"Of Light" - 43+44/45

[rissy_james]

Title:  Of Light
Author:  Rissy James
Rating:  M (overall)
Pairing:  Cain/DG, eventual Jeb/Az
Summary:  The Emerald must be returned to its guardian, and DG is left behind.  When a generations-old threat resurfaces, she must gather more than her courage to save her sister, and to find Wyatt Cain.
Extras: "Of Light" trailer on youtube; Cast Pictures on Livejournal

Warning:  "M" rated material abound - consider yourself warned :P


Of Light

Chapter Forty Three

“This isn't exactly what I meant, Cain,” DG said glumly, plopping down onto the bench she'd found herself led to. Their usual mixture of Cain's careful, cautious planning and her blind luck had got them out the front gate. However, he'd only led her around the corner before stopping at the bench. The perimeter fence was at her back, along with a tall hedge with obstructed any and all view of the courtyard and driveway.

Cain stood over her, his fists on his hips. Damn, she thought, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

“What do you want, DG?” he asked her bluntly.

Her mouth fell open as she considered him, and what he meant by this. He watched her, no hidden meanings in his blue eyes, only his simple question. She sighed. “I want to leave Princess Dorothy Gale in the palace for a while. I want to be able to touch you and lay with you afterwards,” she said. She blushed when his gaze fell to the side, and she was almost certain that he might be blushing, too. “I want some time alone with you before you go. Any of those, I'll take,” she finished, and dared to let her head fall to the side so she might get a better look of his face underneath the brim of his hat.

Cain sighed. Yes, this was his DG; she never seemed to want small, attainable things. The corner of his mouth twitched as he noticed her watching him expectantly.

“Don't leave my side,” he said quietly, “and do not speak to anyone. And don't argue with me when its time to come back here, either.” His stony face warned her not to question him; she felt her own face wipe blank at his seriousness. Mustering what she could, she nodded.

The maze of streets he led her down left her confused. She walked close behind him, paying close attention to every move he made so she might be ready when he tugged at her hand or held out an arm for her to stop - which he did a lot. She might have been just a girl off the farm, but she could walk a city street, thank you. Still, she followed him without a word, shrinking close whenever they passed a stranger, the black felt cloche hat turning her into just another person in just another place. She could have been anyone, and she loved it. No one they met paid them any attention at all.

Eventually, a narrow alley led to a metal door set in a damp brick wall that groaned loudly when opened. She was ushered into a short hallway, and then up two flights of stairs. It was dismal and old, but well lit and clean.

The apartment he opened up for her was small and mostly empty. She looked around as he bolted the door - she heard three separate locks. A hazy pink light shone in the window from the street; Cain made no move for a light switch. Seemingly uncomfortable, he cleared his throat as he removed his hat and duster.

DG took this as a cue to speak; butterflies were flitting nervously in her stomach. “Thank you,” she breathed, finding she had precious little else to say.

“Its not much,” he said; he was turned away from her, and for some reason, this was unacceptable. She crossed the room and placed her hand on his arm.

“I like it here,” she said quietly. “Its Spartan. Its perfect. I feel like I can breathe.”

Cain raised an eyebrow. “Spartan?”

Her eyes sparkled merrily, though in the dim light, the playfulness was lost. “Yeah... like simple and disciplined. Its very you.” She laughed, her fingers brushing his forearm, the stiff material of his shirt.

Wyatt's eyes seemed colorless in the dim light. He looked down at the hand that had touched him, at the young woman he'd somehow managed to fall in love with. Somehow, once again, she'd caught him. Somehow, he did love her, despite all the difficulties it presented. She was as much a part of him as Adora had been, and still was. Impossible, but true.

On the road to the Gale, somewhere their desire for one another had overcome them, and their bodies had tried to tell them what their heads and hearts were still trying to grasp.

He didn't know how to pinpoint quite when he'd realized he'd fallen in love with his princess; somewhere during the ten hours in the truck, while she'd slept with her head in his lap, he'd felt it. Somewhere during the three day separation when he'd traveled south alone, he'd known it. As readily as the words had fallen from her lips, so had they from his.

And now, here she was. Standing before him in the dark, completely herself and not everything else that came with it; she was solely his, even if it was only for a few short hours.

“Say something, would you?” DG asked him in a shaky voice.

Cain realized he'd been staring at her. Instead of speaking, he plucked the hat off her head and placed it on the table. Silhouetted against the triangle of light cast by the window, they stood apart.

She made the next move, simply because she couldn't stand the intensity of his gaze any longer. She took a confident step forward, closing all space between them; her hands went to his elbows, locked at his side, as her lips moved to the underside of his jaw, leading a trail of tender kisses to his ear.

“Wyatt,” she whispered; his name sliding between her sweet lips seemed to want to undo him.

He moaned low in response, so low that she barely heard it, though she felt the resonance in his chest against her own as she pressed herself to him. His hands caught her by the hips, splaying his hands over her; his thumbs caught the edge of her shirt, slipping underneath to brush her skin.

She laid her head on his shoulder as her arms snaked around his neck; her fingers came to rest on the back of his neck, nails stroking his muscles, his skin feeling flushed underneath of her touch. When he pulled away from her, her eyebrows drew together as she looked at him curiously, worried, but Cain only took her by the hand and led her wordlessly into the bedroom. When the door was shut behind them, within seconds she found herself pushed gently against it. He leaned down, his broad body covering her slender one; the kiss he gave her sucked all the breath from her body.

