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[amicably_absent]

Ambrose, even more than Glitch, made an effort to make himself inconspicuous when he went out into the public arena. He could cope with a large group of strangers he didn't have to address or acknowledge. He had more trouble in some ways, but walking the streets he could manage. He shrugged on his coat, enjoying the swing and heft of the cloth as he started out of the palace.

He hadn't walked this path, but Glitch had and he hoped that that might carry true. But if it didn't, he had left early and had time to let Glitch get directions.

He didn't have a wonderful sense of time, but he knew he needed to be there when the sun was directly over head. So when it was getting close, and the shadows were short and sharp, Ambrose slipped back to let Glitch wander up a side street where some people lurked. "Hello?"

They paused and looked to him, squinting with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"Can you help me? I'm a little lost." Glitch smiled at them.

"I'll say you are, head case." One of the men stood. "Central City doesn't have the time or resources for your type."

"My type?" He looked around as they all started standing up. Something in him vaguely and dimly rang caution.

"Your type. Murders. Rapists. Filth." One of them spat on the ground. "Taking food out of our mouths."

"Hey, what? No. I was a political dissenter!" He stood up straight, pushing his hair back. "I lost my brain for Queen and country."

Oh, well then," one of them said in an odd tone. "I suppose that makes it all right then. You better go about your business."

Glitch smiled, relieved that they were such reasonable, nice guys. "Hey, thanks!"

He turned to walk off again, already having forgotten why he had tracked them down to begin with.

Then something hit him in the back of the head. There was a flare of pain, thick and wet and sharp. His vision fuzzed and darkened, and he felt his knees hit the pavement.

"Be careful. Promise me."

Ambrose heard footsteps. He flipped up onto his hands, kicking backwards and slamming his feet into jaw and chin, head snapping back under the force of Ambrose's kick. He landed with his feet spread, standing over the man's fallen body before looking back over one shoulder with a dark, heavy look.

He ducked a second rock, spinning and dropping into the form stance, one hand out stretched, the other hooked over his head, fingers curled.

His eyes went wide as the gun was pulled out. He twisted as there was the crack of the shot, heat scalding through his coat and over his ribs. He was running forwards already, fly kicking the gunman in the chest, foot snapping up and down onto his chest, standing there he rounded the maneuver with a high kick, spinning to kick his boot heel into the third man's face.

He backed off, the three of them groaning. The remaining three men were looking at each other warily, and at him.

A few steps back, and he had enough space to get away.

He turned and ran, trying to get out of the city. Central City was dangerous. The Longcoats were waiting, ever waiting and the Longcoats were bad.

He had to get to the safe place. Where he wouldn't be hurt. The place with the coffin.

Dodging more people, quiet and dizzy, he slipped through the city and out into the field and woodlands around it.

He liked beaches. There was a beach down by the water. That would go to the safe place, he was sure.

Comments

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Cain moves through the Viewers in silence, his eyes taking in every detail he can find. The direction of the spatter, drops and someone's missing tooth and small cobblestones easily pried from the ground, one of them bloodied.

He can't feel a thing. It isn't happening to him, it's just another crime scene. He takes out his directlink and refers the location and code for the crimes committed. Assault and battery against a state official. Several perpetrators. Confirming that Master Ambrose is missing. Requesting a team of crime scene analysts and a search team. He'll continue the search with the help of Raw the Viewer, Tin Men will focus on finding the men responsible... All the steps, each one carefully tacked off in the silence of his mind. For the duration, Kalm hides behind Jeb, small fingers clawing at his pants leg.

Turning to Seek and the rest of the Viewers. "Where did he go?"

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The Viewers stay gathered together in a tight group except for Raw, who stays near his young charge and Jeb, hand resting on Kalm's head.

"Not-Glitch scared. Head hurt." He looked towards the visible South gate. "Went for gate. Find safe place. Place with coffin out front." Seeks looks to Raw, who nods, confirming what he feels.

"Raw feel too. Ambrose scared." He starts trotting off in the direction, then pauses and beckons. "Raw try and find. Will be hard. Ambrose shift emotion fast. Hard to follow."

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"I'll help," Jeb offers, steeling himself when half a dozen sets of eyes turn to look at him. "I'm good at tracking." Kalm tugs again at his pants leg, and Jeb adds. "Kalm'll help too."

