Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Sci-Fi's Tin Man, is characters or plots contained therein. This is for pure enjoyment of the author and readers. I promise not to damage the characters too much, and will return them to Van Sickle and Mitchell all shiny and clean when I'm through.

A/N: This is my attempt at a compilation of one and two shot ficlets, and vignettes. It seems to be my lot in life that I can do really well with short stories, but long multichapter stories with complex plots dwindle in non-update land for too long. "Home" will be updated, never fear. I just have a lot of prompts (thanks to Celia Stanton) that need to be vetted out. These will mostly deal with Cain and DG, although I will dabble with ficlets surrounding the other characters as well.

WARNING for occasional language in these!

Special Thanks: Unending love and margarita-soaked thanks to Celia Stanton – beta, prompt squee-er and general writing coach extraordinaire. Without whom nothing would be updated, on pretty much anything I write. To Meredith Paris, for her continued beta support, and for whom I created the bad guy in this story – Cole. He belongs to you, Becky!

And to the incomparable piaffe417 – whose L&O:CI story "Truisms" is the reason I started this. Her title fit my idea to a tee, and while hers is a "connections through time" type story, and not a series of vignettes like mine, it is completely exemplary and inspiring. Thanks for the title inspiration and continued reviews, piaffe!

Undermine

Part I

"Sometimes we let affection go unspoken, sometimes we let our love go unexpressed, sometimes we can't find words to tell our feelings, especially towards those we love the best." - Unknown

The so-called 'shining city on the hill' was looking more and more beaten down and tarnished lately. Two annuals of dissent and hostilities; two annuals of attempts at reconciliation, and efforts to mend the wounds of a county ripped down the middle had taken their toll. The buildings bore the scars of mortar attacks. Internal terrorist bombings that scorched their feet where car bombs had exploded marked the buildings' cornerstones with soot, and great chunks of sidewalk were missing. Scaffolding checkered the sides of the high rises, the only evidence of a city on the mend. The fighting had ended a few months ago, and the citizens of Central City clung tightly to a tenuous thread of peace that had been too long out of their grasp.

After spending most of the previous year in the city, DG was becoming used to the cavernous surroundings of the tall buildings. Unlike the Southern Palace, getting things in the city was relatively easy. As long as the shops were open. During the height of the hostilities, most of the populous evacuated the city at the Crown's behest, fleeing for the supposed safety of the surrounding countryside.

The royal family, of course, stayed behind to coordinate allied movements against the uprising that either still remained loyal to the fallen Witch, or simply blamed the deposed Queen and her family for their woes. DG had underestimated the number of people in the Zone that would not fold quietly back under the Crown's auspices; how many of them truly believed that had it not been for Queen Lavender's daughters, the O.Z. would have remained a little slice of heaven.

DG had fallen into her role of Princess (albeit with some complaint at first) and attempted to help her family mend their broken country. But all the Risk board games in the world couldn't prepare her for the realities of war. The youngest princess was christened into the civil war, literally by fire, as the city around her erupted in explosions and bloodshed.

After a tentative truce had been arduously hammered out, the O.Z. seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The skies, which had remained tinted with the ichor of smoke and gun powder, finally found the blue that had been missing for so long and the suns peeked out from behind the retreating gloom.

DG smiled as she felt the suns' rays warming her head as she walked down the street. Most of the city's tenants had returned and set about repairing their homes and businesses. The streets again bustled with activity and DG couldn't help but feel like the worst was over.

Assuming the worst is over is usually when the ground falls out from under your feet, intoned a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like the tall, steely eyed shadow that loomed behind her. She rolled her eyes. It was stark evidence to DG of the toll the war had taken, when even her inner voice was as cynical and wary as the Tin Man who was two steps behind her at all times. But his presence was intimately connected to her being. Something else she could thank the war for…

DG heard his heavy boots quicken as he closed the gap between them.

"You're dawdling," Cain said, leaning down and tilting his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes.

"I'm enjoying being outdoors. There's a difference." DG smiled as she saw a flower shop employee tote a huge basket of purple and yellow flowers to a sidewalk stand. She readjusted the messenger sack slung over her shoulder, straightening the light blue blouse she wore over her dark, long skirt and boots.

Cain glanced down the street before turning back to her, his mouth set with what DG knew to be consternation. "We were supposed to be back at headquarters fifteen minutes ago."

