Rusty Cage

[merideath]

Title: Rusty Cage
Author: merigirl
Characters/Pairing: Cain, DG
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A little Cain introspection and angst while he is in the iron maiden and in the aftermath. Nightmares, hope and a little bit of DG.
Warning: none. Not beta'd this was swirling around my head this morning so I thought I best write it down. I don't normally do angst but I couldn't resist. I must admit to the idea worming into my brain after listing to the Johnny Cash version of Rusty Cage. 
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, especially not the Tin Man, if I did there would have been more epic battle scenes and a real ending to it. 
Word Count: 1418

Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound of the iron maiden as it functioned, pumping stale air. The metallic taste flooding nose and mouth, seeping into down into lungs, blood, skin, clawing down his throat and into his belly. Muscles staining but there is no movement beyond the curling of his toes, hands in tight fists long nails cutting into the palms of his hands. Open wounds that he imagines bleed not red but silver, rust, tainted tin and black bitter decay. The wounds he inflicts on himself do not stay, they tingle with sparks of magic that makes his skin crawl. That is the wonder and horror of the iron maiden.  A tin suit for a Tin Man.  The function of the suit is to keep you alive, built for the royal hospital and twisted by the sorceress into a torture device. Binding magic that keeps your heart pumping blood in your veins long after your soul has burn to a cinder.

Tick. Tick. Tick. At night it is the only thing that he can here, the ticking of his prison long after the son has set and the projector has stilled. There are few stars to be seen from the thick dirty glass, just the darkness of the tree and the house. He doesn’t have to see his demons to know they are there. He can hear every word ever scream echoing through his mind. His mind swirls with chaos and the dark temptation of madness. He knows he isn’t really sane any more. The chaos, the anger, and the desire for revenge against Zero have changed him.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The suit cycles through again, stale puffs of hair reeking of metal, sweat and pain. His body aches from the stillness, what is left of his rusty tattered soul aches and mourns for his family. He closes his eyes against the scene playing over and over again. Adora. Jeb. He tells himself lies, and half truths. It is better to believe they are dead and buried than suffering this torture.

Tick. Tick. Tick. When he first woke within the suit, feeling the suit’s magic crawling across his skin, slowly healing the bruises, the cuts, working deep down into aching muscles and cracked bones, he screamed and screamed with dawning horror, unable to move, unable to look away. Trapped.  No escape. He is in stasis, but his mind his free, his eyes can see, his ears can hear the beating over and over again. Adora. Jeb. Zero. He prays to all the gods named and unnamed, he prays for freedom, for revenge, for Adora, for Jeb. He can’t remember when the prayers stop forming on his tongue, stop falling from his lips. Over and over the scene plays before him, he knows every moment, every second as the cycles and annuals pass, the suns and moons dance across the sky. The scene is burned into his brain. His heart hardens, freezes, rusts away. His soul is dead. Wyatt Cain the Tin Man is dead. Cain is a heartless monster, locked in a rusty cage, breathing for revenge.

Tick. Tick. Tick. He hears the suit in his dreams long after he is rescued by a wayward Slipper and a zipperhead. He is free of his prison, his rusty cage and running, but the chaos burns brightly behind his cold eyes. He locks the madness away deep within, behind mental doors and rusted chains. He locks the madness away. He is not a man he is an empty shell, rusted out, fractured, cold, faithless and forsaken. He helps the Kid because it is what he was trained to do, and a part of him wants to see salvation in her innocent eyes, redemption for the bitter man he has become. He looks at his hands, at the crescent shaped silvery scars on his palms, his hands form fists and a bitter smile flickers across his lips.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Jeb is alive, it’s a miracle, and it is more punishment. The boy he knew is now a man grown and tainted by the same bitterness and cynicism that fill every breath of clean air he takes. His son is alive. His heart beats and bleeds again, for his son is ever the image of his mother, with Adora’s hair and hazel eyes. Pain spikes through him and he wonders if his heart will burst with pride, love, happiness. She has done this, the Kid, the princess, DG. Without her he would still be that cold creature she pulled from the suit, the monster waiting to be.  

