'Til Kingdom Come
Title: 'Til Kingdom Come, Part One
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Everyone ever. Major and minor series characters. OCs, some new, some appearing from my Emerald 'verse.
Pairings: It's complicated. Past Cain/Adora, eventual Cain/DG, canon Lavender/Ahamo.
Rating: 16+
Summary: Being a somewhat fabricated, but mostly accurate, history of the Outer Zone, therein concerning the aftermath of the Emerald War and the restoration of the House of Gale.
'Til Kingdom Come
Chapter Two
DG
Everything was dead.
Everything was dead because of her.
That there was an ugly, sobering truth, but it had been sinking in for few weeks now, and DG was finally beginning to feel that she was coming to better terms with her guilt. After all, it wasn't making her weepy anymore, and most days there were only a few things that could set off that sickening feeling twisting in her stomach, or that suffocating heaviness expanding in her chest.
Only a few things.
Still, sometimes when she was alone, it crept over her, all quiet and consuming, and she just gave it time to sink in a little further, roots growing so deep as to become a part of everything she was. What else could she do? Running wasn't an option, neither was hiding, and actually facing her troubles seemed so impossible. The severity of it, that grand, encompassing scale, her little stone sent skipping and all those far-reaching ripples. One little mistake to shake the very foundations of the world.
All right, maybe that was pushing it. Yet it was hard at times to keep her secret shames in check. Especially when it surrounded her as it did now.
She'd tucked herself away in one of the gardens, in need of a little peace. The palace was full of these little hidden enclaves, untended solariums and overgrown balconies, conservatories resting abandoned beneath broken panes of lead glass. There was even a terraced courtyard that had once been a vegetable and herb garden behind the main kitchens. She'd found so many of these places and more during her explorations, and had a feeling she'd never come close to finding them all. She wasn't sure she'd wanted to.
Because everything was dead.
She'd returned to an old haunt, hiding herself with the deliberate knowledge that she was expected to be somewhere else. She just didn't have it in her to listen to more bad news, not just then. She was too damn tired. She slept strangely here in the O.Z., and she didn't know why. It didn't help matters that her new bed was three times the size of the one she'd slept in almost every night of her life.
Every night of her life that she could recall, anyway. This new bed, fourpostered, headboarded, and huge, her father had told her that it had always been hers, the bed and the room and the view, even though she'd only stayed in Central City a handful of times as a child, and never for long.
"Place definitely isn't for kids," her father had said, with a sad smile and a weary shrug.
As she looked around the forgotten solar, she couldn't help but agree.
Still, of all the lonely, empty, ruined rooms she'd wandered through in the past few weeks, this place was by far her favourite. A little brighter than the rest, there was still colour here beneath the layers of dust. The walls were lined with empty cabinets with doors of delicate stained glass, symbols and figures she couldn't place or name, but she hoped someday to know. The shelves were empty; what they'd once held, she could only guess. Trinkets and shiny things perhaps, taken or stolen when the city fell.
It wasn't exactly a happy place, but it felt safe. She always managed to come back, each time the path a little more familiar, a little less frightening. This section of the palace was almost deserted, and she tried to enjoy it while she could. Someone was going to come looking for her eventually. After all, there was somewhere else she was supposed to be.
It was late in the afternoon when she finally heard the telltale echo of footsteps that signified DG-time had come to its end. She was standing by the windows, chair abandoned, book forgotten as she'd become distracted by the view and the rhythm of the city. The windows looked out over the north side, the spindly towers glinting silver and bronze in the light of the suns. The far muddy shores of the lake were just visible over the wall, and it was the causeway that she was watching, and the people and vehicles on it that held her attention when the footsteps grew louder and the doorway darkened.
"Kiddo, I'm gonna need you to explain something to me."
She turned her head. "Now there's a switch," she said, smiling.
Wyatt Cain stepped into the solar with all the delicacy and discomfort of a man who knew he didn't belong. Fallen ivy leaves were crushed to powder beneath his heavy steps as he came into the room one, two, three paces. It seemed as far from the door as he was willing to allow himself to get, and he stood there as a man holding his ground, waiting for her to make her move.
DG didn't have any moves for him, but she didn't have to ask to know why he was there. "How did you find me?" she asked instead, still all light and smiles and she found it more exhausting than hauling her guilty burdens with her wherever she went.
Strange, that.
Cain offered her a half-smile. "Listened to the guard that said 'she went that way'."
"Oh," she said, slightly disappointed. Perhaps bribes were in order.
"Now, back to you explaining why I'm getting dragged to this council of your mother's and you're up here playing hide-and-seek by yourself."
"Not by myself. You found me, you win." She grinned then, a real one that made her cheeks ache. Maybe she needed to start smiling more.
Cain scowled at her, in no mood for games. "Wasn't looking to win, DG."
"Did you take notes at the meeting?" she asked, with less of a smile, feeling a new twinge of guilt. Not much, just enough to make her feel bad and wish she'd put a little more consideration into her afternoon plans. Perhaps gone to hide somewhere she wouldn't be found so easily. Maybe next time.
Only, one look at Cain's face told her that next time wasn't going to be for a good long while.
"Another ambush," he said. "Jeb lost three men."
