Author's Note

I'm baaaackkk! It's been a rough couple of months - not to bore you with the life and times of an accountant-by-day, author by weekend - but let's just say that I survived, and now I have this beast to contend with. It was starting to get a bit uncomfortable to ignore it, since my plot demon was gnawing at my little bunny leg. I AM NOT dinner! Back you!

Whoops, sorry.

So anyway, I hadn't forgotten about you guys, I just had to get the other end of my life back in order.

Is 2020 over yet?

Going back to my hole now to write another chapter. Comments and suggestions welcome!

-WR

Chapter Eleven

Almost two days had passed before Artie reappeared in the Seeker's hut. During that time, the three men had established other important details, and recounted them as they sat around the fireplace in growing evening on the second day.

"Dad," Jeb spoke through the food he was working to swallow, "my contacts have been tailing Vizor this whole time. They always seem to lose him in the same place. It's almost as if there's a secret door hidden somewhere. They've searched everywhere in the area. There's nothing."

Wyatt gazed into the fire absently, his mind wandering over all of the information randomly, letting the puzzle pieces fall where they would. "We probably don't want to take this fight to them anyhow. Too many unknowns," he thought out loud.

Ahamo shifted his position on the ledge next to the fire and turned to prod at a log. As the log sparked in response to his poker, and the air hit the hot embers, the fire came back to life and lit the mens' faces momentarily, making their eyes gleam mysteriously in the growing dark. Ahamo looked at Wyatt and Jeb thoughtfully as he puffed at his pipe and noted thoughtfully, "Wyatt, I think you had it right the first time. We're going to have to draw them out. What did you find out from Ma DeMilo?"

Wyatt shook himself out of his thoughts and his eyes moved to Ahamo, and he huffed through his nose before replying huskily, "Vizor made contact just after we showed up. Predictably, she got him on the hook, fed him a line that it would take her some time to get what he was looking for. He's supposed to be back to collect at the end of the week."

"So, we're just going to let him have the belt?" Jeb asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"No, we're not," A voice grumbled authoritatively behind them. The men swung around in surprise but eased at the sight of Artie stepping through the magic door and shutting it carefully behind him. As he sat down among them, the door behind him disappeared again, and he stowed the doorknob away in his pocket. As he settled into a comfortable position, Wyatt reached out to offer Artie a mug, which Artie gladly accepted, muttering a quiet "thanks" as his fingers wrapped around the warm vessel. Wyatt's mouth twitched to hide an appraising smile as he watched the look of relaxation come over the round man while he sipped on his muglug, satisfied that he had done a decent enough job making stew with the scant ingredients available in the storeroom. Artie peered over the top of his mug and exclaimed approvingly, "Mr. Cain, you may have missed your calling, this is just as good as my mother's!"

Wyatt nodded in appreciation and replied, "So what did you come up with Artie?"

Artie grunted through the stew in his mouth and hurriedly set down the mug, waving his finger as if to make them wait while he dug through the interior of his large bag. After a moment he produced two almost identical jeweled belts and handed them to the Consort first before taking his mug up again. Ahamo examined both belts and passed them on to Wyatt who compared the two, turning them into the firelight to examine the quality of the stones. The likeness of the reproduction was impeccable, and Wyatt was impressed.

"Looks pretty good, Artie, how did you manage it in such short time?" Wyatt asked as he handed the belts back to Artie.

Artie laughed knowingly, wagging a finger at Wyatt, "Never mind that, let's just call it a perk of being caretaker to so many interesting items." Artie admired his own work and then frowned somewhat as he verbalized the thought in his mind, "but if whoever is looking for this belt uses gemstones for payment, they probably won't buy this copy. The jewels are little more than costume jewelry."

Wyatt frowned. This friend of Vizor's was an unknown quantity and Wyatt didn't want to risk his getting a hold of such a powerful artifact, but the reproduction might scare them off before Wyatt and his associates could close in. "What we need is an honest thief," Wyatt muttered thoughtfully, then meeting the expectant gaze of Artie, he continued more loudly, "We're going to need to do a switch to pull this off. I bet I could get Ma DeMilo to help, but we're still going to need the actual belt."

Artie sighed and nodded with an almost expectant expression on his face, knowing that Wyatt was right. They'd have to let the target see the actual belt, and keep them at DeMilo's stall long enough so they could close in. It was a risky idea, but there weren't too many options in the short amount of time they had.

