse about resting the horses.
It'd be in everyone's best interest to get this figured out quick.
Never step off the Brick Route. The cardinal rule of making it safely through the Fields of the Papay; the only rule. He'd had it drummed into his brain as a child, as had every other youngster that had grown up in the Zone. Long before famine and war had driven the peaceful grangers of the field to predation, the Papay had been known as ill-tempered hosts, barely tolerating the presence of humans on their land. Attacks were uncommon and deaths were rare, but the well-travelled roadbed was a person's only hope of secure passage.
Then again, there was the addled notion of stepping off the route and cutting clear cross the fields to the northeast, easily shaving a full day off their journey and avoiding the long, open stretch of road that would carry them too near Central City. Sparse woods and a dozen different crossroads was more a risk - in Cain's mind, anyhow - than slipping through the very heart of the fields.
"We need to be thinking about staying as far as possible from the city," he said, once he had most all eyes on him.
"Well," said Glitch slowly, taking on the stance of a man who knew what he was talking about, arms across his chest and chin high, "we can get off the road once we're out of the southern expanse." He gave a little nod, a smug grin, waiting for Cain to agree with him. When he was greeted with a stony silence, the best Cain had without an ounce of effort, Glitch continued, sounding less certain. "We could find a smaller byway that doesn't take us so close to Central City as the route would."
Could, Cain thought, but won't.
"If we cut a path straight northeast," Cain said, "we can be on the far side before the suns come up."
Over the annuals, he would never ceased to be amazed at the honest faces of his friends; none could hide a thing. Oh, the girl tried as ever, and the headcase - former, yes - would slowly come to perfect a courtier's mask once again, but that day on the road, whether uncertainty or intrigue, he saw it all plain as day on their winter pale faces.
"It would make for a good short-cut," Glitch said, "no fuss, no muss."
DG's eyes were wide, and she regarded her friend as if his brain had gone absent again. "No muss? Are you kidding me?"
Cain hid a smirk, turning his head away on the pretence of watching deeper into the orchard. "Out of all of us, you're the one with the least to fret over, kiddo. Maybe the rest of us can bank on your good luck." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her wave him off.
"What does that mean?" she asked, just not to him.
Glitch stammered out an answer. "It means - well, it means the Papay will respect your magic. I think."
As Cain turned back, DG was looking round for Toto, but the mutt was nowhere to be found. At no point in the last ten minutes had he seen the shifter slip away; as the old man had decided to remain small and bothersome instead of, well, large and bothersome, Cain decided he really needed to keep a closer watch on him; he'd spend the better part of the night berating himself on it, in the end to no avail.
"I think if we're quiet and stick to the trails, the Papay'll give us plenty of space," Cain said.
However, it was Raw who did the convincing, climbing silently back into his saddle and watching the rest of them wordlessly, waiting for DG to lead so that he might follow. When the Viewer's eyes met his own, Cain could see enough confidence there to make him feel properly ashamed of his own desires to get this over and done. He clung hard and fast to the obligation of DG's safety. Told himself, however successfully, that it was the reason he'd remained, because she hadn't yet ordered him away.
"Whatever happened to slow and breathing?" was DG's only response as she clambered gracelessly into her saddle. She caught his eye, gave him a rueful smile.
Huh. Those sounded like his words. Funny how she had a way of spitting them back out at him.
Or not.
The suns were on the descent when they left the straight and narrow that was the Brick Route, heading east away from the glare, that lonely warmth on their backs a gentle guide. The eerie quiet that surrounded them was welcome, all the clop of hooves on brick long behind them.
As he rode, Cain couldn't recall such an early vibrancy amidst the trees; the leaves had begun to unfurl, the overreaching branches creating arches of spring green and lazy afternoon sunslight. The glimpses of sky were few and far between, the bright blue dulling as the hours passed. He saw no movement, no lurking shadow at the periphery of his vision to justify that creeping sensation of being watched, just that nag of an inkling that wouldn't let him be.
