Continuation fic from Just A Step Ahead. I need to write smaller fanfics if I want to post all this on FF.

For my other works, check out my LF -- streamedwords or streamofwords(for the smut!)

This is a work-in-progress. Reviews are lovely, so I know if I am going in the right direction.

It began on a Sunday.

At first, they all found it innocent enough, a mere project that would involve some planning, some decisions, and the inevitable conclusion: in this case, DG and Jeb's wedding. They would pass by the study, checking in, watching the ever-growing stacks of tomes on the history, traditions and decorum of weddings, then laugh and go about their business. What harm was there in letting him become so absorbed in such a thing as planning out a wedding?

Then the other things began to happen, the frightening things, which made them start to avoid checking in. Nay, it even made them avoid the corridor altogether, out of fear that sharp ears might detect the sound of a step outside of the door. When that happened, the unlucky individual would get swooped upon, dragged into that room of certain doom, held against their will for hours at a time as he picked at their minds, mercilessly thorough. It was nearly impossible to escape!

Some were more fortunate than others. Cain had learned to sidestep the expected attack, always managing to avoid being dragged in. He had already offered to teach the others his methods, though it was difficult to plan anything in advance given the high chance that they would get yanked into that room where even Cain feared to tread. The tin man often considered busting in to rescue whoever was the victim at the time, but decided that it wasn't worth the risk.

It was commonly agreed upon that rabid papays had nothing on Ambrose the Wedding Planner.

"What do you think of this bit of ribbon? #18345, 'Princess Pink'."

"Um..." Jeb blinked, eyes darting around nervously. He was still trying to figure out how he'd ended up here. "It's.. pretty?"

"Prettier than #1729, 'Ozma Orange'?" Dark eyes demanded his input. "What about #381, 'Quadling Muave'?"

"I.. well..." Jeb's eyes wildly searched the enormous pile of ribbon pieces that were piled up on the table in front of him, unable to recall exactly what those colors looked like. "Purple is nice.."

"Hm.." Ambrose considered it, then shook his head. "No, no. It will look horrendous, clash with all the flowers. I mean, we can't have the ribbons clashing with the flowers, can we?" He reached into the pile, tossing a slip of ribbon over his shoulder to land amongst the other discarded bits.

DG and Azkadellia stepped into the room that moment, blinking cautiously. They'd been searching for Jeb, and had saved this place for last to locate him. The girls saw who else was in the study with the younger Cain, eyes widening as they tried to depart without notice.

Pale fingers snatched hold of their wrists, as DG and Azkadellia found themselves being planted in two of the empty chairs at the table, Ambrose saying absently, "Ahh, the other half of the happy couple. And sister! This is perfect. We were just selecting ribbon colors for the flowers. Tell me, what do you think of this one? #9284, 'Poppy Yellow'?"

"How can this many colors of ribbon possibly exist?" DG gasped, eyes rising up the pile.

Azkadellia sighed, squirming in her chair to get comfortable, resigned to the fact that this was going to take awhile. "Ambrose -- why are you deciding on the colors of the ribbons? Does it really matter what colors the ribbons around the flowers are, so long as the flowers are wrapped?"

The advisor looked at the former sorceress as though she'd sprouted a second head, blinking. "..Matter?" He scoffed, eyes swinging around. "Oh, it is very important, I assure you. What would the guests think, if everything else was flawlessly coordinated, only to look at the bouquets and see that just any old ribbon color had been used? Disaster!"

Jeb and DG looked at each other helplessly, hands stretching to clasp. At least they could keep each other company in misery. The girl groaned, "Ambrose, this is getting silly. I know that you want everything to be perfect, but I'm not too worried about what the guests think about the ribbons around my flowers, okay?"

That made Ambrose stare over at her with that blank face of his, indicating that his brain was not going to let her words compute. DG relented with a sigh, shoulders sagging defeatedly. They all eventually submitted. "The yellow one is cool, yeah."

"So, should I put it in the 'Yes' pile, the 'Maybe-Probably' pile, or the 'Maybe' pile?"

"Um... 'Maybe-Probably'?"

Nodding, Ambrose tossed the yellow ribbon into one of the piles which had already been sorted. With his attention distracted for the moment, Azkadellia knew it was the only time for them to make a move in the hopes of escaping. As the advisor twisted, the woman's hand shot out, bumping into the piles of ribbons, scattering them to the floor. She gasped, feigning innocence. "Oh, how clumsy of me! My deepest apologies Ambrose."