Having convinced Artie, Wyatt turned to Jeb, "Do you think you could make contact with the Royal Army? We're going to need fast transport back to Central once we nab Vizor and his buddy."

Jeb nodded. "I can probably get a transport lined up before the end of the week."

Ahamo chimed in, pointing his pipe in Jeb's direction, "Just tell them to keep a low profile. We don't want to scare them off. I'll make a visit to the livery stables tomorrow morning and see if I can arrange a quiet corner for a truck to hide in."

"Well, I'll go with you. Once we get that settled, I'll send word," Jeb uttered between sips of coffee.

Artie rose from his seat and stretched, "With that Gentlemen, I'm out for the time being. I'll be back tomorrow so we can finish cementing our plans. Until then, the belt stays with me, if it's all the same to you."

Wyatt nodded as he stood and took Artie's hand in a firm handshake. As he shook his hand, Wyatt suddenly remembered the item he had acquired in the tavern and stopped Artie mid-handshake. "Before you leave, I may have something you were looking for," Wyatt spoke cryptically, and he released Artie's hand to turn towards his duffle.

In a moment, Wyatt produced the compass, and placed it in Artie's hands with a satisfied smirk. The look of mild curiosity plastered on Artie's face melted away the instant the compass was laid in his palm, and Artie blustered giddily before he replied, "Chip off the old block after all, eh Seeker?" Ahamo and Wyatt exchanged a chuckle at this while Artie smiled. "Glad I can put this back where it belongs," he continued while placing the compass in his bag.

With a final, amused shake of his head, Artie now silently swung around to the wall and disappeared through the door that had appeared in the wall behind him. Wyatt looked on as the door faded once again before turning around to meet the tired expressions of his son and father-in-law, suddenly feeling heavy with fatigue. The other men were visibly weary as well and sat listlessly around the fire. Sleeping on the ground had lost its nostalgic appeal already, and their mission had been taxing, and they all surveyed their surroundings with an air of silent defeat. All the same, they were all eager to stretch out the best they could and get whatever rest they could and moved from defeat to acceptance in quick succession.

Ahamo was the first to stand and strode past Wyatt as a yawn overtook him, and he struggled to speak through the yawn as he waved good night to Wyatt and Jeb, "Well guys, I'm spent. I'll see you in the morning."

"Nite Sir," Jeb waved sleepily.

"Good night," Wyatt yawned almost as heavily.

Once Ahamo was gone, Jeb got up with a long stretch. Wyatt watched in mild curiosity as Jeb rolled up his sack and turned to his father with a tired smile. His hand paused on the ladder before he started to climb up, and he explained, "I'm going to sleep under the stars tonight if you don't mind. I'm sure you could use a little time to yourself anyway."

Wyatt sighed minutely while he scratched his now thick beard and nodded in silent agreement before finally waving to Jeb as he ascended the ladder. Now alone, Wyatt striped himself of his clothes, slowly, so as to stretch his sore muscles as he pulled his limbs through the arms of his shirt, then the legs of his overworn pants. A low, guttural groan barely escaped him while he pulled on a pair of sleep pants, and he sighed as he settled down on top of his bed roll. While one hand rested under his head, the other continued to scrub his whiskers thoughtfully, and he gazed up at the thatched stick roof while his thoughts meandered lazily. Since arriving at the Seeker's hut, Wyatt had seldom had any time to himself, and even less time to passively take in his surroundings, but now that Wyatt allowed himself to stare at the thatched roof overhead, all he could think of was DG. As he studied how the light of the fire cast odd shapes on the walls and ceiling, he scoffed, imagining how the sights around him would have, no doubt, offered his spritely wife plenty of inspiration.

DG would find about a million things to paint based on this ceiling alone, he thought absently as the shapes waivered, and the crackling fire lulled him into a doze.

The thought of DG had tugged at him though, and Wyatt yearned for the comfort of her near him. He groaned and covered his eyes with the arm that had been behind his head, trying to black out the thoughts of DG that begun to haunt him in the late hours. After spending so much time locked up in that Iron suit, Wyatt had found that it was almost unbearable now to be devoid of human contact, and after the eclipse, he'd soon accepted the fact that it was DG's contact that had the most effect on him. There was nothing Wyatt could do about it now but rest though, so he worked to clear his mind, breathing slowly in and out as he cleared his thoughts one by one. Although Wyatt's nerves were slowly calming as he breathed deeply, his head did not clear. If anything, the images of DG came more readily now, and were so vivid that he felt as if he could reach out and grasp her rounded hips to pull her close to him. These kinds of thoughts continued to plague him, and Wyatt struggled with sleep, passing in and out of consciousness as the night wore on.

