Disclaimer: I do not own Tin Man, nor am I affiliated with anyone who does own the rights. This was written purely for enjoyment and the author receives no money for this work. Sadly, the author receives no money for anything as she is currently a college student with large tuition debts.

A/N : Note to all Cain/DG shippers out there. You will probably not like the ending of this fic. In fact I guarantee that unless you shippers have non-traditional ideals about relationships you will not like this one-shot

A/N2 : This was written in 1 hour, long past the author's bedtime, so if there are any huge errors, please let me know so I can fix them asap. Thanks!

This fic was inspired by the YouTube vid "DG's Confessions of a Broken Heart". Please note that I did not create the vid, I just watched it and this is what popped into my head.

Defining Family

DG sat in her room, staring blankly at the canvas. It should have been a simple assignment. Paint your family. Of course nothing in DG's life even came close to simple. Who should she paint?

Should it be the robots that played the role of her mom and dad for fifteen years, lying to her the entire time? Sure she loved them deeply, but the betrayal she felt at the revelation of their lies still ached within her chest. Her entire life had been a lie. All the times she and her "mother" fought over DG's plans to travel could have been avoided if Emily had just told DG the truth. All her "father's" words of wisdom concerning family and heart meant nothing when she realized that Hank only said what he had been programmed to. DG hadn't even had time to react to the pain of finding out that everything she knew was a lie because there had been a crazy, psycho-ass witch trying to destroy a country that apparently only DG could save. And to top it all off, her robot parents no longer remembered or cared that she had once been their daughter. Azkadellia still felt guilty about it, but unfortunately the nurture units possessed no 'restore previous memories of non-possessed daughter' function.

Should she paint her birth mother? The woman who refused to believe that her eldest daughter had been possessed until DG's death forced her to see it. Did the simple fact of giving birth to her make the woman of DG's dreams her mother? Could DG, in all honesty claim as her mother the woman who refused to accept that DG did not have the skills, talents, or desire to rule a magical country? Could she bestow that precious title of love and support upon someone who did nothing to raise DG?

What about her so-called father? A man whose real name DG still didn't know. All she knew was that her mother had called him Ahamo, and he liked it. The name he had been born with had never been spoken in the O.Z. His actions in the Realm of the Unwanted spoke louder than DG wanted to admit. Yes the man had rescued her from Airofday and the Longcoats, but he left her friends behind to die. What kind of man cared so little about the fate of others? Could she really call him father simply for donating a few chromosomes and disappearing?

"Hey kid, dinner." A smile crossed DG's face as she set down her pencils and popped down the stairs. When DG announced that she wanted to return to the Other Side and finish her degree in Art History, the Queen and Consort threw a fit. Her birth mother insisted that DG had no need for a degree from the Other Side, especially as she would one day be Queen and learning politics was vastly more important than knowledge of Other Side "art". Her birth father told her that he was proud of her for wanting it, but that she could not leave the O.Z. when it had barely begun to recover from the witch's rule. Future Queens did not waste time on themselves when their people suffered. Never mind that DG barely understood the norms and mores of the O.Z, she still was expected to rule when her mother stepped down. During the screaming match that followed the Queen's announcement that DG had been forbidden to leave the palace Wyatt Cain slipped away to his room to pack his belongings. He'd then taken his bag to the entrance hall and waited for the Princess to appear.

DG broke out of the memory as the aroma of fresh baked bread and steak filled her nose. Grabbing a plate from the cabinet, the Princess helped herself to a homemade dinner. Cain sat at the head of the table, hat hanging on the wall behind him. Jeb sat at the opposite end of the table with his back to the only other wall. Azkadellia sat with her plate off to the side, nose stuck firmly in a new psychology text. Glitch and Raw were animatedly discussing the benefits of some new kitchen tool Glitch had invented. Dinner, at the insistence of Wyatt Cain, was mandatory for all members of this crazy household. As soon as DG sat with her plate, Cain looked over at Az and cleared his throat. Glancing up, the former-brunette current-redhead blushed guiltily as she set the book on the floor beside her. A small nod from the blond at the head of the table, and folks dug in to the meal.

DG stayed quiet as she ate, thinking about the group who lived in the big house near the university. Azkadellia finally stopped blaming herself for being unable to stop the witch from controlling her, thanks to many therapy sessions with an open-minded psychiatrist. She had made the decision to cut and dye her hair as a symbol of her freedom from the past and her dedication to remaining free of that past. She joined DG in attending the college, and was currently in the process of earning her degree in psychology. She planned on becoming a psychiatrist and helping others who were as broken and scarred as she once had been.

Jeb hadn't taken long to decide that the royal military had no place in his life. It was one thing to head a rag-tag band of resistance fighters- it was another to try to lead an army. Jeb decided that the years lost to him as child could never be returned, but he didn't have to miss another day with his father.

Glitch had been in the entrance hall a few seconds behind Cain. Both of them knew that DG would win the argument; just as both knew they would follow her wherever she wanted to go. Glitch discovered that he loved baseball caps, and they covered his zipper very well. Glitch seemed to always be busy inventing some new gadget or another. The boys at the local electronics store loved the Headcase, as he often stopped to chat when he purchased new equipment.

Raw seemed like the wild card. He never let on what he was thinking, and other than devotion to his friends, DG could find no reason for him to have joined them here. Raw glanced over at the Princess and smiled a bit but said nothing. Of all of them, Raw remained the only one unable to leave the house without major cover-ups. Still, Raw seemed content to slave away in the kitchen and develop his own recipes for the others to test out.

That brought her attention to Cain. When she'd emerged from her rooms into the entrance way, Cain had picked up her bag, dropped it on top of his, and taken her off to a corner to explain the rules. He would go with her to the Other Side. They would live in the same place, and no outside roommates would be allowed without his approval. If kept informed of her schedule, Cain would not follow her around to all her classes. She had to agree to obey his rules and try her best. DG had been shocked. No angry whispers that she should not leave, just calm acceptance and a laying-down of the law. She must have looked shocked because he explained that if an Other Side degree is what she wanted, he would help her get it. He showed her what being a man, er…woman, of honor meant. He hugged away her tears when the nights filled with guilt or nightmares. He taught her to uphold her word at most any cost, and how to recognize the moment she must break her word. He showed her what life should be like, and he disciplined her when she refused his reasonable orders or broke the rules. He threatened the boys that came to take her or Azkadellia out on dates. Cain put the fear of God, or at least fear-of-Cain into those boys. In fact Cain seemed to be much more of a father than either Popsicle or Ahamo had ever been. Inspiration struck, luckily just as DG was cleaning up. She raced up the stairs and began sketching in the outlines of her real family. Her siblings; a sister by blood and a brother by choice. Next DG sketched her beloved friends who at times seemed more like uncles than friends. And in the center of the canvas, in the place of honor reserved for the father, DG sketched in a strong, clean-shaven face, sweet, light-blue eyes, and short, soft, blond hair.