Story: Cold Steel
Author: phantaz_magoria
Disclaimer: Own nothing but the plot bunnies
Pairing: Glitch/Cain

Warning: Mild profanity, death and suicide.

Authors Note: This is my first fanfic in a long time, and I totally realize I should be shot for my egregious overuse of ellipses, but that aside, I rather like how it turned out. Also, this story only SEEMS sad, I promise. The ending completely makes up for what happens at the end of the middle, I swear! Hope you enjoy!

Cold Steel

Wyatt Cain was dreaming. Dreams of his family, dreams of cold and ice. A single phrase drifted hauntingly through his mind.

My family's alive?

Incredulity, suspicion, fear hope? All these feelings war for dominance in him as he struggles to bring the scene into focus. A hard marble floor, cold light filtering through icy glass, a man wearing black boots

My family's alive?

Cold. He s cold in this dream. Cold as he looks on the face of his killer with his cold smile and colder eyes. My family s alive? He floats in a sea of ice, cold water freezing his lungs, choking him, killing him. Cold, cold, cold

My family's alive...?

Zero aims the gun at him and he feels cold dread in his belly, cold steel in his hand. He feels the gun in his hand. Instinct screams at him to shoot first. He raises it high, pointing it at the man who destroyed his life. He squeezes the trigger. The explosion is deafening.

Wyatt Cain opens his eyes.

He isn't cold anymore. Wrapped in blankets and the heat of the stove, he's actually quite warm. He takes a breath. The acrid smell of cordite clings to the air, mingling with wood smoke and the faint smell of incense. He hears a soft gasp from the doorway. A familiar voice.

"Oh, my..."

* * *

Cain blinked his eyes and tried to sit up, groaning in pain as the muscles in his shoulder and chest protested violently at the action. Instinct kicked in, cataloging the environment and the situation before he was even fully awake. He was in the caravan, dressed in pajamas; his clothes were hanging on a line, dry it seemed. Glitch stood at the doorway. A fire burned in the stove. Clear weather outside. The storm had passed. Had it been storming? Glitch... Something was wrong with Glitch. He looked up at the man standing frozen in the doorway. His face was pale, paler than usual, and his eyes were wide. He clutched a bundle of wood in his arms. "I'm sorry..." he whispered.

"Sorry?" Cain asked. His voice was cracked from thirst, the words seemed to stick in his throat. "Sorry for what?"

"I should have knocked... I'm sorry." Glitch held the sticks tighter to his chest, his hands beginning to tremble.

It was then that Cain took in the slight wisps of smoke and the gun he was still holding. But that was a dream... It had to have been... He began to feel cold again.

Glitch gave a weak, nervous laugh. "I guess I must have startled you. I should have knocked. Should have knocked... should have knocked..."

Fear settled in Cain's belly like an icy lump of lead. "Glitch!"

"What? Oh, hi I'm Glitch, what's your... Oh, my." The sticks fell to the floor and Glitch clutched at the doorframe with one hand, the other pressed tightly against his chest. "Oh, my! That hurts!" His eyes squeezed shut.

Cain struggled out of the blankets, scrambling to his feet, bruised muscles screaming at him, the dead space where his heart used to be screaming louder. "Glitch!"

The pale man looked up, a confused expression on his face. "Oh, Cain! Hi." With a gasp, he crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

Cain was by his side in moments, kneeling with his hands holding Glitch's face, his thumb absently stroking away a tear. "Glitch... Glitch speak to me, tell me where it hurts."

Glitch's eyes opened, rolling around the room before settling on the man above him. "Cain... breathe. Hurts to breathe."

Cain's eyes moved down Glitch's body, searching for blood. A faint tinge of pink was starting to seep through his white shirt just above the rib cage. "I need to cut your shirt off, stay with me, Glitch." Cain reached down to his belt for his razor... Drat! He wasn't wearing his usual clothes. It must be hanging up. It was then he caught the expression on Glitch's face and the slender white fingers tugging at his sleeve.

"But Cain... it's... it's a lucky shirt... you can't cut it off."

Cain was struck speechless. Sometimes the crazy scarecrow of a man seemed more like a five year old child than a man, but the tears in those puppy brown eyes made his chest pang uncomfortably. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Okay, Glitch. We'll just roll it up a bit, alright? This might hurt some."