Impatient for him, she tore her own shirt over her head, dropping it at their feet as her hands returned to his neck, yanking him towards her for another kiss; his tongue proved dominance over hers as his hands slid down her shoulders, the roughness of them poorly hiding the absolute gentleness of his touch. He made quick work of her bra, and it soon joined her shirt on the floor. She knew she should feel utterly exposed, but the icy blue gaze that swept over her was warm, loving, and she couldn't shy away from it.

Cain watched her as she worked the buttons of his shirt, as she revealed slowly his chest; with every button opened, she placed kisses on his skin, his chest hair tickling her nose until she was grinning. When she had it completely undone, and she'd pressed her lips to the trail that led below his navel, he growled and jerked her upwards.

“Whats wrong?” she asked, the smile wiping from her face as she found herself pressed up against the door again.

“Lets take this slow, Sweetheart,” he said simply, placing small, feathery kisses to her bare shoulder. With a moan, she melted against him, the feel of his hard chest against her breasts making her mind spin, and a low heat begin to pool somewhere near her knees. She gasped when he swept her up easily, carrying her the few feet to his narrow bed. He laid her down carefully, toeing off his boots before stretching out beside her; she followed his lead and kicked off her shoes, listening to the thud as they hit the floor.

Both half naked, they took their time. Her fingers danced over the red scar he'd gotten during the Eclipse, and he hissed at the memory. When she tried to press him to the bed so she might climb onto his lap, he shook his head and plied a kiss to her lips, rolling her onto her own back.

Hours, it seemed, he spent learning her; his mouth left hers to follow an invisible trail; down her neck to the hollow of her throat, down her chest until his tongue was skating circles around her breast. She arched into him, encouraging him with a low moan. Though he took the time to brush his thumb over her nipple, causing her to cry out, his mouth continued south, over the dip and curve of her belly; he straddled her legs to unfasten her pants. Hooking his fingers into her underwear, he pulled both articles of clothing down and off her hips. She lifted up, pulling her legs free of the material, faintly registering that it hit the floor.

When his lips gently kissed her hipbone, she grabbed a handful of sheet and bedspread; when his head lowered to her inner thigh, his kiss hotter, wetter, she squeaked. His hand ran up her opposite leg from her knee to the upper crease of her thigh, and instinctively, she jerked her legs up, holding her thighs together. Cain chuckled, and with a sigh, pressed his face into her belly.

“I'm sorry,” DG said, clearing her throat. “I just - well... I -” She didn't quite know what to say.

“Its okay, Darlin',” he muttered against her, before pushing himself away from the bed; she sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees as he stood to remove his pants. Her blue eyes watched him carefully, eyebrows perking as he smirked at her; her eyes fell away in the same moment his pants did, and she felt herself blush. Why, she wasn't quite sure, but her reaction made him smile. The show of teeth, the easy way he moved around her, revealed himself to her, felt strange, but oddly right.

Her pulse quickened when he returned to her side, stretching out beside her; he immediately entangled his leg between hers, spreading open her thighs so he might run a hand down her stomach, in between her legs to the heat he found there; seeking what would make her cry out, he rubbed a finger against her tiny bundle of nerves, sensation shooting up and down her frame until she was arching against him again. His erection pushed insistently at her hip as she managed to get an arm around his neck; she hauled Cain down to her, her lips finding his and her tongue darting dangerously into his mouth. He groaned.

“Want you,” she whimpered against his neck, as his thumb replaced the pressure on her, so his fingers could slide down, slip into her. Her head thrashed as he began to drive her upwards, his strokes long and slow, his clever thumb keeping an easy pace.

“You got me, DG,” he said raggedly; he was beginning to pant with his control as he pleasured her. She growled at him then, and the sound shot straight to his groin; she was the most impatient woman he'd ever encountered, and by the Gods, he loved her for it. There was no subtlety or restraint, only open honesty with DG.

She whimpered at the loss as he pulled his hand away. Cain slipped between her thighs, and taking himself in hand, rubbed against her entrance. She hooked a leg around his waist, urging him forward with silent pleas. Groaning, he rocked into her, inch by inch, until he'd filled her completely. The sigh that escaped her washed over him, and he lowered his body to hers, bracing himself with an elbow as he kissed her tenderly.

Slowly, they moved together; his hands caressed her breasts and neck, eliciting happy hums from her as her legs tucked up against either side of his torso. The deeper he went, the more her back arched, until he raised up on his knees to thrust into her, the soft mewls coming from her spurring him on. He knew he'd hit his mark when she jerked violently, and she cried out “Wyatt!”

Cain held her by the waist, pushing into her and in the same moment pulling her to him. Her hands were fisting at the sheets beside her head, as she completely lost herself in his loving; her breathing began to hitch as he felt her tightness begin to pulse, wrapping so hot around him that he knew he wouldn't be far behind. His pace quickened, his thrusts driving into her harder and faster until the princess under his hands nearly lifted off the bed with a shuddering cry. She clamped down hard, the entirety of her body shaking.

Her arms went about his neck, weakly holding him to her as he moved within her; he returned to the slow strokes of their beginning, her quivering muscles dragging his release from him as he spilled out into her, his fingers digging into her flesh almost to the point of bruising.

Falling heavily beside her, he managed to get a blanket over top of them as she snuggled into the cradle of his arms, her warm, playful lips pressing kisses to his hot, sweaty neck. “Mmm,” she whispered, before letting her tongue risk a taste of his salty skin. “I love you.”