"No matter, Princess, no matter." Ambrose looked a little paler now, eyes lowering to those mixed piles on the floor. He slid out of his chair, kneeling to begin picking up the slips of fabric. "Give me just a minute to get these all up. We should be able to sort them all quickly enough, now that you three are here to help me."

Straightening up with strips of ribbon hanging from his fingers, the advisor blinked at the table, only to find it deserted. "...Hello?"

"You need to do something about him, Cain!" DG said desperately, where their trio of escapees had set up camp in the tin man's quarters. They kept an eye trained on the door, in case Ambrose decided to come hunting them down.

The law man chuckled quietly. "You were the ones who asked him to plan your wedding for you. I might have warned you what you'd be getting into, had you thought to ask me prior."

"There must be something you can do, Father." Jeb murmured, his arm tightening around DG. "While I appreciate that Mister Ambrose is trying so hard to make everything perfect, it's just going to end up driving us crazy before the wedding even happens."

"At this rate, we're going to move to a remote village and shack up." DG drawled.

Azkadellia gasped at that. "DG! How inappropriate!"

The younger princess shrugged. Considering how much they lived in dread these days, it was an idea that had merit. She peered at Cain. "Will you at least talk to him? Or find something to distract him?"

Cain sighed. "I can try, DG, but I don't -- wait." He shushed them all with a gesture, cocking an ear towards the door. Then the law man was waving to them urgently. "Hide!"

They scrambled immediately, knowing that Cain's signal meant that the threat was approaching the door. DG and Jeb threw themselves underneath the bed, while Azkadellia made a mad dash behind the drapes hanging on Cain's windows. They tensed themselves, breath held, while Cain turned towards the door, trying to look as casual as possible.

There was only one knock on the door, before the beast let itself in without waiting for permission. That dire figure slinked swiftly into the room, fingers curled into claws as it continued the hunt for its escaped victims. Ambrose perched himself up on the thick footboard of Cain's bed, like some sizeable bird of prey, what looked to be a dart gun loaded with a tranquilizer clutched in one hand. Dark eyes intently searched the room, before cocking in Cain's direction, voice sweet as poisoned candy. "Hello, Wyatt. Have you seen any sign of Jeb, DG or Azkadellia around these parts?"

"No, sweetheart, can't say that I have." He lied, shaking his head. His head tilted to the side, watching as Ambrose scanned the room again despite his denial. "Ah, Ambrose? Didn't we have that talk just last week about you walking around the palace while armed?"

Ambrose's face fell into a hurt expression, raising the dart gun as he said in his defense, "I redesigned these, Cain, I promise. They'll only cause temporary paralysis -- not like last time."

Cain shook his head as he stepped over to the bed, holding out his hand for the weapon. Ambrose scowled, pouted, then reluctantly handed the dart gun over to the tin man. Unloading it, he murmured, "Why don't you and I go for a walk, sweetheart? It's a beautiful night tonight. You've been shutting yourself away in that study for days on end. Come on."

"The idea is appealing." The advisor's lips pursed together, thoughtful. "I suppose I can put the ribbons off until later."

"We have some time alone together to catch up on." Cain said, offering his empty hand to Ambrose.

The advisor slipped his hand into the one Cain extended to him, climbing down off the bed, that predatory manner having vanished with a subtle smile. "Okay, tin man, you've convinced me. Let's go."

"Mister Cain, there is a task that I wish to appoint to you." The Queen said politely from where she sat on her throne, smiling down to the tin man who stood before her with his hat clutched in his hands. "It is of the utmost importance. You'll be performing a great service to this kingdom, should you agree to undertake it."

"Anything, Highness." Cain answered automatically, nodding to the monarch.

She sighed faintly. "On behalf of my daughter, DG, I have to ask that you please take dear Ambrose on a vacation away from the palace, and clear of all wedding plans."

The tin man blinked. "Well, that'll be easy. I'll just ask Ambrose where he'd like to go and we can head off. Jeb can run things with the military in my absence."

"There might be one problem, though, Mister Cain.." The Queen warned him.

"Which is...?"

"Ambrose has always been firmly against taking any sort of holiday for himself. It will take quite an effort on your part in order to convince him to change his stance on the matter, I think."

Cain chuckled quietly. "It shouldn't be too hard, Majesty. I'll go to him right away and let him know the plan. Don't worry." With a short bow, he turned from the throne, placing his hat back on his head as he walked out of the throne room, intent on finding the advisor.

"No."

"But, why?" Cain gaped at the advisor's back as Ambrose moved around his laboratory.

