A/N: Yay my first Tin Man fic! I know, I'm a little late to the game, but this just begged to be written. In fact it went completely off the path I had set for it, and my original first chapter had to be split, it was getting so lengthy. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Pretty sure I don't own Tin Man, any of its characters, and if I did, I'd share.

DG still struggled with the fashions of the OZ.

She had finally convinced the royal dressmaker that she was not a hoop-skirt kinda gal, that anything with rosettes, bustles, tiers, cap sleeves, or collars would not make her short list, and they had compromised (after tears on both ends) on tonight's gown.

It was still more fuss than she wanted, but not the monstrosity that its predecessors had been; a pale forget-me-not blue, made of a soft, billowy fabric that was pleated and fitted along the bodice and flowed out from her hips to fall to the floor. There was a length of black velvet ribbon tied in a bow at her waist, and the dressmaker had begged and pleaded and threatened her into a corset that set her pale, modest cleavage to harlequin romance cover proportions.

She was terrified that every time she breathed it would draw comparisons to the heaving bosoms of said aforementioned heroines, so she tried not to do a lot of that. Breathing, that is.

Normally, DG dreaded the pomp and flare of court events such as these, which were held with ridiculous frequency to celebrate any and every event, like the ball that had been organized in honour of Lord Finceroy's third son's first successful attempt at facial hair.

Every titled member of the OZ had come bedecked in their finest and toasted the boy's patchy beard.

She hated being bedecked, bedazzled, coiffed and perfumed. She detested the snooty, stale pleasantries exchanged over gaggingly sweet cakes. She loathed the duty as Heir Apparent to mingle and simper and remember lengthy titles and curtsey and entertain.

DG longed for the days of charging head-first into certain death in jeans and sneakers.

The only reason the smile plastered on her face did not feel as counterfeit as it usually did at such an event was because Glitch had promised her that Cain and Raw would be attending tonight.

If there was one thing DG pined for more than denim, cotton and open fields, it was her friends. And green M&Ms. And disposable razors. And sleeping in on Sundays. And-

Okay, there was a list of things she missed longer than her arm, but tonight she would see her friends, all of them, in one place. No one would be shot, unconscious, netted, bloody, entombed or bewitched.

DG had not seen Cain or Raw in months, as one of the first things that her mother had done when restored to her throne was to ask Cain to be Captain of the Tin Men. He had refused the position at first, citing that that part of his life was over, but was eventually bullied into stepping into the position as Acting Captain, until a suitable replacement came along.

Shortly after, he had gone on a tour of the OZ, chasing down defectors to the Witch, fugitive Longcoats and trying to restore law and order to the OZ.

Raw had peaced out a week or so after the Tin Man, having had enough of the fetters of the Palace, of the press of too many raw emotions after the eclipse. He had made quick goodbyes and taken Kalm back to his tribe of Viewers, where the two could mend after their long ordeal.

The only familiar faces she had been left with were Glitch, who was often too busy in his duties as Royal Advisor and working to rebuild the OZ, her mother, who was busy being, well, the Queen, Ahamo, who found himself a little out of practice playing the Consort and being confined to one place, and had taken to travelling to broker trade deals (which was far more legal than his role as the Seeker in the Realm of the Unwanted, but a great deal less fun he had told her) and Azkadellia.

Az.

Az who was incredibly fragile, unfalteringly guilt-stricken and repentant, and who flinched every time someone looked at her for fear they only saw the Witch.

Azkadellia was excused from these types of events while she fought to overcome the past, and she had once told DG with a sad smile that it was probably for the best that she did not attend, people didn't need to be reminded of the horror they had faced under the Witch's tyranny.

And DG herself was kept quite busy. There was so much to learn, to remember. She only had a handful of memories, and those were the memories of a child. As Heir Apparent she was subjected to lesson after lesson on history of the Realm, on trade policies, magic tutoring, etiquette, foreign politics, the list was endless and unbelievably dull.

But she still managed to find plenty of time to feel lonely. She felt out of place as a princess, she was an ill-fit for royalty. She still felt like a waitress from Kansas, much of the time.

Sometimes though, that experience as a waitress at a greasy spoon came in handy. Like when she needed to slap on a smile and be polite when a minor Lord was expounding upon her his entire family line, who he clarified, were a pure line and could be traced directly back to Queen someone or rather, and who had retained extensive wealth and pure stock.

"I myself, own two, no three titles, several parcels of land within the OZ, and one island in the east of the Nonestic Ocean," he told her confidentially, smoothing pale hair back off his forehead in a move calculated to make maidens swoon. "I have hunted Jackoninnies in the Black Mountains, Papay in the fields of the Papay, and Shriekers in the Great Kells."