Elsewhere, DG was struggling to decipher the cryptic notes scrawled out on the scrap of paper in her hands. The princess chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully as she winced at the letters scrawled on the page held between her fingers, and she muttered the words over and over again like a mantra, desperate to memorize the contents and make some headway with its instructions. Finally, DG shoved the note back into the music box at her side and growled at the slippers, quietly muttering to them as her magic poured over them like water. Her eyes were shut tight while she concentrated her magic, until finally, as if sensing something, DG's eyes popped open, and she eyed the shoes expectantly. When nothing happened, she groaned loudly and threw up her hands.

"Ugh," DG grunted, falling back on the floor of her bedroom in frustration, "I don't know if I can do this!"

DG was beyond tired, and her eyes burned. She had been sitting on the floor of her bedroom for hours, staring at her cursed slippers, having no idea how to make them do what she wanted. As the hours counted down and the moon's rays began to bathe her in its light, she sighed at the bed across the floor from her position. She missed Wyatt desperately, and wanted sleep almost as much, but she felt compelled to succeed.

Ozma said that he could be in danger too. I have to get these things to work, DG pushed herself.

DG closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, determined to accomplish something now despite her fatigue. She stretched her legs out in front of her as she steadied her breathing, simultaneously smoothing out the gauzy white gown that fell around her.

"You can do this DG, just clear your head," DG muttered soothingly.

She was jittery though, and her magic buzzed around her weary limbs, making her feel somewhat intoxicated. This buzzing made it difficult for DG to settle her nerves, and she absently began tapping her shoes together, while she breathed; the soft tapping of the sides of her feet coming together taking on an almost meditative quality, like a metronome ticking away the beats of an unknown song. DG's head was already swimming from the combination of fatigue and magical exhaustion, and the sound of her clicking feet seemed to drag her into a kind of trance that she struggled to maintain control of. Her body felt suddenly surrounded in crystal blue water, and the coolness of it gliding around her was so soothing and familiar that she grinned wide.

With her head suddenly clear, DG's eyes snapped open, and she exclaimed brightly "Wyatt," while simultaneously giving her shoes three firm clicks. In that instant, the room seemed pull as if in response, and wind howled around DG's ears, making her temporarily lose her bearings. Were it not for her sitting on the floor, DG would have fallen, and it took her a moment to regain her balance when the spinning finally subsided.

The successful enchantment had sent DG into a twister-like spin and had had the unfortunate effect of stealing the air from DG's body. Although motionless once more, DG's heart was still pounding in her ears, and she struggled to find her balance. Her hands, once clasped to her ears to muffle the shriek of the wind, flew to her sides while she opened her eyes wide in astonishment. The room she now found herself in was dark, and in the inky darkness, she struggled to determine her location. Her hands felt fine dirt under them, and DG could only assume that she'd somehow left the palace, but without any real light, apart from a pile of coals burning low in a grate off to her left, she was at a loss.

"What kind of fresh hell have I gotten myself into this time?" DG admonished herself in a quiet whisper as she scrambled to her feet, hoping that a change in elevation might help her assess her predicament. As if in response, a coal in the grate now just before her popped loudly, causing the Princess to jump in fright and a surprised gasp to escape her lips. DG stopped herself and took a steadying breath before rolling her eyes in annoyance.

DG's relief was only momentary, and a soft shifting behind her signaled a warning in her mind. A familiar click for what she could only assume was a firearm being readied and pointed in her direction caused her breath to leave her just as quickly as it had when the room had been spinning, and her eyes closed in defeat while she raised her hands in response to the noise.

"I was just wondering the same thing, Princess," a gruff voice rumbled huskily behind DG, its familiar velvety timbre suggesting that the perceived danger was not as it seemed.

"Jesus Wyatt, give a girl a coronary, will you?" DG sighed in relief while she turned to face him, her face wearing a mask of both exhilaration and humor.