The man's work table, normally coated in schematics, was currently overtaken by large opened books with displays of cakes on their pages. Several of them had been marked for later review. Ambrose reclaimed his seat after their normal exchange of a greeting kiss, turning a page. "I'm busy here, Cain. How can I get anything done if I am running off on holiday? Lazy people take holidays -- that's what my grandfather always used to say. Never took a day off in his life."

"Well, you're not your grandfather, and in my opinion, you're overdue." The tin man took his usual spot on the stool opposite of Ambrose's, blue eyes dismissively flickering to the books before focusing back on the other man's face. "Think of it as a deserved reward for everything that happened to you. No one would fault you if you wanted to take a little time for yourself."

Ambrose's response was a noncommital noise, as he judged a triple-layer cake before flipping another page. Cain tried again. "And.. um.. I mean, the Queen herself gave permission for you to take some time off."

"That was awfully thoughtful of her." Ambrose smiled to himself. "But it is unneccessary. Having the honored privilege of being the individual assigned to plan out her precious daughter's wedding is reward enough for me."

This wasn't working. Cain frowned down at the tabletop. He was going to have to try some other tactic. Appealing to the man on behalf of his own well-being wasn't delivering results. But perhaps if he could convince Ambrose that he himself needed the break...? "Well, I was thinking about taking a small vacation, myself."

"Really?" Ambrose fired a surprised look his way. "But... you're as bad a workaholic as I am, Cain."

"That's true.." Cain couldn't argue that point. "Though I have been toying with the idea. I mean, as soon as I got out of the suit, it's been nothing but adventure after adventure since then. It would be nice to take some time, without all that excitement taking place, and just enjoy some peace and quiet." He was surprised to find that, the more he said about it, the more it sunk in that the idea did actually sound pretty good to him. An opportunity to take a break and just enjoy living for a little while? Cain had to admit that it sounded heavenly. "I guess I was hoping that you might come with me. Just the two of us."

"Wyatt Cain, are you asking me to run away with you?" Ambrose teased, grinning crookedly.

"I guess I am." Cain had to smile upon seeing that grin. "So, will you?"

Ambrose leaned forward, balancing his weight with a hand on the table, in order to give Cain a proper kiss. As he eased back, studying the law man's face, he murmured with a nod. "Okay. Only because you asked, and I am frankly under the impression that you are in dire need of some personal time for soul-searching." He nodded sagely at his own line of logic. "When do we leave?"

"The sooner that you can pack, the better." Cain answered, pushing up to stand.

He noticed that Ambrose had him fixed with that sly look, the advisor's mouth quirking. "Maybe you should escort me to my quarters, and help me with the task? To make it go quickly and all."

"I'd love to." Cain grinned, finding that also to be a heavenly idea.

Cain dropped his pack beside him, so great was his disbelief. He stood outside the front of the palace, placing both hands on his hips as he glared at the ridiculous cluster of luggage that was piled there. "Oh, you've got to be kidding..."

"I'm about ready, Wyatt!" Ambrose called cheerfully, as the advisor hurried down the steps to join him. His wool coat was a shade darker than Cain's, cinched around his waist. He was in the middle of pulling on a pair of matching gray gloves that looked expensive, blinking owlishly at the tin man from behind his glasses. "What's wrong?"

"Is that what you're planning to take on the trip?" Cain asked him in a taut voice.

Ambrose's head turned towards the pile, before he laughed. "Don't be silly, Cain."

Cain began to relax, then winced when the advisor added, merrily, "The servants should be bringing the rest down here shortly."

"Ambrose..." He took hold of the man by the shoulders, those brown eyes peering up at him curiously. "We're not taking all of this stuff. We are going on vacation -- not moving in. How do you intend on carrying half of these things?"

"Well... that's what I have you for, obviously."

Cain shook his head. "You'll be fine taking just a couple of these cases. Pick what you're going to bring and have the servants put the rest back."

"But, Cain...!" Ambrose started to argue.

The tin man waved him to silence, picking his own small pack up off the ground. "I am giving you ten minutes to find what you're taking, and stuff it into two cases. If you're not ready by that time, then I am leaving without you."

Ambrose stomped, eyes glaring. "I hate this 'vacation' thing already. Fine! I'll sort it down to two cases only." The advisor stalked away towards the pile, grumbling under his breath.

Cain started to wonder if this might turn out to be a bad idea after all.

Ambrose's foul mood showed no signs of leaving, the advisor glaring out the window of the car which had been loaned by the palace to carry them to the gates of Central City. He kept both of his luggage cases on the seat on either side of him, hugging them tightly to his sides, as if fearing that Cain was suddenly going to change his mind and demand that he abandon those, too. At one point, Cain shook his head, asking mildly, "Are you okay, Ambrose?"

