Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run


When Last We Met: Their journey complete, Cain and the others find rest in Central City, but reassurance is not so easy to come by. At Lavender's insistence, DG must return to the O.Z., and Cain has known all along he will be the one to do it, whether he likes it or not.


Chapter Thirty Five: Walk These Empty Streets

On his last night in Central City, Cain took a walk much as he had the night he'd arrived. It was closing in on two months since that very first night back. It had been colder then, the late spring chill clinging to the still budding summer. The hour had been late, the streets empty, and only darkness had lingered in the doorsteps. He'd gone chasing shadows that night, and had found himself nothing but trouble.

Tonight, however, there were no darkened doorsteps. It seemed as though the city itself was struggling valiantly to reclaim some former glory, but Cain knew no amount of searching would bring him the solace he sought. The lights burned bright, and the only shadows that moved were those of the patrons walking the streets, cast ghastly and menacing by the headlights of passing cars. Gale colours were hanging from every lamppost in the city; Lavender's influence guiding Azkadellia's hand. He wondered if it was futile, these ghosts of queens trying to raise their city from the dead. Then he thought of these women still fighting despite all the struggle and sorrow and slow, slow victory. And then, inevitably, he thought of DG, and every assumption and assertion he'd made fell apart, and he was left to start from scratch.

He avoided the crowded avenues, though he took a small detour through the theatre district, where many denizens had gone to play the summer's evening away. It was there that he thought he caught a glimpse of the city's wild and unrestrained glamour and fortune. Perhaps there was hope yet, but to Cain it hardly mattered. As ever, he'd grown tired of Central, of the tricks and the lies.

Maybe when he left this time, it would be the last time.

In quiet alleys, he found some manner of clarity. Peace, he knew, had long since abandoned him, but he could almost believe that acquiescence was just as good. Less elusive to say the least. Acceptance that was hard-fought, his worst enemy – himself – conquered, at least for the time being. There was comfort in it, and perhaps the weary load of guilt he'd been toting around would be a little easier to bear.

Thoughts of the future have a way of acting as a double-edged blade and he was a clumsy fool. Still, his course was chosen, or had been chosen for him; no matter how much consideration he gave it, he couldn't rightly say one way or the other. He couldn't bring himself to question the validity or sanity of the plan. He'd had more than enough questing for answers. His life had conditioned him to taking orders, and hesitation was long behind him now. No room for whispering doubt or lingering fear.

That wasn't to say that he hadn't had them, those doubts or fears. Those moments had come and claimed their rightful toll from him, long days spent weighted with those burdens and he'd given himself over to untangling the skein of discord that had lodged itself so tightly around him. Those days, those impossibly long days, little by little he'd managed to forge his conclusions, however far-gone they might yet be.

He was going to have a clear head going into this, and a clean conscience. Not only did DG deserve as much, he owed it to himself. Still, that wasn't to say he was up and walking into this blindly and without reservation.

Damn it.

Cain stopped at the end of a narrow alley. He leaned a shoulder against the grimy brick, letting his head hang. He'd managed to talk himself in circles again, and to say that it was becoming bothersome would be putting it politely. And after all that had happened to him in the weeks prior, he didn't feel too much like being nice to himself. Inwardly, he cursed; outwardly, he shook his head.

He told himself once more that he didn't have a choice, and that helped a bit of calm to spread through him. It was that simple, after all.

Though slipping over was more drastic a step than he'd ever planned on taking in his life, he could hardly refuse the opportunity. Whether he admitted that he was the one behind the decision, or if he hid behind the Gales and their insistence that he was the only one capable of bringing her home, of convincing her to come home, the end result would be the same.

"Exile," as Azkadellia had put it, a week or so past when the plans were tentatively laid out before him.

She'd watched him carefully as he'd repeated the word, unsure that he'd heard her right. To say it aloud felt odd; though he'd used the word many a time when reflecting on his six months away from Central City, he couldn't remember a time when he'd actually said it out loud. Others had said it in his hearing, Glitch, the girl, but he himself had never.

There was a soft smile on her lips as she regarded him. "Or banishment, if you prefer. It does seem a touch more poetic."

Poetic. He'd snorted, then ducked his head apologetically. Hard to forget at times who he was dealing with, but it did happen, and then only his surprise masked his embarrassment. DG had never stood much upon ceremony, had in fact trod all over it at times with dirty, ratty sneakers, but Azkadellia was far different. She, however, had the sweetness and good grace not to impose custom and protocol upon him.

"I don't prefer either," he'd said. The word she used made no difference to him.