He quickly unbuttoned the white shirt. Then, as gently as he could, he wrapped an arm under the slender torso and pulled him up just enough so he could push the striped shirt up. Glitch started to cry out, but determinedly clamped his mouth shut, only letting out little hiccuping sobs. Soon enough, Cain had Glitch's shirt rolled up to his chin. He could see the dark hole now, the blood trailing down over the pale chest. He could also see the tiny bubbles of air in the blood over the wound; the bullet had gone through a lung. While he still held him up, Cain felt around Glitch's back, praying for an exit wound. His fingers ghosted across torn flesh and smeared blood. Thank Ozma! At least the bullet was out. He gently lowered Glitch back down.

Cain closed his eyes. There had to be something... bandages, needle and thread, something... He had to look. He started to move but was held in place by the soft whimper below him. Glitch's eyes were wide with panic. He stroked the man's cheek with his thumb. "Shh, it's alright. I'm not going anywhere, but I need to get some things, alright? Stay calm and keep pressure here," Cain pressed Glitch's hand to the hole in his chest, "I'll be right back."

Glitch looked at him for a moment, fear and pain and bewilderment all etched into lines on his face, before nodding shakily. Cain brushed the knuckles of his hand against Glitch's face, wiping away another tear, before he pulled himself away.

There had to be supplies. He wracked his mind, thinking back. He had checked, he knew he had. An aid kit or a healer's bag. In the front of the truck, perhaps. Healer... Where was Raw when you needed him? He must have said it out loud because he heard Glitch's quavering voice behind him.

"I don't know... I couldn't... couldn't find him. I think... Azkadellia might have taken him... and DG."

Cain was digging under the passenger's seat, frantically looking for that bag. "Yeah. Or he ran away."

The voice behind him was weak and trailing. "One of these days... have to do something about that... bitter cynicism."

Where was that damned bag?

"Somebody has to keep your wide-eyed optimism in check."

He reached under the driver seat. "Glitch?" The silence assaulted his ears. His fingers closed on a handle. "Glitch! Hey, keep talking to me!" He yanked it out, opening it as he returned. Ozma! His shoulder was killing him! Glitch lay very, very still. His black lashes lay against his pale cheeks. Pale... Paler than a human should look. "Glitch, open your eyes, sweetheart." He leaned next to his friend and brushed a stray curl away from his face, wiped the blood away from the corner of his mouth. "Glitch?"

Brown eyes fluttered open and stared at him without recognition. "Do I..." There it was. "Cain! What's wrong?"

The empty space in Cain's chest wrenched painfully. "Glitch, I..." He couldn't say it, couldn't admit it. "You've been shot. But everything's alright, I'm taking care of you. I'll get you fixed up as good as new. Just keep those pretty eyes open for me, kay?"

Glitch's lips twitched and his eyes crinkled in a smile. "Okay." The smile quickly faded into a gasp of pain. "Cain, it hurts!" He coughed, choking on the blood that dribbled down his chin.

"Shh, just take it easy there, sweetheart. Easy breaths for me, okay?" There was that curious pain in his chest again. Cain winced, reaching down to take Glitch's hand but finding it curled into a fist. He was clutching something. "What's this?"

Glitch forced his eyes open. He looked at Cain with nothing but confusion in his face, then realization dawned. "Oh... that... that's..."

Cain slowly uncurled Glitch's fingers to find a tiny figurine. A carved wooden horse. It had a bullet lodged in its forequarter. "Glitch, this..."

"It saved your life. I may have saved you from hypothermia." He smiled, nervous and deprecating. "But that saved your life." Glitch laughed sorrowfully. "Too bad miracles don't happen twice, huh? I might have lived to see you be nice to me... I would have liked to live to see that..."

Tears welled in Cain's eyes. "Don't you start talking like that. You know why? Because it's a miracle that you aren't dead already, zipperhead, and I'm going to keep my miracle, dammit. So stop talking like that."

Glitch's eyes flickered. "I thought you didn't like it... me being positive... Or wide eyed optimistic."

"It's one of your best qualities, headcase. Now shut up and let me figure this out."

With a soft smile, Glitch's eyes drifted close.

"Glitch! Stay with me, keep talking!"

The smile widened as one eye opened. "Gee whiz, make up your mind, tin man..." As feisty as the words were, Cain could tell Glitch was rapidly losing the strength to stay awake. His voice was softer still, "I know you'll make it better... I know you'll keep me safe."

There was that wrenching pain again. "Glitch... I, uh. I didn't keep you safe. I was the one that shot you." The moment the words left his mouth, everything went still.

