Not What He Seems
by Phantaz-magoria

A/N: This is a part of a much larger fic that I have in my head, but may or may not write down. In any case, I hope you all will forgive me for playing fast and loose with certain plot elements. I thought it fit, but I am kinda silly sometimes. Enjoy!

Not What He Seems

---

"This good thing DG does for Glitch."

DG and Raw were standing alone in the brain room. She was wiping her sweaty palms on the front of her shirt.

"Yeah, doesn't mean it isn't weird, though."

The lion man smiled. "It be fine though. You see. DG ready?"

DG took a breath and nodded.

Raw put one hand on her shoulder and the other on the tank and DG felt the air rush out of her lungs.

----

No sooner had DG felt herself pulled into the alien consciousness then a voice floated out of the darkness toward her.

"Well, view halloo. Who's pretty girl are you?"

The words echoed eerily in the empty spanse of nothingness. It was said in a slightly sing-songish manner, in a slightly accented voice. DG struggled to orient herself, trying to filter through the emotions that accompanied the words reverberating in her head. Idle curiosity, interested amusement...

"View halloo?" she asked, stalling to get her bearings.

"Simply a hunting term. Generally taken to mean 'Fox sighted ahead, proceed with gusto.' Not that I would imply you as being a small, mostly helpless creature running for its life before a pack of hounds. Not in the least. But you do have a certain vulnerability to you. A certain keenness about the eyes. And certainly far lovelier than any that have come to visit me so far. Less demanding as well. Tell me, do you have a name, my Lady Fox?"

DG felt herself stammering, though how could she when she couldn't even see her own body in here? "Well... uh... um, yes. I'm DG. We haven't met..."

"DG, DG, DG... Why, if it isn't our own little Dorothygale. Of course we've met, your Highness. Long ago, to be sure. I must say that I honestly did not recognize you. You've grown some since the last time I dragged you out from under my workbench. That and I seem to have been under the slightly mistaken impression that you were dead. Strange, that... Although, I can't say that I'm surprised you don't recognize ME. My body's run off somewhere..."

The confusion faded away, realization inflected in her voice. "You're Ambrose."

The voice in her mind laughed sadly. "I wouldn't wish THAT horror on anybody..."

"You're not Ambrose?"

"No, I am. Ambrose is one of the names that refer to me, specifically, yes. But the way you said it... Ambrose means 'Immortal.' Did you know?"

"No, I didn't."

"It's fitting, perhaps. Most brains have the great good sense of dying shortly after being ripped from their bodies, but here I am... how many annuals later? Ten? I guess you could say that I'm stubborn..."

"Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about."

"My foolishly stubborn tendencies?"

"No, your body! It's here in the palace... well, HE'S here in the palace. His name is Glitch. He's my friend."

"Interesting."

"Interesting? Is that all you can say?"

"Would you prefer 'fascinating?'"

"No. I just thought you would have more to say, is all."

"Imagine, if you will, that a person who's been dead for some twenty or so annuals has just walked up to you and told you that your body has apparently been walking around of it's own accord, developing a personality completely separate from yours, and that they're friends. I mean, we could make it just a touch weirder by pretending that you're nothing but a brain floating in a jar, but that just might be overdoing it a little, don't you think? Brilliant I may be, your Highness, but some things still need processing."

The sarcasm in the voice took her by surprise.

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"So. Tell me about him."

"What?"

"You came here to talk to me about him, didn't you?"

"Well, yes. Yes I did, actually. I don't recall what I was going to say exactly. I had it all rehearsed, too."

"I seem to do that to people."

"Really?"

"Yes, I think it's a nerves thing. I understand that people believe me to be scary."

"I don't think you're scary."

"You wouldn't, would you? After all, what's a brain in a jar going to do to you? Talk you to death? Hardly."

She could almost hear his eyes roll.

"You're beginning to sound like you feel sorry for yourself."