"But should you be unable to return –"

"Is that really a concern?" he'd asked, hard-pressed to keep the bite out of his voice.

"I honestly couldn't say, Mr. Cain. It all depends on DG."

He'd said nothing after that, taking a long moment to let it sink in before he had turned and walked out. He had left the door wide open instead of slamming it, though he'd sorely wanted to. He was not so assured of his position to do that. He'd had days to come around to the knowledge that, like it or not, he was facing banishment with conditional return. A ridiculous concoction to sate a faceless council who could no longer be misled as to DG's whereabouts, but were by no means to know of the fragile imbalance in the vitality and stability of their ruling family. The girl had run away, she was his task and his ticket home. In the end, a very plain and simple 'don't come back without her'. He didn't have to wonder whose hands had orchestrated this particular false fate for him.

DG's father had been set to go himself. As word had trickled in ahead of Cain and the others that DG wasn't with them, as the story had come from the mouths of Tutor, Glitch, Raw, and Cain himself in rapid succession, Ahamo had declared himself the one to bring his daughter back. The idea had probably been stewing under that greying mane of his even as he'd sat in the Galehall listening to his daughter's companions recite the same sorry tale again and again, surrounded by the painted history of his wife's ancestress and his own visions of grandeur and redemption.

It was a plan. Cain had much preferred it. In no way did he feel that he was the one to slip over to a world he didn't know to argue with DG the finer points of staying and running. He was a traitor to his heart, but he was no liar, and he held no delusions. Where she'd gone was no place for him, but he could be there waiting when she returned home. If she returned home.

He'd managed to breathe easy, and it hadn't lasted long. Lavender, in all her infinite wisdom, was determined that he be the one to follow DG wherever she'd gone. Ahamo had been furious, vocally, visually furious, but he'd raised no objection. As ever, Lavender gave a quiet word and a weak wave of her hand and the world shook and shifted and stopped all together. Her family treated her with a veneration that had Cain near fit to burst with frustration. Even had he been in a position to voice his concerns, he wasn't all together sure if he could ever put to words the utter amazement he felt that the woman's authority still had any pull at all. Lavender was ruled by sentimentality and stubbornness, traits she'd passed on to her youngest daughter. The crumbling resistance couldn't know now Azkadellia's restraint and level-headedness. Only time could teach that to the people. It was time that it now seemed she might just be given to shine.

Now, breathing in the warm, stagnant city air on what could very well have been his last night in the O.Z., Cain found himself resigned to what was to come. It came as no surprise, but it was a pleasant realisation all the same.

Knowing that sleep did not wait for him back at the palace, Cain walked the streets into the early hours of the morning, his feet driven by the restlessness of his mind. The beat of his boots against the cobblestones had an echo of familiarity to it, and it was this he followed in circles, easing himself into the rhythm of it, into the peace that could be found there. He crossed the city over and again, finding the dark, secret ways, tunnels and alleys and narrow iron-grated stairs that clanged mercilessly under his weight.

If he was meant to sort out the tangle of whys in his mind, it didn't work out that way for him. Never did. He knew he would carry these questions and doubts with him when he slipped over, that the answers he sought were well beyond the reach of any who remained on this side, save one. But the witch hadn't reappeared for them after they'd dug through the destruction of the half-collapsed ruin, nearly collapsing themselves from the dry, scorching heat. Her business had been with the girl, and with the passing of the storm, it was finished.

Across the Outer Zones, weeks later, skies had yet to clear. Such a grey, miserable turn to what had been a promising summer. He wondered when the rain would stop, when the suns would come out. If he knew one thing for certain, it was that the weather would not break before his time here was up, but that was all right by him. As it had been explained to him, all the purple-bellied thunderclouds and ceaseless rain boded well for the magic of summoning travel storms. He wasn't about to pretend to understand it, but Azkadellia and Tutor were particularly hopeful.

Plans laid, goodbyes said. There was very little time left. His son was out of the city, words exchanged a few nights past when both of them had managed to tear themselves away from their last bits of leisure time spent doing nothing to spend a few moments together instead. Though it was against every instinct he had, Cain had kept to himself that pesky condition of his return. Damn himself to hell, but he couldn't put to words the thought of not coming back. Especially to his son.

Raw was gone, his last days in Central spent passing Cain glimpses of DG's life on the Other Side. There'd be a brief touch on his hand, and then he'd be overtaken by a violent shiver coursing through him as an image or two flashed before his mind. A battered green pick-up, an old farmhouse with a patched roof, plate-glass windows with lacy white curtains. Despite knowing his friend's good intentions, Cain had taken to snatching his hand out of reach whenever he'd found himself close to Raw.