"So, we're a little late." DG stopped and plucked one of the flowers from the stand and breathed in its scent. She tossed a coin to the vendor. "I haven't been able to stroll these streets in a ye–annual, Cain. Let me enjoy it."

She turned to him, holding the flower just under her chin. She watched his eye start to soften, the lines around the edges relaxing a bit. Cain tipped his hat back with one finger and sighed.

"It's been tough being cooped up in that high rise for so long. But even with a ceasefire in place, these streets aren't safe for you, Princess." Cain's eyes twitched toward the two guards that had walked a few yards ahead of DG. There were two more guards bringing up the rear of the group. "So humor me, kiddo. We need to be getting back."

DG quirked her mouth and breathed a resigned sigh through her nose. She knew he was right. He always was. Cain took her sigh as acquiescence, his lips tilting to the half smile that DG had missed seeing. He took her by the elbow and started leading her back down the walkway.

For a few moments, DG considered her position: on the arm of a tall, striking man in a rumpled fedora. In another time, they'd have looked like a couple, walking arm in arm down the street of Central City. DG allowed her imagination to wander to a time and place where Cain might have invited her out for a walk – escorting her in a way very much like the couples she saw in the streets – simply enjoying the fact that they were together.

The tiny smile on her lips fell, though, when she stole a glance at the Tin Man next to her. His face was alert, cautious and ever scanning his surroundings. Not the relaxed countenance of a man strolling down the promenade with his girl. Not that she was his girl…of course.

DG was mulling over her little wayward fantasy when a young man came running up to the group. The guards suddenly closed rank around the princess and DG felt herself being jerked behind Cain's bulk as he immediately drew his pistol. She had an odd sense of déjà vu: Cain's free hand protectively holding her behind him while he angled his body toward the oncoming threat; very much the same way he'd done in the Realm of the Unwanted, a lifetime ago.

"Highness!" The young man slowed to a halt as weapons were drawn on him. Slowly he pulled his jacket aside and revealed the insignia of the Crown on his breast: the swirl that reminded DG of the weather symbol for a hurricane. "The Queen sent me with an urgent message."

Cain nodded to the other guards to stand down, and DG moved from behind him to accept the piece of paper. The messenger held onto it.

"Actually, Your Highness, this is meant for Mr. Cain."

DG blinked at him for a second before withdrawing her hand. "Cain, you've got mail."

Cain was holstering his weapon and looked up, confused. He stepped forward and accepted the paper, opening it gingerly. DG moved in close to him, reading over his arm before she was aware that he might not appreciate her reading his mail. She couldn't make out much, but she noticed Cain's shoulders tense, the set of his jaw tightening and his eyes going dark.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

Cain's tone was stony. "The fighting in the east last month was situated around The Deeps, our maximum security prison. It's built into a cave in the ground." He folded the paper and put it inside his duster. "One of the rebel factions used explosives to blow an escape route out of the ground near it. Most of the prisoners escaped."

DG chewed her lip. "What happened to the rest?"

Cain took her by the arm and started guiding her briskly down the street, his demeanor bristling. "Dead. Shot on sight by the remaining guards."

"I'm guessing by the way you're dragging me," she pulled her arm out of his grip, and he paused as she rubbed her elbow, "that those still at large are pretty dangerous."

Cain's eyes were icy, though he seemed to realize he'd been nearly hauling her by one arm. He reached out again and took her wrist, gentler this time but still insistent. "You guessed right, Princess. C'mon."

"What kind of convicts are we talking about here, Cain?"

Cain didn't look at her, but kept his hurried pace; his longer legs forcing DG to trot beside him. The headquarters where the royal family had been living for the past annual was in sight and he pulled DG across the street.

Just as they entered the foyer of the hotel-style building, DG thought she heard him answer her, but his voice was almost a growl.

"The worst kind, kiddo. The worst kind."

It had been a long day, and Cain tilted his neck to the side to pop the kinks. The day had consisted of meetings: incessant, droning, never-ending meetings. The Princess and the Royal Advisor – though with his hair still sticking out every which way, Cain couldn't see him as anything but Glitch – been summoned to several buildings downtown to work on getting the city back up and running. Most of the public works were reinstated, but the question of law enforcement had brought them to the site of the old Tin Man academy.

