Author's Note: So ooh, I got my CAST PAGE done for this story, but since fanfictiondotnet doesn't like links in the story files, you'll find the link on my profile page - it will direct you to either Livejournal or my Blog. I'll notify in A/N's when it gets updated with new characters (which, ooh, more are coming!) Longest chapter yet, enjoy!
Chapter Ten
As soon as they approached the letterbox reading Denslow, simple and clean on its wooden post, DG knew this was going to be harder than anticipated. Cain was hanging back, allowing her to set their pace, which came to a dead stop at the gate. A little two-story house, fence, yard; the grass was the pale, parched green of late summer. She had a slight, panicked urge to turn and run back, but she knew if she did that, there'd be no telling where or when she'd stop running. Even if she managed to hit Kansas, she'd probably keep on going.
Giving her a small push in the right direction, Cain leaned forward to swing open the gate. As he did so, his arm brushed hers, and he caught her eyes; smoky blue reassured her, though with his mouth, his expression, he said nothing.
They were halfway up the walkway when the front door opened and Emily appeared, wiping her hands on a towel. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, and she wore an apron over her dress. "DG!" she exclaimed at the sight of the young woman coming up her front walk; DG smiled wide, acutely missing the embrace that wouldn't happen.
"Hi, Em," DG said, and her feet carried her quicker up the dirt path. The steps leading to the porch creaked underneath of her as she skipped up one, two, three. She felt her smile grow tentative as she levelled herself with Emily. She tried her very best to look charming. "Surprise?"
To her great relief, Emily looked pleased to see her. "It certainly is! Though more so that you don't have a bunch of guards in tow." Here, she turned her head to Cain.
"It's a long story," DG said offhandedly, sure to her very core this wasn't a subject she wanted to be broaching at all during her visit.
Emily nodded understandingly. "Well then, its probably one best told inside the house." She opened the door and ushered her guests through. "You changed your hair, DG," she said thoughtfully, as the young woman passed by her into the house. DG's hand automatically went into her hair, felt her own heavy locks, and knew that what she felt and what the unit saw were two completely different things.
"Yeah," she said offhandedly, patting the top of her head once more; the glint of silver and sapphire on her ring caught Emily's attention as DG brought her hand down, but the older woman only smiled a little to herself, shooting a knowing glance at DG, before motioning for the two to follow her.
DG shot a glance back at Cain before heading towards the back of the house; though his lips curled upwards encouragingly, he said nothing, and his eyes were hard to read. She felt a pang of gratitude to him, for his willingness to follow her, even to something so mundane as this. Mouthing a silent 'Thank you' to him, she turned and walked in the direction Emily had gone.
She moved a little easier once she realized that neither Hank nor Emily were put out in the slightest by her intrusion. Em brought the pair into the kitchen, where she sat them down at the table and poured them each a cup of strong, hot coffee. Before very many minutes had passed, she'd also dished up a plate of bread and had told Cain quite sternly to please, very kindly remove his hat while he sat at her table. When Emily's back was turned, DG shot him an apologetic grin.
"I'm sorry," she offered.
Cain shook his head, completely undisturbed as he did as he was bid, placing his hat on the table beside his cup of coffee. "I didn't expect much less from the woman that raised a firecracker like you." He smiled at her admiringly, but the flick of his eyebrows as he did spoke of something more, deeper and more affectionate. Her heart swelled; she said nothing, only looked away as a blush flooded her cheeks.
"Where's Hank?" DG asked, almost having to force down the urge to call him 'Pop'.
Emily finally sat down at the table. "He's out back. The old incubator gave out this morning, he's trying to get it working properly again."
DG nodded slowly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Just as the words were coming out of her mouth, the back door opened and Hank walked in, rubbing his hands on an old towel, grinning. "Now I know that voice. Did you come to check up on us, DG? Don't you think I can manage one thing on my own, girl?"