Strange, that a thriving orchard would set him so on edge as compared to the dessicated waste of an annual past - no, just eight and a half months. Did he feel more comfortable in such stark, empty places? What was it about second chances that made him mourn the loss of the first?
This was how the hours melted away, with more doubt and gnawing agitation than he'd forced himself to endure in a long, long time. If there was cause for reprieve, he paid it no mind; sometimes - well, sometimes, cause or not, a man could deny himself the easy way out.
As the afternoon turned to shade, the Papay began to better make known their presence, slinking across the trails far ahead; always just within sight, but too far off to be a concern. He said nothing to alert the others, no use in putting one more fear into their heads; he needn't question if they'd seen the glint of their eyes in the thickening blue, not a one of them would've kept it to themselves if they had.
It was a wayward path that they cut through the fields, occasionally altering their course when it seemed they were veering a little too far in the wrong direction. One trail blended into another, one monotonous, endless row after another. Nothing as far as he could see but twisted trunks and tangled branches, the quick glimpses of a scout far in the distant haze.
Night fell; summer darkness, incomplete. There was no absolute black, and seeing was less of a problem that he'd expected. The others followed behind him, each staying close to the bobbing silhouette just ahead. The only word he'd heard spoken in over six hours had come from DG, calling out "Toto!" when the mutt had finally made his reappearance. Every so often, he'd hear a grunt or snuff to indicate the damn dog was still bounding along beside them.
It all felt... not so bad.
Not so bad.
Perhaps it was a revelation, or as the headcase would've said, an epiphany. Perhaps he was just too damned tired to care about maintaining his disapprovals.
The others were in better spirits, and it would do him well to be around them. He'd been alone too long, locked up on that forsaken piece of land by the creek, the ruins of his former life gone but still haunting him, day after tormented day. He needed this, as much as they wanted him there. That wasn't to say he didn't still feel obligation tugging him ever forward. It was just a little less weight to carry.
And that, he found, wasn't so bad, either.
It was with no uncertain joy that their path finally intersected with the eastern stretch of the Brick Route, bringing their cross-country jaunt to an end. The Papay that had followed them through the fields also disappeared into the night, never to be heard by Cain's ears again so long as they were in the orchard. Perhaps - and maybe he was kidding himself by even considering - the scouts had led the way through the dark fields all along.
The end of the fields came without warning, as it ever did; the last row of trees behind them and the night sky opening up above them so suddenly that for a moment their vision was wholly overtaken by the infinity of the stars. Where he could not see, he knew the horizon was beginning to pale, but even the most reaching touch of day had yet to dim the brilliance of summer starlight. The kind of sight that stills the heart, the mind, brings the type of peace that can't be known in the harsh brightness of the twin suns.
The chatter picked up now, voices giddy and hoarse with exhaustion. A long slew of complaints from the lot of them; even the dog growled at him when he told them there was still a ways to go before they were done for the night. It was his every intention to get them as far off the route as possible, as lost in the woods as he could safely allow. They were still half a day from the lands of the eastern guild - the only full-blooded people of the true east, if you listened to their hot-headed puffery. All others - like himself - were usurpers, and unworthy.
He tried to banish such pestering thoughts as the sky lightened on him, drawing more griping from Glitch and DG as the birds nested in the trees above their heads began their incessant good-mornings. Soon now, soon.
Off the route they dismounted, and into the forest they walked their horses, surrounded by trees as straight and tall as the towers of the Shining City. These pines and their dropping needles meant the understory was bare, and the soft, dry soil masked all sounds of their footfalls, and those of the horses. It was uneven, treacherous going in the poor light; it seemed more than once that a thick, gnarled root lifted up and meant to catch his foot or turn his ankle. The occasional under-breath curse behind him, however, was cause enough to smile.
It was Toto who led the way to a clearing under a patch of open sky. Ere too long, he might be lounging back, watching the most earnest of those summer stars finally burn themselves out. It was possibilities like these that usually kept his legs moving that little while longer, as he managed the horses with Raw's help, settling them in for a bit of a rest. It was a bit of a trek for water, he told himself he needed to stretch his legs - besides, four horses and a Viewer weren't bad company, not at all.
