Author's Note

Since I find myself awake in the middle of the night, anxiously awaiting the US election results, and feeling "as antsy as a guild fighter" as Glitch would say, I thought I'd go ahead and post another chapter. This story is taking a little longer to re-write than I anticipated, with obnoxious things like life getting in the way, so I apologize.

I don't own Tin Man, or Wizard of Oz, sadly...

Chapter Twelve

Wyatt woke with a start in the early hours just as the suns were peaking over the horizon. The fire in the grate had long since burned down to faintly crackling coals, and the warmth of its burning had cooled with the damp morning air. The room was shrouded in almost complete darkness, apart from a faint light creeping minutely upwards in intensity from the hole in the roof. In the faint light, Wyatt could just make out DG's form nestled against him, and seeing her eyes still closed in slumber, he decided to remain silent, wanting to keep her close for a bit longer. Wyatt remained still for a moment more, listening for the telltale sounds of morning, but all was still, apart from the occasional sleepy twitter of a bird and the gentle breathing of his wife. DG's small body was so warm against his, her soft skin like smooth porcelain under his rough hand as it moved in slow strokes on her upper arm and back. All he wanted in that moment, was to soak up as much time with Dorothy as possible, and forget their individual tasks, so dangerous and filled with uncertainty. The cold air filling the room was like a harbinger though, stifling the warmth of the dying fire with its dewy chill, and if something was not done soon, the remaining embers in the grate would be completely stifled. It wasn't unlike what he and DG had spoken of the night before – and although capturing Vizor was still paramount, he only figured minutely in the much larger picture, which was just now coming into focus. Wyatt had always assumed that behind Vizor lay a larger foe, but he'd never considered anything beyond this until last night. The introduction of a very real and very concerned Ozmanian goddess into their personal affairs could only mean one thing: all parties, both menacing and otherwise, seemed to be under the impression that at least one of the princesses was due to become the mother of a very special child, one that was prophesized to bring about a new golden age in the OZ. DG's unusual pregnancy complications seemed to indicate that their daughter stood the greatest potential. Not that any of this mattered to Wyatt. To him, his child would be special regardless of who she grew to be, but the suggestion that she could be some sort of savior only increased his overall discomfort. What he thought didn't amount to much now; there were others who were intent on harming her and her mother at the mere suggestion that she might be some reincarnated Queen, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Wyatt's quiet pondering wouldn't have so much as disturbed a mouse, but it was not so noiseless to a certain Princess. DG could never accurately describe it to Wyatt when he'd asked (in mild irritation), but she had always known when he wasn't asleep. Even when they'd been nothing more than mere acquaintances, trudging through OZ on a quest for the Emerald, she could simply hear him. At the time, now over two annuals past, it had been a somewhat disquieting notion that she might be somehow inexplicably linked to him. She barely knew him, after all, and what she did know was that he was a widower, and more than a little annoyed with her chipper attitude about the whole affair. All the same, the air was different when Wyatt slept. There was a certain calm that purveyed, almost like being wrapped in a warm blanket. When he was awake, however – when all else was still, and the suns were slow in their arrival – she could swear that she could almost hear the discomfit in the tempo of his breathing, and certain noises he made only came with being awake when he shouldn't be. A strained throat clearing, followed by a low, guttural growl would come moments after the changed tempo of his breathing. DG waited, with her eyes still shut – he hadn't cleared his throat yet, but the intentional stillness of his body meant it was bound to happen at any moment.

I'll just stay right here. He's probably chewing on some problem he doesn't want to talk about yet anyway, DG thought absentmindedly. She nestled more snuggly into the crook of Wyatt's arm, letting the hairs of his chest tickle her nose as she breathed in his essence. Come on, Tin Man, I know growly Wyatt is coming any moment, DG thought, getting more and more impatient with the growing minutes. When he remained silent, and stubbornly still besides the occasional caress, DG knew he was really troubled, and sat up, looking down on him blearily.

"Okay Wyatt," DG grumbled huskily, swiping her wild curls out of her face as she spoke, "What gives? Spit it out now."

That seemed to break the tension in Wyatt's body, and even in the faint light, she could see a slow smile spread on his face. "How long were you awake?" He scoffed good-naturedly.