Breathlessly, Cain grunted. “Love you too, Darlin'.”

DG smiled into his neck, and closed her eyes.

Friday morning, Azkadellia took breakfast by herself in her sitting room. It was something she missed of the old life, though it was practically the only thing: the solitude, the quiet, private life the Sorceress had led. She hated the old Witch with every fiber of her body, but in that, they were the same. Sometimes, a girl just wanted to be alone.

At the very thought, there was a knock on the door. It was hurried, and erratic. Az smiled.

“Come in, DG,” she called out.

The younger princess poked her head into the room. “Are you busy?” she asked, meekly.

Azkadellia shook her head, placing her glass of juice on the table. “No,” she said. “Come in here, though. Don't leave the door open.”

DG came into the room properly, and shut the door behind her. “Ooh, breakfast,” she said gleefully, as she plopped down into the chair next to her sister, and studied the food on the table. She chose a roll, still slightly warm from the oven, and tore off a piece. Az watched as her sister stuffed the piece of bread into her mouth, nodding slowly in both acceptance and awe.

DG realized Az was watching her. “What?” she asked, after swallowing her bread.

“You're lucky.” There was something strange in Az's voice.

DG cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

Az cleared her throat, straightening in her chair before speaking. “You're lucky,” she repeated. “After the conference last night, I went to your room to see how it went.”

The smile fell from DG's face, replaced by a look of fear, which she quickly quashed, trying to slip on a mask of interest, as if Az had just started up a conversation about the procedure of approaching a Qualdin warrior on the subject of spear-making.

Azkadellia's lips curved into a smile as she watched panic flutter into her sister's eyes, despite the younger girl's attempt to make her face look innocent. “The guard didn't even know you weren't in your room, DG. I told him you were sleeping, when I came out. Where did you go?”

DG pursed her lips together, glancing nervously at the door, and then back at her sister. “I snuck out for a couple of hours. I wasn't back late. Just a little past midnight.”

Az shook her head. “I don't even want to know how you managed to make it off the grounds, DG. And you shouldn't be putting Captain Cain in such a position, either. You could get him into a lot of trouble.”

“How do you know it was Cain?” DG asked defensively, but when Az looked at her with skepticism, she relented. “Well no, thats good, because now I don't actually have to tell you about him myself.” DG looked relieved. “And its not going to happen again, Az. I just... I just wanted a couple of hours, thats all. I promise, no more sneaking off.”

Az nodded, trying to look like she believed her sister. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, DG found her voice again and took a deep breath. “Az?”

Azkadellia looked at her sister expectantly. “Yes?”

DG ran her tongue over her bottom lip nervously. “Um... can I ask you a question?”

Az rarely saw DG look as agitated as she did now. Reaching across the table, she took her sister's hand in hers, stopping DG from tugging at a loose thread on the tablecloth. “What is it?”

DG cleared her throat, and looked down into her lap. “Well...” she began, and slowly the words formed. “Is there anything I can do about... well... not getting in a...” DG paused, and dared to peek at her sister. Az was watching her with complete amusement. DG felt a surge of embarrassment. When she and Emily had had this conversation on the Other Side, she was thirteen, and it hadn't been this complicated. Maybe because then there hadn't been anyone in her life, and the entire conversation had been hypothetical. Now, she knew her sister was thinking of Cain and she almost wanted to cry at the unfairness of this. “I don't want to get pregnant, Az,” DG finished lamely. “Is there anything I can do?”

Azkadellia cleared her throat, and took a moment before she responded. “You could try not having sex.”

DG sighed, and fell back into her chair. “Next.”

Az smiled; somehow, DG always managed to make her smile. “You could try using your magic, but I don't think that you're as advanced as that yet. So you might try visiting an herbalist. I think most people use a fennel tea of sorts. I think the seeds are involved, but I'm not sure. You could ask Ambrose, I'm sure he'd know,” she said teasingly, enjoying it immensely when DG's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

“I am not talking to Glitch about birth control, all right?” DG said fiercely. Az only nodded.

The conversation seemed at an end. With a sigh, forgetting about the spread of food on the table, DG got up and began to wander her sister's sitting room. Her fingers delicately traced over the ornaments on the tables, picking on or two up to turn over in her hands.

“How come you're making Jeb sit out in the hallway?” DG asked absently as she wandered over to the window.

“Sometimes I like to sit by myself,” Az said with a shrug. When her sister's blue eyes shot towards her, Az gave a comforting smile. “I don't mind that you're here, DG, don't worry.”

DG had moved out of Az's sight when she gave a startled cry. Az turned around, and froze when she saw DG standing over the desk, a piece of paper clutched in her hands. With her mouth opened in an 'O' of surprise, the younger princess turned the sheet over, revealing to Az what it said.

“Is this for real?” DG asked.

Az slowly nodded. “I'm afraid so.”

DG turned the paper in her hands again, her eyes scanning every word and picture on it. Her heart had plummeted into her stomach, where it sank in a sickening feeling, a mixture of dread, uncertainty, and cold, hard understanding. She was shaking her head, and her eyes brimming with tears when it hit her.

No, he'd never lied to her. Not once, ever. But sometimes, DG realized, even a Tin Man didn't tell the whole truth.

When DG had gone from the room, Jeb came in from the hallway. Az had moved to the balcony, and was staring over the edge, out at the city beyond the courtyard. His steps slowed when he approached her. Out here, in plain view, he would not touch her, but oh, she wished he would.