Wyatt's outline was barely distinguishable from the rest of the darkness that seemed to swallow the room but judging from the exasperated sigh that emitted from him as tossed the weapon on his bedroll and moved past her to the grate, she surmised that he was less than pleased with her sudden arrival. This realization was like being dunked headfirst into icy water, and DG's mouth snapped shut as she waited for what would certainly be Wyatt's ire. Wyatt seemed to relish making DG wait and took his time to rifle around near the grate until he finally found what he was looking for, and he grumbled incoherently as he threw a chunk of wood on the fire, making DG jump at the clattering his careless throw had caused. The wood was undoubtedly bone dry, and flames instantly erupted in the grate as a result, causing the warm glow to flare, throwing light on the barely dressed princess and the scowling lawman swinging around to face her.

Wyatt's eyes were like hot coals all by themselves, and he seethed dangerously as he crept close to her, "Look who's talking, DG, what the hell are you playin' at?"

DG's own temper flashed, and she began to argue, "Wyatt, I'm not playing at anything, I –"

"Damnit Dorothy, I could have shot you just now!" Wyatt erupted, his expression suddenly scared and hurt all at once.

In that moment, DG's defensive stance melted, and her face fell as a she replied softly, "Oh, Wyatt, I'm sorry." A fat tear welled up in her eye, and DG paused to swipe it away, sniffling as she continued, "but I had to find you."

Wyatt's jaw was set into a hard line, like he was fighting an internal battle to remain angry, but when DG crept closer to him, laying her hand on his bare chest, he sighed raggedly and his body visibly unclenched. His arms encircled the princess standing before him, and his muttered roughly as he pulled her ever closer to him, "Oh Dorothy, I'm glad you're here, you just scared me." He paused in comforting DG, and he pushed her gently backwards to eye her night gown questioningly while he asked carefully, "now explain how you got here dressed like that."

Any other time, DG would be happy to be so close to Wyatt, but now was not that time. Wyatt was clearly in "cop mode," and eyed her expectantly, almost daring her to skirt the truth so he could squeeze it out of her somehow. Ordinarily, she found this trait of his almost endearing, and useful besides, but having it trained on her now presented a conundrum. How do tell him what's going on without our enemies hearing us? Ozma said we were being watched, DG pondered quietly, chewing on her lip while she concentrated on her problem. It was only when Wyatt cleared his throat that DG's concentrated frown turned on him, to see him folding his arms in growing impatience, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"DG," Wyatt rumbled, "I'm waiting."

DG huffed in annoyance, turning from Wyatt's skeptical glare to pace while she thought out how to talk to her husband without giving away the farm. Wyatt looked on silently while his spritely wife worked out whatever was on her mind. He'd seen this reaction from her before, when they'd been searching for the emerald, and quickly accepted that while DG was probably not trying to be evasive, she seemed to struggle with how to talk to him. There was only one thing for it, he determined silently, quickly deciding to employ a tactic that he'd only discovered after beginning to court the slipper princess. His hands dropped at his sides as Wyatt huffed in amusement, and he stepped in DG's path, earning an exasperated huff from the now irritated woman. Before she could balk at his intrusion though, his hands were on her shoulders, pulling her flush with him. Swiftly, his arms moved to encircle her, both to keep her from getting away, and to keep her physically pressed against him as he leaned down to press his lips against hers.

DG's mind had been a confused jumble when Wyatt entered her space, and as much as she would have liked to chastise him for breaking her concentration, her brain seemed to turn into a puddle of goo when he reintroduced himself to her. While his lips demanded her attention, soft and supple against her own, the whiskers of his now-full beard tickled her pleasantly. Her curiosity grew exponentially at this, and her hands reached up to touch his face while their tongues still danced heatedly, finding the hair soft to her touch. Wyatt growled hungrily in response to DG's touch, and although his arms tightened, his face moved away from hers, a sigh of defeat escaping him as his chin rested on her forehead.

While DG allowed her face to rest in the pale hairs of his chest, catching her breath from the long reintroduction, Wyatt whispered in a humored voice to her crown, "Better now, Princess?" DG waved a finger behind Wyatt's back, and she smiled mischievously while she hummed in affirmation. Wyatt's distracted state slowly melted away then, with the realization that the crackling fire sounded suddenly muffled, and his own breathing amplified. The lawman smiled now, and moved his head only so he could tilt his wife's upward with a flick of his index finger, and he held her chin lovingly as he pecked her lips, finishing with a murmur, "Is there a reason why you've put us in a bubble, Dorothy?"