DG shrugged noncommittally, smirking while she answered, "Does it matter? I knew you were awake, but I didn't count on you brooding all morning."

Wyatt chuckled at this, and in reaching for his wife to drag her back down, he turned them so he could lean over her. A slow, soft kiss was DG's reward for her sage knowledge of his inner workings, and they both laughed quietly in parting, only to be quieted by Wyatt's soft voice, so close to DG while he gently placed his hand on her modestly round belly, "I was thinking of my girls, not gonna apologize for that."

A flush rose on DG's cheeks, and she raised her hand to Wyatt's bearded face and stroked it lovingly, answering as her eyes fluttered and focused on his, "We're both fine Wyatt, I promise, and neither you nor me will let anything happen. You know that, right?"

Wyatt laid back down, letting out a puff of defeated air as he went. That's the trouble, he thought, I don't.

It was DG's turn to lean over him now, and she stroked his beard soothingly, her eyes worried and pained as she spoke, "Hey Tin Man, if we can defeat a scary witch and save the OZ, this'll be a cakewalk."

Wyatt's clouded countenance cleared somewhat, and his lip twitched when he responded in a near whisper, "I know what you're doin' Dorothy, and I can't really argue with you. Seein' that it worked the first time." His smile widened, and he opened his arm for her, and with a jerk of his head he added, "Come'er Princess. Lay down with me a little while longer. That'll do a lot more than any pep talk."

DG compiled willingly and nestled back into the crook of Wyatt's arm with a contented sigh. "I wish we could just stay like this," She grumbled sweetly, her fingers playing with the curls of his chest hair. When her hand moved, turning its attention on his beard, where she scratched at him like he was some kind of overgrown housecat, Wyatt's chin tilted upward almost involuntarily, and his eyes closed while he relished her attentions. DG grinned, and chuckled impishly in response to Wyatt's reaction, only to laugh even harder when he groaned in response to her unexpected cessation.

"You're too easy, Tin Man. Who knew that behind that grouchy frown was a cuddly teddy bear? No wonder Raw kept smirking behind your back after I gave you that first hug all those years ago. Made you all gooey inside, didn't it?" DG teased him mercilessly.

"I don't know what you mean, Princess," Wyatt rumbled, chuckling while he turned his wife back over.

His eyes sparkled down on his wife, and he tenderly brushed the hair out of her face as he smiled on her. When he was done smoothing her hair, he let his hand rest on her belly, and his leaned down to brush his lips against hers, only stopping to do the same to his unborn daughter. DG looked on with misty eyes, her chest feeling as if it would burst from the sweetness of that moment, and the aching bitterness of knowing it had to end soon. Wyatt felt this too, but for all his knowledge, he seemed relatively oblivious. In truth, he was intent on showering his wife and child with as much attention as he could, knowing that the coming day would prove dangerous. Even if he was now relatively certain that he was needed by their enemies as a kind of handler, and would be more useful alive than not, it meant bringing the danger home with him, and that only made the pit in his stomach grow all the more faster.

When Wyatt returned from his attentions on DG's belly, he looked down into DG's eyes, and caressed her face as he asked in a quiet, wavering voice, "Are you ready to go back?"

DG bit her lip and nodded, the smile quickly fading from her face to be replaced by a look of earnestness, "Yeah, I'm ready."

Wyatt sat up entirely now, and he clambered out of the bunk so he could help DG, and in reaching out to her, he pulled her to her feet with gentle firmness. DG quickly wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, wanting to embrace him one last time before she allowed the room to spin and change once more. "I love you Wyatt. Come home soon, okay?" She muttered against his body, which squeezed her with equal affection.

"I will, Princess, just be ready for the fireworks, okay?" Wyatt replied with a final squeeze before he stepped back, eyeing her with a raised eyebrow in silent confirmation of their secret plans.

DG nodded and gave him one last, sweet peck on the lips before she stepped back herself and offered him a jaunty salute and waiting until he smirked back at her before shutting her eyes. It was difficult to get the image of Wyatt out of her mind, but imagining their quarters brought her a sense of belonging that she had been previously anxious for Wyatt to see. It made it easier to complete her task at least, and she let her mind fill with images of the lovingly painted sitting room, with a warm fire crackling in the fireplace and a cup of coffee steaming on the coffee table, just waiting for her. With these images planted firmly in her mind, DG smiled as she stated "home," and clicked her heels resolutely.