“You were right,” Az said softly when she heard him approach. “She's in love.”

“So is he,” was Jeb's only response. Az found she had nothing to say in response to this; their secret was only a secret because the relationship between them would only complicate things between Wyatt Cain and her sister; the affection and obvious desire she felt for Jeb was very little next to the unrestrained love that could easily be detected between the Captain and the youngest princess. Jeb and Az would hide, simply because Cain and DG would be unable to.

“She left in a hurry,” Jeb said carefully, referring to DG with a tactful change of subject.

Az only nodded, not turning to look at him. “Did she say anything?”

Jeb sighed. “No, but I saw what she took with her.”

“You're going to be leaving soon, too, aren't you?” Az queried softly.

“Eventually. Not just yet.”

Azkadellia nodded. This new problem was one that chilled her to her very core; this danger that presented itself to Azkadellia and Jeb both, though the strong emotions they both felt paled in comparison of even each other. He would leave her to fight this battle far away, and she would stay in the city and use the power of her position and her family to battle it from home.

It had dropped on them without warning, and the waves had already begun to rock them all.

Chapter Forty Four

DG spent most of her afternoon simmering quietly by herself. To say she had been angry when she found out was an understatement; she didn't know why she'd had such a strong reaction - in all honesty, the news didn't surprise her. Cain would have learned this upon their return to Central City, perhaps sooner if one of the soldiers assisting in their rescue had spoken of it.

The date on the poster was two weeks old, but she hoped this conspicuous timing was coincidental. Though she'd calmed down over the hours since the accidental discovery of the poster, and she'd had no reason to become so incensed over the news, it hurt that Cain hadn't told her himself.

Oh, she'd already figured out easily why he hadn't. He'd told her he was tracking down Longcoats; the finer details were irrelevant. He would have thought she had so much on her plate, the stress of daily life and now the added strain of their imprisonment and escape, their journey, and all the places the Old Road had yet to take them. Cain, though with honorable intentions, kept the news from her simply because he thought he'd try to keep her life a little sunnier a little longer.

It had taken a couple hours for that to sink in, and it was probably better for them both that she'd had the chance to cool off. Where as before she'd wanted to get her hands onto him, simply to stare him in the eye and ask him how he could expect honesty without giving it; now, she only wanted to hide from him, because with the tempering of her rage had come the guilt, as it always came, to lay squarely on her shoulders.

DG was curled up in a chair in her darkened sitting room. Corporal Hass stood near the door, quietly pretending that he wasn't there. She wondered who had told Cain the news; had it been someone at the Armory? Had it been Jeb? DG looked down at the reward poster in her hands. Or had the Tin Man simply found out the way she had, with a casual glance, a double take, and then a soul-numbing... something, spreading throughout the body?

Cain was only a man. Only human. He was no immortal hero, and he was no emotionless shell, despite what he tried to show others; his gruff, hardened exterior might resemble his tin prison, but blood pumped through his veins and his heart beat in his chest like every other person in the Zone.

I've depended on him too much, DG thought sadly. I'm dragging him off on another adventure, leaning on him for every single problem I've got, and he's had this to worry about.

Cain had this on his shoulders, and then she'd added the very sweet part of evil gathering in darkest corners, the rising of the Sorceress's army and blah blah blah. What the hell was wrong with her?

She wanted to be alone. The only problem was the near impossibility of shaking Hass, and it was becoming a little disconcerting. Mostly, because he'd discovered the unfortunate ability to blend into the wallpaper, and she would forget he was there. That wouldn't be so bad, except for the bad ideas that always managed to sneak into her head when she thought she was alone.

It was in the quiet lull of the late afternoon that her feet began to carry her. The urge to stand and stretch her legs after her long period of sitting turned into a desire to take a walk; Hass was behind her, and he'd already stopped asking her where she was going. He knew as well as she did that it usually turned out to be a surprise.

She took the stairs because she had an unquenchable urge to climb; up and up and up until she was winded, and her legs ached. Hass opened up the huge metal door for her, and she stepped through into the arboretum. A clinking sound cut through the still air, and the two followed the tapping until they found an old man bent over the insides of one of the irrigation pumps.

DG held up a hand for Hass to stop following her; crossing the last few steps, to where she found herself standing amid an ankle-high pile of what could only be described as 'irrigation pump guts'; plastic hoses, pieces of pipe, several odd looking valves.

The man bending over the pump stood straight at her approach; everything about him seemed somewhat illusionary... stooped, he'd seemed old and battered, but as he'd straightened his spine, he seemed to grow into a height that rivaled Cain's. His eyes were hazel and they cut through her easily, calculating and alert. His face... she'd gotten used to the feeling of 'Do I know you from somewhere?' as old faces from the past consistently came out of the woodwork now, but it still always caught her off-guard when she'd notice for the first time.

“Whatcha doing?” DG asked him, nodding towards the pump.

“The Queen wants the arboretum restored; no point in trying to bring the trees back until we get the support systems up and running again,” the old man said. He dropped the wrench he held in his hand, and it clattered to the ground. The sound sent a jitter straight up her back.

“Who will heal the trees?” she asked the gardener absently.

“Yourself, my lady, or perhaps the Princess Royal.” The old man nodded pointedly at her.

She cocked a brow at him. “Have we met before?” she asked, finally. No point in beating around the bush.