Only Glitch remained to be Cain's near constant companion, or as constant as Cain himself would allow. Most days he'd been glad of the company, for a few hours at the very least; the endless stream of thought and wonder that spilled from Glitch's mouth was a welcome drone in the background to drown out the hissing in his own mind. It was through his friend's tendency to ramble that he'd learned about Lavender's interjection in Ahamo's plan, and Azkadellia's veiled attempt to ensure that Cain did not return without DG, all for the councillors breathing down her neck.

There was no attempt within him to rationalise this, to try convince himself that it was the right thing to do, or the wrong thing, or that it simply had to be done at all. He could hide behind the decisions of the queen he served, and the frail, undying woman who held that queen's devotion. Perhaps he'd only be gone a handful of days, and would return with a remorseful princess ready to face the death of her mother. Perhaps in the end he would change nothing, and find himself stuck in a world he didn't know with a girl who resented him for trying to undermine the most important, selfless decision she'd ever made.

He didn't know, but he had to try. He owed her that much. If they were both destined – determined – to spend their lives alone, perhaps they could do it together. And with this thought, he was able to find the calm he'd gone searching for when he'd left the palace to wander the lonely streets of a city he loathed. With a few hours to spare before dawn, he returned to the palace, the golden-glass heart of his homeland.

The room he'd occupied since arriving was the same empty, lifeless place it had been when he'd crept away. His canvas rucksack waited packed and ready on the bed, light and unassuming. He looked around the room that did not belong to him, and sighed. There was nothing left for him to do. Slowly, he sank down into a chair opposite the bed, let his head fall back, and waited for the pounding of his heart to come back under his control.

And then there was knocking at the door and his eyes were flying open and the rest he'd found was chased away as his pulse was sent leaping away from him once more. How had he managed to fall asleep – shaking off his disorientation, he stood, swiped at his eyes, and went to open the door.

The familiar knock was accompanied by a familiar face. Glitch, smiling brightly for all that it was an ungodly hour. Dawn, or near enough.

"So, are you just about done convincing yourself this is the right thing to do?" he said by way of a greeting.

Cain sighed. "Isn't enough time in the world for that, but it's near enough."

His friend continued to smile cheekily, entirely unmoved. "You didn't sleep."

"Had some things to think on."

A moment of silence followed during the course of which Glitch looked him over carefully, came to his estimations, thought them over and then thought them over again. Whatever conclusion he seemed to come to in the end, Cain couldn't know, and didn't particularly care to. It was more than enough that his friend said, "You know I'd go in your place if I could."

Not up to withstanding such reassurance, he grunted dismissively. "Bet your ass you would."

Another grin, one that was tainted with the sadness of impossibility. While mostly recovered, Glitch was still in possession of a brain that had been stitched back together with equal parts of magic, science, and prayer. He'd have an easier time arguing DG out of this exile, of that Cain was absolutely certain, but the potential risk of regression or injury was great enough that doing such had never been an option. Glitch could not, would not go.

Another bit of weight to shoulder. No matter; Cain barely even noticed it any more.

"You'll bring her back, won't you?" Glitch asked.

Cain grimaced. "That's the plan. You dragged yourself down here at this hour to ask me that?"

Glitch flashed another grin, a pale imitation of his earlier ones. He ran his hands over his rumpled clothes, shirt half-untucked, waistcoat unbuttoned. "No, no, of course not. I've come to see you off. Azkadellia is waiting for us, actually, so we should –"

Solemnly, Cain nodded. If this was the extent of the fanfare to be dealt with, he could consider himself lucky. He picked the rucksack up from its place on the bed. It felt foreign, bulky. The clothes inside did not belong to him. He was halfway across the room with it before he stopped. He went back to the nightstand, and pulled DG's sketchbook from the drawer. Seemed that the time to return it to its rightful owner had come.

"Let's get this done."

Glitch's enthusiasm was back then, like switching on a light. "Fantastic!"

For the life of him, Cain could come up with no response, and merely raised an eyebrow in question.

Glitch, bless or damn him, had the decency to look bashful, but there was no hiding his excitement. "Sorry. Just eager to get a look at the magical aspect of this in practice." One last smile, a show of teeth, a small chuckle. "No one's ever quite been able to explain to me how these things work."


Author's Note: A ridiculously big thank you to all who take the time to read this story and have stuck with me thus far. I'm very spoiled and should treat you better than an update a month! I can't make any promises but this one: the reunion is next chapter, but that's all I can say. Thanks again to you, my lovelies!