Wyatt watched with anticipation as DG commanded her shoes, and his eyes widened as she swung away, peeping out of existence while her body spun in a tight circle, her pale nightgown sweeping around her like a magical mist, until she was gone. Wyatt rubbed his forehead, feeling a bit dazed by what he'd just seen, and oddly at peace given the unexpected nature of DG's visit and what she had relayed to him. A smile crept over his face as he thought of DG and how she had looked in the low firelight, and how she had felt to him when they awoke in the morning. The thoughts that had awoken him were sobering enough, however, and he quickly shook himself free of the fog in his head. With a determined huff, the ruffled man moved to rebuild the fire, feeling all at once that as welcome as the evening and morning had been, there was much to do before he could see his princess again. The other men would be waking soon, and they would need an earlier start than him. So, Wyatt assigned himself to KP duty, setting a kettle and making breakfast over the fire; hearing the sounds of rustling growing around him as the others began to stir and come nearer to joining him in the common room.

Never enamored with idle pondering, Wyatt moved as if in a trance, absently resetting the fire and preparing breakfast as he considered the chess game coming into focus before his mind's eye. Despite DG's warning that he was being played as a pawn, Wyatt felt less than certain that he knew what the true endgame was after all. Wyatt had initially considered Vizor's appearance in Central City a ploy, meant to draw Wyatt out. Then, playing on DG's well-known inability to stay out of danger, one would only assume that their enemies' letters to the Princesses were meant to bring DG into their grasp.

"Can't be right," Wyatt grumbled quietly to the fire, poking it with a piece of iron, thoughtful frown carved into his face, and he continued internally, If it was, this whole thing would be over by now. DG would have been grabbed the second she hit this hut, and I'd probably be dead.

The more Wyatt thought about it, the more Wyatt decided that the Princesses were only part of the overall scheme, but what the rest of it entailed, Wyatt could not yet determine. With a low growl in the back of his throat, Wyatt silently determined that the Princesses were definitely still in peril, judging by the introduction of Ozma onto the gameboard. It didn't seem relevant whether or not DG and Azkadellia's deaths were the primary goals of Boulderstone and Vizor, but Wyatt could see no other way forward than what he and DG had decided the night before. Until he knew better, he only had one move to play, and it was that of the pawn. Meanwhile DG would be that of the Queen, sweeping in with almost divine right in her judgement of the pieces that fell around her. He only hoped that their individual moves would not leave DG exposed and the game mated to a fatal end.

Wyatt pushed his uneasiness aside mentally, while loudly popping the tension out of his neck and shoulders with a swift jerk, ending in a growly rumble that would intimidate even the hungriest of papay. Having accomplished this, Wyatt made one final decision before the others arrived; it would do no good to tell any of his accomplices about DG's visit, nor would it change anything if he warned them about their potential spies. Better to keep to their established plan, he finally decided, keeping any changes to the itinerary so minute or so covert that one listening in would be none the wiser. Wyatt grimaced at this thought and poked so hard at the fire that he sent of spray of glowing ash upwards, and he leaned back away from the spray in irritation with himself.

"Gesh Dad, bad night?" Jeb announced himself, his otherwise sarcastic tone tinged with a hint of worry.

Wyatt glanced sideways at the form of his son coming off the ladder and risked a look in his son's eyes. The look in the young man's eyes was one he'd probably given others in his own command many times before. The kid could read the room, which probably made him one hell of a commander in the resistance, Wyatt thought absently, causing his serious façade to finally crack.

A faint smile formed on Wyatt's face, and he answered as he poured Jeb a cup of coffee, "Do I look that bad?"

Jeb shrugged as he sat down on the ledge with his mug, sipping it before he finally replied, "Naw, knowing you, instead of bolting, you'll probably lead the charge." A lighthearted scoff escaped Wyatt, and he smiled paternally to himself before Jeb's next observation wiped it clean away, "Just thought I saw a skeleton peak out of your closet, that's all."

