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So, I watched this SciFi mini-series called "Tin Man" and fell absolutely in love with it. I mean, they could have done better with it: the pace was rushed, acting a little flat at sometimes and the ending was total crap, but still, I loved the story line and the characters. And I have a new ship that I completely adore: Cain/D.G. I've written a few drabbles involvin these two, I thought I'd post them.
Title: Holding On
Summary: "She should have known that she couldn’t bring back the past, only move to the future. A future that wasn’t looking so bright anymore."
Rating: PG
Light had returned to the O.Z. But for those inside the tower, it was not a time for celebration.
“Az… please.” D.G. sobbed, clutching her sister’s hand tight in both of hers, the light pooled between them, focusing where their hands joined, just as it always had. She remembered that now, but it wasn’t enough. A few brief glimpses of a lifetime she never knew, a few memories of a family that was ripped from her. She couldn’t lose her now. Not when she just got her back again. Her sister. Her best friend.
“Just hold my hand, Deeg. Don’t let go. Nothing will hurt us if we stay together…”
“I won’t,” she promised, laying her forehead on their joined hands, feeling the heat of the light burn away her tears. “I won’t let go.”
They looked on in sadness. Azkadellia lay still on the bed, her breathing slow and erratic, mouth open as she gasped for each breath, brows furrowed over tightly clenched eyelids. Even with the glow of the light on her skin she was pale, the dark color of her lipstick a ghastly contrast to her skin.
The eldest daughter of the Queen was dying.
It had happened not even an hour after the eclipse ended. In the middle of the celebrating and the reunions, the Princess had stumbled, one hand flying to her head as the other groped for something to hold on to, before anyone could get to her she had collapsed on the ground, unconscious.
She’d been taken to her room, where Tudor had examined her. The old magic teacher had turned away, face lined with sorrow. “She’s almost gone. The Witch took near all her life force. She’d been leeching off her for years now, and when she left her body…” He sighed. “There’s not enough of her left to keep going.” He looked around the room, eyes landing on the Queen and D.G. “I’m sorry.”
The Queen gave a cry, collapsing in the arms of Ahamo, the others, Glitch, Cain, and Raw, all shared sorrowful glances, but D.G. stubbornly wiped the tears from her eyes and kneeled by the bed, snatching her sister’s hands from the sheets. “No,” she said, jutting her chin out, just like the time Cain had said she would run away from any danger she found. “I won’t accept that.”
Tudor placed his hand on her shoulders. “Child, there is nothing you can do.” He tired to gently pull her back.
“No!” She threw him away from her. “I won’t let her go! I won’t let her fall!” She turned back to her sister and low sob shook her frame. “Not again.”
No one said anything. The light shown brightly from their joint hands, giving them hope they’d otherwise never have. They all sat to watch… and to wait.
For hours D.G. kneeled by her sister’s side, refusing any attempts to make her eat, drink or rest, refusing to acknowledge any possibility than that her sister would be well again, that they would get the chance to rediscover a love that time, fate and her own stupid, stupid, mistakes had torn from them. She couldn’t let her sister down. Not again.
“Come on Az,” she cried as her free hand rubbed up and down her sister’s arm. She watched the light swirl from her fingertips, bursting into life where her skin met her sister’s, sinking into the skin of who once was the most important person in her life. “Wake up.”
But she didn’t. Hours passed, until the bright light from the suns, which had looked so promising and full of hope after the eclipse, had disappeared from the sky, and the Queen and her husband had left to another room, collapsing in each other’s arms in exhaustion, until the only ones awake was herself, and her three dear friends, who waited on the other side of the door, watching the light trickle from the crack and into the hallway. A light that slowly faded out.
D.G. leaned against the balcony railing, eyes closed, head tipped back to allow the night breeze play on her face, cooling the hot tear tracks on her face, soothing the burning from her tired eyes. It had hurt to look a the light so long. The darkness was relief.
She sighed. Just a few hours ago she’d thought she would never be happy to see night again, thought she would be living in a world filled with sunshine. Sunshine and apples and skipping stones on the water. She should have known that she couldn’t bring back the past, only move to the future. A future that wasn’t looking so bright anymore.
Sure, she had her parents now. Her real, true parents. Except she didn’t know them. They were strangers to her. Her other parents, the ones she had memories of, had grown up with and loved, they were gone. They were robots that Azkadellia had programmed to forget all about her. Now all she had were strangers for parents in a strange world in which she didn’t know what to do. Was she to rule? With Azkadellia gone there was no one else to take the thrown once her mother concedes it. She didn’t know how to rule a country, she couldn’t even drive to work without getting in trouble.
“Hey, Princess.”