Tick. Tick. Tick. Nightmare bleed into reality, he awakes to find his body rigid, cold sweat soaking the sheets that twist around his body, fists head tightly at his sides. Ding dong the witch is dead, her puppet executed and still his is a prisoner in his mind. Still locked in that rusty cage. Chaos swirls around his head and he can taste metal in the back of his throat. He isn’t alone, there is something beside him. His right hand twitches, reaches for his gun. A warm hand on his chest stills him. A hand over his heart. Madness burns behind his pale eyes as he opens them. She is there, she is always there. Tears stream down her face, but she says nothing. A dark haired princess in a broken castle, in a broken zone, on the wrong side of the rainbow.

He pushes the chaos back for her, locks it away so her knowing eyes won’t see the darkness within see the demons that still plague him. She has her own demons riding the darkness, they all do. He reaches up to brush her tears away. He knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s not appropriate for him to touch her, for her to be here in his room, perched on the edge of his bed. Knows that when his nightmares are destroying him that she will come, no matter the doors that are locked between them or how much the queen rages against her choices. He brushes her tears away with calloused fingertips and she wraps her small hands around his to brush her lips against the crescent shaped scars on his palms.

At night when the chaos breaks free and his vision fills with shadows and nightmares until he is lost within himself she brings him back. She breathes life and light back into him. He cannot push her away, he is bound to her the same was she has bound herself to him. He cannot admit it, cannot say that he loves her but he knows that without her he would fall into the chaos, into the dark and cold of madness.

In the daylight he watches her, fights for her, commands men for her, stands beside her to mend this broken land, to bring light back to the Outer Zone. In the day they argue, they tease, they talk for hours. In the dark she is sentinel against his demons, waking him from his dreams, guarding his heart and piecing it back together. In the night there are no words spoken, only the beating of hearts and silent sobs.

He cannot say he loves her, but he cannot live without her. He is cold but her light makes his soul burn. She makes the nightmares end. She makes the ticking of his demons still. She makes his heart beat again. He fears that she feels the same. He fears that one day the nightmares will end and she will not be there when he wakes. He fears the chaos and madness within will drive her away from him. He cannot say he loves her, for a different madness likes that way. A madness he is sure he has fallen into.

He is not a brave man. He is not a good man. He is no longer a Tin Man. He is a broken man standing on the on the edge of the abyss. Chaos and redemption. He is not whole, will never be whole again, but for her he would do anything. For her he fights back the cold and the demons. For her he keeps breathing, keeps living. For her he has found hope. Hope for the future. Hope that one day the tick, tick, tick of his demons will end. Hope that the nightmares will fade away. For now in the darkness they hold onto each other, silent tears falling as her light burns the shadows away.

Comments

[caitriona-3.livejournal.com]

I like this. I really do. Angst is not my thing usually, but I like how you show that Cain doesn't come out of that suit all hunky-dory. Being locked in like that would definitely give a sense of madness to a person. Well done.

[merigirl.livejournal.com]

thank you. I think that Cain can compartmentalize very well. Its the only way that he could survive 8 years forgotten. He is no way sane, but can open and lock internal doors on his emotions and his being crazy as a box of frogs.

I like small doses of angst, when there is laughter, adventure, love, etc. The only thing I cant read is character death fics because that screws with my head to much and I cry enough for fictional characters as it is!

[klcthebookworm.livejournal.com]

It's beautifully written. I don't want to take that away from it.

But Wyatt Cain the impossibly broken man troupe just makes me sigh every time I read it. So much so, its rebuttal became a large portion of my fanon for his character. (And I apologize for that first sentence. I think coding ate part of it and I don't have time to fix it right now.) I'm offering as food for thought, not trying to bash your choices.

[merigirl.livejournal.com]

I shall not take any offence, and promise to read that later when I'm home again. I wouldn't normally write him so broken but the plotbunny bit me and I couldn't not write it.

For the record the More dominate (pun intended) Cain in my head is cracked but not utterly broken, and has a sense of humor too. What can I say my more depression suffering plotbunny ran rampant through my noggin. *waves stick around menacingly at plotbunnies*

[klcthebookworm.livejournal.com]

I'd like to know what you think after you read it. Admittedly, the genesis was reading way too many post that had this undertone of "Wyatt Cain should be locked up because he's a psycho monster thanks to the torture." Which had me calling BS because that wasn't what I saw on the screen. But everybody does have angsty moments.

