Author's Note: Not mine, not making any money. This is part two of Aftermath, and you may notice a significant difference. I usually write in first person but started this story in third. Since I'm going to continue it, I switched back. I'm reposting chapter one converted to first person. You probably only need to re-read it if it will help you get in the groove of the new style. There were a few changes, by they are negligible. How do you like this style—better? Worse? Again, all Jaime's fault.
Aftermath –
Chapter Two
DG's POV
The fog of sleep surrounding me was heavy and solid. Its weight begged my exhausted brain to sink into it, to ignore the voice calling me to the surface. If it had been anyone else, I probably would have given in and slipped back into oblivion, but this man I couldn't ignore.
"Princess, I need you to open your eyes and listen to me."
That didn't mean it wasn't tempting, though.
"Uh-uhhh," I dimly heard myself moan. If I'd been more awake, I probably would have been embarrassed at how childish I'd sounded. Luckily, exhaustion totally trumped embarrassment. It was a law, or if it wasn't, it should be.
Maybe that would be my first official royal act—DG shalt not have to be humiliated by anything she does when she art dead on her feet. Did they way shalt in the OZ? Something to think about.
Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, there was a soft, masculine chuckle, and then the bed dipped slightly as weight settled high up on the edge of it near my pillow. Oh this was good. This was very good. I rolled toward the warm body now perched on the edge of my mattress. I rested my cheek against the outside of his thigh and sighed.
I felt the muscles in his leg tense as soon as I touched him, and I could only imagine the internal discussion that was going on in his mind. I didn't know exactly what Cain thought of me, but at the very best, I assumed it was a mixture of amused affection. At the worst, I was probably a pretty big pain in his ass. Either way, I was pretty sure I'd crashed through a lot of his personal space boundaries in the last 24 hours, and I couldn't imagine he'd be happy about that.
I was somewhat surprised when, after a few seconds of hesitancy, Cain relaxed a little and tentatively brought his hand up, stroking it down the back of my hair. If I'd been a cat, I would have purred. And if Cain thought this was the way to get me out of a bed, well, he had a lot to learn.
Looking back, I'm not sure when exactly my—I guess you'd call it relationship—with Cain changed. But it definitely had, on my part at least. I was maybe as confused about my feelings for him as I was about what his feelings for me might be. Right after Glitch and I found him, he was an aggravating stranger with the uncanny ability to spark my temper without even trying. Even when he frustrated me, though, I still trusted him. And slowly, I started to rely on him, for protection, sure, but it was more than that. I trusted Raw and Glitch, too, but not the same way I did the Tin Man.
They were my friends. Cain was—more.
He was like my air.
Once upon a time—could it really be only a week ago—I'd wanted desperately to break out of the monotony of my life. Now I was in a strange place, thrust in a role I didn't understand, surrounded by people I was supposed to love but didn't really know at all. The weight of responsibility on my shoulders was crushing, to say the least. Overall, it was pretty safe to say I felt like I was still being tossed around in the travel storm.
Maybe it didn't make any sense, but something deep inside me said that as long as Wyatt Cain was there, everything would be ok, that if he'd let me lean on him, I could do this. Deep—very deep.
"I know you're awake, Kid." His voice was quiet and amused as it interrupted my thoughts.
Glad for the intrusion so I didn't have to concentrate on those pesky mystery-of-the-universe details, I rolled a little away from him and cracked my eyelids open. Hazy gray light filled the bedroom. I was optimistic enough to believe it was gray because it was early morning, but it could very well be noon and the horrible darkness of the room was just sucking the yellow out of the light. It's also possible I decided to go with option A because it made my argument for not waking up sound much better.
"It's too early," I complained, my voice still rough with sleep. "Besides, how could you possibly know I was awake? I'm an excellent faker."
Almost before the words were out of my mouth, I was wishing them back. I felt a blush heating my cheeks at the double entendre of that last sentence, and it was almost impossible to drag my eyes up to meet Cain's. By the puzzled way he was looking down at me, though, I realized with a wave of relief that he had no idea why I was embarrassed. I sent a quick thank you up to God and made sure to let him know I owed him one.
