Gentle Not The Heart

Pairing-C/DG

Rating-M/NC-17 for sex, language, violence. You know, the good stuff.

Spoilers-all three parts.

Summary-A year after the eclipse, DG and Cain surrendered to their feelings. Everything was bliss until DG was called upon to help secure an heir for a neighboring country. Cain, unable to bear the loss of his princess, leaves to make the way clear for the marriage to happen. Five years later, he returns at the request of the House of Gale. DG, her husband and her son have been kidnapped, and it's up to the regions best tracker to find her. Pain, loss, danger and lies pave the road of the Tinman and his Princess. Will this be their final goodbye or can the damage be undone?

A/N-So, this thought was brought on by a bunch of different sources. The first was Rascal Flatt's "What Hurts the Most", particularly the chorus "What hurts the most/was being so close/and having so much to say/watching you walk away/And never knowing/What could have been/Not seeing that loving you/Was what I was trying to do. I did that from memory, so it's probably off a bit. The Princess Bride also plays a teeny part, as well as a couple of good old romance novels. Angst galore ahead. And it will probably take a while for our lovely couple to actually make it into the same room, so be patient. So you know, I'm of the mind that DG was closer to 25 whilst traipsing around the OZ. Keep that in mind. I do not apologize for this, and hope you, the reader, can move past it if you're of the mind that she was 20. And Cain is just over 40. Blame that on another fan fic writer that put his age at 38 at the time of the eclipse. I liked it. I used it. So there. I think that's enough explanation, onto the story.

Prologue

"I wish we could always stay like this." DG's hair tickled his chest as they lay in her bed. She was sprawled out next to him, her hand tucked under her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. He smiled at her, twisting a strand of her hair around his fingers.

"We have to get out of bed eventually. People'll wonder where we are."

"Who cares?" She replied with a sigh.

"You're mother might."

"She might not if we told her. I don't know hwy you won't let me tell her." She pouted at this, making her look much younger than she was. Cain brushed his thumb over her protruding lip.

"We will. When the time is right."

The time was never right as far as he was concerned. He knew he was being a coward. But he didn't want to put their relationship at risk. And as long as it was secret, it wasn't at risk.

He had no illusions. He was a Tinman, an old one at that. She was a princess, no matter where she was raised. It was a touchy situation at best. Not an impossible one. Just touchy.

"You make me crazy, Wyatt." DG rolled her eyes and pushed up into a sitting position. He couldn't help but admire the view. They were both naked, having fallen together as soon as her door closed for the night. It had been that way since he'd finally given in, as she put it, a month prior. He hadn't given in; he'd just been biding his time. And the time had been right.

She was sleek and soft, her pale skin silky under his calloused fingers. Her cornflower blue eyes were dark with annoyance and just a hint of arousal. He'd had no idea what kind of body her clothes had been hiding. The pants and jacket she'd been wearing when they first met had hid the gentle curve of her hips, the jacket the round firmness of her breasts. The clothes she wore for meetings with delegates from other countries didn't do much for her figure either.

Nowhere other than here in bed with him, did her beauty truly shine. She wasn't a kid, she wasn't a princess. She was a woman. His woman.

"I thought that's what you liked about me." His grin had turned wicked, and she looked at him warily.

"Oh no you don't. I'm irritated at you." She evaded his reaching hand, scooting out of the way as he sat up. She wasn't quick enough and she let out a squeal of laughter when he caught her.

"Come on, sweetheart." He crooned, rubbing his lips against the smooth expanse of her neck. Her naked bottom rubbed enticingly against his erection and her breath whooshed out in a defeated sigh.

"We have to tell them soon," she said, melting into him as his teeth nibbled her ear.

"We will." He promised, reaching up to turn her head so she would look at him. "We will." He said again, leaning in to press his lips against hers.

With a start, Wyatt came awake. Sweat beaded his brow and his cock ached in his pants, both unpleasant side affects from the dream. After five years, the memories of that day, their last day together, could still damn near kill him.

It had been five years, five long years since he'd seen her. Four since he'd finally managed not to think about her all the time. The whiskey he'd taken to drowning himself in before he fell into bed probably helped with that. It had been two years since he'd forced himself sober. The dreams still came, drunk or not, so what had been the point? At least sober he could manage the pain a little better.

The need for a drink raged in him now, calling him to purge the memories forcing themselves to the surface. Even the knowledge that it wouldn't help didn't take the want away.

Cain pushed himself up and out of bed, turning to rest his elbows on his knees. He looked around the room he'd called home for the last few months. A single bed with a mattress so thin he could feel every spring. A trunk for his meager belongings, a table and a chair. All of it done in a dismal, dreary, banged up brown. He wasn't even sure it was real wood. It was small, impersonal. Depressing. Just the way he'd lived his life since that day he'd walked away from Finaqua and left his heart behind.

Cain scrubbed a hand over his face and realized dimly that he'd have to shave. His hair could probably stand a trim as well. What it mattered, he didn't know? It wasn't like they were going to care how he looked.

He pushed up from the bed and walked with quiet, deliberate steps toward the table. In the middle was a curling piece of parchment, the seal of the House of Gale emblazoned across the top. He blamed the words scratched across it, in Glitch's…Ambrose, he reminded himself. Ambrose's handwriting for the dreams.

Cain,

DG's missing.

Come Home.

Ambrose

With a growl, Wyatt crumpled the page in his fist, biting back the bile those words caused. When the messenger had first tracked him down, he stared at the envelope for the longest time, both afraid and excited to find out what was inside. He'd read it, over and over, his worst fear realized.

He'd go. There had been no other option. He'd find her, take her home and make sure she was safe once more.

That was the guarantee.

It was what would happen after that he was afraid of.

TBC