In another life, she might have stood up and welcomed him with a hug, but those days had long passed. The unit who stood in the doorway – how fast she'd accepted that fact, when she'd been told that she'd been raised by machines, before she'd known that things would change, that it would never be the same – remembered her clearly, recollected perhaps every single day of the fifteen years he spent as her father-figure. However, there was no attachment, no emotional response to her. Both Hank and Emily thought her friend, were fond of her, but after all memory of Azkadellia had been wiped from their memory drives, they had not been reprogrammed to feel the parental bond for the girl that now sat at their table. There had been no need for it.
She should be happy they remembered her at all, that the coercion virus had not affected their memories... but it was hard for one lonely young woman to put away the memory of the innocent little girl running through the grassy field to where her father worked in the hot late afternoon sun.
DG knew Cain watched her, though only out of the corner of his eye. She shoved it all down, the threatening wave of emotion that could so easily overcome her. Thankfully, neither Hank nor Emily noticed that she was near-drowning in herself at their kitchen table... only Wyatt.
"You acting as her bodyguard today, Mr. Cain?" Hank asked, as he crossed the room to the sink, where he washed his hands using liquid soap and a palm-full of sugar to take off the grease. "Or," he said before Wyatt even had a chance to reply, "are we gonna have fifty of the Royal Guard show up at the front door looking for her?"
"Oh dear," Emily said automatically, "that would fit DG. Do you know, Mr. Cain, that I've never seen in all my annuals another child get into as much trouble as this one did." She pointed a finger squarely at DG.
DG's faint blush raged once again. "I wasn't in that much trouble."
Hank snorted. "Understatement if I've ever heard one in my life."
And so it continued, until Emily had Cain laughing – laughing – with stories from Kansas. Cursing the clear and accurate memories of the units, DG listened, in a bemused sort of way; past embarrassment and so utterly comfortable in a place that could almost have been home, that when there was a knock on the door to break the spell, it brought her so firmly into reality that she was surprised to see the shadows had started to creep up on them, and the light of the twin suns had taken on the haziness of late-afternoon.
Beside her, DG saw Cain stiffen slightly in his seat, alerted to the possibility of company, and she knew his ears were strained for any sign of Hank's return. When the older man did, he was pointing behind him with a jerk of his thumb, and his eyes sought out Cain first before swinging to DG.
"Young man at the door is looking for you, uh, Captain Cain."
DG felt herself relax a little. Hass is here, she thought.
Cain touched her shoulder briefly, leaned down to whisper that she should stay put, and disappeared out of the kitchen. As she watched him go, putting his hat back on his head as he went, she realized she hated watching him walk away. When he'd moved out of sight, she turned her head to see both Hank and Emily watching her, both with knowing and concerned expressions fighting for dominance on their faces.
"What are you really doing here, DG?" Hank asked almost immediately. "Did you run away?"
DG shook her head. "No, no," she assured them. "We're trying not to attract any attention, but I didn't run away. I'm... well... its a little complicated." Absently, she began to spin the ring on her finger, thumbing the jewel set in the band. Talisman, Cain's token, protecting her and marking her as his. Strange that she didn't mind, that she wanted to be his, when all her life she'd seemed to fight to be her own person.
"You're not eloping, are you?" Emily asked, eyeing the ring that flashed at her. She looked to Hank. "She came under disguise. Look at her, her eyes are brown."
DG near-snorted with laughter. "No, I am not eloping! Well... no, not today. Maybe next year. And I'm wearing contacts," she lied.
"Contacts? In the Zone?" Emily asked cynically. DG only shrugged non-committally.
"Well then, there must be something we'll be able to help you with," Hank said logically, "or else you wouldn't have come to us."
DG frowned. "No, I came here because I missed you guys. Cain and I are on the road looking for some information, but I really don't think you'd be able to help with that."
"You could always try us," Hank said with an encouraging smile. "We might've spent fifteen annuals out of the Zone, but there's no harm in letting your friends help you where they can."
With a sigh, DG folded her hands on the tabletop, and took a moment to herself, studying the lines on her skin, the curve and polish of her fingernails. The thin silver band that sat, so at home, on her left hand. Where could she begin? What could she actually say? What she knew was patchy, strange, volatile, and the rest... the rest was still anyone's guess, what they were looking for.
