Title: The Heart of Life
Author: generalnothing
Characters/Pairing: DG/Cain, mentions of Cain/Adora
Spoilers: Pretty much all of 'Tin Man.'
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: I own only the DVDs thanks to Best Buy and a certain attractive cashier. The title was blatantly stolen from the John Mayer song of the same name.
Word Count: 2,484
Summary: He's submerging his hand into her dark tresses and grasping like she's the only thing keeping him on this turbulent ride.
A/N: My very first 'Tin Man' fic. Go me. Also, the longest fic I've written in a looooong time. Srsly. Also, also, it went a completely different direction than I thought it would.
A/N the Second: This isn't beta-ed as I don't have a 'Tin Man' one (at least until Kennedy gets caught up whips), so if you spot any mistakes (grammar/spelling/plot) let me know and I'll fix it. Don't be shy.
He'd been in that tin suit for eight annuals, forced to watch the beatings of his wife and child thousands of times, over and over again. It's no wonder he has trouble sleeping most nights, his subconscious picking up where the now abandoned TDESPHTL had left off; him being held back as Longcoats had swarmed his cabin, dragging his wife and son into his field of vision, forcing him to watch, each second worse than the last. He should know it's a dream because he's never the one beaten, just his wife and son.
He puts off sleeping for as long as possible every night, partly hoping that by doing so he won't be forced to revisit such a haunting scene, but also so that by the time his body shuts down and he's forced to trek back to his room, he'll be so exhausted that he'll sleep without dreaming. So he spends his nights wandering the palace under the guise that he's "securing the castle," usually pacing outside the door of the youngest princess.
Six months after the fall of the witch and he's still keeping his promise to the Mystic Man. You don't have to stay, DG had said, a few weeks after the eclipse. I'll understand if you want to get on with your life. She'd cast her eyes to the floor but not before he'd seen the pain hidden behind the bright blue of them. He'd brought his hand to her chin to lift her gaze back to him. That life is gone, he'd said, his voice gravely as the memory of a lonely grave marker flashed through his mind. He'd appointed himself DG's personal bodyguard soon after, following her on diplomatic trips or just around the palace grounds.
He doesn't remember when the dreams changed from the beating of his wife to the beating of DG, but he does remember waking up one morning, heart aching because he'd once again watched as a loved one was brutally beaten and then dragged from him. He'd breathed deeply, pushing aside the image of soulful, blue eyes and dark hair.
He tries to act like nothing has changed as he's dragged all over the country side, following the Heir Apparent to the Crown as she's forced to meet with diplomats and Resistance leaders. Longcoats are still fighting in the name of the witch and DG's taken it upon herself to see that her people are well cared for before and after attacks. She refuses to take shelter in neighboring towns, claiming she does not wish to burden anyone in this time of need and he has a hard time holding back a retort that she is the princess and future queen and anyone who still believed in the House of Gale would be glad to take her in. But he doesn't say anything because he knows she'll fight with him and then they'll both be grumpy, so he lets it be and they set up camp in a small wooded area that allows just enough coverage that any rogue Longcoats wouldn't be able to see them.
He doesn't sleep that nightand when she wakes up in the middle of the night to find him leaning against the tree next to her bedroll, she asks why, her voice gruff with sleep. He only glances at her, telling her not to worry and to go back to sleep. She doesn't want to, wants to know what exactly is bothering her Tin Man, but a long day in the saddle has made her weary and her eyes drift close once again.
He watches her as she snuggles (because only she snuggles) deeper into the bedroll and she curls into a slight ball. The corners of his mouth quirk up at the sight and he tugs his hat further down onto his head. His head rests on the tree behind him and as much as he doesn't want to sleep, he knows he'll be no help to the princess if he's exhausted tomorrow.
Hours later and he knows he's dreaming, knows because this time he can see everything, but he can't hear it. Silent screams reverberate around him as a dark haired, blue eyed girl is held in front of him by large men in dark coats. He screams her name as she's hauled up by a Longcoat and he sees the terror in her beautiful eyes as she's dragged away, screaming for him. He fights valiantly, struggling against his captors to reach her, but a fist connecting to his face makes him fall limp. He raises his head to watch as his princess is pulled away and he's shoved into a tin suit.
His hand is reaching for his gun before he's even fully awake, but a hand on his chest stops him. He squints into the sunlight as his hat is lifted from his eyes before a silhouette blocks the rays. The bright, blue eyes that haunted him in his dreams are staring into his and he leans his head back to take in more of her. You lookin' to get yerself shot, Princess? he asks as he plants one had on the tree behind him and hauls himself up. The princess jerks her hand from his chest as he stands and forces a laugh. Just thought you'd slept long enough, Sleeping Beauty, is her retort. He shoots a glare in her general direction as he straightens his hat and grabs his duster from the ground. The rest of the caravan is already packing up, some of the Royal Guard already mounted on their horses.
He's watching her as she launches herself up into her saddle, and he's surprised when her eyes land back on his. There's a sadness there that wasn't there yesterday and it makes his heart ache to know that his princess is going through turmoil. He ponders what could have made her so sad in just a night as he pulls himself into his own saddle, wondering what she had seen or heard that had put such an unhappy look into her eyes.
It's one week later and they've both been run so ragged that even he's been getting to sleep without those horrific dreams. She complains to him one morning that she wishes she could just have a day to herself again, to go walking or riding without the thirty men-at-arms riding along behind her and the pressure of running a country towering over her. He doesn't say anything, just rests his hand on the small of her back and leads her down the hallway, all the while planning a short getaway for just the two of them. Because there's no way he's letting her go by herself and there's no one he trusts more with her safety than himself.