Wyatt took a long swig of his coffee, relishing the hot liquid in almost masochistic pleasure before admitting with a bitter grimace, "You're probably right, Jeb. I'm just worried about DG. I don't like the feeling of her being put in danger. All feels little too close to repeating history, is all."

Thankfully for Wyatt, whatever reply Jeb might have offered was abruptly cut off by Ahamo's entrance, loud as it was since he was mid-yawn as he entered the room. The volume of Ahamo's yawn seemed to increase as he reached for the ceiling, and he dropped his arms unceremoniously the moment he approached the outer reaches of his abilities. A lopsided smile spread as he approached the fire, and he nodded in quiet thanks to Wyatt when the man handed him a steaming mug. It wasn't until he'd taken a few sips of coffee that he finally spoke, and when he did, his voice sounded oddly cheerful given the nature of their tasks in the coming days.

"I don't know about you boys, but I slept so well, I feel like I could take on the entire Eastern Guild. That bunk is almost as good as being back home with my own wife." Ahamo joked to Wyatt and Jeb, winking covertly to Wyatt over the top of his mug.

Wyatt had not missed the Consort's suggestive expression, but he only stared blankly at him over his own mug, answering seriously after he downed the rest of his beverage, "I don't know about taking on munchkins, but I'll settle for getting this done." Wyatt passed out breakfast rations and continued with a commanding question, "You both ready?"

Jeb nodded through a chew, and Ahamo continued to grin while he shrugged, sounding defeated by Wyatt's refusal to answer as he'd wished, "We have our marching orders, General." His voice became more serious, and a paternal tone purveyed when he added with his own question, "You alright, son?"

Wyatt could not pretend to be anything less anxious than he was, especially with these men, who were just as invested in achieving their goal as he was. Family was the order of the day, and although unspoken, all had accepted the fact that their families were now one, and both bound to the same outcome, for better or worse. So, although uncomfortable with such outright displays of emotion, Wyatt answered with a resigned sigh, "I'm just ready to get back to DG. Can't shake the feeling that I'm a damned chess piece, and I don't like being away from her."

Jeb and Ahamo did not need to be told, feeling similarly manipulated by the entire situation, and both nodded, barely even uttering a word before they finished their meager breakfasts and climbed out of the hut. Wyatt observed that they all seemed to be feeling time creeping up, and the serious nods in farewell exchanged among them before Jeb and Ahamo climbed the ladder were all the confirmation he needed. Alone once more, Wyatt resumed his pondering, and he was so consumed with this train of thought, that he barely registered cleaning up from breakfast and dousing the fire. He did not shake himself lose until climbing the ladder himself, now set on going to the Realm of the Unwanted on his own and securing his honest thief. The thought of chess moves made Wyatt pause on the ladder however, and he made the sudden decision that even if he had accepted being Boulderstone's potential pawn in transporting Vizor within Azkadelia's reach, there was no reason to hand the Belt of Roquat over to him at the same time. Wyatt stepped down swiftly now, and swiped a sheet of paper and pen from the mantle before scribbling a quick note:

Artie, need additional decoy. Bring with you tonight. I'll return them all to you after operation complete. Beware Benedict Arnold. - WC

Wyatt prayed that his short stint on the Otherside had helped his use of code, and that Artie would understand Wyatt's request for discretion without any further explanation beyond his vague reference to the revolutionary spy of American history. As Wyatt folded the page and propped it in front of the lamp for Artie to find, his mind raced, and his heart thudded with a sudden cautiously hopeful thought. Alright Artie, he thought with a grim, prayer-like expression on his face, don't fail me now.

Wyatt shut his eyes momentarily now and let out a metered breath as he turned on the lamp to signal the curator. Then, with a fluid twist, he turned back to the ladder and climbed up and away without waiting for the man to appear, being reminded by his own warnings to Artie that every move he made now stood the potential of being cataloged by their opponents. It was unlikely that they'd be watching Artie, however, so it would be best if they were not seen together when Artie discovered Wyatt's note.

