Disclaimer: Nope don't own Tin Man…though I do so enjoy spending time with its characters.

Authors Note: Still looking for a beta for this so please excuse any errors. All those I have messaged have not replied. If you are a beta and take interest and would like to assist me please private message me Thanks!

Chapter Two:

A Painted Dream

Idiot…. Idiot, Idiot, IDIOT. She flings the door shut, the resulting sound equal to the slamming of a tomb. She cannot hold back the tears, and they spill over her face in rivers. Her legs collapse leaving her stranded at the foot of her bed; her flowing blue gown drapes like a withered flower around her. Her hands fly up to her face as her shoulders shudder and sag all at once. She regretted the words as soon as she had said them. She could not shake the look she had seen flash across his face as she spit his name at him, venom dripping all over it. But he deserves it. Her subconscious reminds her. He's been following you around like a guard dog and treating you like nothing more than a responsibility. It was passed time you told him off. She cringes at how malicious her mind could be.

Another loud sob escapes her lips and she slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle it. She realizes just how much it hurts, to think he isn't happy here. Isn't happy spending the rest of his days as her friend and confidant, if nothing more. She knows he cannot love her. She is reminded of this every day, when the glow of the suns reflect off the ring still present on his finger. She will never be able to be what Adora was to him. She will never be able to know what Adora felt like, being loved by this man. She wishes her heart would break completely; she wishes she could look into his eyes and feel nothing.

The pain she's been ignoring beats down on her, like an unrelenting storm. On the Other Side her friends would tell her to move on, that it was just some stupid crush. Just like Katy had on their 10th grade teacher. But she cannot shake him, she cannot see herself with anyone else. All the men at court, her own age she reminds herself with annoyance, held her attention for no more than a few moments. Hours long conversations with them is nothing in comparison to the silent evenings she spends with him in her drawing room. She quiets her tears but remains frozen in the middle of the emerald floor.

Her body aches with loneliness, every moment of every day. It kills her that he is always within reach of her but she never dares to touch him without obvious purpose. A tap on the shoulder to tell him she wants to leave. A touch on his elbow to warn him she feels uncomfortable with her current state. A brush of his hand on the small of her back telling her to stay close. A gentle but firm grab of her wrist and she knows to step behind him, so he can shield her from whatever he feels threatened by. She smiles despite the sadness. They have their own little language, and it amazes her at how she never noticed it before.

Her spirit calms. She will apologize to him first thing in the morning, but for now she must clear her mind. As she often does after he dismisses himself for the night, she will work on the piece that has consumed much of her time on sleepless nights. She stands on steady feet, and moves to open the curtains of her room. The moon light cascades through the open window in thick silver bands and washes over her tear stained face. She pulls the black sheet that covers the painting free, and drops it to the floor. She braces herself, as she sits down before the easel; at first sight the painting always makes her sad. It's not a happy painting DG. She reminds herself. She sighs, picking up her brush and palatte.

The scene it is all she can remember of the fractured dream that has haunted her the past few months. A flat plain like the ones in Kansas, with wheat swaying in the ever present breeze. Then a horse had been added here and there. The closest horse becoming a black stallion, and upon his back a rider. The rider is turned away; their back to her, looking over the vast fields that go on forever into the background. There is a sadness in the way their shoulders sit, the way the brim of their hat is pulled down just over their eyes. She smiles a little, knowing there is no mistaking the uniform of the Tin Men, as she places the last few touches to the collar of their duster. Still the scene seems to be missing something. No, not something, someone. Her eyebrows knit together as she tries to remember.

She yawns distractedly. The painting wavers, her eyes blink. Did he just move? No DG. You're tired. Go to bed. She sets her brush down and rubs her eyes. This time the wheat shifts, and she feels the warm breeze she imagined blowing over the fields. She shakes her head, and the painting stills again. Bed DG. You're hallucinating. She tells herself. Rising from her seat, she moves shedding her dress and slipping into her night gown. Pulling back the covers she climbs into bed and pulls the blankets up. She sighs deeply sinking into her pillow.