"Am I? I apologize. You caught me in a somewhat fatalistic mood. News that somebody else has been enjoying my body without me hasn't made it better."

"Oh, come on. It can't be that bad, can it?"

"You try going ten annuals without doing anything that you used to enjoy; sleeping, eating your favorite foods, drinking hot, hot coffee or an ice cold lemonade... smoking a cigarette with a glass of fine brandy... sex... hmm. I wonder if he's been having sex while I've been gone. That would just be a little weird. Not that life without a body can get much weirder. But, it is an interesting question, isn't it? Which side of the brain is responsible for sexual desires, do you know? I've never actually thought about it. Is it a logical desire or an artistic one, do you think, or a combination of both? Logically, scientifically, I can say that it's a biological imperative that's reinforced by dopamine receptors and that our bodies are designed to enjoy it so much that it consumes almost eighty percent of a man's daily thought processes. At least I think it was eighty. It's been a while, I might not have the exact statistic. But no matter. When you think about it, though, desire itself, or arousal, if you prefer, is triggered usually by something visual... a sight, a sound... a smell. Could it be a question of aesthetics? The artistic line of woman's neck, the curve of a man's back..."

DG could swear that if she had a shape or a form in this abysmal darkness she would be blushing.

Then the voice really took her by surprise, "What gender does he even prefer, do you know?"

"No. No, that has never actually come up, thank God."

"I've always rather preferred the lesser fair of the species, myself."

It must have been the offhand way he said it, but DG couldn't resist giggling.

The voice sounded affronted now, "What?! I'm not saying that I would turn down an attractive woman if she offered herself to me, but offers like that come very few and far between for men like me and you learn to take what you can get. Concubines and prostitutes not withstanding. As loathsome as they are, at least whores don't... don't... GIGGLE at you when you're trying to present yourself."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, really. You seem like such a smart guy, I can't imagine anyone not jumping at the chance to... well... jump you."

Disdainful irony practically dripped from the voice, "Yes. Fighting off women with a stick has been the bane of my existence. Look, you may not have noticed this, but there is hardly a queue of women lined up behind you to sign my dance card. In fact, you're the only one in ten annuals to so much as speak to me, aside from that insane, psychotic, witch, bitch sorceress. And that Glitch person you spoke of..."

"Glitch came to see you?"

"Briefly. It wasn't so much of a conversation; he was here begging me to shut down the machine. I didn't realize that he was me at the time, but the jumbled thoughts that he showed me led me to believe that shutting it down might be a good idea."

"Wait, you're saying you had control of it?"

"Marginally."

"Then if you could control it, why were you letting the witch use your sun seeder in the first place?"

"I gave her what she thought she wanted, nothing more... but then I can be a lot more stubborn than she gave me credit for. It wasn't a sun seeder. She thought it was though, and that's all that mattered."

There was smug satisfaction there now, even as DG wrestled with confusion.

"But, if it wasn't a sun seeder...?"

"I call it an EPPDWSSD. An Ectoplasmic-polymorphic-para-dimensional-witch-soul-supplanting-device."

"Oh... That sounds neat... I guess."

"I designed it to kill the witch in case things didn't work out."

"Why didn't you just kill her to begin with."

"It would have destroyed Azkadellia. In a very violent and painful fashion. I promised your mother I wouldn't. But sometimes worse comes to worst... It was really sort of a last case scenario thing..."

"I don't understand."

"I could have killed the witch at any time. I could have destroyed her utterly the moment she showed her ugly face. And by the Gods I wanted to very much after your... death. But I would have had to murder your sister to do it. A killer I am, and a murderer I may be, but I swore an oath to the Queen long, long ago that I would protect you and your sister against anything that meant you harm. Including myself. I had already failed one of you... had to at least try for the other."

"Oh."

"Don't misunderstand, the thought of having to break that vow was a miserable thing indeed, but I wouldn't have lived very long with the regret. The machine would have destroyed every last living soul in a two mile radius. I'm very glad you were able to turn it off, but I've always liked the idea of going out in a huge fiery explosion. One hell of a swan song, don't you think?"