Cain washed up in the river, throwing water on his face in a vain attempt to make himself feel a bit more human. Raw kneeled down beside him, washed as he had, keeping a close eye on the horses as they drank and wandered the small stretch of rocky beach.
Upon returning to the camp, they ate what DG had dug out for them. The morning was cold, but there was no need to bother with a fire. Without much in the way of conversation, the others spread out their sleeping rolls on whatever even ground they could find. A few mumbled 'good-nights' (despite the pale grey of the morning) and half-hearted complaints about the forest floor were all that reached Cain's ears as he settled himself back against a tree, stretched his legs out, and closed his eyes.
He fell asleep quickly, surrounded by the scents of pine and soil, the sound of the river barely audible but a comforting presence none the less. There were glimpses of a dream behind his eyes, familiar faces watching, when he awoke with a start.
It was DG that had awoken him with her restlessness, though she was trying to be quiet about it. He wasn't sure what it was he could sense in her, whether it be frustration or worry or even fear. Whatever it was, it was keeping her awake. With a quick upward glance at the sky - suns were coming up fast, their gold now spreading across the grey - he cleared his throat and called out to her, quietly as he could.
"Why all the squirming, kiddo?"
She turned toward him, eyes wide and ever open. "Did I wake you?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry."
And she was. The girl was sorry about too many damned things, and he was too soft to her for it. So, it was without surprise and only the slightest regret that he said, "What's vexing you tonight?"
"It's morning. The suns are coming up," she pointed out, deftly sidestepping his query.
He sighed, and with a moment's hesitation, patted the ground beside him. She was slow in disentangling herself from her sleeping roll, ambling over with dragging steps, but there was expectation in her sky eyes as she settled herself beside him. She angled herself so that she leaned back against his arm and shoulder, staring out into shaded morning gloom that could lay no claim to night nor day. If she was going to share her thoughts, she would not share her eyes, which read the truth, nor her mouth, which spoke with no need for words. He didn't know what to make of it, coming so close yet in the end still turning away.
"Your mind's a hundred miles away," he said quietly, now that she was beside him. "I don't think I need to tell you to find a way to bring it back."
She leaned into him a bit more, sighing as her head lolled back against his shoulder. "What're we doing out here, Cain?"
He bit his lip against the immediate, lashing response that wanted to rip into such a lament. Had they really come all this way under the banner of her uncertainty, her doubt? What happened to the steadfast resolve that had become as much a part of her as anything?
Painful part was, he was going to have to give her an answer. Those eyes came back to him, seeking some unknown truth from him, Wyatt Cain, the most unworthy.
So, he did the only sensible thing a man in his position would do. He played her game of avoidance, turnabout being fair play and all. "Darlin', what is it you're trying to achieve from all this?"
"Why do you keep calling me darling?"
"Why haven't you got a clue what you're getting yourself into?"
"Because we've got enough clues between the five of us to figure it all out," she said, hard and simple and by far the most reasonable thing he'd ever heard her say. He looked down at her, curled against him, and considered. DG, however, wasn't to be content with such quiet thoughts; she turned around to face him, twisting about on him too quickly for him to wipe the half-smile off his face. "Now are you going to answer my question?"
He chose carefully; she'd asked two, after all. "What are we doing out here."
She frowned, and sank back against him once again. "I changed my mind, I don't want to know what you think."
"You already know what I think," he said, smirking. He lowered his chin to rest on top of her head. "You need to stop thinkin' so hard. The only place your feet are gonna lead is where they ought to. The rest of us don't mind keepin' up."
She was still under the press of his chin into her hair; she didn't stiffen, and that was something, but for her to relax against him just that little bit more was a greater comfort to him than he'd ever admit aloud.
"There's so little time, Cain. What if we go all the way for nothing?" she asked, her voice growing tinier for all her big questions. "What if in the end I really can't help my mother?"
"Then you're gonna know you did everything you could. And we will," he said firmly.
She nodded. "Maybe."
