Mea Culpa
This is for oddsbobs over on LJ who wanted angst. Um, yeah, they're not mine. And 'Mea Culpa' is latin for 'my own fault'. And, just a note, my spell-checker was being a pain, so... yeah.
"Ambrose!" Cain shouted, attempting to cut the inventor off in the midst of his rant about how the elements were ordered on the Ozian Periodic Table and the correct way they should have been sorted long enough to inquire about a roadblock up ahead. He'd been listening to the tirade for hours now, as they journeyed home to the Finaqua Palace after a trip to Central City to gather supplies for Ambrose's newest invention.
However, the other man did not falter in his speech at all, continuing on about the physical and chemical properties of Emeraldium and why it should not be included amongst such other elements like Axonium and Moritanium.
Cain was forced to pull the truck they'd been using to the side of the road, suspicious of the men standing in the road up they were approaching and stopped it a bit more abruptly than actually necessary. It had the desired effect, though.
"Cain, you should really watch where you're going!" The other grinned, eyes never once wavering from the list of supplies they had in back now. "This isn't the Palace. Why did we stop?"
"Because," Cain replied, trying to get a better look at the armed men in their way. "I think we've happened on a rebel Long-Coat camp, and we're still pretty far from the Palace…"
Before Ambrose could comment on the situation, the truck started swaying back and forth, another crowd of renegades surrounding them now. The tires of the vehicle were quickly deflated, and they heard the glass of the rear window shatter.
"Cain! What do we do now?" Ambrose yelped, clinging to the Tin Man's arm.
"Shh." He demanded, trying to get an idea of how many there were. His answer was far too many. "There's no way this is a random hit. This was an orchestrated attack." he grabbed his gun. He floored the gas, hoping to at least knock out a few of them before the useless tires gave out.
"Cain! Give it up!" A terrifyingly familiar voice shouted.
He was unable to see where the voice came from, but he fired into the crowd several times, taking out a few of their opponents.
Two of the rebel Long-Coats were climbing into the back of the vehicle, quickly approaching them. Cain shot off two more rounds and reloaded.
"We're getting out now." He told Ambrose, who was still gripping his free arm. "Come on."
He pulled the other man out the driver's door, keeping the inventor safely behind him as he took out a few more of the rogues.
"Can you still fight?" He asked, shooting a glance back at Ambrose, who nodded in reply. "Then have at it."
He watched as the man moved out from behind him, and they were both doing well, until another wave of Long-Coats appeared.
And then they were both captured.
"I warned you Cain." That voice appeared again, this time with a body, as well. Zero appeared just behind Ambrose and the two men holding him and stepped closer to the tin man. "But, as usual, you don't listen."
"Zero." Cain ground out. "Look, whatever this is, it's between you and me, so let Ambrose go."
"Ambrose, huh? So the headcase got all his marbles back?" He laughed, turning to face the man in question. "We could always fix that, you know." He threw a punch, and Cain cringed at the sound Ambrose made. A few more hits like that could cause serious damage.
Cain renewed his struggle against those holding him back. "I let you live!" He shouted.
After one more punch, Zero returned his attention to Cain. "Why, yes, you did. And, as you're about to see, it was not the wisest choice you've ever made. But then again, you're not known for making wise decisions, are you?" He didn't touch Cain, but returned to Ambrose, landing another blow.
"Stop!" The inventor begged, his head pounding.
Zero ignored him, still speaking to Cain. "I offered to let you join us, but you were working with the resistance. I gave you a chance, one last chance to change your mind the day we locked you up, but still you turned me down. And you still revolted even year's later, siding with a headcase over those of us who knew what was right."
By now, Ambrose was nearly on the ground, but with the onslaught of attacks, the men holding him had grown overconfident in his weakness. Ambrose swung at Zero, sending himself to the ground and Zero toward Cain.
"Run, Ambrose!" Cain shouted, trying to escape as well. "Go get help!"
"You'll pay for that you damned zipperhead!" He grabbed the weapon Cain had dropped, firing after the retreating Ambrose, who fell to the ground a short distance away.