The old gardener shook his head. “I've only started at the palace in the last few days, Highness. You might have met me on the grounds, or who knows... maybe you remember me from somewhere on the road.” His eyes bore into her, speaking volumes without voice.

"I know most of what goes on around here..."

DG shook the echo out of her head. “So you're a gardener?” she asked.

The old man shrugged. “I am a man of many talents, Miss.” The eyes looking at her sparkled. “Although, I have to say that motor repair is not one of them. It looks like the entire system may have to be replaced before the trees can be healed.” He waved his arm around, to encompass the entirety of the massive dome, filled with dead leaves and skeletal trees. “If you'll excuse me, I'll head into the office to file the proper requisitions.”

“Wait,” DG said. The old man stopped, and when he turned, he saw the young princess pushing up her sleeves. “Why don't you let me take a look at it?” she asked him.

An hour later, DG was sitting was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the arboretum, the heavy motor on her floor before her. She was covered in grime and her hands were streaked with rust. With a sigh, she hefted the thing over in her hands - the old man had been right, the motor was beyond repair, beyond salvation.

An errant lock of hair was hanging down into her eyes. She used the heel of her hand to push the stray hair away from her face, but it refused to tuck away, hanging in her face, mocking her. Eying it grumpily, she blew at it... and noticed someone walking towards her. The brim of his hat was pushed low, obscuring view of his face as he approached, and his duster brushed about his knees as he walked. Her heart leaped at the sight of him, and quickly went back to screwing the steel base plate to the mounting block. She didn't look up when he stopped beside her, didn't look up when he nudged her leg gently with the toe of his boot.

“Aren't you a sight,” Cain said, clearly amused.

DG glared up at him. Yes, she'd stopped being angry with him, and no, it wasn't the man's fault that she was sitting on a dirty floor looking like the grungiest princess on either side of the rainbow, but did he really have to smirk at her like that? He held out a hand for her, and she took it, standing and brushing off the front of her clothes. She was filthy and he was nearly smiling about it, was that really fair?

“Not very princess-like behavior,” he muttered low, leaning in so that only she could hear him; somewhere nearby, Hass was hovering, of this she was sure, but at the moment he seemed to have disappeared.

“Yeah, well... this princess is on her break,” she said quietly, giving the front of her shirt another wipe with her hands. At least she wasn't greasy, there'd be no saving her clothes if she was. When she dared a peek into his eyes, he was watching her, as he always did; his icy blue hues seemed to darken when they met with hers, and he sighed, his mouth forming into that unhappy line that was so often there.

He knows I know, she told herself. Interesting... at least they'd have to waste no time. They always seemed to have precious little of it. Reaching into her pocket, she extracted the folded piece of paper. So strange that something as flimsy and destructible could be so volatile, and had had the power to disrupt everything. Well, she reminded herself, its not the paper's fault what got printed on it.

DG handed the poster to Cain. “You could've told me.”

Cain growled low, and she found herself, in a very short span of seconds, being marched from one end of the arboretum to the other, out the glass door that led to the roof; the silence of the arboretum was immediately shattered, breaking into the whistle of wind and the drone of city life that went on so many stories below. Though he'd opened the world to her, she'd never felt so shut off from it as the glass door closed, leaving her and Cain standing alone on the roof.

“It wasn't important,” he said as soon as the doors were closed.

DG's jaw dropped, some of her earlier anger returning. “Like hell it wasn't important!” she found herself shouting. No one would hear them out here.

Cain gritted his teeth, looking down at her, a hand still on her arm. He was debating his words, as he always did, with a pained expression on his face. When he didn't speak right away, she turned away from him, his fingers slipping from their grip, letting her go easily. She went to the railing that encircled the viewing deck. The suns were beginning to sink in the distance; past the spires of the city, the first sun hovered dangerously over the mountains, teasing the world with the last few moments of full light.

“You've got enough to worry about, Kiddo,” he said. DG nodded, not turning back, having already known deep down somewhere that he was going to say exactly that.

“How can you expect honesty and not give it in return, Wyatt?” she demanded, turning around. Her blue eyes searched him, but found only that he avoided her gaze, as he thought of what to say. She didn't wait. “You've never lied to me before. Not ever.”

“I didn't lie to you, Princess,” he growled. He moved to her, putting his hands on either side of her face so that she could look nowhere but straight at him. His eye contact didn't falter. “And I'm not about to start now.” He placed a small, chaste kiss on her lips, as if to reaffirm this fact. She took this as a prompt to start asking questions.

“Is this the real reason you're working under Andrus?” she asked. His expression stayed stony, unchanged as he nodded. She chewed on her lip. This much she'd guessed, that he was aiding in the search of one specific Longcoat. A negligible detail, not a big deal. I know now, she reminded herself, there's no reason to drag out this fight. Act like a big girl, DG, time for the serious face.

“When did he get out?” she asked softly.

“The day I left Finaqua with your sister and mother,” he said. “Maybe a few days before. News was slow to travel, Jeb didn't know about it either, and he left Central City a few days after I did.”

DG cleared her throat. “How does Jeb feel about all of this?”

Cain sighed, and let go of her face. His hands ran down her neck, over her shoulders; both knew they were in plain view of anyone who might be in the arboretum - namely Hass, and the old gardener - but neither seemed to care. The world had stopped just for them, so that they might have this moment while they teetered perilously on the edge, over which neither could see what was held in store for them.

“Jeb's angry,” Cain said slowly. “Tryin' to swing it so he can ride out with us, but the general isn't givin' in.”