Okay, how to put this, DG thought, and after another moments pause, she chose her words. "I am looking for someone with knowledge about the Emerald of the Eclipse," she said, very stiffly, as if asked for an answer in class that she didn't quite have. She raised her eyes to the couple that sat across from her. "There is more trouble coming. I don't know exactly... its part of what we're trying to find out."
"More trouble coming?" Emily asked her. DG could only nod grimly. Though she wanted to tell everything that she knew, to beg for help, she knew that what she said and what she did had to be carefully monitored. Both Glitch and Wyatt had drilled that into her head... rethink everything; what you say, what you do. Hell, rethink what you think, Glitch had said one day as the coronation and the anniversary of the Eclipse had drawn too close for comfort.
"How do you know this?" Hank asked. DG could only shrug her shoulders. "Well, why you, then? This doesn't exactly sound like the type of thing you'd be expecting a princess to do."
She laughed. "You guys didn't really raise me to moan 'Why me?'" she said with a sage nod, knowing that trying to explain the task the Gale had given her, her burden as a Daughter of Light, wasn't something easily done. "You should be admiring my stick-to-itiveness."
Hank didn't look placated. His round face showed nothing now but his concern, as he tried to work though what very little information she'd given him. "And you're doing this with only the one guard?" he asked, nodding his head towards the front of the house, where Cain and Hass still presumably were.
She shook her head. "Two guards. The man that just arrived is the second."
After that, Hank was silent. He got up from the table and crossed the room to look out the window over the sink. Through the open back door, DG could see a little of what he was watching; a small barn, a backyard full of grass in need of cutting, planters on the back step that were bursting with life and color. It could be home, it could have almost been...
"Well, DG," Emily said slowly, searching for words when there were none to be said. DG's attention was dragged away from the backyard that sat on the other side of the screen door. Em looked helplessly at the young woman who sat at her table. "I wish that –"
"What about Cynthia?" Hank spoke up suddenly.
DG watched in amazement as Emily's face turned a brilliant shade of red. "Hank Denslow," she said, sounding incredibly offended, "I don't think that is a right proper suggestion. You don't need to be subjecting the poor girl to that. And another thing, she's a princess, she should never, ever..." She stopped speaking then, pursing her lips together tightly. It was a gesture DG remembered all too well. Part of the old 'If you can't say something nice...' adage Em adhered to.
But Emily had forgotten exactly who she was sitting next to at the table. Immediately, DG's curiosity perked.
"You don't need to be subjecting me to what, exactly? Who's Cynthia?"
Both units, however, were silent, and the approach of footsteps in the hall seemed to cement the conversation's end. DG's jaw was dropped when Cain re-entered the kitchen, now looking harried. "Thank you very kindly for your hospitality," he said apologetically, as he motioned for DG to stand, "but its time we were gettin' back to the inn."
DG looked up at him as she pushed herself away from the table. "Was it Hass?" she asked.
Cain nodded. "He's gone to get settled in, we'll meet with him later." His eyes spoke volumes to her, though mostly she found herself being told to be quiet. Perhaps he'd heard where the conversation had turned as he'd walked towards the kitchen.
Her mind was working as she made ready to leave the house. For all her studying Ozian history in the past ten months, the name Cynthia stood out from nothing, but for some strange reason, she felt a tug at the back of her mind, as if she should be remembering something important, like the name or place that always hung onto the end of the tongue.
She was hugged by Emily at the door, and though the embrace was slightly stiff, DG revelled in the familiar arms, the warmth of the touch. Hank hung back, smiled and said goodbye, though as the door was closing, DG caught Em shooting very dangerous looks at her partner, looks that she remembered from the years she'd spent with the two. Hank was in a very large amount of trouble.
As they left the yard and headed back towards the inn, walking so close that their fingers occasionally brushed – and she wondered what he might do if she reached out and grabbed his hand – Cain spoke as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. "You feelin' any better?" he asked bluntly. She smiled to herself, knowing there were many more questions tucked in with the one he'd asked; was the visit what you wanted it to be, are you glad you got to see them again, are you going to be okay now that we've left?
She took a deep breath, squinting as they walked into the suns, headed back to their room – and hopefully supper and a bath. "I am feeling a bit better, thank you," she said appreciatively, glancing sideways at him. The wooden-board side walk they were on echoed dully underneath their feet.