Cain felt a wave of nostalgia when he entered ahead of DG and Glitch, the feeling and smell of the place bringing back memories of his years in training. The building had been turned into barracks for the Longcoats during the Sorceress' reign, and because it had been many annuals, Cain found the place unrecognizable.

"We need a functioning police station again," he heard DG telling the older man in front of her. "You were a Tin Man once, one of the instructors, I believe."

Discreetly, DG cast a look over her shoulder to Cain. He nodded in affirmation; she'd come to him to ask who would be the best person for the job of reinstating the Tin Men in Central City. Old Magarren was the first name to come to mind. He'd survived as a resistance fighter during the coup, survived the reconstruction war, and though he stood over the youngest princess with a doubtful look on his grizzled face, Cain knew he'd be the best man for the job.

DG smiled and turned back to Magarren. Cain smirked and shook his head; the old man didn't know what he was in for if he thought he was going to refuse DG. She could persuade mountains into moving out of her way. While the others talk about recruitments and city laws, Cain found himself gazing intently at DG. He'd always enjoyed watching her exude the passion he knew ran through her like a torrent. Their country was shredded into factions and territories, and DG fervently wanted to reunite them.

He remembered how apprehensive she'd been when the war started, just before he left to assist the military. He remembered how depressed she'd become, her Light fading to a shadow of her former self. She blamed herself for the outcome of her actions as a child, and Cain knew he'd be lying to himself if he didn't partially agree with her. Her insatiable curiosity set loose a plague on the O.Z.

"I can't do this. I can't help the Zone, I'm the one who caused all of this." She had been holed up in the library, her back to a wall while one hand massaged her temple.

Cain read the fear and self loathing in her eyes when she looked up at him. It struck a chord deep in his chest with such resolution, he nearly winced from the pain. "You can do this, kiddo. You can't keep going back to that cave."

"Yes, I can. I wish that cave would have collapsed and buried me that day." Cain's brows drew down in concern as he watched her face go slack in despair. "It'd be a quicker end than having to watch my family, and my people, suffer this war."

Cain had reached out a hand and took hold of her shoulder. She was shaking under his grip. He made his voice like granite, anything to shake her out of that state of mind.

"Don't talk like that, DG. Everything happens for a reason, and you have a job to do."

"I can't," she'd whispered, the tears in her eyes made his heartstrings pull taut.

"Yes you can."

"I can't do it alone."

"You won't be alone," he'd said, just before she fell into his arms for a hug that was meant to stabilize them both.

In reality, it was the tipping point that only undermined Cain's emotional cohesion. All of his strength and self reliance was shattered like a glass tumbler on the floor, and in the shards all he found was his own confused and lost expression reflected back. He'd protected her out of duty. He'd rousted her from self doubt out of determination; he knew she was the one who could stop the Witch.

That night in the library, he'd intended to act as her touchstone once again, reassuring her with his certainty, fulfilling her need. But Cain hadn't expected the stark realization that dawned in sudden clarity as he held DG in his arms: he needed her too.

Cain chewed his bottom lip as Magarren and Glitch went over the blueprints to remodel the old academy. DG bent over the small table, her face screwed up in concentration and Cain could see the lines of thought around her eyes. She was doing her job, just as he knew she would.

Something smooth and hard slipped under Cain's fingers, and when he looked down at his hands, he saw that he'd been unconsciously turning his worn wedding ring over and over. Somehow, he'd slipped it down to the first knuckle of his ring finger and hadn't even realized it. Cain swallowed and pushed the band of silver back to its former place.

So engrossed in trying to figure out how his hands had started working his ring down his finger of their own volition, Cain didn't realize DG was at his side until she touched his shoulder.

She smiled a little when he jumped. "Hey…uh…you ready to head back?"

He dropped his hands to his gun belt, shaking the thoughts from his head. "Yeah, sure, Princess."

DG fell in step with Glitch as they chatted about their plans for returning law enforcement to Central City, while Cain kept a few paces behind. Two guards led the way as they mingled through the evening shoppers, bags in hand as they beat a harried pace back home. The streets were hardly safe after dark, and the second sun was already kissing the horizon. DG's entourage weaved in and out of the evening 'commuters', as she called them, and all the while Cain's right hand kept going back to his left ring finger, thumbing over the band of silver.