She jumped when she heard his voice behind her. She turned around and glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”
He raised both hands up, palms forward. “Sorry, kiddo.”
She turned back and leaned again on the railing, glaring darkly at the sky. “And don’t call me kiddo either,” she grumbled. “I’m not a child.” She didn’t know why said that. Normally his little nicknames never bothered her, but right now she was angry. At everything.
He leaned beside her, arms crossed on the railing, hat tipped low over his eyes as he gazed out at the stars. He was close enough that she could smell the leather of his jacket. The familiarity of it comforted her. “I know you’re not a child.” His voice was low and soft. “No child could have done what you did.” He looked at her, and the leather gave a soft crinkling noise as he shifted. “You saved us, D.G. Saved us all and then led us into battle.”
A few tears escaped her eyes as she turned to look at him. “Not all.” She sniffed. “I let her go.”
He grabbed her shoulders roughly. “No. No. You pulled her back. Pulled her back to herself, to her family. And I am sure, Azkadellia would have rather had those few hours as herself than a lifetime as the Witch’s slave.”
She stared up at him, wide blue eyes searching his, before she took a deep breath and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. He patted her back awkwardly.
“Thank you,” she breathed against his neck. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. “No problem, kiddo.” She pulled away, this time smiling at the term. He cleared his throat. “Now, I think you should go inside and get some rest. We have all of the O.Z. to put in order tomorrow.”
D.G. nodded, smiling one more time before heading toward the balcony doors. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away, his gaze watchful, protective, as always.
This world didn’t seem so strange anymore.
Title: Of Uniforms and Tin Men Hats
Summary: "He’d never thought that he’d come to see his own son as a rival, never thought he’d turn his eyes on him with anything resembling jealousy."
Rating: PG13
Instead, he focused on his arm around her waist as they danced across the ballroom floor, the way her hand lay on his shoulder, the palm just an inch from cupping the edge of his neck, the way she smiled as they talked, too low for him to hear, their faces close together. He was reminded, once again, how close their ages were, how more fitting a relationship between them would be. And he couldn’t help the thought as it slipped into his mind:
Thank god he married young.
The dance ended. Couples paused and separated around the ballroom, smiling and bowing before moving to pair up with another partner, but his eyes stayed on one couple. He noticed how they stilled in the embrace, pausing to finish their conversation before separating. Sharp eyes focused on strong fingers as they circled a dainty wrist, narrowed as his son pulled her back to him, lips moving to form words only she could hear. She smiled mischievously (he knew that smile. How many times had he seen it flashed towards him?) and leaned up to whisper something in his ear. A slow blush burned its way onto his son’s pale cheeks, and he nodded as he released her wrist.
Something ugly stirred inside of him, and if he hadn’t spent years thinking only of his love for his son, he would think it was hatred.
She walked away, still smiling, unaware of the two pairs of ice blue eyes that watched the swaying of her skirts as she walked.
He grabbed her she passed by, pulling her into the curtained alcove, away from the curious eyes of her subjects.
“Cain, what--”
He cut her off. Rough lips pressed against painted ones, hot tongue pushing possessively against hers. He felt her shudder against him and he curled an arm around her waist, pulling her against him while he leaned forward, pressing her to the wall. His other hand went to hair, undoing the elaborate twists and curls. He’d always liked it better down anyway, down and wild like the time he first saw her, swinging a stick against enemies too strong, just to help a few strangers.
Her hands fluttered at his shoulders, clenching and unclenching the fabric against his neck, and she gave a little breathy moan as he tore his mouth from hers to place hot, dotting kisses along her jaw bone and neck. He could feel the moisture of their mingled breath, hot and playful against his skin and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to breathe in her scent.
“Cain,” she said, her voice low, and slightly breathless. “What’s going on? Why did you pull me in here? Not that I’m complaining but usually…”
She trailed off, but he could finish the thought for her. Usually she would come to him, and he’d be cold, distant, keeping the kisses too chaste, the embraces too short, always stopping before passion could take over, always ending with an apologetic hug and fatherly brush of lips against forehead.
Always too afraid to let his heart be vulnerable again.
Ice blue eyes stared into her wide, ocean blue ones. He pulled her hand to his chest, curling his strong fingers around her dainty wrist. “What did you whisper to Jeb to make him blush like that?”
Her lips curled into a smirk, and he cursed himself for laying himself in the open like that. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his ear. Her breath was hot and it tickled, causing his breath to stop and start with a jerk. He wondered if this is what his son felt when she had done the same thing to him.
“I merely said,” she whispered, “that while Army Officer’s uniforms were dashing, I prefer the outdoor, rugged look of the Tin Men.”
His lungs stopped working completely, and only started to work again after she pressed her mouth to his, pouring life into him.