"Hass is waitin' on his instructions," Cain said with a hint of a scowl. "Seems that no one actually told him what we're doin' out this way. Someone is gonna have to fill him in."
DG smiled. "'Someone' meaning me, right?" She laughed at the seriousness in him when he nodded at her. "Ooh," she cooed, "this will be my first briefing."
Cain raised his eyebrows, stopping them under the shade of a tree that overhung the side-walk. "You almost sound excited." He sounded amused by this fact, and when she looked up at him, into his icy eyes, she could almost see a glint in them that touched too deep, stroked the hidden place that only he knew how to find inside of her. Strange, that words and glances could do such things.
"Well," she said, and her smile widened, "I've got to get excited about something."
***
Twilight had begun to settle upon the city as the chauffeured car passed through the gates of the Central City palace. Coming to a stop in front of the ornate front entrance, the rear-door opened before the driver could get out of the car and come around.
Peter Andrus stepped out of the black sedan, seizing a moment to let his head fall back to take in the dizzying height of Alta Torretta. Above the farthest reach of the towering palace, the sky was turning a deep, velvety blue. With a sigh, he righted himself and hurried up the grand, sweeping front steps of the palace.
The uniformed palace guards flanking the doors opened them wide for him, and he nodded in appreciation as he went through. Inside the largely imposing foyer, very few staff remained, and the doors had been closed to the public for hours. In the massive front hall, a few working bodies were scattered here and there, going about the massive task of keeping the palace immaculate and in running order. Walking briskly towards the elevator, he ignored the opulence of the scrolled wallpaper, the rich fabrics, the intricately tiled floor. An aristocrat of the Northern province, he barely noticed such things.
After an exceptionally long upwards climb, the lift doors slid smoothly open and Andrus found himself faced with the Queen's chief advisor, Ambrose, the moment he stepped out onto the royal residential floor. "Ah, Master Ambrose," he said, as he'd been expecting nothing less – and had, in fact, been surprised that the former-headcase hadn't been waiting for him downstairs at the entrance. "Are you here to make sure I don't get lost?"
"I was on my way downstairs to make sure you'd arrived safely," Ambrose said diplomatically, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice that would have made Andrus want to smile, were he a smiling man. Over the past annual in the O.Z., many friendships and alliances had been forged or rekindled in the lull of peace and celebration – though it was not the case with the general and the advisor, the men could work easily together when required to under normal conditions. Nothing that brought them together now came close to the abnormal events of ten months past, and if he could survive the advisor through that, a meeting with the Queen over military affairs was a stroll in the suns.
"Where will Her Majesty be receiving me?" Andrus asked as the two men struck a path straight across the mirrored entryway of the Queen's residence.
"She's ready for you, and waiting in her quarters," Ambrose told him.
Though his expression didn't change, there was a slight upwards twitch to one eyebrow as Andrus responded. "Her personal quarters?" An odd place.
"Her Majesty has been a little under the weather since yesterday evening," Ambrose said quickly, shooting the general an apologetic smile. Andrus remained silent, not liking the underlying tone in the advisor's words. His suspicions were further confirmed when he was shown into the Queen's private sitting room, to be greeted by a pale slip of a would-be monarch with teary, red-rimmed eyes. Unnecessarily, she rose from her seat and walked across the room slowly to allow him to take her hands in greeting.
"General," she said in a soft voice, one that strained with the effort of holding back a heart-full of emotion. "How are you this evening?"
"I'm quite well, Majesty, thank you," Andrus said, and let go of her hands. He set to removing his coat, and handing it to the valet that waited at the door; the boy left the room, and Ambrose backed out without a word, closing the doors firmly shut behind him. "I am sorry to see you unwell."
"Stress," she said. "A lot has happened in the past week." The Queen waved a dismissive hand at him, a gesture that encompassed the ascension of a new queen, what would surely be a turning point in the history of their country, this chance at redemption for a broken nation – and perhaps, more personally, for the new queen as well.