[merigirl.livejournal.com]

I think I was trying for a bit of a beauty in the breakdown sort of angst with some bit of hope in the end. That he can function in the day but sometime the nights haunt him. Not my preferred cup of tea. I think Cain would get things done till the war was over then have a minor bit of a breakdown then dust himself off and keep going. I tend to keep to the fics that walk on the lighter side. I don't mind some darkness, and with Cain there will always be demons but he is a good man no matter what his internal voices say.

The only thing that has made me peevish in what I read recently is where both princesses end up with a Cain each. I must have read 5 recently, and though they were beautifully written I just fail to see the Jeb in my head separating Az from the witch so easily and happy go luckily.

I'm in Starbucks now. I have coffee. I am happy.

[klcthebookworm.livejournal.com]

"Rusty Cage" is beautiful, so I think you achieved.

The only thing that has made me peevish in what I read recently is where both princesses end up with a Cain each. I must have read 5 recently, and though they were beautifully written I just fail to see the Jeb in my head separating Az from the witch so easily and happy go luckily. It doesn't make me peevish, because I can see the symmetry that the witch is fully gone if a Resistance leader hooks up with the former Sorceress. Az/Glitch seized my brain first (and how else do you explain his getting left behind at the Northern Palace?) and refuses to let go.

[merigirl.livejournal.com]

aww thank you. *glows*

I have read through your fanon and think you have some wonderful insights into Wyatt Cain. I enjoyed reading it and wrapping my head around thoughts I didn't have before. That the projection is what keeps him sane... that is fantastic irony. Love it. He has issues but because he was a strong man before he went in, the suit, and the perceived death of his family would not break him. Cracks and fissures may be there but he was raised right and Adora had his back and would not have would have told him that they were in it together and would stand together until the end. I shall go back and re-read your fanon, it is very inspiring.

I do think he would end up in the Army, based on the whole leading men into battle before comment. In my fanon Wyatt ran away to join the army when he was 15 (That's where Jeb gets it from), he is then in the army for a few years, perhaps raises to the rank of lieutenant when he is shot (perhaps saving the Queen or Mystic Man) and ends up transferred into the City Hospital where Adora is a nurse and won't take his shit. As a reward he gets a medal and then becomes a Tin Man to be in the City with the nurse he has fallen in love with. I haven't written this but it's in my head and I can't shake it.

I seized on Az/Glitch too, though not as fiercely as DG/Cain. I imagine on the rare times when the witch is dormant that Az sneaks down to talk to Brain!Ambrose, (obviously the brain knows the difference between the sorceress and poor Az). *nods*

...also I may have messed up this reply comment.. sorry if you has posted twice.

[klcthebookworm.livejournal.com]

That the projection is what keeps him sane... that is fantastic irony. -- What Memories Can Bring covers what happens to people in iron suits without the projections.

As a reward he gets a medal and then becomes a Tin Man to be in the City with the nurse he has fallen in love with. I haven't written this but it's in my head and I can't shake it. -- I like it. My muse won't go back to their courtship, probably because she has more fun with DG/Cain courtship. I do get flashes of details from their married life.

I seized on Az/Glitch too, though not as fiercely as DG/Cain. I imagine on the rare times when the witch is dormant that Az sneaks down to talk to Brain!Ambrose, (obviously the brain knows the difference between the sorceress and poor Az). *nods* -- Now that is a heartbreaking image, you must do something with that.

[merigirl.livejournal.com]

*whispers* instead of doing what I should be doing I have started a fic of Az talking to Ambrose's brain. I think you might be a bad influence on me. ;oP Not that that is a bad thing. I'm pretty rotten to begin with.

Will read What Memories Can Bring tomorrow with coffee and a more functional brain. I will never get my crafting done if I keep writing things will I?

Thank you for a very interesting and entertaining thread chat.

[klcthebookworm.livejournal.com]

Apparently I'm a bad influence on myself. I didn't get any writing done today.

You're welcome. :)