The corners of her mouth turned up into a small smile, remembering all too well the look Andrus had given her when she'd seen him. Andrus wouldn't be favoring Jeb any time soon, but the powers of Cain persuasion would kick in eventually, of that she had no doubt, and she hoped kick wasn't an operative word.

Shaking her head free of where it had wandered, she got back to the important issue. She wasn't even going to ask him what the man had still been doing imprisoned in the manner that he was, that was personal between Cain and his son, somewhere she had no business treading. So, instead... “Well... how did he... I mean, who released him?” Her brain was thrown back forcefully, to the ruined shell of his former home on the shores of a sluggish creek, to the day when she had released him.

Cain felt her small hands grip onto the lapels of his coat. His arms encircled her then, pulling her close. “We don't know, DG,” he said, his voice low, quiet. “But its one of the things I'm gonna find out.”

She leaned her forehead against his chest, still holding him by his duster. The sigh that escaped her was heavy, her shoulders sagging; it signaled to him that she had nothing left to say, that she was done. It hadn't gone as badly as either of them had expected, and he was holding her in plain view of anyone, which felt like a relief, though she didn't know why.

She wasn't going to ask what would happen if the capture didn't take place before it was time for her to leave again, for she knew the answer to that, as surely as she knew her own name. Cain would quietly place himself beside her, and they would continue on as planned. He'd let someone else finish it, making his choice of where he was most needed. Though he'd never say it, he needed her as well; needed her to let him leave, to be there when he returned from this - hopefully - final resolution.

Cain's strong embrace relaxed, and he allowed himself to press his face into her hair, to kiss her there. “You figured it out a little faster than I suspected you would, Darlin',” he said, and she could feel him smiling.

DG pulled away, glad that things were okay enough that even Wyatt Cain could manage a smile. “How much faster?” she asked suspiciously.

“I didn't think we'd be havin' this conversation until after I'd got back,” he said, letting his smile fade into a smirk. He let her go, noticing that she'd begun to frown, but calling no attention to it. Inside her head, DG's mood had shifted.

Yes, remind me that you leave tomorrow, she couldn't help but think bitterly. She was completely accepting of what he was trying to accomplish, but in her head she could still pout about it.

Cain had walked over to the door, holding it open for her and ushering her back inside. A closed-in feeling settled inside of her quickly, being inside of the palace reminding her of life on this side of the glass, another dinner to attend, another evening sitting in a dusty study slipping lightly on fragrant Evian wine, trying to absorb everything people said around her. Even the thought of it was exhausting, and she wanted nothing more than her bed... well, maybe her bed with a certain Tin Man in it to cuddle with, but even as a princess, she couldn't have everything.

They walked down the main walkway straight towards the elevator; Hass picked up behind them wordlessly. As they passed the old man, who was busily sweeping up the piles of dead leaves that covered the entire floor, Cain grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to stop.

“Workin' hard?” Cain asked the old gardener. Something in his voice caused DG to look up at him curiously; his face was a stony, solemn mask, and the edge in his tone was mirrored in his eyes. DG eyed the old gardener, who was looking back at Cain, seemingly amused.

“As hard as these old bones will let me,” the old man said easily. He leaned a bit on the handle of his broom, and something inside her head clicked into place, the echoing voice she'd heard before coming back clearer.

“Jowan, of the East,” she said suddenly. Cain looked at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

Jowan smiled, and bowed his head. “I'm humbled you remember me, Your Highness.”

She looked from Cain to Hass, knowing she was the last to figure this out. Honestly, she was going to have to start paying better attention. Where was her brain half of the time, anyway? DG turned back to the old man.

“How did you escape?” she asked.

Jowan shrugged his shoulders. “Same as you did, Miss, escaped out the supply tunnel. It was easy to slip out in the uproar you caused.” There was a friendly gleam in his eye as he continued. “Wound up here, in good old Central City. Managed to plead my case and get on here; mind you, it wasn't hard,” he said with a chuckle. “Palace is hiring on like crazy. Needs extra hands for everything, a place this big.” He smiled at her then, and despite his age, his smile was strangely charming. DG found herself smiling back.

“I'm glad you found us,” she said earnestly. “I'll make sure your requisitions for new equipment go through as fast as possible.” She didn't know who she was going to have to talk to, but she figured Glitch would know, he seemed to know everything that went on in the palace. She walked away, Cain and Hass walking steadily behind her. She didn't like the distance she had to keep from Cain as they walked the hallway back down to her room, though it was 'respectable', it felt like too far.

He leaned in close to her when they reached her door. “I'll be back this evenin' around ten, make sure you're back from dinner by then,” he told her. “I want to say a proper goodbye tonight, I'll be leavin' at suns rise tomorrow.” His lips brushed against her ear, and she sighed, nodding. She'd agree to anything, if it meant a chance to be in his arms again before he was gone.

Azkadellia came to help her get ready again. It was becoming a habit of the sisters, for the older to help the younger. DG felt more comfortable with Az, anyway, when the corsets were involved. If she needed help getting into her own underwear, she'd rather have her sister hauling away at the ties than one of the gossipy ladies' maids.

“When do you plan on telling Mother and Father?” Az asked. Her tongue was poking out the corner of her mouth as she maneuvered the last hook into place. When she finally stepped away, DG let out a shallow breath of relief.

“Soon-ish,” DG said. “I'll probably tell them while he's out of town so they can have time to digest the news before he comes back.”