DG couldn't pull her eyes away from his jowels, which jiggled while he jabbered. She blinked. Try saying that three times fast.

When he leaned in closer, pressing his padded shoulder to hers, she entertained herself by playing "What's that stuck in his teeth?" to keep herself from shoving him away.

As the Lord began to regale her with hunting tales, someone tapped her shoulder, mercifully rescuing her from the climax of his tale, in which he ate the still-beating heart of some poor animal as some sort of masculine test of... masculinity.

She turned and met a pair of pale blue eyes that danced as they looked her over and she interrupted the Lord's tale with a decidedly un-princess like dive at the Tin Man.

"Cain!" she squealed, before she remembered that princesses don't squeal.

DG used her momentum to push the Tin Man further away from Lord whatshisface and embraced the man in order to frantically whisper in his ear. "Rescue me!"

Cain blinked and stood awkwardly in her embrace before he caught on to her meaning and he gave a shallow nod to the Lord. "Excuse us, I have a lot of catching up to do with the Princess."

He gave her a brief squeeze and stepped back, offering his arm and escorting her to a quieter part of the room. They made their way to an alcove, where there was at least a deception of calm, and Cain placed his back against the wall, so he could monitor the room.

Cain had a thing about always having his back to a wall. He had told her once he liked to see trouble coming, and he couldn't do that with his back turned.

DG looked over her friend with a smile, her first genuine one of the night, and noted that he had developed more of a tan in the months he had been patrolling the OZ. He looked good in his dress uniform of black piped with emerald green. He also had a number of official looking ribbons. But from the way he fidgeted with the collar of the jacket, she knew he would much rather be in his well-worn duster and trade-mark hat.

"If someone had told me that saving the OZ meant a lifetime of crinoline and formal wear, I might've rethought this whole thing," she said with a grin. "I'm thinking you'd trade in the uniform too."

Cain quit fidgeting with his jacket and gave her a once over. "I don't know, you look mighty presentable in a gown Princess."

"Wanna trade?" she offered, leaning forward to flick one of his gold buttons and wrinkling her nose.

His lips quirked and he kicked one foot back to rest against the wall. "I've been told periwinkle is not my colour."

DG snorted. "Someone misled you, Cain. Periwinkle would make your eyes pop. You'd be a vision!"

Cain rolled his eyes, but his lips were twitching. "I hate these things," he confided, somehow managing to convey his dislike of nobility, restrictive finery, dancing and Lords who try and impress their wealth upon you while breathing their horrible salmon breath all over you with one nod.

Or maybe she was projecting. Just a little.

DG mimicked his pose as best she could while wearing a floor length gown and leaned against the wall next to him. "What's there to hate? You get to stuff yourself into your most uncomfortable formal wear, wear shoes that pinch, there's wonderfully smelly food that gets imported from places you can't pronounce the name of," she counted off on her fingers as she went.

"You get to swap fascinating tales about alliances and trade agreements, and sometimes if you're really lucky, while you dance insanely intricate, ridiculous waltzes designed to make you look like a complete ass, a creepy diplomat will repeatedly try and grab your ass, or stare at your cleavage. It's all good fun."

Cain raised a scarred eyebrow. "We have different definitions of fun."

She grinned at him, feeling something loosen in her chest. She felt oddly relaxed for the first time in ages, and she was having fun trading banter with the Tin Man.

"I missed you, Cain, you big stick in the mud," she declared with a laugh.

He gave a shallow bow and pulled himself from the wall with a reluctant sigh. "We'd best get back to the festivities before someone complains that I've corrupted their Princess."

"Ha!" DG squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before she gestured at Cain. "Lead on, my Captain."

Cain turned to do just that before he paused and turned back to her, offering his arm. "I forget my manners, Princess."

She made a face at that, but followed her etiquette lessons and gingerly place her hand in the crook of his elbow and the two of them made their way back into the hubub.

They had made it to about the midway point of the great hall when DG spotted a familiar furry face, and she nudged Cain with her elbow and pointed. "It's Raw!"

Raw caught sight of them a moment later and his face broke into a happy grin as he began to make his way to them.

Her Viewer friend was still a good distance away, separated from them by the crowds of people packed into the Great Hall, when from behind the pair of them came the sharp crystalline noise of glass shattering.

Cain released her arm and spun, hand already reaching, lightening fast, for his holster. Which of course, he was not wearing. Weapons were generally discouraged at formal events, and even the military guests at this function were asked to leave their side-arms at home.

DG turned as well, and took in the scene in front of her.