"Yes," Andrus said, "it has been busy." After the week of ceremonies, celebrations, and conferences, Andrus had finally been able to send his wife back North to their home, and she'd been glad to go. He wished he'd been able to join her.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Queen Azkadellia asked very kindly, "How is your wife, General? And your daughter and her family?"
Andrus gave the young ruler an indulgent smile. He'd missed the coronation ball in favor of returning quickly to the south of the Scar, so there had been no chance for them to meet and for her to ask such irrelevant questions in a social setting. Politely, she asked now. "My wife is glad to return to the country," Andrus told her, "and my daughter and her family are whole and sound." Queen Azkadellia only nodded, before turning her back to him, her eyes trained on the floor as she returned to the seat she'd left to greet him. Standing at ease in the center of the room, he waited for her to speak, but as the seconds ticked on and on, passing into a minute and then altogether too many minutes, he cleared his throat. "Your Majesty," he said, "if I might be so bold –"
"You want to know if I've come to a decision," the Queen interjected. Andrus nodded, holding his tongue as the raven-haired monarch sighed deeply, heavily. "I assume you have no new information for me?"
"Only more reports of increased activity," Andrus said. "Men we suspect are fugitive Longcoats have been seen patrolling the Black Forest. One of my spies in the village of Byvasser has been contacted by one of the local merchants there. Rumor is that supply caravans are being smuggled into the forest through one of the cave networks."
The Queen seemed to blanch at the word 'cave' but when she spoke, her voice was steady, steadier than he'd heard it since arriving. "General, the entirety of the South is riddled with cave systems."
"So, you see the need for us to deploy more scouts," Andrus said gently.
Azkadellia sighed. "Send out all the scouts and spies you want, General. You are not to launch an offensive, nor are the Longcoats to be alerted to the activities of the AR."
"Our presence in the South has been undetected so far," he told her.
"Good. Make sure it stays that way," Azkadellia said with a firm nod. "Though, I must say, I don't see what any of this has to do with Jeb Cain, or the reason I had to release him from my personal guard."
"The lieutenant is going to lead the infiltration team into the Black Forest," Andrus said. "When the time is right, of course."
The Queen closed her eyes. "General," she said slowly, "I do not like the idea of any harm befalling the lieutenant."
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, Jeb Cain is a soldier. He follows what orders are given to him willingly," Andrus said. He held his tongue to keep from adding that he'd never come across a more headstrong young rebel in all his annuals of service to the crown, or his time with the Resistance in the North.
"Jeb Cain is the son of Captain Wyatt Cain, who has, you may not know, become engaged recently to the Princess Royal," the Queen said. "Young Mr. Cain, as you call him, is by extension a member of the royal family." She seemed to be angry with him, speaking through her teeth. "I want it made clear that if he takes this mission, it is to be of his own volition. I won't..." Her voice cracked and she looked away, breaking the hard gaze she'd held upon him.
So that was it, plain and simple. As Queen, all answered to her, and all was done in her name and the name of the country she ruled. After all that had been done during the Possession, if Jeb Cain met his death during this mission, it was not a guilt she wanted to face. "I understand," Andrus said, trying to convey that he truly did. "I will give your orders to the lieutenant."
Without looking at him, Azkadellia nodded. Silence fell upon the room then, and it held for quite some time. Finally, knowing that one more thing had to be discussed, Andrus parted his lips and began to speak.
"There is another issue, Majesty."
A low, aggravated moan escaped the Queen, most unfitting of her station. Andrus hid a smile, watching as the young woman turned her reddened eyes on him with a resigned sigh. "Make it quick, Peter," she said dejectedly.
"We, um," Andrus started, but stopped. His throat felt suddenly dry; strangely enough, he was not sure how he was to bring this up with the young woman. Andrus, despite what those who served under him might say, was not a heartless bastard, and he could see, quite plainly, that the Queen before him was no more than a distressed, utterly lonely girl. Clearing his throat to give his sentence another start, he tried again, silently asking for forgiveness from his patron. "We have reason to believe, Your Majesty, that there is more organization afoot here than just a few renegade 'Coats banding together."
In her seat, Queen Azkadellia straightened, and if possible, her face seemed to become paler. "What do you mean?"