There was more to be said. More than even he could give her. There was a promise to be made, one that should have been given as easily as breathing. Who was he to withhold such a small favour? The words wouldn't come, stuck in his throat, broken pieces of himself he'd once upon a time thrown so freely at those he loved. Here he was, rusted and used and obliged to this girl, and he couldn't bring himself to say, I promise.
"Thanks, Cain," she said quietly, and she turned to smile up at him. He gave her a nod, unable to give her a smile in return, and missing the warmth of her against him. He watched as she went back to her sleeping roll, as she crawled in and ultimately stilled, slept.
How he wished he could follow her into such peace.
Author's Note: Just a quick thank-you-I-love-you-you-guys-are-awesome to everyone who let me know what they thought about my... proposed new project. I suppose my worries about over-doing it with my Emerald series were unfounded. The muse has locked herself away, and she said she'll 'call me'. At least she left the notes for the rest of this story.
Table Of Contents
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten
Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen
Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty
Twenty One - Twenty Two - Twenty Three - Twenty Four - Twenty Five
Twenty Six - Twenty Seven - Twenty Eight - Twenty Nine - Thirty
Thirty One - Thirty Two - Thirty Three - Thirty Four - Thirty Five
Thirty Six - Thirty Seven - Thirty Eight - Thirty Nine - Forty
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Cain, DG, Glitch, Raw, Tutor (includes other major and minor characters)
Pairing: Cain/DG
Rating: 14+ (subject to change)
Summary: The fade to black was merely the blink of an eye. Respite for only seconds. After all, the road is long.
Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: Cain watches as DG, Glitch, and Tutor are driven by devotion, guilt, and love in an ill-conceived attempt to help Lavender, though the woman sleeps on without hope of waking or recovery. However, one last obstacle stands between the companions and the answers they seek from the guild of the east.
Chapter Sixteen: Straight on 'til Morning
The Fields of the Papay. Again.
Cain had nothing against the place. Really. The Papay were gentle enough now, like they'd been when he was a boy. There was also no denying how beautiful the fields were this annual-time. The land had been dead and stark and bare a whole seven annuals before he'd gone into the suit; he'd come out to find nothing had changed.
Turned out all he'd needed to do was be a little patient.
In the days since they'd last passed through, the winds had scattered the dried petals across the surrounding lands; ten minutes prior to reaching the edge of the fields, the ground was covered in a fine layer of white that reminded him all too much of sugared snow. The bricks of the route had all but disappeared.
He didn't call them to a stop, not when the forest ceased so abruptly to give way to grassy meadow, nor when the ground became carpeted in so many felled petals. It was only when Glitch, in the lead, hesitated just beyond the first line of trees that Cain made a half-hearted excuse about resting the horses.
It'd be in everyone's best interest to get this figured out quick.
Never step off the Brick Route. The cardinal rule of making it safely through the Fields of the Papay; the only rule. He'd had it drummed into his brain as a child, as had every other youngster that had grown up in the Zone. Long before famine and war had driven the peaceful grangers of the field to predation, the Papay had been known as ill-tempered hosts, barely tolerating the presence of humans on their land. Attacks were uncommon and deaths were rare, but the well-travelled roadbed was a person's only hope of secure passage.
Then again, there was the addled notion of stepping off the route and cutting clear cross the fields to the northeast, easily shaving a full day off their journey and avoiding the long, open stretch of road that would carry them too near Central City. Sparse woods and a dozen different crossroads was more a risk - in Cain's mind, anyhow - than slipping through the very heart of the fields.
"We need to be thinking about staying as far as possible from the city," he said, once he had most all eyes on him.
"Well," said Glitch slowly, taking on the stance of a man who knew what he was talking about, arms across his chest and chin high, "we can get off the road once we're out of the southern expanse." He gave a little nod, a smug grin, waiting for Cain to agree with him. When he was greeted with a stony silence, the best Cain had without an ounce of effort, Glitch continued, sounding less certain. "We could find a smaller byway that doesn't take us so close to Central City as the route would."
