Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters.
A/N: Hoo-boy! What started as a short little DG/Jeb friendship giftfic scene for animegus farmus back in September '12 somehow morphed to this monster, due to af's loving, constant demands of more. Through countless hours and late nights and silly conversations of sparking ideas and devouring all the lovely Tinfic there is literally on the Interwebs (and yes, trust me, I've checked), I found a story for DG and Cain, in a wonderful little 'What If' sort of world. And animegus farmus has been there 100% of the time, pushing me the entire way. So, you and I have her to thank for this thing.
A note on the styling: As this is a story told in bits and pieces, the tenses may seem to skip a little (though I try to stick to a certain one in a paragraph) and the though I've managed to arrange this in the best order I can, I did originally write several bits in the way that The Doctor travels (wibbly wobbly timey whimey). As such, this may not read quite like a linear story, please be aware.
The land was flat and the road was long and Wyatt could've sworn he'd just been driving the same twenty-mile stretch of freeway over and over if he hadn't been keeping an eye on the mile markers of the interstate. It was a better day for napping than travelling with the steady rain coming down and providing an almost lulling sound in the otherwise too quiet cab of the truck. This was a day one could easily get lost in their thoughts.
Wyatt glanced to his right, where Jeb sat in the passenger seat; leaning against the window, half-alert but clearly bored as he listened to whatever music was pouring out of his iPod.
There'd hardly been a word said between the two males since they stopped for lunch nearly three hours ago, and Wyatt estimated they still had about four more hours on the road. Previous experience told him that his son's mp3 player would eventually lose power, but he wasn't banking on too much coming from the boy anyways. Things had been strained since Adora's disappearance, and after a year and a half of hoping and searching and praying and eventually grieving over their loss when her body was finally found, Wyatt knew there wasn't anything left for the tattered remains of the Cain family in their old town. Jeb had been lashing out and acting up enough to get himself suspended from school for the first time ever, and when an offer came to fill a position of a soon-to-be-retiree, at the Sherriff's office in a small town in Kansas, Wyatt accepted the transfer and decided to use the opportunity to pull up roots and get himself and his boy outta Dodge and someplace new. Someplace where they could hopefully start to heal.
The Township of Hilltop must've been named as someone's idea of a joke since there was no marked elevation of any kind for nearly fifty miles around. The journey there had indeed been vastly silent, but fifteen minutes ago Wyatt had roused his son from his unintentional nap to help him navigate by reading the directions printed off and consulting the large fold out map of the area.
They'd passed their new home twice, largely due to the lack of street signs, street lights or any indication of where they were besides a little diner across the street. The rain had thankfully stopped by the time they actually pulled into the parking lot of Hilltop Manor Apartments, which allowed Wyatt and Jeb to at least unload sleeping bags, pillows, flashlights and a few other necessities unaccosted. The place wasn't much—a living room, two bedrooms (a master and a spare), half a kitchen and an even smaller bathroom—but it would suffice. While the utilities were in working order, they'd brought no food with them beyond a bag of jerky, bottled water, trail mix and a can of Pringles that Jeb guarded jealously. The diner across the street had been a no-brainer.
The bell jingled as they stepped in the restaurant and smell of grease and grill smoke greeted them to the point where one could nearly taste the food being cooked. While the place wasn't packed, it was certainly busy and several patrons' conversations filled the air. An older woman with graying hair and a sweater over her gingham uniform welcomed them and directed them to have a seat where ever they could find one. It was a younger waitress who served them, however. With dark hair in a high ponytail and fluffy bangs over cornflower blue eyes and a warm smile, she introduced herself as DG, and Wyatt pegged her as one of the local high school's cheerleaders. She'd certainly caught his son's notice as he sat up straighter when she approached their booth. DG took their drink orders and pointed out the menu tacked on the wall behind her before rushing off to fulfill her duties.
DG was friendly and chatty as she guessed correctly that they weren't from around the area and stopped by their table more than strictly necessary in between serving her other customers. It made up for the slightly slow service, due to the volume of people waiting on their food and Wyatt appreciated the way she seemed to set his son at ease. It made him feel slightly better at transplanting his boy and ended the long day on a slightly better note by the time they finished their dinner and turned in for the night in their new home.
The good feeling hadn't last long, though. Jeb enrolled in school that next week and Wyatt kept a worried eye on him. Back home, Jeb had been an outgoing boy, with several friends. And never one for sweets. These days he was quiet, saying little on school or how he's fitting in. He spent most of his free time in his room if he was at home or at the diner, when he had pocket money to spend. He came home with strawberry malts and french fries on his breath. Wyatt wasn't sure if it was the girl, the food or both, but he reluctantly let his son continue this cycle for nearly a month, knowing that they were still both grieving and dealing in their own ways.
He'd tried talking to Jeb after that, (prying, Adora would call it), wanting to seriously know how his son was feeling about their new life in the quiet town. In the manner of all teenage boys, Jeb had predictably been tight lipped and defensive when Wyatt pressed for more than vague answers and it had predictably turned into an argument that had both males raising their voices and ended with Jeb leaving the apartment with a huff and a slammed door. Wyatt only felt marginally less worse when he spied his son stalking across the street to the diner.
Two days later Wyatt returned from his afternoon grocery run with a bag balanced on his hip as he juggled his keys to the appropriate one to the apartment, noticing an unfamiliar motorcycle parked in the spot next to him. He could hear the sound of one of Jeb's shooting games before he even opened the door, and let out a sigh. It was a good thing their only neighbour was still at work.
"You wanna turn that down, Jeb...?" he trailed off, noticing his son wasn't the only one home. Jeb and the waitress from the diner were both looking at Wyatt with a slightly sheepish expression.
Jeb paused the game. "Hey, Dad." He gestured to his guest. "This is DG-from the diner."
DG gave him a tremulous smile. "Hi, Mister Cain."
Wyatt nodded and went to the kitchen to unload the bag. Jeb hadn't really said anything about having guests over, but considering Wyatt's worry over his son's lack of friends, Wyatt was just relieved that his boy wasn't completely on his lonesome in this community. Hilltop wasn't by any means large, but it was close and he didn't want his son being saddled with being the outsider. "Hi, DG. That your bike parked out front?"
"Yeah," she answered warily. Glancing at Jeb as she did so.
"You being safe on it?" he continued, unable to deny his law nature.
"I wear a helmet, if that's what you mean," she responded.
"You done interrogating, yet, Dad?" Jeb asked him, annoyance lacing his tone. He turned appologetically to the girl sitting next to him. "Sorry. Dad was a cop back at home," he whispered.
Wyatt pinned the younger Cain with a look, then directed his attention to their guest. "You staying for dinner, DG?"
A/N: On a curious note, I know the Tin Man fandom is 6 years old, but it's a little dying fandom. Is there anyone out there still reading this? Let me know. Also, please don't forget to review. Let me know what you think.