"The heart of the Forest... it seems to be protected by magic."
***
Wyatt Cain stood with his back against the heavy wooden door of the room he shared with DG at the inn in Milltown. DG had thrown a spell up, some sort of sound barrier, and he could feel the warmth of it emanating from the door behind him. They would be heard by no one, but Cain would still be able to hear if anyone approached from the hallway. Handy, to say the very least.
Across from him, Corporal Hass sat in one of the straight-backed wooden dining chairs that flanked a small table. He was watching DG, who stood near the bathroom door with her arms folded across her chest. She was chewing her lip, and she kept looking at her feet. The corporal looked bemused as he waited for DG to start speaking.
Cain hoped this wouldn't take too long; supper had taken longer than intended, as their hosts, the MacGruders, had asked for news from up the road, and one story had led to another. It was near-late, he was exhausted, and DG may damn him later, for all he wanted to do was get a few good hours of sleep.
DG, as usual, was the one to break the palpable silence. "So," she said, dragging out her vowel, and Cain resisted an urge to roll his eyes. This was going to take a while. "Here's the deal."
Cain watched Hass try to wipe the smile off his face, but it was a losing battle. DG gave an exasperated huff, and with a small cough, the corporal straightened in his chair. "Can I just ask one question?" he cut in.
DG frowned. "What?"
"How close to a repeat of last time are we looking at?" Hass asked, quite bluntly. Cain was surprised at the astuteness of his query.
Last time... capture, imprisonment, beatings, escape. The royal family never asks much, do they? Cain thought, and his lips settled into a grim line. His eyes stayed on DG as she paced in a small circle, and he could almost hear her talking to herself inside her pretty, dark head about how best to answer him. Just talk, Kiddo, no point in beating around it.
"Well... hopefully nowhere near like last time," DG said quite seriously. She paused for an moment, and then she continued, "I'm looking for a way to destroy the Emerald. Or at least the magic inside of it." Noting that she'd left off the part stating that he and Hass were supposed to protect her while she did this, Cain continued to watch her slowly walk back and forth, so lost in her own thoughts that she could have been carrying on a conversation with herself. The sight was almost enough to have made him smile under different circumstance.
"You have to destroy the Emerald? Why?"
DG bit her lip, shooting a glance back at Cain. He tried his best to look reassuring, but only managed to give her a small nod, to let her know she was doing all right, that she should continue without this trepidation. Whether she got the message or not, he didn't know, and he realized that her ability to send her thoughts to others could sometimes have its uses.
When DG turned back to the corporal, his eyebrows were raised in her direction. "The double eclipse has passed, and the Emerald no longer needs to be safeguarded by the Gale family. Its a... burden," she said carefully, and then skipped over her more personal, familial reason. "Its power could also be very... tempting to others."
Hass nodded, as if he'd made a connection. Surely enough, the next second... "You mean the Outlanders." The corporal sounded very sure of himself, and Cain had to admit it was a sharp observation, though he frowned at the very mention of the mercenaries across the Western border, over and deep within the mountains.
DG shook her head. "No, actually. Not the Outlanders."
"Then who?" Hass asked.
"I don't know," DG said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe no one yet. Eventually, though... the risk can't be taken. The existence of the Emerald is a danger to the country." She sounded convinced of this fact, and Wyatt knew, without having to ask, that she'd done a lot of thinking over the past ten months, since her second meeting with the Gale, after they'd escaped from the Commander's complex. Thinking to be rid of the burden of the Emerald, only to hear that it still wasn't over.
"Its not over. I don't know... don't know what that means yet, but... but... its not..." Her tear-choked voice rang out through his mind then, crossing time to come to him.
"Well then," Hass said after a moment, "how do you destroy the Emerald?"
"I don't know yet. That's why we're traveling, to find out."
"And then you have to actually do it. Destroy the damn thing, I mean," Hass said. DG nodded slowly, and the corporal slumped a little in his chair. "But you don't know when or how yet." Again, DG nodded. Hass sighed deeply. "So one brick at a time then, eh?"