Could, Cain thought, but won't.
"If we cut a path straight northeast," Cain said, "we can be on the far side before the suns come up."
Over the annuals, he would never ceased to be amazed at the honest faces of his friends; none could hide a thing. Oh, the girl tried as ever, and the headcase - former, yes - would slowly come to perfect a courtier's mask once again, but that day on the road, whether uncertainty or intrigue, he saw it all plain as day on their winter pale faces.
"It would make for a good short-cut," Glitch said, "no fuss, no muss."
DG's eyes were wide, and she regarded her friend as if his brain had gone absent again. "No muss? Are you kidding me?"
Cain hid a smirk, turning his head away on the pretence of watching deeper into the orchard. "Out of all of us, you're the one with the least to fret over, kiddo. Maybe the rest of us can bank on your good luck." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her wave him off.
"What does that mean?" she asked, just not to him.
Glitch stammered out an answer. "It means - well, it means the Papay will respect your magic. I think."
As Cain turned back, DG was looking round for Toto, but the mutt was nowhere to be found. At no point in the last ten minutes had he seen the shifter slip away; as the old man had decided to remain small and bothersome instead of, well, large and bothersome, Cain decided he really needed to keep a closer watch on him; he'd spend the better part of the night berating himself on it, in the end to no avail.
"I think if we're quiet and stick to the trails, the Papay'll give us plenty of space," Cain said.
However, it was Raw who did the convincing, climbing silently back into his saddle and watching the rest of them wordlessly, waiting for DG to lead so that he might follow. When the Viewer's eyes met his own, Cain could see enough confidence there to make him feel properly ashamed of his own desires to get this over and done. He clung hard and fast to the obligation of DG's safety. Told himself, however successfully, that it was the reason he'd remained, because she hadn't yet ordered him away.
"Whatever happened to slow and breathing?" was DG's only response as she clambered gracelessly into her saddle. She caught his eye, gave him a rueful smile.
Huh. Those sounded like his words. Funny how she had a way of spitting them back out at him.
Or not.
The suns were on the descent when they left the straight and narrow that was the Brick Route, heading east away from the glare, that lonely warmth on their backs a gentle guide. The eerie quiet that surrounded them was welcome, all the clop of hooves on brick long behind them.
As he rode, Cain couldn't recall such an early vibrancy amidst the trees; the leaves had begun to unfurl, the overreaching branches creating arches of spring green and lazy afternoon sunslight. The glimpses of sky were few and far between, the bright blue dulling as the hours passed. He saw no movement, no lurking shadow at the periphery of his vision to justify that creeping sensation of being watched, just that nag of an inkling that wouldn't let him be.
Strange, that a thriving orchard would set him so on edge as compared to the dessicated waste of an annual past - no, just eight and a half months. Did he feel more comfortable in such stark, empty places? What was it about second chances that made him mourn the loss of the first?
This was how the hours melted away, with more doubt and gnawing agitation than he'd forced himself to endure in a long, long time. If there was cause for reprieve, he paid it no mind; sometimes - well, sometimes, cause or not, a man could deny himself the easy way out.
As the afternoon turned to shade, the Papay began to better make known their presence, slinking across the trails far ahead; always just within sight, but too far off to be a concern. He said nothing to alert the others, no use in putting one more fear into their heads; he needn't question if they'd seen the glint of their eyes in the thickening blue, not a one of them would've kept it to themselves if they had.
It was a wayward path that they cut through the fields, occasionally altering their course when it seemed they were veering a little too far in the wrong direction. One trail blended into another, one monotonous, endless row after another. Nothing as far as he could see but twisted trunks and tangled branches, the quick glimpses of a scout far in the distant haze.
Night fell; summer darkness, incomplete. There was no absolute black, and seeing was less of a problem that he'd expected. The others followed behind him, each staying close to the bobbing silhouette just ahead. The only word he'd heard spoken in over six hours had come from DG, calling out "Toto!" when the mutt had finally made his reappearance. Every so often, he'd hear a grunt or snuff to indicate the damn dog was still bounding along beside them.
