A/N: So here we have the first chapter of a new Tin Man fic. It started out as just a bunch of mindless fluff, but I felt it needed a plot. So now it has one. I'm not sure how much Cain/Glitch is going to be in it, but there will be some. I'll probably keep the rating at about K ...maybe T if your good ;).

Disclaimer: I don't own Tin Man, sci fi does. And I don't own Alan Cumming...but oneday...ohhh, oneday...

EDIT: fixed a few things...nothing big, though.

Of Pigeons, Castles, and Misplaced Heroics

Chapter 1

Ambrose woke himself up before the suns had risen everyday. He yawned, and stretched, wincing happily as his back cracked. He got up this early for a few reasons. One, so he could get a jump start on his extremely busy days. Two, so he didn't have to rush to get ready. And three (and this was connected with directly with number two) because the advisor enjoyed taking long showers. Nine months, four days, and nine hours had passed since the defeat of the evil witch. Four months, twelve days, and five hours had passed since the man had received the surgery that one again made him a whole man.

He had been nervous preceding the surgery. Would he still be Glitch? What would Ambrose be like? Would he still keep his friends, be the same person? Or change entirely? The results where surprising, but in a good way. Cain had commented he was the "same old head case, just smarter." He still felt like Glitch, only better. No longer was there the feeling of constantly missing something. He could remember things now. Only occasionally would he glitch, but the doctors said (and he knew it to be true, he was a genius after all) that this was a permeate side effect of having his brain removed. A few glitches ever once in a while he could live with, his friends he could not.

The advisor smiled, running his hands through his growing hair. He had been shaved bald for the surgery, but his curly locks where coming in quite nicely, and very quickly. Cain only had a few short weeks to make fun of him for his hair being shorter than the Tin Man's. The former zipper-head had decided to let it keep growing, just for the fun of it. He studied himself in the mirror, wiping a circle of steam off from his shower. Just a fine scar remained, showing just a bit from under his hair line. Satisfied, the advisor set off to continue preparing for the long day ahead of him.

"Ambrose, the queen mentioned something about new china…"

"Mr. Ambrose, a messenger has arrived with news about the Mobat search."

"Sir, the queen would like a word with you at your convenience."

"Ambrose, do you know where DG has gotten to? I keep telling her not to wander off all the time, but she's like a child, she won't listen."

"Mr. Ambrose. The report from the city on the new military recruits has just arrived. Shall I send a copy to the General?" The advisor looked up, an idea already formed in his mind.

"No, just leave it here, I need to have a word with him anyway."

It wasn't until that afternoon that the dark-haired man was finally able to break away from the busy tower-serving-as-a-temporary-palace. Outside, a little always from the tower, was where Cain had chosen to station his training ground for the new palace guards. As head of the Royal Guard, it was the Tin Man's job to train the new recruits, as well as deal with all other military, police, and crime issues in the OZ. He was quite busy, as it where.

As the advisor approached, the blond Tin Man was supervising his guards as they went through complicated drills. Beside him stood his son, Jeb, and exact duplicate of his father, only younger. It was Jeb who first saw Ambrose approaching, and gave his father a jab in the side to alert him. He called to his men to take a break, and they all collapsed gratefully.

"Hello, Mr. Ambrose."

"General." Jeb had to bit his lip to keep from laughing. Both men stood, five feet apart from each other, very stiffly. Cain's hands where on his waist, his stance strong, the ultimate look of General. Ambrose had his hands behind in back, in a more 'royal-court' fashion, as if he where delivering a report. A person who didn't know the two would say they both took their jobs very seriously (which they did) and barely ever came in contact with one another.

"How can I help you?"

"Some new information has come in, that I would like to discuss. I'm looking to set up a meeting."

"I'm very busy this week. How about next Monday?"

"The queen has a meeting with the farming council that I must attend. What about the following Wednesday?"

"I'm supposed to oversea some new recruits. This weekend?"

"I'm escorting the princesses to the city, and there is the state dinner."

"Oh, yes, of course. Well, I might be able to get away this Friday." Jeb dug his fingernails into arm as he watched the two go back and froth. It was a dance they performed every time they needed to meet up to discuss the rare events that led to their two jobs clashing a bit. Each one trying to appear more busy, and therefore more important, until one of them caved and allowed the other to choose the meeting time.

"Really, the only time I'm going to be able to get away is tomorrow and then I'm going to be very busy until the ball." The Tin Man's shoulders sagged slightly and the advisor smiled to himself. He'd won.

"Alright, tomorrow at one?" Cain sighed in defeat.

He finally let the smile he'd been containing loose after the advisor had agreed, and they turned to go back to the palace. Jeb let out the laugh he'd been containing.

"You're loons, both of you!" Cain smiled at his son. The other troops smiled and laughed a bit too, only they weren't quite sure what was so funny. Cain turned to them, still grinning. Suddenly, though, the grin was gone and he barked;

"Back to your drills! Get up, all of you!" The scurried up and into their positions. General Wyatt Cain was a fearless leader, and a good head of the royal guard, but damn if his troops weren't scared shitless of him sometimes.

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