It's a short ride to the field of her choice, tucked between an almost-mountain and a patch of woods. They ride out there together, racing each other and he smiles when he sees the light in her eyes is back, if only for a moment. She's a wonderful rider and when she tells him it's because of the years spent on the back of a motorcycle, his brows furrow in confusion and she laughs before explaining what it is.
They're at the field and before he can stop her, she's off her horse and twirling in large circles, letting the fresh, crisp air catch the dark strands of her hair and lift them and twirl them around her face. She's laughing and he can do nothing but stare at her, her arms wide and her eyes closed. She slows and her eyes find his and her smile does something to him that hasn't been done since he was twenty annuals old and just meeting Adora.
He slides from his saddle with a grace belying his age and grabs the reigns from both horses, tying them to a nearby log. She's followed him, intent on unlatching her sack from the horse but her ladies' maid has tied it in an impossible knot and he laughs softly when he sees her brows furrowed in concentration as her petite hands struggle to untie her bag. He steps to the side; intent on helping her when her efforts come to fruition and the bag falls to her feet. Her eyes light up once again as she finds what she's looking for and pulls it out to show him. He smiles, his head down to hide it and his head shaking back and forth at the wonderment that is this girl.
He wonders when he started smiling as much as he did. And then he realizes it was in between the moment he'd seen those bright, blue eyes peering at him through and inch thick layer of glass and her first pounce-hug. His head bobs back up and he watches her plop herself on the ground, sketch book already open to a blank page and the bag of pencils to her side. He gives the horses one last pat before he goes to stand next to her. His eyes gaze over the countryside with a dual purpose. One is to make sure no danger is lurking beyond their peaceful oasis and the other is to take in the beauty that is the O.Z. It's been a while since he's actually stopped to look at the kingdom, but he's noticing now that the land that had been so ravaged during the reign of the witch was now once again bright, beautiful and flourishing.
He looks down at the princess before lowering himself next to her. She's already off in her own sketching world and he knows better than to disturb her now. He lies on the ground directly behind her, arms behind his head as a make-shift pillow, the bill of his hat pulled over his eyes. He feels more than hears her shift and then he feels her head rest on his chest. He knows the site they make is one unbecoming of a princess and her tin man, him laying on his back, her with her head leaning back on his chest, knees up so she can prop her sketchbook on her thighs, but he doesn't care. He smiles once more before settling in to relax.
He doesn't mean to fall asleep, but nightmare-filled nights and long days of following his princess around have pushed him past his breaking point. Again, he knows he's dreaming this time, but it's not because of a lack of silence, but because it's an entirely different scene. His old cabin is replaced by the balcony where the two young princesses had fought an evil witch and the Longcoats that had tormented his family so many times in his dreams were replaced by a single old woman, evil radiating off of her in waves. His eyes scan the balcony, searching for her, but his eyes fall first on a different dark haired woman. The elder princess is splayed in an un-princess-like manner, her eyes wide and unseeing, mouth open in a silent scream. In the corner of his eye he sees the girl -woman- he's looking for, but his heart stops when his eyes greet the scene.
The witch, the one they had worked so hard to stop, has his princess in a vice-like grip hanging over the edge of the balcony, without even lifting her hands. He's moving before he even realizes it, but he's too late. The witch vanishes as he runs to tackle her and DG is dropped before he can reach the edge of the tower. He yells her name as he leans over the railing, reaching for her as he watches her plummet to the ground, her own hands stretched toward him.
His body jerks awake when she hits the ground and just like the last time his hand is reaching for his gun. Cain? he hears and his hand stills on its way to the holster. You alright? he hears her ask, concern dripping in every syllable. He hates that she sounds like that and in that moment, stuck in time between that dream-balcony and their field, he makes it his mission to never let her sound so sad again. He sits up and pushes his hat back to its rightful position before looking at her. She's on her knees facing him, her sketchbook tossed to the side and her eyes bright and shining with worry.
He wants to stroke her cheek and tell her everything is fine, but instead he just hoists himself to his feet and stares out over the land. He hears her stand up behind him but he's still startled when her small hand lands on his shoulder. Cain? she's whispering and his chin meets his chest as his head falls forward. You were yelling my name. She's still whispering, almost too softly, but the gentle breeze catches the words and twirls them around him. He can feel her staring at the back of his head and he sighs before turning around.
And then he's kissing her. He's submerging his hands into her dark tresses and grasping like she's the only thing keeping him on this turbulent ride. He's kissing her because he knows that if he doesn't he's going to fall right out of the O.Z. He's kissing her because that nightmare is the one last push he needs to realize that if he doesn't act he's going lose this wonderful, amazing, out of this world (literally), crazy girl forever.
She's shocked to say the least and he can feel it in the way she tenses against him, but he keeps kissing her, because he can, and he sighs into her mouth when she relaxes against him, her small hands gripping his duster. He's pretty sure that the entire world melts away when her mouth opens and her tongue swipes at his lips, begging for entrance and his knees almost buckle when one of her hands lets go of his duster to slide up around his shoulders and her nimble fingers are stroking at the fine hair at the base is his neck. The other hand is gripping his arm and he lets her pull his hand out of her hair to wrap it around her waist.
It seems like hours -weeks, months, years, lifetimes- before they break apart and they're both breathing deeply and he rests his forehead on hers, his hand still holding tightly to her hair, the black strands stark against his pale skin. Why now? she's asking, and it's so quiet, but it's just the two of them here and they're so close that it doesn't matter because he would hear her if she hadn't said anything at all.
Because it was time he says just as quietly and then they're kissing again and this time the world really does melt away.