It all felt... not so bad.
Not so bad.
Perhaps it was a revelation, or as the headcase would've said, an epiphany. Perhaps he was just too damned tired to care about maintaining his disapprovals.
The others were in better spirits, and it would do him well to be around them. He'd been alone too long, locked up on that forsaken piece of land by the creek, the ruins of his former life gone but still haunting him, day after tormented day. He needed this, as much as they wanted him there. That wasn't to say he didn't still feel obligation tugging him ever forward. It was just a little less weight to carry.
And that, he found, wasn't so bad, either.
It was with no uncertain joy that their path finally intersected with the eastern stretch of the Brick Route, bringing their cross-country jaunt to an end. The Papay that had followed them through the fields also disappeared into the night, never to be heard by Cain's ears again so long as they were in the orchard. Perhaps - and maybe he was kidding himself by even considering - the scouts had led the way through the dark fields all along.
The end of the fields came without warning, as it ever did; the last row of trees behind them and the night sky opening up above them so suddenly that for a moment their vision was wholly overtaken by the infinity of the stars. Where he could not see, he knew the horizon was beginning to pale, but even the most reaching touch of day had yet to dim the brilliance of summer starlight. The kind of sight that stills the heart, the mind, brings the type of peace that can't be known in the harsh brightness of the twin suns.
The chatter picked up now, voices giddy and hoarse with exhaustion. A long slew of complaints from the lot of them; even the dog growled at him when he told them there was still a ways to go before they were done for the night. It was his every intention to get them as far off the route as possible, as lost in the woods as he could safely allow. They were still half a day from the lands of the eastern guild - the only full-blooded people of the true east, if you listened to their hot-headed puffery. All others - like himself - were usurpers, and unworthy.
He tried to banish such pestering thoughts as the sky lightened on him, drawing more griping from Glitch and DG as the birds nested in the trees above their heads began their incessant good-mornings. Soon now, soon.
Off the route they dismounted, and into the forest they walked their horses, surrounded by trees as straight and tall as the towers of the Shining City. These pines and their dropping needles meant the understory was bare, and the soft, dry soil masked all sounds of their footfalls, and those of the horses. It was uneven, treacherous going in the poor light; it seemed more than once that a thick, gnarled root lifted up and meant to catch his foot or turn his ankle. The occasional under-breath curse behind him, however, was cause enough to smile.
It was Toto who led the way to a clearing under a patch of open sky. Ere too long, he might be lounging back, watching the most earnest of those summer stars finally burn themselves out. It was possibilities like these that usually kept his legs moving that little while longer, as he managed the horses with Raw's help, settling them in for a bit of a rest. It was a bit of a trek for water, he told himself he needed to stretch his legs - besides, four horses and a Viewer weren't bad company, not at all.
Cain washed up in the river, throwing water on his face in a vain attempt to make himself feel a bit more human. Raw kneeled down beside him, washed as he had, keeping a close eye on the horses as they drank and wandered the small stretch of rocky beach.
Upon returning to the camp, they ate what DG had dug out for them. The morning was cold, but there was no need to bother with a fire. Without much in the way of conversation, the others spread out their sleeping rolls on whatever even ground they could find. A few mumbled 'good-nights' (despite the pale grey of the morning) and half-hearted complaints about the forest floor were all that reached Cain's ears as he settled himself back against a tree, stretched his legs out, and closed his eyes.
He fell asleep quickly, surrounded by the scents of pine and soil, the sound of the river barely audible but a comforting presence none the less. There were glimpses of a dream behind his eyes, familiar faces watching, when he awoke with a start.
It was DG that had awoken him with her restlessness, though she was trying to be quiet about it. He wasn't sure what it was he could sense in her, whether it be frustration or worry or even fear. Whatever it was, it was keeping her awake. With a quick upward glance at the sky - suns were coming up fast, their gold now spreading across the grey - he cleared his throat and called out to her, quietly as he could.
"Why all the squirming, kiddo?"