She listens hoping to catch the slightest slip of his boot against the marble floor but all is still and silent. The tears return, and she turns her face into her pillow to muffle the new torrent of sobs that rack her body. Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it be someone else, anyone but you? She thinks, wiping her face with the sheet. Out of all the ex-Tin Men, in all the O Z why in god's..er GLINDA'S name did it have to be YOU! Her heart pounds in her chest, and she feels the anger growing heavy in the pit of her stomach. She realizes she should never have offered him Captain. She should have given it to Jeb. Jeb had shown he wanted to stay. Jeb had shown he wanted to help. Both of these were something she had assumed the elder Cain had wanted to. How can she have been so blind? She wishes she had been more patient. Wishes she had been kinder, giving him time to speak. She knows better than anyone he isn't a talker. She punches her pillow in frustration, stopping herself from taking the lamp by her bed and chucking it out the window. That would just bring him and a dozen guards barreling into her room. She flops back down again, exhaling forcibly. What she wouldn't give for the distraction her TV would give her right about now. Rolling over and mummifying herself in the covers, she closes her eyes, and forces herself to sleep.

She is within the fields of her painting. The snorting of a horse pulls her gaze to her right. Beside her a man sits upon his horse still as a statue, looking out over the fields intently. His eyes are as blue as the Kansas sky, and as deep as the lake near Finaqua. Her mind wants to see her Tin Man, but she knows this is not Cain. This is someone else. His face is riddled with a hard life. A large scar adorns his cheek, running down his neck and disappearing from view. He adjusts his position in the saddle, and looks behind him; sadness is written in his every feature.

"I have to go." He mutters.

"I know." She hears herself reply. "When will you be back?"

She feels him sigh more than she hears it. She knows he is tired. She knows this promise he is keeping is all he has left. Her Mother will be gone soon and she will be Queen. She knows why he does not answer her, and her heart breaks.

"You're not coming back." She whispers her eyes falling to her feet.

"No Princess, I do not expect I will be." He answers, shifting in his saddle again. They remain this way together for a long moment, before she can't take it anymore. She turns looking up at him again, willing the tears not to fall.

"Please…" she pleads.

"This choice was made long before your time Your Highness. This was always going to be the duty of the other. Your Mother knew this. She knew I above all could complete this journey…you must be at peace with her decision…as I am."

She bows her head, knowing his words are true; though how truly at peace he is she is doubtful. Her father could not have done this. Her father for all the love he had for her, her mother and the O Z he was not a fit man. The harsh climate of the North would see an end to him far quicker than to the hardened man that sits before her. She takes a breath steadying her thoughts. She would be Queen in mere days. For as soon as his journey is complete, she knows her mother will be gone. Squaring her shoulders, she lifts her head and steps back from the horse, but not before he catches her hand in his.

"Good bye Princess. Reign as your mother has: justly and with your heart." He bids her, giving her the tired smile she has grown so attached to. He leans down, pressing his lips to the back of her hand gently. She feels the coolness of his touch, it matches that of the trinket he slips into her hand before letting go. Her resolve falters, and she fears what this could mean. She gives the slightest nod, for that is all she can muster and it is all he wishes her to give; before he urges the horse into a gallop. She watches him until he is nothing more than a speck against the sapphire sky.

"Good bye Wayn Tacit. Glinda be with you…" she whispers as the wind picks up and tosses the wheat about like waves.

She sits up right and finds herself back in her room. The dream again, everything always seems so real. She frowns, abandoning her bed, taking the furs with her, and moving to the window. The woman's unending sadness and grief weighs on her mind. Her bedroom feels colder somehow, emptier than when she entered it. She rubs her arms, and catches herself wishing Cain were here. She glances at the door, wanting nothing more in the world than for him to come rushing in to hold her and chase away all this sadness. She feels herself die a little more inside knowing it will never happen.

Who are you? She wonders, curling up on the cushions by the window. Tomorrow she is going to go the library, get Glitch to help her if she can. Tomorrow she is going to find out who this man is. But tonight she remains under the grip of her sorrow. Tonight she will imagine herself elsewhere, happy and content. Guilty though she will feel in the morning, she smiles. Here in the quiet of her room, far from prying eyes she lets herself pretend her love is returned. And slowly as the full moon begins its decent across the southern sky, she falls peacefully to sleep.