Az stepped onto the other side of the dressing screen to allow DG to shimmy into her dress in private. “You don't want him to be there with you when you tell them?” she asked.

DG peeked up over the top of the screen. “No,” she said firmly. “I don't want to embarrass him, and I don't want to give him any doubts about it in case Mother and Ahamo aren't okay with it.”

Az began straightening the bodice of her gown, running her fingers over the sheer material nervously. “Do you think they're going to have a problem with it? Captain Cain is an important individual. He might be a bit older than you, but they must be able to see how loyal he is to you.”

DG came out from behind the screen; her gown was ivory, with a green sash around the waist. “Is that what you'd call it, Az? Loyalty?”

Azkadellia frowned when she saw something darken in her sister's eyes. “Among several other things,” she managed to say, waving her hand and watching as her sister's hair swept away from the young woman's round face, curling becomingly down her back.

The dinner, held in one of the larger dining rooms and filled with more people than DG had yet encountered at one function, was loud, proper, and boring. So many conversations swirled around her that she had a hard time latching onto a single one. People she didn't know kept trying to grab her attention, but she only ever smiled weakly, answered in as few syllables as possible. She was earning the reputation of being shy, she'd heard, and didn't mind one bit. Let everyone in the O.Z. think she was shy, maybe then she'd have to talk to fewer people, or at the very least would have a good excuse to avoid anyone who made eye contact with her.

Azkadellia tried her best to help her out. Over the dinner table, every move DG made was carefully studied by Az. Every so often, her sister's voice would cry out inside her mind.

No, the fork further on the left! Posture! Remember to smile, you're looking bored. Posture! Hold it by the stem, DG.

By the time dinner was over, DG had a headache. The next person that graciously touched her arm to get her attention was going to get a fork in their hand, of that she was sure. As soon as she could, she slipped away from everyone and made her way to her room. Hass was smiling sympathetically in the elevator, and it took most of what was left of her patience to bite her tongue and not tell him where to take his sympathy and his smile.

“Hallway,” she said shortly, before tacking on “Please, I mean.” She might be grumpy, but there was no reason to order him around like he was a dog. He nodded at her, and took his normal position outside her door. She didn't lock it, and barely made it to the sofa, where she laid down in her evening gown and promptly fell asleep.

She was jostled awake when she felt herself being lifted. The first few moments passed and she thought she might be dreaming, but then she caught the scent of the strong body that held her, the familiarity of leather and gun oil, the faint tinge of dust and clean sweat. She nuzzled her nose into his neck, wrapping her arms around him with a loud yawn. He carried her into her bedroom, and shut the door behind them with his foot.

“How was your nap?” Cain asked her, sounding amused.

“Dreamless,” she mumbled against him. “It was nice.”

He chuckled. “No more strange memories findin' their way into that pretty head of yours?”

“Nuh-uh. Just me in there now.”

“Thats still plenty of trouble,” he said. Her head jerked up, and she put a hand on his jaw, turning his head so she could look into his eyes. The light around them was weak, but his eyes shone, blue and bright. “Think you can stand up?” he asked her. She hummed an affirmation, and found herself placed on her feet.

Cain moved behind her, his fingers brushing over the back of her neck, underneath her hair, before moving to the sash of her dress, untying the material as if slowly unwrapping a present. “You shouldn't sleep in your clothes,” he whispered. When the sash was untied, he began to work at the buttons. DG let her eyes fall closed, leaning her head back, focusing on the movement of his fingers, on his calm, even breathing. She knew his eyes were burning into her, and she could swear she almost felt the sear of them on her skin. How could such minimal contact be so intoxicating?

The dress slid off of her easily, less of a fight to get out of it than to get in. His thumbs brushed over her shoulders as he pushed the sleeves down off her arms. She laughed out loud when he had no trouble disentangling her from the corset; he seemed to manage it easier than he had when faced with her bra. When he released her from the cage, she moaned in relief; his lips immediately closed on her shoulder at the sound, gently biting down on her flesh. His hardness was pressed into her back now, a delicious tease, telling her he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She reached back to place a hand on the back of his head, running her fingernails through his short hair, over his scalp.

Cain's hands began to massage the parts of her that had been locked in the corset, sliding up from her hips, over her breasts, then down over her belly. Naked from the waist up, wearing only a half-slip and a scrap of lace that could barely be called underwear, she was merely clay beneath his skilled hands. Her head fell back against his shoulder as his calloused hands traced her breasts again, her nipples pebbling as his fingers skimmed over them. His mouth worked tirelessly against her shoulder and neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks come morning - his mark, so that in his absence, she'd still be his. She knew that even in death, she'd always be his. She wasn't made for anyone else.

Impatient to touch him, she turned in his arms. Before waking her, he'd removed his jacket, and his hat was also absent; he stood before her, torso covered by only in his shirtsleeves, a row of small buttons standing between her and his hard, muscled chest. Before she could start on the buttons, however, his mouth closed on hers, pulling her up to him in a passionate, soul-searing kiss. As his tongue touched hers, sending electric shocks straight to her very core, all semblance of her control was lost. She tugged the shirt loose from his pants and started on his fly. With a groan, he walked her backwards towards the bed. When her knees hit the edge of the mattress, he took both of her hands in his, and kissed her palms.

“DG,” he said slowly. “There is a guard standin' in the hallway.”