"I guess I'm just confused. Why the elaborate plan, if you were just going to kill her anyways?"

"I told you, it was a last case scenario idea. The original plan, the Mystic Man's plan, was to wait for you to show up and deal with it. Mine came into play only if waiting didn't work so well."

"You knew the Mystic Man?"

"Yes. He was an adviser to the Queen even before I was. He was my mentor in fact. He could see things in ways that even I couldn't. I still went to him for advice sometimes. And to play chess. Old bastard always beat me at chess. Never could understand why; nobody else ever beats me at chess. I am the master of chess. I am the greatest chess player to ever set foot in the O.Z. It wasn't until that last time we spoke that I found out the old nutter was psychic. I can't even begin to tell you how THAT went over. I was a little incensed to say the least."

"He was psychic? Is that why they called him the Mystic Man?"

"Well, no. Being psychic helped a great deal but it was more because he had this marvelous talent for being ridiculously cryptic."

"Yes, I noticed that."

The voice was silent for a second. When it spoke again, it was somewhat hesitant. "...um... I couldn't help but observe your use of the past tense... was that... accidental, by any chance?"

"No. The witch killed him while I was imprisoned here."

"Oh..."

The emptiness seemed to stretch, and though there was absolutely nothing in the blackness here, DG could definitely feel a sense of warmth pull away from her. She could feel the familiar guilt creep into her voice, "He died because he was helping me. I'm sorry, Ambrose."

The silence seemed deafening.

"Ambrose?"

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. Just thinking. He was a good man."

"Yes, he was. I mean, I didn't know him... but I could tell. I really am sorry."

"I don't blame you, your Highness. Truly. He knew what he was doing. He always was a crafty devil. The last time... The last time we spoke he told me to stall the witch as long as I could. That I had to do whatever I could to buy time 'for hope to grow.' Hope would save the O.Z. Hope would save Azkadellia and destroy the witch. All I needed to do was distract her long enough... I didn't know it at the time, but he was talking about you. It was after that conversation that I came up with the 'sun seeder.' A trap and a distraction all wrapped up into one giant machine, impossible to build, impossible to test. She fell for it completely. Hook, line, and sinker. I had thought that if hope hadn't come to stop her by the time she finished building the damned thing, chances of it coming at all were beyond astronomical. And then it would be time to just get it over and done with... Quite a brilliant plan, actually."

The voice seemed to smile.

DG was frowning. "Not to point out any flaws in your brilliant plan... but if you intended for her to get the sun seeder all along, why did you destroy the blueprints? That's why she took your brain out, because you wouldn't give her the blueprints..."

"She wouldn't have fallen for it if she'd gotten them that easy. It wouldn't have been a very good trap if she didn't fall for it."

"Are you saying that you KNEW she was going to take your brain?"

Silence.

"Ambrose?"

Even more silence.

"Ambrose, answer me!"

The voice was quiet. Somewhat petulant. "It wasn't the greatest sacrifice ever made for science."

"It's funny. Glitch said that too. Except he thought that he was protecting the people he loved when he made it, not tricking people into thinking that he was being noble."

"I wasn't trying to be noble. I wasn't even sacrificing that much. I had already failed the people I loved, lost the most precious things in the world to me. What more was a little brain tissue going to do?"

"Do you know how much Glitch has suffered because of you and losing that little bit of brain tissue?"

"Everyone has suffered because of me. What makes HIM any different?"

"Because he's YOU! If you don't care about yourself, who DO you care about?"

"Please don't misunderstand me, Princess. I do care for people. But I have an admittedly hard time putting my own desires before my duty."

"Yeah, I get that, Mr. Stoic Savior of the Realm. What I want to know is 'Who. Do. You. Care. About.' Because right now, Glitch seems like a better person with out you. So who is it?"

The voice huffed an irritable sigh.