She chewed on the inside of her lip a moment, wrestling with thoughts far bigger than they'd a right to be. She knew she was supposed to distance her heart from these soldiers, these strangers, but she didn't know how and the struggle inside left her feeling sick and confused. It strained something in her, like the splitting of seams and she fought it as she fought everything, a mad scramble to keep it all from tearing open.
She'd always been good at holding the pieces together.
"Was there anything else?" she asked, turning her back on the window for good to face Cain.
"Your mother wants to see you," was all he said.
"So she sent you to come and find me?" She frowned, unsure why this revelation was so disappointing, but for the fact that it made her feel suddenly uncomfortable and brought on the quick realization that Cain stood between her and the door. Lovely.
"She didn't send me," he said, "but I had a guess as to where you'd be."
Again, more sinking unhappiness. "Well, you found me," she said. A little redundant, but he'd had yet to move, except to tuck his thumbs into his belt to show her he wasn't planning on moving. She looked away from him, stared at the floor and the scattered drifts of ivy leaves, star-shaped and brittle. The trellises on the wall held only naked vines.
"I win," he said quietly, smirking. "Now why're you hiding up here, kid?"
She rolled her eyes at this shameless winkling for information, but as he had quite effectively trapped her in a corner with what promised to be no small amount of effort on his part, she didn't see much use in putting up resistance.
"Come here, I want to show you something."
There was a moment of hesitation from him, brief but there and she hated herself for noticing. He came though, boots heavy and dull against the floor, and the leaves beneath them crumbled to dust. And for all she'd come to rely on his steady presence at her back, it was different now, changed and she hated herself for that too, for all the hope that had blinded her to the grim reality she'd fought for, a new future that stretched on into forever.
Miles to go.
Right.
"The council chamber's got a view just as pretty as this one," Cain said, utterly impassive.
"I needed some time alone," she said, the truth caught like a burr on her tongue.
"You're gonna have to do better than that," he said, and she knew he was right. He'd told her often enough that she spent far too much time alone already, that hiding in her room wasn't going to make the world go away. She'd gotten angry the last time he'd mentioned it, his blue eyes filled with that wearying concern. She'd demanded what right he had to reprimand her, when he chose to spend so much of his own time locked up all by his lonesome. He'd said that after eight annuals, he was just used to it, in a voice so low she'd scarcely heard and she'd wanted to die from shame.
She looked at him, considering. As much as it damaged her pride to admit, for everything that had happened the very least she owed him was a little bit of truth now and then. After all, he was still there when she'd half expected him to disappear into the smoke after the tower had fallen. Still there, and watching, and helping, and attending boring meetings on her behalf and bringing her the bad news to take alone.
It was almost camaraderie. It was almost comfortable.
Almost.
She wanted out of there.
"I was saying goodbye," she said, and she half-expected the suns to cloud over and the city to go dark and the world to come crashing down on top of her head, but the only thing that happened was a hand descending on her shoulder, heavy and strong and where was the damn lightning?
"Goodbye to what?" he asked in that oddly gentle way he had, he who was all bristle and grumble and growl.
She pressed her forehead to the glass, to better block his reflection from her field of vision so she couldn't see his face and the way he watched her.
"Hank and Emily left today," she explained, feeling childish and cornered. "Out the north gate."
Cain sighed, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She wondered if it was possible to die of frustration.
"Council chamber looks out over the west side," he said, and then paused, and she imagined him measuring out his words very carefully, his jaw set firm against useless sympathy. "When was the last time you saw them?" he asked finally, almost casually, because really, what could he say? She could have almost felt bad for him, if she hadn't been concentrating so hard on not feeling anything at all.
"I saw them for a few minutes when we came to Central City," she said, disappointed in how miserable she sounded. "They didn't know me. They were very happy to meet me."
"I'm sorry, kiddo." The hand on her shoulder slid down to rest on her upper arm, fingers wrapped round still heavy and still strong and she was beginning to suspect she would never be so lucky as to be struck down by lightning.
"Me too," she sighed, and her words fogged the glass and hazed out the world.
"You ready to head downstairs?" he asked.
"No," she said, but turned away from the window anyway, away from the city and the bridge and all those people down below waiting and eager for the bright new future she'd supposedly given them. The smile she gave Cain was the smile she was certain she'd give to them, those hungry, hollow, hopeful people who thought she'd come to save the world.
Only, Cain saw her smile for the lie it was and that was trouble.
"Cheer up, kid," he said, dropping his hand and she wasn't supposed to wish he'd put it back, and pull her close and hold her until the universe righted itself and she could breathe and rest and live. "I'll walk you down."
Her stomach twisted unpleasantly. Come to see her do her duty, that was Cain, and she was still cornered and there was no escaping him. Damn it.
"How mad was she?" she asked.
"Hard to tell," he said, and then his hand was warm on the small of her back to give her a little nudge toward the door, and she wondered what she'd done to deserve this very special hell - and then she remembered, and she struggled for that newly-found grim resolution that had gotten her through so much during the eclipse, but it was nowhere to be found, not here, not with him. "I don't know why you're worried," Cain went on, so unaware. "She doesn't look the yelling type."
DG gave a laugh, made small by tension. "You should see her disappointed face," she said.
"I can imagine," he said, and perhaps she was imagining it, but the tightness of his voice gnawed at her all the way downstairs.
Chapter One | Chapter Three
Complete Chapter Index