"We are fine." The advisor answered tersely, clutching at the luggage as if they were actual people and not simply cargo.

Cain huffed in irritation, turning his own gaze out the window. He thought about telling the driver to turn around and take them back, but knew that it would be a blow to his pride if he retreated now. People were counting on him. So the law man settled for silence, watching as Central City went rushing by. He'd just let Ambrose continue to pout, if that's what the advisor wanted to do.

Once they were dropped off at the gates, Cain turned towards the other man, an eyebrow lifting as he shifted the weight of his pack on his shoulder. He tried for some kind of truce. "Would you like me to carry one of those for you?"

"No, thank you." Ambrose held a case in either hand, walking deliberately out through the gate, chin raised proudly. "I can manage my meager possessions just fine, Mister Cain."

Cain watched the other man flounce his way down the first few yards of the brick road, smirking faintly. He shifted his stance, arms folding across his chest, as he waited for the moment when it was going to sink in with the advisor...

Ambrose stopped in his tracks, pivoting sharply. His brown eyes glowered at Cain. "Wait a minute. I don't even know where we're going." He blinked. "Why are you laughing? What's so funny, Cain?"

"Nothing, sweetheart." Still chuckling richly, the law man strode up to where the other stood, an arm slipping around behind Ambrose to nudge him back along the road. "Come on. It's a surprise. You'll just have to follow my lead."

The first part of their trek was far more pleasant. Cain listened as Ambrose pointed out things that held some kind of historical importance, from the flowers that grew here and there to the moss-covered relics of ancient structures. He smiled to himself as they walked, enjoying how interested Ambrose was in his one-sided discussion. The man would have made an excellent teacher. By the time they reached an inn that evening, Cain knew more names of plants than he'd ever have found out of a book.

He figured that Ambrose, in all that time, had forgotten to be mad at him.

Then the advisor requested two rooms, much to Cain's surprise. He tried not to gawk at the smaller man in front of the innkeeper, which surely would have gotten him a raised eyebrow. Ambrose paid for the rooms, parting from the table with a charming smile. He led the way up the wooden stairs to the second level, Cain having to hurry to catch up.

"Hey, Ambrose? Why did you get two rooms, instead of just one?"

A key was pressed into his palm, as Ambrose stopped in front of one of the locked doors. He unlocked it with his own key, answering Cain in a tone that was too light. "I should think it obvious, Mister Cain. My luggage will be keeping me company tonight, what little it is. Your room is across the hall. Sleep well!"

Then Cain found himself staring at a closed door. The tin man sighed heavily, adjusting his hat. "Good Gods.."

Cain's door opened close to midnight, the hinges creaking quietly. It woke him immediately, though he remained motionless in his bed, aside from his fingers, which were already curling around his gun where he had it stationed underneath his pillow. Intruder? He slit his eyes open to determine who had come in.

He relaxed when he saw that it was only the usual slim figure padding softly towards his bed on bare feet. Ambrose's pale face glowed blue from the light of the twin moons beaming down through the window, the advisor pausing next to the bed as if waiting to see if he were about to get shot or not. Cain uncocked the gun, then scooted himself over to the right side of the bed, closer to the wall, to give the other some room.

"Thanks." Ambrose whispered as he eased down next to Cain, pulling the blankets up over him as he settled in beside the law man. "I couldn't sleep."

Normally, having Ambrose invade his quarters tended to be for carnal intent. Yet Cain knew that this was one of those other times -- the times when Ambrose searched him out for comfort, rather than passion, frightened by whatever demons of the past were haunting him. Cain could tell by the forlorn expression on that face as it turned towards him in the pale dark.

"Bad dreams?" Cain asked, his voice low and sluggish from sleep. He knew that the advisor was often plagued with those. With so many memories having come back to him once his brain had been restored, Cain knew that a majority of them probably weren't pleasant.

"Nah. Just too many things in my head." The advisor rubbed at his forehead with a hand. Despite the fact that Ambrose had finally received a clean bill of health from the alchemists, his brain having healed, there were still times when memories crept up on him unawares. It happened most at night, when he tried to sleep, and his mind decided that it was the perfect time to begin a nostalgic picture show.

Cain shifted on the mattress, an arm snaking around Ambrose's middle, drawing the man in close. He pressed a kiss to the man's closest temple, nuzzling it affectionately. "Just try to clear your head, sweetheart. Think about other things." Out of everyone who knew the advisor, Cain was the best expert on how to deal with inescapable memories.