"We're being watched, Wyatt. I couldn't tell you before." DG explained, and she took a deep breath before she continued, the speed of her explanation increasing as her anxiety grew, "Az and I got these letters from Vizor and some other guy named Boulderstone, and they both knew things they shouldn't, but you'd already gone and we couldn't get word to you, and Ozma said that you could be in danger, so she taught me to enchant my slippers to get to you, and here I am."

Wyatt's hand, once on her chin, moved to DG's head, and he stroked her hair soothingly while he tried to calm her gently, "Woah there, Darlin' slow down." He paused when DG trembled and his own anxiety grew when she burrowed into him for warmth in the already warm hut, and he held her closely as he worked out his growing concern. "Let's deal with you tremblin' first, Darlin', I can't have you shakin' apart while we're talkin'."

DG nodded against Wyatt's chest, and silently allowed him to lead her to his bunk, where he sat her down and wrapped a blanket around her. Only then did he climb into the alcove behind her, silently beckoning her to lay down with him. DG complied easily, finding the warmth of both the blanket and her husband both comforting and alluring, and while she nestled against him, she opened the blanket to let him in, humming contentedly at the feel his skin against her own shivering body. It took a few minutes for the shaking sensations to lessen, and DG's rapidly fluttering heart to slow, but when it finally did, Wyatt resumed his gentle interrogation, prompting DG to continue almost as if he was asking her to tell him a story.

"Alright, Dorothy, why don't you tell me all about it, starting with the letters you and Az got, and ending with how you ended up here in your nightgown, and don't leave anything out." Wyatt purred against DG's hair, kissing her softly on her head and lulling her into the security of his presence.

While Wyatt's calloused hand traveled up and down DG's bare arm, infusing DG with both Wyatt's warmth and a sense of reassurance, DG sighed the rest of her tension away. With a final sigh, DG nodded and began to relay the events of the past few weeks. Although DG's nerves seemed to settle the more she described the events that her Tin Man had missed, Wyatt grew steadily more and more troubled. Not that anyone would have noticed, however, since his outward façade changed very little beyond his usual stoic expression that was now aimed at the roof of their small alcove. Besides a sharp intake of air at the mention of Boulderstone and Vizor's barely veiled threats, and the events surrounding the music box, Wyatt's demeanor changed very little. His eyes never left their vigil of the roof above them, in fact, until DG sat up and looked down on him, her expression anxious and urgent.

"Wyatt, you have to stop this mission. I mean, it's obviously a trap. Promise me." DG demanded forcefully, causing Wyatt to meet her eyes with his own deadly serious gaze as he sat up to look at her on equal ground.

"DG," Wyatt replied, deliberately pushing an errant lock of hair behind her ear to give the appearance of intimacy, "I agree that we're probably walking into a trap, but if I stop this now, you and Az will be in no less risk. If anything, probably more, because right now, their focus is on me. Not you." DG's mouth screwed into a skeptical frown, and she huffed through her nose before Wyatt continued. Wyatt was still trying to give unseen eyes the impression that they were having a very different conversation all together, and his hand, still on the shell of her ear, moved fluidly down DG's neck as he shifted closer to her. When his lips were only inches from hers, he muttered quietly, "I need you to calm down now, Dorothy, you're just about glowin' with anger right now. Don't want to give the wrong impression, do we?"

DG blinked in sudden understanding before meeting him the rest of the way, surprising him with her enthusiasm, which forced him back into a supine position, with his suddenly eager wife still peppering him with kisses. Wyatt couldn't help but chuckle between DG's kisses but knowing how quickly the situation could get out hand, his hands gently pushed against her shoulders, effectively signaling a cease-fire. "Slow down there, Darlin'," Wyatt laughed, eliciting a wicked grin from his wife before she gladly complied, and laid back down on his chest.

"Alright, I get it Tin Man," DG grumbled sardonically against his chest, before asking in a more serious voice, "but if you're not quitting, what do you have in mind?"

Wyatt's free hand went behind his head, and he sighed loudly at the ceiling while he weeded through his thoughts. This is all moving so fast, his mind warned him, and he had to remind himself that if he moved equally as fast, mistakes were bound to happen. Whoever Vizor's new friend was, his name was certainly not Boulderstone. The way the letter had been worded, in concert with Ozma's warning, led Wyatt to the firm conclusion that Boulderstone was an alias for a much older and much more dangerous foe than even the Sorceress, and the hairs on Wyatt's neck stood on end at the possibilities. He seemed to know DG's namesake personally, and he didn't seem the least bit bothered by the fact that DG was only distantly related. Ozma's concern was equally puzzling, leading Wyatt to the quick conclusion that the two were somehow linked.