It wasn't the first time that thoughts of youngest princess had found Cain looking down to see that his ring was being spun restlessly on his finger. He'd just never gotten it all the way off. It was a part of him; like his left hand wouldn't allow it to go past that first knuckle. But it was starting to seem looser on his finger lately. And Cain refused to let himself fathom the meaning behind that, as he fell a few steps further behind his charge.

Glitch found something interesting on a table of knick-knacks outside of a secondhand store, and had stopped to inspect it. DG had also stopped to see what her friend had found; the two guards in the lead pausing while the Princess shopped. Cain sighed when he saw the Headcase rifling through the table's contents like he was on a treasure hunt.

More delays. The street lamps burned to life as dusk settled in. Cain didn't like that it was getting dark, and they were still dallying around in the streets. There were a fair amount of people going in and out of the shops around them, and the second hand store had several other treasure hunters perusing the tables near Glitch. Cain shifted his weight, one hand resting on the butt of his gun, his eyes scanning the opposite walk.

It was almost as he remembered it, working in the city just after graduation. He used to like the way the evenings smelled, the restaurants and bar food wafting out into the streets while the neon glow produced a multicolored haze. He hadn't started seeing threats around every corner then; hadn't been christened into the world of dealing with the underbelly of society.

How young he was. The thought brought a slight smile to his face as he watched a sedan pull up, and a man helped his wife out.

His mind was wandering again when he heard DG's voice over his shoulder.

"Uh, thanks." Her voice was sarcastic and Cain turned in time to see a teen jaunting away from DG.

He frowned as he walked toward her, casting a questioning glare at the two guards who'd just let a complete stranger waltz right up to DG and hand her something, without even questioning it.

"DG?" Cain asked gruffly.

DG looked back down the street, where the youth had disappeared and shrugged. "Well, that was weird."

Glitch was holding up some gizmo and Cain figured he hadn't even noticed what had just happened.

DG looked down at the rumpled piece of paper in her hand, and Cain raised an eyebrow. "The kid give you that?"

"Yeah. But he said it was for the Tin Man," she answered, brows furrowed in confusion. "Why he didn't just give it to you, I don't know."

Cain took the message and unfolded the paper. Inside, he could barely make out the slanted scrawl, but once he did, the word's meaning felt like a shotgun to the gut. His eyes must have grown wide, because DG hovered close to him, touching his arm.

"Cain? What is it? What does it say?"

"Get her back to headquarters, now!" Cain snarled at the two guards, who snapped to like a whip had been cracked. With one hand he snagged Glitch's elbow, yanking him away from the shop; the inventor letting out a strangled 'Hey!' in protest.

The other hand snatched up DG's elbow again, nearly hauling her off her feet as he and the guards plowed down the street toward home. DG's protests were hardly a buzzing in Cain's ears. The words on the note kept thundering in his head, the beat in time with his heart. How could he have been so blind? So inept?

Hell'ova guardian you turned out to be, he thought bitterly. Cain ignored DG's flailing arms, pushing, and occasional curse until they were safely back in the foyer of the hotel the royal family had been calling home.

Cheeks stained with ruddy frustration, DG yanked her arm out of the Tin Man's grasp, and stood facing him. Both hands on her hips, she tilted her head to glare up under his fedora. He met her gaze evenly, unblinking and hard, his lips pressed together into a thin line of anger.

"What. In. The. Hell is wrong, Cain?" DG gestured with one hand, "What was that all about?"

"What did that kid look like? The one who gave you this?" He shook the tattered paper in his fist.

DG narrowed her eyes. "I don't know, just some kid. I didn't really look at him."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No. Why?" She stepped into his space, having to tilt her head up as he towered over her. "What the hell was on that paper that nearly had you throwing me over your shoulder like a caveman and dragging me back here?"

Cain broke eye contact first. His jaw worked, grinding his teeth as he ran through all the possibilities in his head. He felt DG shift her weight, as though she were about to forcibly prod him back to her attention.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and adjusting his hat, while he held out the paper for her. She took it, seeming to scan the words several times to make sure she understood.

DG made a face. "I don't get it. You know this person?"

"You could say that," he replied dryly, taking the note and rereading the words.