She frowned. “That's a whole room away!” she exclaimed, pointing at the closed door that led to the sitting room. “You're leaving me tomorrow for weeks! Now lay down in this bed and fuck me, damn it!” Her cheeks inflamed with her profanity, and her eyes fell away, uncertain.

Cain cocked his scarred eyebrow in amusement. “Was that an order?”

DG nodded solemnly, realizing that he still held her hands and his grip on her wrists was tightening. She found herself yanked roughly against him, and a bruising kiss crushed down upon her lips. She fought his force with her own, pressing into him hard, running her tongue over his when it plunged into her mouth.

The rest happened quickly; somewhere in a fray of clutching limbs and small moans and falling clothes, she was lain down between the sheets on her stomach, her Tin Man spreading his broad chest over her back, his sensuous lips finding her shoulder again. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up onto her hands and knees, a heavy hand between her shoulder blades as he pushed deep into her, her body stretching to admit him with a shudder of pure pleasure. She rocked back against him as his long, slow strokes created a glorious friction that left her mewling quietly; she pressed her face into the pillow to stifle the sounds she couldn't stop herself from making. A coil somewhere deep inside of her was beginning to tighten; each inward thrust caused her vision to haze around the edges.

Cain withdrew to roll her over onto her back, entering her again quickly; his earlier slow pace turning frantic as she began to arch up against him, whispering in his ear dirty little nothings, each eliciting a deep rumble from him. Her hands had found their way to his shoulders, a death grip anchoring them together. Each snap of his hips drove her up as he leaned over her, placing hot, nipping kisses on her lips, each melting into the next until she was falling, the coil breaking with a burst of light behind her eyes; her fingernails dug deep into his skin, almost enough to draw blood. The pain of it coupled with the rhythmic spasms of her inner muscles pushed him over into oblivion with her, and he collapsed atop her with a quiet, panting moan.

He pulled out, falling down onto the bed beside her, breathless and exhausted. DG curled into him immediately, seeking his warmth, wanting these last few moments; he couldn't stay, that she knew, though she wondered if it was as hard for him to tear away from her as it was for her to watch him leave. Tears were springing to her eyes before she knew it.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly when he felt her body stiffen; his hands slid up and down her back comfortingly as she struggled to regain control of her emotions... not a single tear fell, but the threat hung palpably between them. “Its just a few weeks,” he told her when her shoulders had stopped shaking. “A few weeks, and you'll see me again.”

DG nodded, knowing he was right. A few weeks, two or maybe three... a voice in the back of her head, a wisp of a memory, cried out. It was only three days to return the Emerald... there and back, that's all it was supposed to be.

But if it hadn't been for the entire mess, how long would Wyatt and I have danced around this? It was there, it had been all along, but... if everything had gone according to plan, and he'd come back to Finaqua, how long would the two of them have hoped and dreamed and miscommunicated? She snuggled deeper into his embrace, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

Would I have made it as far as calling him Wyatt, or would I still be calling him Mr. Cain?

Their realizations had caused them to fall in love... would that have happened, if not for the Emerald? And... did it really matter? Some poor fool would still bumble upon an old tin suit in the woods, and release the man within... or, worse, someone with intention had opened the suit... and because of that, he would still be leaving her, no matter the what-ifs that came before.

DG tightened her grip on him. The faster Cain found Zero, the better.

Eventually, she had to stop thinking; she was getting depressed and Cain had to leave. She wasn't going to like having a lover if it meant she spent every night alone. Their time alone on the road had her hooked to the warm safety of his arms while she slept.

“Stay in bed,” he told her firmly, when she made the move to extract herself from the sheets. He'd turned on the lamp to find his clothes, and hungrily, she watched him dress. “This is exactly how I want to remember you while I'm gone.”

DG felt herself blush. She was sitting up, cross-legged, the sheet wrapped around her front; when he finished buttoning his shirt, she looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap... suddenly, her fingernails seemed quite interesting. When he sat down on the bed beside her, he ran his hand over her hair, ghosting over her skin, stopping over the small of her back, resting on her naked flesh.

“Promise me you're going to be careful,” she found herself saying, and she refused to look at him.

Wyatt found this unacceptable, and put two fingers on her chin to guide her eyes to his. “'I'm gonna be as careful as I can, Sweetheart,” he said slowly. She nodded, not able to give him much else. With a sigh, he kissed her forehead. “Now you promise me you're not gonna take off somewhere.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “That's what you're worried about?”

His lips had straightened into a firm line. “DG,” he said carefully; she managed to smile at him to reassure him.

“I won't take off anywhere,” she said. He nodded, accepting her word, then cupped her jaw with his big hand, his thumb caressing her cheek. Despite herself, she nuzzled into the touch, closing her eyes. There were no tears now, she was beyond crying. Dull, numbing acquiescence, and a brave little face was all she had to give him.

When he kissed her, her eyes slipped closed; her hand settled over his. The kiss was simple, but not without passion; for a moment, each drew on the breath that the other had to give, memorizing the feel and taste that would call him home. There were words to say, but they were conveyed silently, brushed over her lips with a gentle sweep of his tongue before he pulled away. She wanted to say it, but found it just wouldn't come, as if the time for talking had passed.

Wyatt's blue eyes burned into her as hers searched his for reassurance; he offered her a half smile, one more caress of his thumb down her cheek, before pushing himself away from the bed. He didn't turn around, only walked with purpose; when the door had clicked softly shut behind him, she fell back onto the bed and covered her head with a pillow, craving sleep that she knew would not come.

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