When Zero turned around again, though, Cain was free, and rapidly advancing, a second weapon drawn and trained on him. He guards who'd been holding him back lay unconscious on the ground. The sight of Ambrose falling had sent him into a rage and he fired off several rounds. He was less than merciful this time. Zero had taken everything from him, his wife was dead, he barely knew his son, Ambrose was all he had left, and now he might've lost him, too.
With their leader slain, the remaining rebels looked nowhere near as organized and they all quickly scattered, some carrying battered comrades, but they left Zero.
"Ambrose!" The tin man shouted, running towards his wounded friend. He fells to his knees beside the man, thankful he still seemed to be breathing but overwhelmed with the sheer amount of blood he'd lost.
He remembered one of Ambrose's newest gadgets, a device that theoretically could communicate between them and the Palace. Whether it worked or not was still to be seen, though. Cain raced back toward their truck, digging around for the item, which he found buried in the debris in the back, but was luckily unharmed.
"DG?" He shouted into the device. He tried again, this time holding down a button on the side. "DG! Anybody?"
He heard the device crackle, but no sound came out. He tried again.
"Cain…" Came a voice. "Let go…. Button." When he did as told, the voice got clearer, and Ahamo's voice could be heard. "Cain! What's going on?"
"We were attacked by Zero. Ambrose is hurt, we need help." He told the man their position and waited for a reply.
"We're sending some tin men and alchemists out to you. They'll be there soon." Ahamo told him. "There's one with me here, he says to keep pressure on that would until they get there."
"Alright. Hurry, please." Cain demanded, returning to Ambrose's side, he pressed his hand firmly to the wound and set the device aside. "Come on, Ambrose." He whispered, pulling the man into his lap.
Ambrose offered no reply, though he shied away from the pain of Cain touching the bullet wound.
Cain knew it would take some time for the rescue team to arrive, so he alternated his gaze from Ambrose o the forest where the tin men and alchemists would be coming from. His mind, though, was reeling.
Blaming himself, as he well knew by now, was a bad habit he'd picked up while watching that blasted TDESPTL while he was in the suit. And now he was blaming himself for this, too. He should've seen the roadblock as the set-up it was. He should've driven right through it, roadblock be damned. He should've known! This was all his fault and now Ambrose wasn't going to make it!
"Cain?" A strangled voice called.
He looked down to see chocolate brown eyes looking back up at him. "How you holding up, Sweetheart?"
A choked laugh and a weak smile were all that consisted of a reply, for the sound of approaching vehicles claimed their attention.
Before Cain could even process what was happening, Tin Men swarmed the area and Alchemists had pulled Ambrose away from him, none of them willing to tell him anything.
He didn't learn anything of Ambrose's condition until they returned to the palace. Ambrose had been carried off to the Infirmary and Cain left to his own thoughts. He was wandering the grounds near the lake when DG found him and informed him that Ambrose was awake and mostly clear-headed. Cain was beside him moments later.
"Cain!" Ambrose called, smiling as the man entered the room. "Guess I've lived through the initiation right of all men of the sword… or rather, gun."
The tin man swept in closer, offering a hug to the other man, careful of his wound. "You sure did. Is your head okay?" The black eye and split lip were evident injuries, but Cain was more concerned with the state of his brain.
Ambrose shrugged. "For now, it seems, but it will take another day or two to be sure."
Cain sat down in the chair beside the man's bed. "I won't be leaving until you can, so you better get used to me being here."
"I have no objections to that, at all."
"You're not mad at me for getting you shot?"
Ambrose stared. "How, exactly, did you get me shot? Because I certainly don't recall that part."
"Zero was after me, and you got caught in the crossfire."
"You're not the only one who has gotten on Zero's bad side, you know." Ambrose mused, smiling when Cain's fingers found his. "And, even if that weren't the case, I could hardly blame you for it at all. You can't control what Zero does, Boy Scout."
Cain shrugged, "I still feel at fault for it, though. I could have done something to stop it from happening."
"Like what? Stopped the biggest rebel-army we've seen since the Queen's return with no one else's help?"
He knew Ambrose was right, that there was nothing he could have done differently, and instead focused on taking care of Ambrose, because he could definitely be of assistance there. "Mind if I keep you company in there?" He gestured towards the bed.
Ambrose smiled and lifted the covers. "Thought you'd never ask."