"Before I answer that, how about you answer a question for me? Which do you think is nobler? The man who stays by his Queen's side to the end in spite of what he thinks MIGHT possibly happen to him? Or the man who grimly carries out a plan that PROBABLY won't work to save people that will PROBABLY be dead by the time it does work, knowing full well that awful and irreparable things WILL happen to him? And just to be scientific, let's get a good working definition of the term 'Awful'. Torture, defilement, degradation, debasement, humiliation, perversion... did I mention torture? And how about rape? And knowing that no matter how many of your bones were broken, how much blood you lost, or how VILE and disgusting the things they did to you, you couldn't talk, couldn't make it stop because for the plan to work, for it all to be worth it, you have to be strong and patient and wait for them to murder you and cut out your brain. Don't talk to me about nobility, your Highness. If your Mr. Cain had known that his actions would have lead to the death of his wife, would he have dared be so NOBLE?"

DG was taken aback. "How do you know about Cain?"

"Because you're thinking about him. You care about him. You want to know who I care about? You. The Queen. Azkadee. Two or three lovers I've had and lost over the years. My wife. She died giving birth to my son. He's dead too. My boyfriend, Daniel. He was killed. My sister. She's dead. My mother and father. They're dead as well. My horses, my dogs, the cat you gave me for Winter Solstice when you were five annuals old. I haven't seen any of them recently, but I would imagine they're dead too. Oh, and did I mention that you died? Yeah, that was a while ago."

The silence stretched on forever, DG wasn't sure what to say. It seemed best to let him talk now that she'd stumbled on such an obviously sore point.

After some moments, the voice sighed, very sad it seemed. "Listen, doll. I'm sorry that what I did to save Azkadellia and the kingdom hurt your friend... I truly am." The voice was sounding thoughtful again. "But, look on the bright side. To all rights, he should be dead and he's not. Most people who get their brains removed with an ice cream scoop don't live longer than six lunar cycles... an annual at most. He's gone far and above what any normal headcase could have done. Poor fool's obviously just as stubborn as I am. But surviving as long as he did... Maybe it's BECAUSE he doesn't have my memory, doesn't remember all the horrible things that have happened. Maybe he thinks he has more to live for than I do."

"Is that why my mother doesn't think that Glitch's surgery will work? Because you want to die?"

"I don't want to die. But I have spent a long time getting used to the idea. I think she might object to it because he's happy. Being happy as this world goes is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. It's a rare gift, he shouldn't give it up. Happy isn't a word that people use to describe me. After all, what a blessing it is to be able to forget... Not something that comes easily to me."

"So that's it then? She says no and you just go with it?"

"I think he might be better off."

"I think you should talk to him more."

"Do you? Why?"

"Because he has wanted his brain back for so long... even if you are kind of an asshole... and I am not giving up on his dream yet. And in order for that surgery to happen, I have to convince my mother. And for that to happen, I think I need to convince you first. So, I think you should talk to him."

"I'm not sure how much good you expect it to do. I've seen his mind. I see the world in black and white, straight lines and right angles. Your Glitch obviously has some sort of strange rainbow scheme going on with some weird, creepy tangential quadrilaterals thrown in."

"You could at least get to understand his point of view, and maybe he can see yours and we'll all decide from there. Sound like a plan?"

"Be honest, your Highness, how much of a say in this matter do you think a floating lump of gray tissue can have? I mean, really. I can have opinions as the day is long, but I can't actually do anything about them, now can I?"

DG smiled. "Oh, good. I was hoping you weren't going to be difficult! See you tomorrow then?"

"I await your return with baited breath, your Highness."

----

DG felt the rush of the world coming back to her and gasped for breath as her eyes opened. She was still in the brain room. Raw had a hand on her shoulder, a concerned look on his face.

"DG have nice talk?"

She ran a hand down the front of her shirt, reorienting herself to the world.

"Yeah. First of many it seems like."

In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder what she was getting herself into...