In this instance, the language barrier was a blessing.
Powering through my awkwardness before Cain had a chance to latch on to it and ask me what was wrong, I babbled a continuation. "I'm pretty sure there's a rule about princesses never having to be awake before 9 a.m. It's probably in a rule book somewhere. You think?"
Cain was smiling again and shaking his head, absently playing with strands of my hair almost like he didn't realize he was doing it. I tried hard not to move my head because I didn't want him to stop.
"You're welcome to go back to sleep, Princess, but I needed to make sure you were awake so you knew I was leaving."
That was enough to jolt me 100 percent awake. I sat up like I'd been touched with a cattle prod, grabbing at Cain's arm. I noticed for the first time that he was wearing his coat and gun belt again. Oh God. Oh God. All at once, it felt like the walls were closing in on me.
"Leaving?" I asked, my stomach rolling. "What do you mean leaving? We need you here. We—"
"Whoa, calm down." Cain interrupted my downward spiral into hysteria, his voice soothing and firm. "I'm just going downstairs. It's been four hours, and there are things that need to be done. It's time for another shift of men to get some rest, and I need to take my turn working."
I relaxed very slightly at his explanation, and forced myself to take a couple of deep breath. Oh. Good. God. I'd just flipped out for absolutely no reason. I am such a dumbass. I started to look away, feeling more than a little silly about my reaction. Crap. Crap. Crap.
Of course Cain couldn't be expected to sit up here and babysit me. I understood that, and as much as I didn't want him to go, I respected it. I was so busy berating myself that I was surprised when I felt his hand cupping my chin, forcing me to turn back around.
Cain didn't say anything at first, and I finally made myself look up and meet his eyes. That's what he'd been waiting for, it seemed.
"We need to get clear about something right now, Kid, or we're going to have a problem. I'm not going anywhere. I won't be right beside you all the time, though, and I can't have you panicking or thinking I'm going to disappear on you."
I wanted to look down in shame that I'd doubted him and humiliation that I was acting like a clingy child—can anyone say separation anxiety—but his eyes held mine forcefully. Without my permission, words started pouring out of my mouth.
"I-I know that." Cain looked skeptical, which apparently, my lips didn't like. They continued moving of their own volition. "No, really. I do know that—at least, my mind does. It's just that things are so screwed up right now; I'm having trouble keeping my head on straight. I d-don't think I could handle it if you disappeared."
My voice was quiet when I finished, and even though I knew he didn't want me to, I dropped my eyes to my hands, which were laying in my lap twisting the quilt that covered my legs. I was pretty sure the blanket was made of silk, and I wondered fleetingly if I'd get charged for it if I ripped it.
"Princess, look at me."
Cain's voice didn't leave room for argument, but I shook my head anyway. Boy, who knew my nails were so fascinating. I could really use a manicure, though. Turns out, hauling yourself up a concrete balcony was Hell on your cuticles.
"DG, look at me."
Whoa. He was using my name. That meant this was serious. I took a deep breath and looked up at the Tin Man. His eyes were so intense, they were almost glowing. His tone was Charlton Heston steady when he spoke. "I'm going to be here for as long as you need me. I won't leave you. Period."
"B-because you promised the Mystic Man?" I hated the quiver in my voice.
Cain shook his head. "Because I'm promising you."
He opened his arms, and I was in them almost before I realized what I was doing.
"I swear I don't usually cry this much," I said as I sniffled against his shoulder. "At home I'm a total tough girl."
"Your secret's safe with me, Kiddo."
He held me for a few more minutes while I got myself together, but I knew he was eager to get downstairs and check on the men. I don't have a clue how I knew that, but I did all the same. Maybe my magic came with on-board ESP. Now wouldn't that be handy? Especially if it gave me a little extra insight into one particular stubborn, emotionally constipated Tin Man.
I pushed away from his chest on the off chance that the ESP might work both ways.
"Ok, I think I'm tanked up for the day. If you'll give me a few minutes, I'll throw on clothes and we can head out."
Cain was looking puzzled again. It was a look he sent my way a lot, so I'd learned to read it pretty well, even without ESP. "Tanked up?"