Cain could feel his heart stop beating. It must have been several seconds. It seemed like minutes. Then Glitch smiled that beautiful, gorgeous, precious smile.

"I already forgave you for that, silly."

And then he was gone.

No aplomb. No fanfare.

Just... gone.

Cain could almost feel the life, the joyous vibrancy of being that was his friend, fade into the cold wooden floor of the caravan and vanish. The light in those beautiful toffee colored eyes dimmed to black and that carefree smile sagged and Glitch... he just wasn't there anymore.

"Glitch? Dammit, no! Glitch!"

The emptiness in his chest, the heart that he thought he would never have to feel was breaking all over again. His breath caught in his lungs as he held the cooling body to his chest, rocking it gently. He pressed his lips to Glitch's forehead, held him tight as tears flooded from his eyes. Why? Why had he been so helpless? Why couldn't he have acted faster? Why...? Why couldn't he have saved him?

He turned his head, resting his cheek against the wild curls and the cold steel zipper. Cain's eyes fell immediately on the gun, abandoned on the floor so many minutes before. "I'm sorry... Glitch, I'm so sorry." He reached across and picked it up, still holding his friend tightly. He felt cold again. Cold dread in his belly, cold steel in his hand. Cold misery in his heart. The gun was heavy in his hand. He raised it high, pointing it at the man who destroyed his life. Cold barrel against his temple. He squeezed the trigger. The explosion was deafening.

***

Wyatt Cain opened his eyes. He was sitting up in bed. He could feel cold sweat rolling down his face. His heart thudded wildly in his chest, he couldn't seem to get air into his lungs. He scrambled out from under the sheets and raced to the window, throwing it open to the night air, embracing the nearly arctic wind that hit his face, his chest. He gulped it in like it was the sweetest thing on earth. He could feel his heart beat start to slow.

And then he could feel arms wrap around him and a warm body press against his back.

"Come back to bed," that precious voice like liquid velvet urged him sleepily. "It's cold over here."

"Glitch." Cain reached up and took the hand from his shoulder, kissed the inside of the wrist and pulled him closer, tighter against him. "I'm sorry I woke you. Needed some air."

"I've been awake." He rested his chin on Cain's shoulder. "You've been dreaming again."

"Yes..." Cain's eyes stared out into the darkness as if he was searching for something miles away. "It's the same one. The one where I watched you die. I couldn't stop it."

Glitch pressed a soft kiss to Cain's cheek. "But you did stop it. You saved me. We saved each other, remember?" He smiled that easy smile of his. "You don't have an excuse to forget things like that and even I remember how it happened. Would you like me to tell it to you? I could tell you a wonderful bedtime story, about a strong and handsome tortured soul and how he saved the life of his rakishly gorgeous, brilliant genius and how they loved each other and saved the kingdom and lived happily ever after. Isn't that a wonderful bedtime story?"

Cain turned away from the window, facing his Glitch and settling his arms around his waist. He pressed a soft kiss to those delicate lips. "I think I should be the rakishly gorgeous one." He reached up and plucked a curl that sat just to the left of Glitch's newly formed scar.

Glitch grinned happily and ran his own hand through Cain's short blonde hair. "So long as I get to keep you, you can be whichever you want."

His pale face turned serious and brown eyes met blue with an earnest sort of intensity. "Whatever it is that you think you need to keep punishing yourself for, I've forgiven it a long time ago. I know you never meant to hurt me, would never dream of hurting me. I know that, why can't you?"

Glitch took Cain's hand and held it against his heart. Cain could feel it beating steadily beneath his palm, even as his fingertips stretched to trace the scar the bullet left. "My heart is beating because of you. It's beating for you. This is what's real. I'm here, Wyatt. I'm real, and I'm alive and warm in your arms. You can feel that, can't you?"

There was that smile again. That precious, gorgeous, beautiful smile. "Well, at least I would be warm if we were in bed. It's cold over here." He pressed a kiss to Cain's lips, soft and full of promises, then stepped back, tugging at his hand. "Let's go back to bed."

Cain smiled. He was tired of feeling cold. "Anything you want, sweetheart." He stepped forward and scooped Glitch into his arms, awarded with a yelp and a lot of giggling as he carried his very happy lover back to their bed. Later, when they were both snuggled under the covers and truly warm in each others arms, Wyatt Cain whispered into the darkness, "I'm keeping my miracle, dammit."