She turned toward him, eyes wide and ever open. "Did I wake you?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry."
And she was. The girl was sorry about too many damned things, and he was too soft to her for it. So, it was without surprise and only the slightest regret that he said, "What's vexing you tonight?"
"It's morning. The suns are coming up," she pointed out, deftly sidestepping his query.
He sighed, and with a moment's hesitation, patted the ground beside him. She was slow in disentangling herself from her sleeping roll, ambling over with dragging steps, but there was expectation in her sky eyes as she settled herself beside him. She angled herself so that she leaned back against his arm and shoulder, staring out into shaded morning gloom that could lay no claim to night nor day. If she was going to share her thoughts, she would not share her eyes, which read the truth, nor her mouth, which spoke with no need for words. He didn't know what to make of it, coming so close yet in the end still turning away.
"Your mind's a hundred miles away," he said quietly, now that she was beside him. "I don't think I need to tell you to find a way to bring it back."
She leaned into him a bit more, sighing as her head lolled back against his shoulder. "What're we doing out here, Cain?"
He bit his lip against the immediate, lashing response that wanted to rip into such a lament. Had they really come all this way under the banner of her uncertainty, her doubt? What happened to the steadfast resolve that had become as much a part of her as anything?
Painful part was, he was going to have to give her an answer. Those eyes came back to him, seeking some unknown truth from him, Wyatt Cain, the most unworthy.
So, he did the only sensible thing a man in his position would do. He played her game of avoidance, turnabout being fair play and all. "Darlin', what is it you're trying to achieve from all this?"
"Why do you keep calling me darling?"
"Why haven't you got a clue what you're getting yourself into?"
"Because we've got enough clues between the five of us to figure it all out," she said, hard and simple and by far the most reasonable thing he'd ever heard her say. He looked down at her, curled against him, and considered. DG, however, wasn't to be content with such quiet thoughts; she turned around to face him, twisting about on him too quickly for him to wipe the half-smile off his face. "Now are you going to answer my question?"
He chose carefully; she'd asked two, after all. "What are we doing out here."
She frowned, and sank back against him once again. "I changed my mind, I don't want to know what you think."
"You already know what I think," he said, smirking. He lowered his chin to rest on top of her head. "You need to stop thinkin' so hard. The only place your feet are gonna lead is where they ought to. The rest of us don't mind keepin' up."
She was still under the press of his chin into her hair; she didn't stiffen, and that was something, but for her to relax against him just that little bit more was a greater comfort to him than he'd ever admit aloud.
"There's so little time, Cain. What if we go all the way for nothing?" she asked, her voice growing tinier for all her big questions. "What if in the end I really can't help my mother?"
"Then you're gonna know you did everything you could. And we will," he said firmly.
She nodded. "Maybe."
There was more to be said. More than even he could give her. There was a promise to be made, one that should have been given as easily as breathing. Who was he to withhold such a small favour? The words wouldn't come, stuck in his throat, broken pieces of himself he'd once upon a time thrown so freely at those he loved. Here he was, rusted and used and obliged to this girl, and he couldn't bring himself to say, I promise.
"Thanks, Cain," she said quietly, and she turned to smile up at him. He gave her a nod, unable to give her a smile in return, and missing the warmth of her against him. He watched as she went back to her sleeping roll, as she crawled in and ultimately stilled, slept.
How he wished he could follow her into such peace.
Author's Note: Just a quick thank-you-I-love-you-you-guys-are-awesome to everyone who let me know what they thought about my... proposed new project. I suppose my worries about over-doing it with my Emerald series were unfounded. The muse has locked herself away, and she said she'll 'call me'. At least she left the notes for the rest of this story.
Table Of Contents
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten
Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen
Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty
Twenty One - Twenty Two - Twenty Three - Twenty Four - Twenty Five
Twenty Six - Twenty Seven - Twenty Eight - Twenty Nine - Thirty
Thirty One - Thirty Two - Thirty Three - Thirty Four - Thirty Five
Thirty Six - Thirty Seven - Thirty Eight - Thirty Nine - Forty