I rolled my eyes. We have got to figure a way around this language barrier thing. "Um, filled up? Ready to be all I can be?" Still nothing, so I tried again. "Recharged?"
Understanding dawned. "Glad the sleep did you some good—wish it could have been longer. You really don't have to get up yet, you know. You can stay here if you want."
I shook my head. "No, I need to check on my parents and Az." Plus, I didn't want to face sleeping alone, but I thought I could safely skip saying that. I also didn't bother to correct him about what I had "tanked up" on—I was recharged, but I was pretty sure the contact with him had done me more good than the four hours of rest.
Deciding that I needed to do something to get us back to the status quo—me being pesky, Cain being tolerant—I scrambled across him and out of bed before he had a chance to get up or turn around. By the way he sucked in his breath, I surmised that he didn't particularly appreciate the view as I disappeared into the bathroom.
"Give me 10 minutes," I called over my shoulder just before I shut the door. I had to bite back a snort when I realized he'd already turned back around. I guess friendly, hair-rubbing Cain was gone for the day.
Honestly, the long tail of the shirt covered up way more than some of the skirts and shorts I wore back home. If he thought this was inappropriate, the Tin Man was going to be in for a surprise this summer if I managed to figure out a way to go back to the Other Side and get some of my regular clothes.
Hmm…speaking of clothes…I curled my toes away from the cold marble floor of what passed for a bathroom in the O.Z. and looked around. Thankfully, the commode worked pretty much the same way over here as it did in Kansas, so I hadn't had to humiliate myself last night by asking Cain to give me a crash course in toiletries. The sink had taken a little longer, but I'd managed to get that on and working, too.
The black marble enclosure I was pretty sure worked something like a shower was way beyond my abilities, though. I looked down at myself. After a week running through the woods, I desperately wanted to shower. What to do? What to do? I lifted a hand to my hair and shuddered at the feel of it, suddenly embarrassed that Cain had touched the snarled curls. He didn't seem to mind, the devil on my shoulder whispered.
That was true, but I didn't think I could go another day without getting it clean. Cain was the last person in the world I wanted showing me how this thing worked, but context clues—drops of water still on the wall, the fact that he'd smelled fresh and soapy when he sat on the bed next to me—told me he'd mastered it.
I stepped inside and searched for knobs for a good three minutes before I gave up and padded back to the door, sticking my head out, I took a second to admire the rear view of the Tin Man. Cain was leaning against the far post of the bed, rubbing his temple and muttering to himself. I couldn't understand what he was saying, and I thought that was probably a good thing. I cleared my throat to get his attention and felt just a little guilty for making him uncomfortable when I saw him stiffen.
"Um, I wondered if you could show me how to work the shower."
There was a heartbeat of silence, and then he looked up at the ceiling. I wondered if he was counting.
"C-cain?" I asked tentatively. "Are you alright?"
He turned around slowly. His face was blank, but his eyes were wary. "Just wondering why there's never a Papay around to drag you off and eat you when you really need one."
I blanched. What in the world was he talking about? Sometimes this language problem worked both ways. "Uh—" I faltered, no idea how to respond to that, and Cain sighed and shook his head.
"Never mind, Kid. I'm fine. Did you need something?"
"I was wondering if you could show me how the shower works. There aren't any knobs, and I can't figure it out. Also, if you could point me toward the shampoo."
Cain was frowning again. "Shower? Sham—poo?"
Yeesh. "Um, shower. Water falls from a spigot thing above your head and you wash off with it. And shampoo—that's special soap for your hair."
His face cleared. "The bathing closet—just step in, and it'll turn on automatically. I don't know about shampoo, but soap will come out with the water when it's time and then stop again so you can rinse."
I thought it sounded kind of like an automatic car wash. I never had been very good at getting in the right spot to make those things start, so maybe I just hadn't been doing it right.
"I actually, um, already tried getting into it, and nothing happened. Is there a trick I don't know about?"
A pained look crossed his face. "You have to have your—" Pause for vague hand gesture. "You can't be wearing any—" Again with the gesture.