It appeared as though one of the guests had bumped into a server, who had dropped his tray of wine glasses. The young man hastily tried to pick up the slivers of broken glass, stacking them on his tray and apologizing profusely to the guests around him.

One woman, in a voluminous scarlet gown, was making a great fuss about wine stains on her train.

Patting the tin man's forearm, DG grinned up at him. "Crisis adverted. Who'd have thought life would become so dull that the biggest worry we'd have would be how to remove merlot stains?"

Cain only looked at her, all the while thumbing at the empty spot where his gun belt usually rested, obviously feeling naked without his side-arm.

"Let's go find Raw -" DG forgot the rest of her sentence as all the lights blinked out and the hall was plunged into sudden dark.

A sharp, feminine scream echoed through the black and she felt a calloused hand grip hers tightly before she was wrenched against a firm body that smelled achingly familiar.

"Hold on to me, kid, I can't see a damn thing," Cain murmured, disquiet settling into his voice.

The sounds of panic were becoming more apparent around them as voices cried out in the dark, many people questioning whether the lights were going to make a reappearance anytime soon.

Then a male voice cried out, his voice cutting through the din and rising above the crowd's. "I can't open the doors! The doors are locked!"

"Why are the doors locked?"

"What's going on?"

"I can't see!"

"Let us out!"

The seed of panic travelled fast and furious and soon the noise was overwhelming as the entirety of the Hall was filled with raised voices, panicked cries and the sound of a thousand people fumbling around blindly in the dark.

Someone slammed into her side, shoving her further into Cain, and she gripped at him with her free hand, fisting it into the fabric of his jacket. In response he tangled his fingers with hers and gripped her hand tightly.

"Hold on to me, Princess, and don't let go. I won't be able to find you if we get separated," he ordered, his voice low and dark, somewhere close to her ear.

She nodded tightly, realized he couldn't see her in the dark any better than she could see him, idiot, and then voiced her understanding aloud.

Blinking in the utter pitchy blackness, that was unchanged whether her eyes were open or shut, she felt a tremor of fear curl up next to her spine. She literally could not see a thing.

"Where is the Queen and her Consort?" he asked her urgently.

"Oh my God, I don't know! I lost track of them!" The note of fear in her turned into a full blown panic when she realized the path his thoughts were taking and her stomach dropped out.

The last she'd seen of Lavender and Ahamo were of the pair in earnest discussion with the delegate from the Vinkus, and that had been at least an hour ago.

Cain caught onto the strain drawing her body tight as a bow-string and his free hand caught ahold of her shoulder and squeezed. "Calm down kiddo, there are guards with them, wherever they are, and whoever orchestrated this is as in the dark as we are at the moment."

DG sucked in a calming breath and tried not to think of anything lurking in the dark. Her imagination was fighting her tooth and nail to swamp her with terrifyingly detailed images and she regretted every horror movie she had ever seen.

"I can make light," she informed him quietly, and felt her magic tingle down to her fingertips as if it could intuit what she wanted from it.

"No, I'm thinkin' it would be a bad idea to draw attention right now."

There was a sudden scream of pure terror that cut through the darkness, and DG felt the tin man shift, as he hunted out the source blindly.

"Forget that I was complaining about how boring our lives had become, okay? Boring is lovely. Boring is very in vogue now you know," DG whispered, clenching Cain's fingers spasmodically. "Hell, I'd take one of Tutor's lessons on magical substantiation right about now, and I'd hang on his every word."

Cain made a quiet noise of amusement and then there was a loud hiss and crackle and suddenly the darkness was cut by a sinister red flickering light.

DG thought it looked like an Othersider road flare, and tried to make out the chaos of the hall through the sputtering light that bathed everything in red and strobed erratically. Everything was disjointed, and it was hard to make heads or tails of anything.

Most of the people she could make out were huddled together, but DG noticed that there were figures striding about with purpose, a discordant note of organization in the chaos. Each of them carried a small orb that was the source of the hellish light.

Cain had noticed this too, and he gently untangled her fingers from his jacket to shift her behind the safety of his body. His face was steely in the odd light, and his gaze jumped around the hall, lighting on each of the light carriers.

"Where are the guards?" DG queried worriedly, eyes looking for the familiar grey and green uniforms. "Why aren't they doing anything?"

"DG, look," Cain growled and she followed his gaze.

The nearest man prowling about with a red orb held high was wearing a charcoal grey jacket, trimmed with emerald.

"Oh... Shit," DG breathed.

"That's about the same assessment I'd make," Cain agreed, his body going stiff under her hands.

A/N: Reviews would be much appreciated, especially since I'm desperate to know what people are thinking about this.