Disclaimer: I have always been told life isn't fair, which probably explains why I don't own Tin Man.

Author's Note: I think this is my favourite chapter right here. Not going to lie, I like this one. Its blueprint was one of the reasons I finally decided to write Azkadellia's side of things in the first place. You guys seem to adore the chapters I worry about, now let's see what you think about the ones I like.


...

Azkadellia watched the hand in front of her intently. It was a nice hand, large but not overly so, strong yet capable of gentleness. Observing the hand sway rhythmically to the stride of its owner as hands do, Az had the overwhelming urge to grab it.

She hated it when DG and her Tin Man went away. They had only left that morning but already time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. It was just a quick diplomatic mission, some small issue to clear up with the representatives of the Eastern Guild. A trip from which the eldest princess was precluded because even an annual and a half after the Eclipse they had yet to convince the anklebiters that Azkadellia was no longer sorceress, witch, nor spy. Thus it was that Az had been deprived of the two beings that had been for so long her only safe harbours in a seemingly endless storm.

Sometimes Azkadellia worried she was losing herself; that the witch had left some part of herself behind or had twisted her captive princess so that what was left and all that it touched could only whither and rot. Other times the constant whispered conversations that followed the former Sorceress everywhere, whether callously careless or calculatingly cruel, wore her away so severely that Az felt she would be crushed beneath the burden of a guilt that was never truly hers to bear. When the ever attentive DG was there, though, she never failed to reach out her hand just as she had the first day she'd saved Azkadellia. While the light flowed through their bound hands, the formerly possessed princess knew that there was nothing left of the witch to poison her; she had the strength to hold the O.Z.'s pain on her shoulders. Nothing could hurt either princess when they were together.

Cain would do in a pinch. Sure Az couldn't go around grabbing his hand – the Tin Man allowed one person and one person only to take liberties with his personal space – but his mere physical presence was sufficient to ward off many a demon she faced. Disparaging remarks regarding the eldest princess did not seem to happen within the Tin Man's earshot and if Cain, with all that the Sorceress' reign had cost him, could forgive her past enough to include the broken princess within the blanket of his protection then there was hope yet. Perhaps someday she could lay her burdens down.

Unfortunately Cain and DG were very much a package deal. While the youngest princess would be willing to sacrifice much for the comfort and protection of her sister, the Tin Man could not be convinced to let DG out of his sight for any extended period of time for any reason. Nor would Az ask it of him, thus the eldest princess could have both of her anchors or none at all.

"It's just a few days," DG had said anxiously as she left.

Just a few days during which they both knew the weight of the world was slowly heaped upon Azkadellia's shoulders until it took every last ounce of her strength not to curl up in a miserable ball and leave it all behind. When Deeg left, Az suffered, both knew it and neither could do anything about it. Or could they?

Azkadellia had a theory about that.

Inspecting the hand as it accompanied its proprietor on his mission to familiarize himself with Finaqua Palace and the surrounding area, the eldest princess came to terms with her choices. It had been seven hours, thirty-six minutes and roughly twenty seconds since the two people who'd once been the only ones to make her feel safe had left the grounds. She had felt every moment as if a giant hourglass had been dumping its grains of sand upon her back. Az could accept that weight and labour under it until DG's return, or she could...grab the hand.

Officer Gulch stopped in his tracks.

Holding her breath, Azkadellia watched hopefully as her new bodyguard turned to her with her favourite bewildered man expression on his face. Az studied his face for the emotions behind the bemused look, trying to read his thoughts as he assimilated this new information. She thought she saw recognition there.

Gulch blinked and resumed walking.

There was no magic in the Othersider's hands. They were just the simple, honest hands of a country boy turned policeman. Officer Gulch did not have the power banish wicked witches or resurrect dead fields, yet when his fingers closed around hers with a firm, reassuring grasp, Azkadellia felt so light she thought she might fly.