Twenty years I've waited to get you in my sights, Cain. Now I see you've aged. Not the cocksure, upstart Tin Man who spat in my face before you sent me to the Deeps so long ago. You look worried, troubled…and old.

You're nothing but a glorified butler to a dilapidated Crown. Killing you will be doing us both a favor.

Your instincts have dulled, Cain. I was this close. The little princess has very soft hair – I touched it as I passed.

I was this close. Remember that.

Cole

"You know I'm right," DG intoned for what she was sure was the nth time. "We need to put a guard on you, Cain."

Cain smirked, dusting off his hat. "A guard for the guardian, eh? Thanks, but no thanks."

DG refrained from rolling her eyes at the blatant machismo beating its chest in front of her. Men and their egos. As long as she'd known him, DG knew her stoic Tin Man had never put much stock in overt bravery for bravery's sake, nor did he ever boast about his accomplishments.

His quiet strength spoke loudly enough for itself; his bravery proven time and time again through his deeds. Others tried to be heroic. Wyatt Cain just was heroic. And DG knew that if asked, Cain would simply state that he was doing his duty. She'd always figured Cain to be a man made of different stuff, and that after the Great Manufacturer Himself took a good look at His Tin Man creation, the mold was broken.

Now, as she watched Cain clean his hat – with the morning rays of sunlight streaming through the windows of the foyer illuminating him, causing his blond hair to look platinum – she realized something. He's still just a man, 'I-can-take-care-of-myself' attitude and all. She smiled into her coffee.

"Still, you should have someone looking out for you." She shifted in her seat.

Cain sat across from her, hat now perched on his knee, and he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. His gaze was toward the window, the morning light making his ungodly blue eyes look almost clear. He was pensive, and DG knew that note had bothered him more than he was letting on. But it wasn't the threat against him that had him pacing the different floors of her family's penthouse until the wee hours.

"Don't worry about it, DG. I'm supposed to be watching your back."

"Then I'll be watching yours," she said softly. When he met her eyes, DG could see surprise in his face.

A flurry of emotions crossed his eyes, and DG thought it reminded her of the way he looked at her on the hilltop near the Black Tower, just before they separated with every possibility of never seeing each other again. She saw admiration, gratitude, and something that seemed like deep-seated longing in those blue depths.

An eternal moment passed before he seemed to regroup. "Remind me to find you a stick, then." A ghost of a smile quirked his lips, and DG felt herself grinning. He didn't tease her much, but when he did, it was always subtle.

"Who is this Cole person?" DG asked finally, as they were reading to leave for her appointments.

"A double murdering bastard." Cain said in a low growl.

DG's brows went up as she gathered her things. "No love lost over time, I see."

"He killed an associate of his over a lost bet, and then killed the officer sent to arrest him. An officer with a wife and kids." Cain's voice was tight as he shrugged into his duster, while DG stood waiting. "So, I was sent in to track him down and bring him in. And there was no way a guy like Isaiah Cole was gonna come in quietly."

"But you got him," DG said.

Cain checked ammunition before guiding her out of the building. "Yeah. After he shot my fellow officer in the arm and nearly set the tenement building he was holed up in on fire. I was able to get to him before he hurt anyone else."

"And now he's escaped the Deeps and wants revenge. Why just you? Surely there were other officers that helped convict him."

Cain surveyed the street with hooded lids. "I did what I had to make sure he made it to trial. We spent a lot of," he paused, "one-on-one time together after we got him to the jail. Cole liked to test the officers who guarded him. Start fights; show off what a big, bad killer he was."

DG looked at the Tin Man next to her. Cain's eyes had darkened, and there was a feral edge to his voice. She was beginning to get the picture: a killer who'd taken one of their own; a capable, young Cain out to vindicate his comrade. She had no problem imaging a younger Cain being full of spit and vinegar – tough and ready to come out swinging – and probably lacking a lot of the patience age now afforded him.

"You put the beat down on him," she stated. She was careful to keep her voice neutral as possible, though she knew Cain would read her like a book. He'd hear the slight shock coloring her words.

Cain looked down on her, but his face was a mask. "I did what I had to."

DG mulled over the newfound knowledge of her closest friend. She was about to say something when the plate glass window next to her exploded. Shards flew like a thousand knives, cutting her arm. DG screamed just as a solid freight train of a body rammed into her.