Now above ground, Wyatt strode through the rocky terrain towards his destination, finally finding some opportunity to enjoy the quiet progression of the natural world around him as he moved. His quiet stroll through the trees gave him the chance to reflect further, and he found his thoughts steadily coming back to the warning growing in his mind after DG's appearance. As important as this mission was in securing the future of the Gale line, Wyatt's urgency was driven by something much more personal. The events of prior evening had reminded the Tin Man of his greater purpose; the only one that had ever mattered to him; DG. The movements of Vizor on their own were barely more than an annoyance, but the reason for his search for the Belt of Roquat was far from benign, and he could feel growing danger lurking in the shadows not unlike the menace presented by the Sorceress. The move on the princesses is only beginning, he reasserted with a grim sigh. His thoughts were interrupted by the ground leveling out, and Wyatt soon found himself entering a pasture, causing him to put aside his pensive posture. Wyatt cleared his mind and screwed his face back into a grim line as he trod into the high grass, now aiming straight for the trap door in the center of the field. As he reached for the trap door, his thoughts landed firmly on DG for a moment, and he wondered whether she'd successfully reappeared in Central City after leaving him. He raised his eyes to the quickly brightening sky for a fraction of a second, praying one last time for her safety and remembering the color of her sky-blue eyes before submerging himself underground.

DG had indeed reached their quarters unharmed, and without ever being missed, to her extreme delight. The Princess had a habit for sleeping in, after all, so being that the suns had barely begun their rise, none would dare to trouble her yet. DG glided over to the open balcony windows the moment she spun into existence, peeping outside to take stock of the world around her. The cloudless sky was a sort of misty lavender blue, with a hint of burnt orange where the suns were beginning their rise. An errant bird flitted about the tower a few levels below her window, heralding the morning to the occupants below with his cheerful tune, making even DG smile despite the serious turn of her mind since waking. DG had been pegged by essentially her entire family, now inclusive of the grumpy Tin Man and the absent-minded advisor, as being almost obnoxiously optimistic in the face of unsurmountable challenge. Today was no different in most respects, but DG's growing experience with dangerous enemies gave her a healthy dousing of caution that had not been there when she first appeared in the OZ. DG's greatest strength lie in her ability to compartmentalize, enabling her to focus on the individual steps in their plan, and what she still needed to do to accomplish her part. While she stood before the balcony doors, her mind drifted away from that friendly bird and his similarities to herself, to what she would need to do in the coming days. She chewed on her lower lip absently while she mentally calculated the steps, until she finally shook herself free and stepped away from the doors.

I've got a lot to do, DG reminded herself, aiming first for her vanity, where she reached determinedly for her hairbrush. She began to brush out the wildness of her curls with furious intent, still focused on her goals for the day. Then, as if being smacked in the nose with sudden inspiration, DG dropped her brush and stared at her reflection with a quizzical eye. How have they been watching us, and how can we get past it? She questioned her reflection, a thoughtful frown forming the longer she stood frozen.

Then, as if Ozma herself had heard her, her mind suddenly replayed the deity's warning to her. Their enemy enjoyed using enchanted items to toy with his opponents. It only made sense, then, that however Boulderstone had managed to spy on them, he'd done it employing less-than conventional means. He'd been proud of himself, judging by the tone of his letter, finding twisted joy in relaying to DG the most secret aspects of her personal life. What was more, he'd made mention of both Ozma and Dorothy almost as if he'd known them personally, so DG reasoned that whatever artifact he might be employing might have existed during Ozma's reign. It was a start, anyway, giving DG a place to begin in determining a way around Boulderstone's advantage.

"To the Batcave!" DG burst out excitedly, grinning as she ran from the vanity and into her dressing room.

Elsewhere, Wyatt picked his way down the crowed subterranean avenue, determined grimace plastered on his face. Every inhabitant within the Realm seemed to act as an obstacle today, though, and the Tin Man found his overall progress maddeningly slow and aggravating. When he finally eased up to DeMilo's counter, Wyatt found the need to check himself, feeling that the grimace on his face might spook the woman, and undermine his goal. Wyatt shook his head minutely and strategically allowed a humorous image of Antoine DeMilo to enter his mind, and a slow smile spread jauntily on his face. Now confident that he was in the right mind frame, the Tin Man cleared his throat at the woman's back in signal and waited patiently for her to acknowledge him.