"One brick at a time," Cain repeated, his first words since the three of them had settled into the room and the spell had gone up. DG turned to look at him appreciatively, and the smile she gave him warmed him ever so slightly. Enough that, for a moment, he forgot how tired he was.
Hass leaned forward on his knees, contemplating everything he'd just been told. "Is there a plan, then?" he asked after a moment. "I mean, assuming you're not going to start knocking on doors. The word Emerald would probably clam people up right quick."
"I've got a meeting with one of the, um, residents here," she said. "I met him when I first came to the O.Z., and he was the only person that I could think of going to now, aside from Tutor, who, by the way, knew nothing useful. And, Ambrose only had brilliant ideas on how to harness the power, not how to shatter it."
Cain grit his teeth at DG's mention of Ambrose and his inventions. If he ever so much as caught the man with a screwdriver in his now well-manicured hands again, Glitch would be very sorry he'd dragged Cain's frozen ass back to DeMilo's wagon.
The end of what she could tell him, the conversation only continued on for a few minutes, before Hass stood, shaking his head. He left the room, muttering about job hazards and troublesome princesses. When the door was shut behind him, Cain turned around to see that DG had flopped down onto her front on the bed, her face buried in the remade quilts.
"Tired," she mumbled.
Wyatt chuckled low as he moved around the bed, unbuckling his gun-belt as he went. After removing it, he hung it over the chair Hass had vacated. "Why don't you go run a bath, it'll do you good to relax before crawlin' into that bed and passin' out."
DG pushed herself away from the bed, and into a sitting position. "Will you join me?" she asked, and there was no hint of teasing in her voice. It was a simple question, and the four words spoke more to him about how she was slowly easing into the comfort of being with him full-time, a quiet, unspoken promise that she could settle into an existence together.
"I'll meet you in there," he said with a nod, and with a pleased smile she hopped off the bed and scooted into the bathroom. The urge to make a grab for her backside as she passed him shimmered through his fingers, but he fought it back with a clench of his fist, keeping his instincts in check, and yet still amazed that she could make him feel so playful. It had been a long, long time since such an emotion had coursed through him.
The door to the bathroom closed, and he could hear the water start to run. Turning off the lamps, Cain unbuttoned his vest, removed it, and laid it down on the bed. A static charge ran through the room then, raising the hair on his forearms; it piqued his interest for only a moment before he realized DG must have released the spell she'd put around their room.
In his shirtsleeves, he stood at the window and drew back the curtain. He'd wait until he heard the water in the other room turn off, give her time to settle into the bath before he intruded.
The streets of Milltown were dark, quiet, and empty, but most windows that faced the street were bright with life. No wind stirred the trees at the edge of town, and the clouded night would hide the moons once they rose. It was... peaceful, and he could feel a calm descend over him, an inner-peace that only came with the sense of assurance he felt from the princess he guarded, the woman he loved. To love again, a true surprise, but... not unexpected. He could have shut out the world, but she always found him, saved him. Releasing him from the suit, chasing him into the woods, finding him in a dark prison cell five stories beneath the forest floor. A strong force bound them now, though whatever it was, he wasn't sure.
It didn't quite matter, somehow. It just was, and that was fine by him.
Seeing a light turn off across the street put into Cain's mind the overnight and the next morning. DG would speak to the old cyborg, Vue, and he would head into town to see about the post office to send a message to Glitch if he could... while he could. DG merely referred to it as checking in. The chance of a telephone out this far was unlikely. Perhaps in a few annuals, but not now...
Cain realized then that the water was still running. Frowning, for he knew the tub in the bathtub was not overly large, he crossed the room and knocked curiously upon the door. "DG?" he called out. No answer. His frown deepening, he took the doorknob in hand and turned it, pushing the door open.
His first boot-fall into the bathroom landed in a puddle of water, as the humidity of the room bathed his face. He scanned the room quickly, only to find the floor close to flooding, the tub overflowing, and DG gone.
Author's Note II: Thank your for all the well wishes. Things are looking up (my mom's tests all came back negative for cancer, woot!) ... sorry about the cliffy. Or am I? Dun dun DUN! My muse is feeling a mite peckish, I bet a review would fill her artist's belly!