"I'll try." Ambrose promised, as he rolled his face in to burrow against Cain's shoulder, the advisor's mop of brown curls tickling below the tin man's chin.

Despite not knowing how he managed to pull it off everytime this happened, Cain was relieved when he found that his presence and their embrace seemed enough of a balm for Ambrose's mind. The advisor fell asleep in minutes.

Cain made sure to have biscuits waiting the next morning, when Ambrose finally came down the stairs with his things. While Cain himself woke up every dawn alert and prepared to begin the day, the advisor seemed to have trouble managing waking up at a reasonable hour in the morning. Secretly, this is when Cain liked him the best. Groggy, grouchy, and as conscious of himself as a child waking too abruptly from a nap.

Ambrose dropped onto the stool beside Cain, not even bothering to hide a wide yawn as he blinked blearily around him. His hair was tousled from sleep, which Cain might have normally fixed for him, except for the shady looks of a few patrons in the inn that the law man wagered would have taken it badly. He settled for smirking over to the advisor, sliding the plate of fresh-baked biscuits in front of the other man. "Mornin', sunshine. Glad to see that you decided to finally wake up."

"It wasn't entirely my choice." The advisor said around a mouthful of biscuit, chewing halfheartedly in his lack of clarity. "Apparently, your room was booked next to the Honeymoon Suite, and the newlyweds were making use of their expense." Cain choked on his coffee, sputtering some of it out. He quickly wiped at his mouth with a napkin to recover.

The advisor, however, was continuing, without care or concern for his volume. It was still too early in the day for him to be bothered with details like that. "I feel like I owe them a gift, or at the very least some money. I mean, they might as well have involved me, loud as they were. Quinton and Eugenie -- how I shall miss our times together." Ambrose absently saluted the air with his mug of coffee, drinking deeply, as if it weren't burning hot. He could put that stuff away like men could handle their liquor, Cain noticed.

He wasn't going to stop him. Coffee was one of the only cures to Ambrose's sleepiness. That, and another tactic, which Cain was not going to try while they sat within this rough crowd. The blond listened as Ambrose carried on in that vein of topic, counting the minutes that he continued to prattle mindlessly, knowing that once Ambrose finally woke up, he'd ask about it. After four cups of coffee, Ambrose was finally blinking around with a sharper gaze, the biscuits on his plate having been devoured in his sleep-induced daze. He sighed, reaching up to ruefully rub the back of his head. "So... how long was I talking this time?"

"Seventeen minutes straight." Cain supplied, putting his empty mug down on the countertop. "You actually stopped for breath four times. It's getting better."

"Let's hit the road, before I embarass myself any further." Ambrose murmured, placing ample payment and a little over out of sympathy for the staff who'd had to listen to him ramble. He picked up his luggage, waiting for Cain near the door.

The tin man stepped out with him, deeply breathing in the scents of the morning air, without the smells of Central City to corrupt it. He savored it as they walked away from the inn, the pair making their way back to the road.

"Well, boys, looky here! If it ain't old Cain himself."

His enjoyment of the morning fell abruptly flat by the dire promise in that gruff voice, Cain turning in its direction, calmly noting the presence of the four rough guys who lounged on the outside of the inn. It looked like they had been playing cards. Yet now their attention had become focused completely on him. He squinted his eyes, trying to remember, then blinked. "Bore? Bore, from Central? I hadn't heard that they'd let you out of prison."

"Few years back, for good behavior." The giant of a man grinned, rotten teeth filling his mouth.

Cain grew tense as the four of them began to climb to their feet, now recognizing more than one from his tin man days. "I'd advise you boys stick to your cards; I have no quarrel with any of you." He stepped automatically in front of Ambrose, placing himself between the advisor and the four men.

"Just ignore them, Cain." Ambrose said stiffly behind him, eyes cold towards the four. "These callous ruffians are just seeking to ruin your morning with their talk. Come on.."

The advisor turned to go, walking towards the road. He ignored the laughter that his words got out of the four, determined to be the bigger individual here. Then one of them made the mistake of chortling out, "Who's that, Cain? Your fancy rent boy?"

Ambrose stopped in his tracks. He sighed, placing his luggage down on either side of him, twisting around to walk past Cain in the direction of the four men.

Five minutes later, that luggage was picked back up, Ambrose and Cain striding casually away from the tangled mess of limbs behind them. The advisor inhaled deeply, then smiled. "What a nice morning for a walk."