"Well, I hate to admit it, but I think you've got a good plan, Princess." Wyatt admitted, continuing, "chiefly, Vizor and his buddy don't know anything about it. I think we keep movin' along with things as we've already both decided and play along until we get Vizor to the palace, but that's where it gets tricky." Wyatt stopped to work out the next phase of his developing plan, which seemed suddenly stubborn in its consent to form, and he added in a forceful whisper, "I just need you and Az to be ready by the time I get there, and don't let those slippers out of your sight for nothing, do you understand me?"

DG nodded, adding quietly, "We've got a few details to wrap up, since I keep getting worn out, but I'm positive we'll be ready."

With that settled, Wyatt continued to work out the puzzle of how Ozma, Boulderstone, and DG's unusual pregnancy were linked. It couldn't be a coincidence, he thought, which troubled him deeply and made him all the more protective of the small woman in his arms. Then DG began to tremble again, drawing Wyatt quickly out of his thoughts. His arms wrapped around her, and he pulled the blanket to cover her completely, asking worriedly, "DG, you're shaking again. What's going on? You could stay outside for hours in the snow in nothing but your pajamas and a little breeze has you shaking apart? What's going on?"

DG burrowed her face in his chest, and her teeth clattered when she answered in a muffled voice, "It's the baby, Wyatt, she's draining me. I'm not sure how, and mother is obnoxiously tight-lipped about it. All she's said is that I should try to do as little magic as possible until after she's born."

Wyatt's face morphed from mild concern to near frantic horror, and he struggle to maintain his composure when he asked in a strained whisper, "and you thought using magic to get here would be okay? DG, what were you thinking?"

DG craned her neck so she could see him, and she answered reassuringly, "That's why Ozma showed me how to enchant the slippers. I only used magic to enchant them. I'm only chattering because of the bubble I put up."

"Well, since we've covered everything, I think you can take it down now, don't you?" Wyatt chided her, the voice sounding somewhat sarcastic, if not for the edge of worry in it.

DG's only reply was a flick of her finger, causing the air to change, like coming out of an Otherside airplane, and the crackling of the fire suddenly resumed; the sound of crickets outside became apparent, and wind whistling through the hole in the roof sighed its hello. "There," DG stated through a yawn, "better?"

Wyatt softly kissed the crown of Dorothy's head, and he replied in a murmur, "Not quite. Not until you get a little shut-eye." DG looked up and scoffed quietly, causing Wyatt to continue more forcefully, "You're not going anywhere just yet Princess. Not until I know you're okay. Consider it a request from your worried husband, okay?" With that he reached up and planted a soft kiss on DG's pouted lips, causing her to instantly relax, mewling against his mouth as he repositioned her with her back on the bed.

Although Wyatt's only intent had been to get DG to lay down, his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and responded automatically to the Princess's leg as it climbed the outside of his thigh. His hand traveled up the smooth skin of her calf, pushing the gauzy fabric of her gown ever-upward as it traversed the landscape of her leg, until rested on the soft mound of her backside. His fingers flexed and squeezed the softness of her skin, causing DG to moan into his mouth. Their kiss became exponentially more feverish as Wyatt's exploration continued, and by the time his hand stopped on her posterior, DG had forgotten her fatigue almost completely. Wyatt too, seemed to forget, but only for a moment. When he did remember, it was with a groan into the hollow of his wife's neck, where he placed another soft kiss before rolling over and pulling her on top of him.

"Let's not start somethin' we can't finish, Darlin,'" Wyatt murmured against DG's hair, to which DG answered with a sigh and a reluctant nod.

"Yeah," DG answered finally through a yawn, "can't have the old man catching us making out in his living room. Such as it is."

DG yawned again, and Wyatt smiled, finding the notion of getting caught by her father both absurd and troubling all at the same time. The fact that he was a grown man, but yet still so concerned with what her father might do if he caught them together, made the man laugh at himself. The moment of levity was enough at least to calm the Tin Man, and he sighed again before closing his eyes, and pulling his beloved wife into the circle of his arms.