AN: Hey, Kats and Kittens!! So sorry I've been lagging on this story. I'm actually up to Chapter Ten over on LiveJournal. Sooo... Yea! Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Night the Second

Ambrose refused to sleep. Partly because he was afraid of a repeat performance of the night before – he knew the tin man was lying about the muttering; Ambrose rarely didn't wake screaming nowadays – and partly because Cain was staring at him. The look in the other man's eyes made it near impossible for the inventor to tell whether he was concerned or just plain annoyed.

"You should really get some sleep," Cain said gruffly, his face darkened by the shadow of his hat. Ambrose nodded but made no move to comply. Cain said no more, knowing that the man would drift off eventually.

When he did, finally, the tin man almost regretted that he had suggested he do so in the first place. Ambrose immediately gasped in terror, his brows furrowing and a sheen of sweat forming on his face.

"Ambrose?" Cain asked quietly, sitting up and watching the adviser carefully. If he settled within a couple of minutes, the tin man wouldn't worry too much about it . . . Though from the looks of things, he was headed for a long night.

Ambrose arched, suddenly, letting out a pained whimper, and Cain was on his feet immediately, circling the fire and kneeling down beside the other man. He gently ran his fingers through the inventor's slick hair, his other hand pressing against the small of the man's back as he pulled him up into his arms and held him close like he had the night before.

"Shh," he soothed, closing his eyes as Ambrose jerked in his hold and gave another cry of pain. "It's okay. It's all right. I gotcha. You're all right." He swallowed hard and sighed when his actions didn't seem to be helping any, wondering what in the O.Z. could be troubling the other man.

0 o 0 o 0

Ambrose couldn't breathe. He couldn't move, he couldn't scream, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch helplessly as a man in a rubber, white doctor's coat stood over him, smiling with sharp, yellow teeth.

'No!' He wanted to shout. 'No, please!' But his lips were numb, his throat was paralyzed, his voice . . . he had no voice.

"Count back from one-hundred," a sickly hoarse tone murmured above him as a mask was forced over his face.

There were noises around him, noises he couldn't tune out. The tightening of leather straps. The clinking of metal instruments he was sure weren't very pleasant-looking. The hissing of gas as it slithered up his nostrils and down his throat, attempting to choke consciousness from him.

A tear slipped from the corner of his left eye, silently falling to the polished surface of the table beneath him. He had failed. The queen was probably locked away, being tortured, or worse, and he was lying there giving the enemy exactly what they wanted.

'Oh, my queen, forgive me,' he sobbed internally. 'Forgive me . . .'

0 o 0 o 0

"Forgive me . . ." Ambrose murmured in his sleep, tears streaming from his eyes. It was the most heartbreaking tone Cain had ever heard, and he pulled the man closer so that his lips rested against the other's ear.

"No one blames you, Ambrose," he whispered, rocking the inventor slightly. "There is nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong."

0 o 0 o 0

". . . You did nothing wrong."

But Ambrose couldn't believe it. He just couldn't find fault in anyone but himself.

He felt the first incision into his head, a jagged scalpel dragging down the center of his scalp. He heard his own screams echo within his mind, but outwardly, all he could do was shed more tears.

0 o 0 o 0

Ambrose bucked in Cain's arms, the tin man having to hold him at arm's length for a moment to keep from getting hit in the face. The adviser's mouth opened wide in a silent scream, and Cain pulled him close again, tucking the man's head beneath his chin. Ambrose was practically sitting in his lap now, writhing at the memories the night terror brought.

"Ambrose, you have to listen to me," he breathed, swallowing hard and gritting his teeth as he wracked his brain for the right words to say. "Please, just listen . . ."

0 o 0 o 0

". . . Please just listen."

Ambrose centered in on the words. The voice was so familiar . . . but who did it belong to? Pain shocked him back to his nightmare, and he whimpered in his mind.

The voice persisted, soothing and strong. "Shh, just listen to me, okay?" Ambrose relaxed his thoughts and let the words wash over him. "None of this was your fault."

'But it was,' he thought sadly.

"No," the voice insisted firmly. He could almost feel a pair of warm hands rubbing his back, calming him further. "You were trying to help."

'I helped the enemy.'

"You helped the O.Z. You saved so many lives, Ambrose. You didn't know the witch's plans for your invention. You couldn't have."

'She killed so many . . . For so many years . . . I made such a mess. I have to fix it! I have to help!'

"And you have. You will. But you need to rest now. The O.Z. is safe. Just sleep."

And, suddenly, it came to him. 'Cain?'

A short pause then a hesitant, "Yea?"

0 o 0 o 0

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

Cain sucked in a breath at these words, holding the man closer. "I don't know what I'd do without you either, head case. Now get some rest, okay?"

"Okay." Ambrose relaxed in Cain's arms.

0 o 0 o 0

He didn't know why Cain's words made him feel better, but when the frightening images around him disappeared, he was grateful for them.

Cain, the strong and fearless tin man, seemed to have a heart after all . . . or was it 'all along'? He couldn't decide, and his thoughts washed away into a blessedly dreamless sleep before he could make up his mind.

0 o 0 o 0

Cain gently lay his friend back down, removing his coat and draping it over the lightly shivering man before settling back against the nearest tree. He doubted that Ambrose would have another night terror, but just in case . . .

He was getting drowsy, but his mind continued to wander to thoughts of the inventor. From what he'd gathered, Ambrose must have been dreaming of his brain-removal surgery. What's more, Ambrose didn't seem half as troubled about the actual event as he did the betrayal he believed he'd committed.

But he could hardly have prevented it from happening, short of . . . Well, Cain wasn't sure he wanted to think about that very much. All he knew was that nothing that had happened to the O.Z. had been Ambrose's fault, and he was going to prove it one way or another.

AN: Later, Gators! Catch you on the flip side.