Cain bellowed for her to get down and stay down, his arms winding around her body as he cradled her under his protective bulk. DG found herself staring into his brown leather vest. For an absurd moment, she let herself feel the muscles of his chest through his shirt, until reality crashed back in and Cain's shouts could be heard over the thunderous din.

Royal guards had poured out of the building, providing cover as Cain yanked DG up from the pavement. She squeaked in surprise as he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, jogging back into the building. She clutched his neck before remembering that Cain carrying her like that was ridiculous. She wasn't even hurt!

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" She yelled over the orders that were being barked from all directions.

Cain stopped and she pushed out of his arms. His hands roamed her sides, and DG knew he was looking for injuries. He stopped at a cut on her forearm.

"It's just a scratch from the glass, Cain."

His face was pinched with worry. "You're okay? You're not hit?"

"No," DG hissed. "Now do you see what I've been saying?"

Cain shook his head. "That could've been meant for you, Princess. Your family isn't very popular with some of the natives, you know."

DG actually laughed. "As if I needed reminding of that fact. But I think this, Cain," she pointed out the door, where guards scrambled and a few cracks of return-fire could be heard, "this was for you."

Cain pinned her with an icy stare, but no way was she backing down. "I can take care of it. My priority is keeping you safe."

"And while you're busy worrying about that priority, Cole is going to put a bullet in your back." DG's voice hitched in anger.

"You think I can't look after myself and protect you too, is that it?"

For the first time, DG saw a glimmer of true hurt in Cain's eyes. It was the kind of hurt that came from doubt, but it wasn't doubt in himself. He thought DG doubted his ability where she was concerned. As if she'd ever question the innate fact that he'd lay down his life for her without thinking twice…

DG reached out and grabbed him by the forearms. "That's not what I'm saying and you know it. Is it such a stupid thing for me to worry about your safety for a change? This bastard has a hit out on you and I don't want him to succeed. Period!"

Cain pulled back enough that his forearms slipped through DG's hands, letting his fingers linger over hers as they passed over them.

"Let me handle this my way, Princess. I can get to him before he gets to me." His eyes were piercing with certainty and intent, but the hard lines of his face had softened somewhat. He'd been touched by her worry.

He motioned for another guard to stay with her, while he ran back out into the street to round up his men and search for the sniper. DG hugged herself as she watched his duster flapping behind him as Cain disappeared across the street.

"What if he gets to you first?" She muttered.

Later that day, DG decided that cowering in the hotel wasn't going to help the reconstruction. She'd initially suggested that Cain stay behind – let another guard take up his post for the evening – but that was met with a glacial glare.

She knew she was arguing with a statue as he walked with her to the waiting caravan of sedans parked outside the building.

"This is stupid, Cain. A guy is trying to kill you…you stay out of the way, out of the line of fire," DG tried. Cain's only response was a muted growl as he guided her to the car quickly. "I'm not saying go into hiding... yet... but Jesus, Cain! You don't run around out in the open with a great big target on your back that says 'Place Crosshairs Here!'"

Cain tilted his head in an 'oh, please' manner and DG all but threw her hands up in the air in a fit of pique. She stuffed herself into the back of the sedan, muttering about Cain being a bullheaded idiot who'd get himself shot just to prove a point.

She saw Cain trotting back to his sedan at the end of the line. The driver was already in it, and Cain slowed down as he came up on the car.

He was not more than ten or fifteen feet from it when the whole thing exploded in a ball of flames; an inky cloud of smoke mushrooming toward the sky. The whole block rocked – the windows nearest the convoy blew out and showered the sidewalk and onlookers in glass. People went skittering this way and that, some yelling for help, guards screaming for reinforcements.

DG's heart had shot out of her chest when the explosion went off, and was probably hiding somewhere under the front seat. Then she felt completely frozen. Cain.

Frantic, she wrenched the door open and stepped out in the street, despite the pleas of the guards nearest her to stay put. Her eyes searched the destruction for a rumpled fedora.

The sedan was gone; little more than a mangled heap of metal in the vague shape of a car, sitting in a blackened concrete crater. The cacophony of noise was deafening as the fire burned on and people scrambled to put it out. Armed men fanned out to secure the block, moving with precision, but DG moved like a stuttering robot toward the epicenter.

