AN: Ah, so good to have a story that's finished for once. Now if I could only get the others done.... A project for another day, I suppose! Hope this last chapter is all that you thought it would be! If not...I am truly sorry. This wasn't meant to be a very long fic, and so I didn't make it as such. Though I do think it could have been so much more, if I'd had the time and patience to make it so. Anyway, enjoy this very last installment! Good day to you, Kats and Kittens!

Chapter Six: Sun

It is the brightest that the two suns have ever been. DG and her family have taken advantage of the weather, deciding a picnic and a swim at Finaqua to be the perfect summer outing.

Ambrose is busy disassembling the machine that has caused so much trouble. And Cain is busy . . . doing nothing. He sits at the inventor's desk, "recuperating" and watching the other man work. Jeb has insisted that there is no work for Cain outside the palace walls, and Ambrose has insisted that there is no work for him in the lab.

"Because I don't understand it?" the tin man had asked a little indignantly.

Offering him a patient smile, Ambrose had said, "Because I don't understand it."

And that had been that.

"Ambrose, I can't sit here for much longer," Cain calls, shifting uncomfortably on the work bench.

The inventor glances at the other man over a particularly nasty-looking piece of machinery, his fingers entangled in wires. He hides a smile as he watches Cain reach across the desk and fiddle with a small invention with a red button that makes a rather loud noise when pressed.

Cain's curiosity wins out, of course, and he nearly falls off the bench when the loudest siren he has ever heard sounds in his ears. Ambrose bites his bottom lip, quelling the laughter bubbling up in his throat and attempting an admonishing look before making his way out of the metal jungle.

"Honestly, Wyatt, how am I supposed to get any work done with you making such a ruckus?"

Cain shakes his head, wiggling a finger in his ear before shouting, "What?"

Ambrose sighs, turning back to the machine with a nervous look. The tin man notices it immediately and stands, making his way towards the other man. The inventor takes a breath, grasping a large handle and carefully pulling it downward. He winces as it clicks into place, taking a step back to where Cain stands. The device gives a sudden lurch before groaning to a halt. Ambrose holds his breath until the very last cog stops whirring, feeling the tin man's inquiring gaze on him.

"I think that's it," the inventor says breathlessly, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Really?" Cain asks, a grin forming on his own face. "That's it?"

"Ozma, I hope so," Ambrose laughs airily, jumping into the other man's awaiting arms. Cain swings him around, laughing as the inventor holds him tighter.

Warm sunlight filters in through the windows, reflecting off the dust wafting from the red, billowing curtains as the two dance to music that only they can hear.

End.

AN: Ah, sweet fin. How thee drips from these lips with such.... Yes, that is quite enough of that. Later, Gators! Catch you all on the flip side. :)