I got it the second time. Smart shower—it wasn't going to start until I was naked. I held my hand out and shot Cain a thumbs up. "Got it—thanks." I ducked back into the bathroom before he could sigh again. Seemed like he was doing that a lot around me lately.
Twenty minutes later—ok, so I totally blew my original estimate out of the water, but who could keep track of time when she was in the shower of the Gods—I'd redressed in the bra and panties I'd washed out last night and my jeans, which were still dirty in spite of my best efforts to shake out the filth.
I couldn't even consider putting my disgusting tank top or jacket on over my clean skin, so I left on the baggy black shirt I'd slept in, settling for tying to knots at the front to make it look like it fit a little. Probably I still looked like a kid wearing her dad's pajama top, but I didn't care. It was mostly clean, and that was all that mattered.
My hair, however, was a significant problem. Rat's nest hadn't even come close to describing it before I got in the shower, and now that I was out, it was a wet mass of tangles I was pretty sure came close to rivaling Medusa's snaky mane. I was still trying—and failing—to comb my fingers through it when I stepped into the bedroom.
I was surprised to see that Cain wasn't alone. He was standing at the doorway, talking to Jeb.
"—so all of the witch's prisoners have been released from the dungeons?" He asked, voice crisp.
"At this point, yes. Some of them are more than a little worse-for-wear, but Raw and the healers don't think we're going to lose any of them."
"And the Mystic Man's body?"
"I'm sorry, Father. We haven't found it yet."
At the mention of the Mystic Man, I made a small, involuntary sound of regret. Just one more person who'd sacrificed to help me. Instinctively, I stepped forward, and like he'd sensed my need, Cain wrapped an arm around my waist.
"Understandable—as need allows, lets keep a crew looking."
Jeb nodded and frowned. "Maybe the sor—er—Princess Azkadellia—could tell us where—"
Cain interrupted him. "Last night the princess wasn't doing well, but if she's feeling better this morning there are a few things we can ask her to help us with. We'll just have to wait and see."
Jeb didn't seem happy with that, but he bowed to his father's authority. At that, he finally turned his attention to me. His eyes got big when he looked at my hair, but to his credit, he didn't run screaming from the room. Brave guy, Jeb Cain.
Looking a little uncomfortable, he nevertheless tried to greet me normally. "Good morning, Princess—"
"DG," I interrupted. "You have got to call me DG. I'm going to forget my name if people don't start using it again."
Jeb turned to Cain wide-eyed. Cain snorted a laugh. "You might as well just do as she says the first time—makes things a lot easier."
Swallowing heavily, he looked at me again. "Good morning, DG. Did you, uh, sleep well?"
"Like a baby," my answer was flippant but true. I don't think I moved once in four hours, and true to his word, Cain hadn't let a single nightmare visit me. Thinking about my dreams got me thinking about Azkadellia, though, and that sobered me. "About Az—I'm going to check on her as soon as I finish here. If there's anything you need from her, let me know, and if she's feeling up to it, I'll ask her first thing."
Jeb nodded and looked at Cain, who gestured for him to continue.
"Glitch has sort of taken over most of the tower staff—it seems like almost all of them were slaves pressed into serving her. We've neutralized all of the long coats that were here, but there are roving patrols and units scattered all over the O.Z. Best we can tell from the officers who've given in and talked to us, she was the only one who really know where they all went. She had some sort of link with them. Anything she could tell us about those troops would be very helpful."
I nodded. "First thing," I promised again.
"Why don't you head on down, Son. I'll be there in a few minutes. I want to deliver the princess to her parents' room and make sure it's secure. Leave at least two men—in addition to the ones at the hall entrance—to guard that door."
Jeb nodded again. "Yes, Father."
And then he was gone.
I was working on my tangles with my fingers again and didn't notice for a second that Cain was watching me, amusement glinting in his eye.
"What?" I asked a little indignantly when I felt the weight of his gaze. "You try dealing with this hair without any styling products."
"Would this help?" He asked, pulling a comb from one of the pockets of his duster.
I shot him a dirty look. "You know, you could have offered that to me before I got in the bathroom."
He looked thoughtful for a minute. "True, but then I might not have gotten to do this."