Cain nods, and to his side, DG surreptitiously tightens her grip on the stick. Goodness knows where she found it, but you'll never know if it'll come in handy. "We'll have to move quickly. We'll lose daylight in a matter of hours."

He should've gone for help immediately. He should've known. He shouldn't have assumed things were fine, he should've known.

"So?" DG flails where she stands. "What are we waiting for, let's go!"

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"Raw stay with Kalm." If things were bad, Raw would be there to smother it down and keep Kalm safe from it.

"Viewers try to see," Seek says quietly. "Go to palace pond. Look."

They move off as a group, back to the palace.

Everyone splits to continue their searching.

-

Glitch comes to to realise he's in water. He kicks against the current, swimming to the shore and dragging himself up onto the sun warmed rocks. His head is throbbing and his side aches with every movement.

He was going somewhere. Somewhere safe.

The cottage with the coffin.

Wearily, he drags himself to his feet and starts walking.

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Raw and Jeb lead the way South through the myriad of alleyways and streets that Glitch and Ambrose stumbled through in their need to escape, while Cain races back to the station for his horse. It's little comfort that there are no blood trails, but it's comfort Cain will take into his heart and keep it there. If there's no blood trail, and if Glitch is still on his own two feet, there's hope, and hope is something he needs now more than anything. Once they exit the South gate, they too split up, Cain and DG on horseback and aiming for the cabin; Raw, Jeb and Kalm continuing the search between point A and point B. They decide to meet up halfway in the morning and continue their search together, if it comes to that.

"Hey, Mister Cain?" DG shouts into his ear as they race against time, her arms safely tucked around Cain's mid section and her stick attached to the saddle like a rifle. "Glitch is fine. He's survived years in the wild."

Cain doesn't want to think about that, not right now, because he isn't sure if Glitch is entirely in control. "Ambrose hasn't."

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It was three days later that news of where he was reached Central City.

A rider came in with an urgent message for the Station. A strange headcase had turned up at the Papay fields. He was avoiding being caught or seen when possible, but he had been overhead mumbling that he had to get to the Station and tell Cain.

Tell Cain, he didn't know. Who Cain was, he didn't know. But they didn't really want a rogue headcase in the fields when the papay were still a bit on edge and the new farming staff even moreso.

The Station phone the palace. A headcase looking for Cain in the fields of the Papay. Pass the message to Cain, please.

Azkadellia sends the message to DG via a white dove.

DG gets the pass the message to Cain when she next sees him.

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The days leading up to salvation was living through the End of the World. Not like it, it was it. It was searching in the dark, running blindly through the forest hoping to stumble over the man he loves just so he could find him. It was shouting his name tirelessly - GLITCH! AMBROSE! - until he lost his voice. It was telling DG in no uncertain terms that she was keeping the fire going out front every night while he went searching. He only returned to the cabin twice a day, for news and being forced to eat something, drink something, rest.

Rest... How could he rest when every fibre of his being crawls with the need to move, to be out there, to do something. He should've known. He shouldn't have been angry with Glitch for being late, or Ambrose for getting distracted like he promised he'd try not to... He should've gone for help sooner. He should've known.

Three days with no luck, and then, a blessing. A white dove, DG says, from Azkadellia. Glitch is alive. In the fields of the Papay. Looking for Cai--

He's running for the fields before she can finish reading the message, and she hurries to follow him, stick in hand. You never know when it might come in handy.

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The fields are starting to blossom again, pale green leaves and white flowers and pink flowers and the first hints of fruit on the trees.

Further in, the fruit is riper, heavy and plump and the branches that have carried nothing for so long almost seem to sag under the weight of once again being fertile and alive, content like mother's weighed down with babes in arms.

That's where the farmers point. Somewhere on the outskirts, well away from their camp. A pale white figure in a long coat, blood matting the side of his face and neck. Most thought he was a ghost of a Papay victim, waiting for release.

A couple had spotted the glint of silver in his hair, through the curls. They think he's by the fallen trees, but he vanishes when they try to get close and prove it's a headcase, not a haunting.

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"Glitch! Ambrose! Where are you?!" It's DG shouting all the way to the line of blooming trees, because even if Cain could, she doesn't think he would, not with the focus he's showing, the blind determination.

Or so she thinks, unable to hear the hoarse whispers forcing themselves from his heart. "AMBROSE! GLITCH!"