She caught sight of something that looked like flesh tangled in the twisted metal and the Princess felt her stomach start to rebel on her. It was the driver; it had to be the driver. She turned away, hand over her mouth. Water that was being sprayed over the car from hoses began to mingle with the blood and soot around her boots.

It seemed like the ambient air was sucked in by the flames and DG couldn't get a breath into her lungs. She strangled on the terror in her throat; no thoughts came to her mind except his name. He hadn't gotten in the car yet. He couldn't have… he just couldn't have gotten in that car…

Glitch had emerged from the hotel, hands on the top of his head in an almost comical display of horror. Ahamo appeared beside the Advisor, his terrified eyes finding his youngest daughter immediately. He rushed to her and grabbed her shoulders.

DG could dimly hear him asking if she was all right, if she was hurt, pleading with her to speak to him. But she had no voice. Her brain couldn't make her tongue work. And mother of God, she could not breathe.

Ahamo's hands grabbed her face, shaking her slightly. She blinked his face into focus and all but wheezed out one word. "Cain…?"

He looked confused for a moment, and DG wanted to punch him, scream at him, anything but see the perpetual apology that was written into his features. She didn't want him to be sorry about Cain; she wanted to know where he was! DG was about to spit out her question again, when a voice floated to her above the maelstrom.

Ahamo stepped aside and DG strained to see through the smoke. Down the block, about fifty feet from the bombed car, several soldiers surrounded something. DG started moving forward without telling her feet to take a step. One soldier stepped aside, his face as full of relief as his comrades.

A sooty blond head appeared through the black and red coats. DG's feet broke into a run. Her heart started beating again, and air expanded her lungs at last. She threw herself into his chest before she knew whether or not he was hurt.

He grunted painfully under her weight, but she held fast. Slowly, his arms found their place around her shoulders and she felt herself being crushed under his own fervor.

After a moment, DG pulled away to look at him, as if that alone would confirm that her Tin Man was really there, in front of her. He had a nasty gash at his hairline, and the blood ran down his cheek and neck. His face was peppered with little scratches and a good portion of his brown duster was riddled with holes. A tear in the leg of his pants revealed a freshly bleeding laceration, but it didn't seem to hinder him standing.

The blast had blown Cain a full thirty feet away. Had he been any closer, they would have been picking pieces of him out of the building's façade.

"You all right?" His voice cracked and was garbled around the split lip and the smoke in the air. He raised one shaking hand up to her cheek, his bloodied fingers just grazing her skin.

"I am now." Understatement of the century, and DG knew it. If this was what it was going to be like, worrying about him twenty-four-seven, living with the terror that he could be killed in front of her, DG wasn't having any of it.

"You have to get out of here," she said in a shaky voice.

Cain's brows came together. "What?"

"You have to leave Central City. Find some place safe until this bastard is caught."

He started to pull away, his face already going back to the 'you don't know what you're talking about, kid' face, but DG grabbed him by his duster's lapels.

"Do you understand what has happened today, Cain? A man tried to kill you – twice! You've been shot at and blown up in the span of twelve hours! What more do you need before you'll understand that you are in danger, damnit!" She knew her voice was cracking, but she didn't care. She had to make him understand.

"I'll find him, DG. I tracked him before, I can track him again." He had her by the shoulders, but she could see that her words were starting to chip his tough-guy façade.

"You can't stay here, don't you understand?" She cried. "You'll get yourself killed trying to watch over me because you're too damn stubborn to admit that you can't handle everything by yourself!" She stepped away, a sob in her throat. "And I'm not going to stand here and watch you get killed. I can't."

Cain's eyes widened. "I'm not leaving you, kid. If Cole can come after me, he can damn sure come after you. No way am I gonna leave you unprotected."

DG let out a staccato breath. She saw that she was going to have to do something that would likely feel as if someone were ripping a bandage off a fresh burn. But the pain would be nothing compared to the pain she'd felt just moments before, when for a horrific few minutes, Wyatt Cain was dead.

She found her voice and closed her eyes. "Yes you are, Cain. Because I'm ordering you to leave."

End Part I

Well this just completely ran away with me. It was meant to be a oneshot, and ended up having to be split in two. Part Two will be up shortly so FEED the author's NEED and REVIEW! C'mon, you know you want to flail at me!