"Do wha—"
I cut off when he reached up and plucked my hand out of my hair. Holding it, he led me to the chair where he slept. I couldn't help but notice with a slight wince of guilt that it wasn't particularly comfortable. Before I could comment on that, though, he'd stepped behind me, and to my great shock—astonishment, amazement, and any other synonyms you can think of—he moved behind me and started gently working the comb through my hair.
I was speechless for a good twenty seconds, and by the time my words came back, I was enjoying the gentle tugs on my hair too much to risk interrupting his rhythm. It seemed like my tangles were willing to fall in line with everyone else and do what he wanted, because all to soon the teeth of the comb were skimming through damp but knot-free strands.
"I probably shouldn't do this," Cain said, his voice so soft I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself.
"Then why did you?"
"Because I wanted to." There was a pause, and he stepped away from me, tucking the comb back into his duster. "Come on, Princess. Duty calls—both of us."
I stood up and straightened my spine. He was right. It was time for me to see my family again. Whether I wanted to or not.
Once we were in the hallway, Cain reverted back to his aloof self. He didn't touch me or talk as we walked toward the room my parents and Az were staying in, but that didn't surprise me. He's usually quiet, and the fact that the corridor was teeming with what I assumed were tower staff members opening doors and airing out rooms would have made him even less inclined to speak.
We were maybe half way to the stairs when Glitch popped out of one of the rooms. He was holding a clipboard, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he tripped over his own feet in his rush to hug me, I might not have recognized him.
"Boy aren't you looking—spiffy."
He brushed at the black wool jacket he was wearing self-consciously. "Well, it's not my usual color, Doll, but the pickings were pretty slim."
"I noticed," I replied with a wry smile, gesturing at my clothes. "I'd kill for a fresh pair of—pants."
Glitch backed up and put his chin in his hands. "I think we can come up with something for you by tonight—is it ok if I just have one of the maids leave some things in your room? They might not be the greatest, but—"
"As long as they're clean, that's fine with me," I interrupted him. I felt a shadow pass over my face and had to ask.
"H-have you seen my parents and Az this morning?"
Glitch's smile melted away, and he nodded. From the expression on his face, I understood he wasn't pleased with what he saw. Rather than ask him about it, I just straightened my shoulders and changed the subject. I'd see for myself in a few minutes, anyway.
"Cain, would you like some fresh clothes, too?"
"Zipperhead, if you can find me something to wear that's seen a laundry room more recently than this shirt has, I'd appreciate it."
Glitch snorted. "Well that won't be hard." The jab was delivered with a smile, and drew a smile in return from the Tin Man.
"True," he conceded. "These pants could probably walk on their own."
Since I was pretty fond of his pants, I decided not to comment.
"Ok—uh—where should I have the maids leave them?"
I tensed a little, wondering what Cain would say. I knew without a doubt that I wasn't going to be comfortable by myself in that horrible room. I concentrated on not having a nervous breakdown when he delivered the answer I was pretty sure he was going to—that Glitch needed to find him a room and put the clothes there.
Instead, when he spoke, it was all I could do to keep my mouth from falling open in shock. And then it was all I could do to keep myself from throwing my arms around him.
"Just put them in DG's room."
"DG's—" Glitch's eyes got big, but I had no idea what he might have said. His mouth closed with an audible snap at the look on Cain's face, and he nodded. Just then a maid wandered up to him with questions about food, and his attention was effectively turned.
I looked up, and for a second, it was like Cain and I were alone in the busy hall, an island in the midst of the confusion. "I—you—" I didn't know what to say. I knew how uncomfortable he'd been staying in my room last night. I hadn't wanted to let myself think about it, but I'd understood why.
Rumors started very easily, and sleeping in a bedroom with me would feed talk like wildfire. Plus, for all intents and purposes, he'd just lost his wife. What must Jeb be thinking about the fact that he'd spent the night with me? I should tell him to get his own room, that I'd be all right with out him.
Obviously sensing my inner turmoil, gently, Cain raised his hand and touched my cheek. "I said I wouldn't leave you, and I meant it, Princess. Whatever you need." He let his hand drop as quickly as he'd raised it, and just like that the Tin Man was back in place. "Let's get you to your family."