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For a long time, there's nothing. It's darker here, the tree branches thick and musty, collapsed on one another in great piles of rotting wood.

Then, finally, there's a glint from behind some leaning trees, a flash of an eye peeking out and ghost white skin. He ducks behind the tree again, peeking out the other side. That shows the blood, dried on his face and neck, staining his shirt and coat crimson.

He doesn't move. He watches them silently for a moment.

"Hi?"

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Wyatt swallows tightly, walking closer with his hands handing at his side, limp and useless; he can't feel his arms. For a split second, his head feels as though dunked in ice water, as if air fills his chest and his mouth and his head and it's too much.

He thinks he needs to sit down, but he can do that once he knows Glitch is safe, once Ambrose is in his arms and breathing and his heart's beating into his ear and he's safe, not a ghost, alive and going to be better.

He stumbles closer, bright blue eyes staring.

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Glitch doesn't flinch back, but he doesn't move forwards at first, just blinking at Cain with those dark, hollow rimmed eyes.

Then something lights. There's realisation and awakening, like someone just opened the windows. "Wyatt," he whispers. "You're Wyatt Cain." He takes a few shaky steps forwards. There's red on his fingers, staining them. "I have to, tell you. Tell you..."

He looks off for a moment.

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All the air rushes out of his body in a breath of anguish, his face twists as though from physical pain, and he surges forward to crush Glitch to his chest.

Behind him, DG's eyes are welling up with tears.

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Glitch is caught flat footed, swept into a hug and held tightly and just looking sort of bewildered. He doesn't know where he is, or who the girl is, or why he's being hugged, but right now, he knows that this is Cain.

He slowly wraps his arms back around him, eyes finally closing as he holds him. "I- love you, Tin man," he whispers.

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He sags in his arms, his knees doing a bad job of keeping him upright. "I know. I know, Sweetheart, I love you too. You're safe, I got you. You're safe."

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Glitch has nothing like the strength he needs to hold them both. As Cain said, Ambrose didn't have the experience surviving, just enough to get them here.

He sinks down with Wyatt, still holding onto him. "Your voice is all croaky," he says softly.

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DG wipes her eyes, giving Glitch a wobbly smile as she pads over to hug them both. "He called your name for, like, all night and all day, and then he lost his voice."

Wyatt nods, but for the moment he's more concerned with knowing they're both alive. And then the young princess pokes him in the arm. "We were worried, Glitch. Looked everywhere for you and Ambrose. Everywhere between here and Central City."

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Glitch snuggles in against Wyatt more, petting his hair and neck softly. "I didn't mean to worry you... Hey, do I know you?"

He stares at her for a moment, then cuddles Wyatt again, tight and close. He looks back up at her. "Hey do I know you?"

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"Send for Raw. We'll be at the cabin." As soon as he can feel his legs again, they'll get going.

DG nods, fear and concern and love clear in her eyes. She leans in to kiss Glitch's cheek, and Wyatt's, then runs for the cabin in that way of hers, with her arms flailing almost like the little spinning dolls of her childhood.

Leaving one exhausted Tin Man with the man he loves, badly hurt. "Sweetheart? Do you know where you are?"

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Glitch isn't sure why she kisses him, but he smiles anyway because it's nice to get a kiss for nothing.

He keeps stroking the messy blonde hair, feeling dirt and dust under his fingers. "No." He whispers. "Where am I?"

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"You're home." He musters a smile mere heartbeats before he tilts his head to kiss him.

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Glitch smiles at that, because he believes it, wholeheartedly.

He kisses back. It's familiar and easy and smooth and right. it warms the cold knot in him.

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And there'll be more of it later, but right now Cain needs to get his priorities straight. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and into some warm clothes. The cabin isn't far."

He makes to get up off the ground, because he needs to get things sorted before he can collapse from fatigue and relief.

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"Can you walk," he asks, pure worry on his face. "Here, I'll help." He stays close to be leaned on, what little support he can give.

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It strikes him as ironic and sad and plain wrong that he's more done in by the past four days, but it isn't strictly a physical exhaustion. It's all in his head, and his heart, twisting and turning with what could've been and what is.

He smiles, pushing himself up, and once on his feet, wraps his arm securely around Glitch's shoulders. Clearing his throat, trying to get something more out than the feeble croak of the past day, he manages a murmur. "I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

He starts walking, careful to keep Glitch's pace.