Ma DeMilo had not heard Wyatt's approach, and almost jumped out of her skin when Wyatt's deep voice purred behind her, "How's business today, Mrs. DeMilo? Any interesting visitors?"

Ma DeMilo whirled around, her lips pursed in irritation, "Business is slow, and no, I haven't seen your little friends today." Although she continually eyed Wyatt with overt irritation, her manner softened when Wyatt spoke or smiled, belying the fact that she secretly liked the man standing in front of her.

Wyatt grinned in response to the woman, finding humor in her salty expression. "Aw come on, it can't be all that bad. What if I told you that I could help you make a big score?"

Ma DeMilo's expression softened, and she leaned on the other side of the counter, "I'm listening."

"Well," Wyatt began, eyes shifting from side to side to be sure they were alone, "I think I've got a lead on that belt that Vizor was asking about. I could have it here for you before they show up again, but there's a catch."

Ma Demilo snorted, "Ha, there's always a catch with your type. Badge or no badge, but out with it, what is it?"

Wyatt leaned closer to the woman, close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek, and he spoke in a suggestive purr, "I need you to pull a bait and switch at the end. They can't leave your stall with the real deal. Got it?"

Ma DeMilo considered for a moment as her eyes searched the top edges of her stall. Finally, her eyes fell back on Wyatt, and she growled back, "Let's just say I do this for you, Seeker, what do I get that's better than what he can offer?"

Wyatt smiled a true smile now, knowing he had won, and his eyes sparkled as he spoke, "I can pay you at least as much as he could, but probably more. More importantly, I can make your son look really good to the girls so you can get those grandbabies you've been complaining about not having."

Ma DeMilo chortled in response as she wagged a finger at him, "You've got me Seeker. I'm in. Just have them both here tomorrow morning. I expect to have company by the afternoon, so don't be late."

Wyatt nodded, flashing her a smile as he tipped his hat, and faded back into the crowd from whence he came. Ma DeMilo watched Wyatt fade off, fighting the blush on her cheek. That bearded man might have probably been her son's age, but she'd have shrugged off motherhood and the possibility of grandchildren for that smile or a flash of his blue eyes.

When Wyatt returned to the hut, he was greeted by his son and Ahamo, who had relit the fireplace in preparation for the slow crawl towards the next stage in their plan. Wyatt threw his hat down on his bedroll as he stepped down off of the ladder, scrubbing the back of his neck in agitation. He'd formed quite a relationship with the consort in the past few annuals, and the sudden lack of communication brought on by DG's intel made him intensely uncomfortable. He huffed through his nose, as he sat down on the ledge, feeling somewhat like a caged animal while he when straight to relieving his feet of their confinement, shoving his boots to the side as he pried them off.

"How'd it go dad?" Jeb asked as he handed his father a plate of food.

Wyatt took it willingly and hung onto it uneaten as he responded, "Ma DeMilo's in. They're set to show up tomorrow afternoon, so I need to get the belt to her before then. Once the belt hits her custody, I need all hands on the square, we need to make sure that that belt doesn't go anywhere."

Ahamo and Jeb nodded in agreement, and Jeb added, "I left word with my contact to get a truck here by morning, but my guess is, they'll probably be here sooner than that."

Ahamo cut in, giving Wyatt and Jeb a smirk, "Also, the stableman is ex-resistance, as it turns out. He'll be more than happy to put up a transport for the night."

"Yeah," Jeb scoffed, "I might have mentioned that in my note to the army. Once they hit the settlement, they know to head straight there and wait for our orders."

Wyatt gave both men a tired nod, and he swallowed down his own urge to fill them in on his part of the plan. Although it appeared that their plans seemed to be lining up, a voice in the back of his head that sounded somewhat like DG niggled at him, reminding him that this was generally where things started to go wrong. Keeping everything under his hat was burdensome, and the constant awareness of having an audience caused an almost debilitating exhaustion to creep up on him, so he leaned against the wall in almost involuntary deflation, and he shut his eyes in an attempt to cancel out all of the worries floating around in the back of his head. His breath slowed while he emptied his mind, and without meaning to, Wyatt drifted off, his mind wandering back to his wayward princess all the while.