A/N: I had meant for this to be short, as a way to honor three of my favorite characters from my favorite miniseries. And then, somehow, along the way it ran away from me.

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DG's happily-ever-after wasn't quite what she had hoped for.

The witch who had resided inside Azkadellia—the old witch, the one people still whispered had once faced off with DG's ancestor, and lost her shoes in the process—had done so much damage to the O.Z. that it seemed irreparable.

Azkadellia rarely spoke, Glitch was dealing with the aftermath of reacquainting himself with Ambrose, and Raw hadn't strayed from the side of the other three seers who had managed to escape the witch's wrath. Her parents had relocated to the Emerald City, together, to oversee the reconstruction, but there was still a lot of animosity towards the royal family that hadn't been fully quelled.

And Wyatt Cain . . . he'd disappeared. Nobody knew where, or for how long, but DG suspected she, at least, knew why. He had lost more than anyone else that she knew of. He'd lost his job, his wife, his respect, the childhood of his son, and his closest friend, the Mystic Man.

Her mother had restored the Tin Men, had offered to restore one Mr. Wyatt Cain to his former post, but he'd turned her down. Just as his son, Jeb, had also done.

There was so much pain after the witch had been vanquished, and DG didn't know what to do. Az wouldn't talk to her, Glitch was busy trying to merge his two selves together and still help act as counsel to her mother, and Raw had his hands full with trying to help mend his own broken tribe. And her parents were so busy with their duties that they never came by to visit, nor did they invite DG or Az to come stay with them. Their parents wrote letters, but it seemed like an afterthought, rather than an intense need to communicate.

She sighed and buried her face in her knees as she sat stationary on her mother's swing in Finaqua. She missed the days when she was just DG, the farm-girl rebel from Texas, who wasn't a princess with crazy powers and a crazier destiny. She missed the days with her robot parents, before she'd found out they were robots, and the happy times she'd had growing up. She missed the days when she was just DG, the misplaced girl traipsing through the O.Z., trying to protect her friends and find her parents—before she'd learned that everything that had gone so terribly wrong in the O.Z. was her fault.

Some princess she'd turned out to be.

The people might blame her mother or sister for what had happened, but the truth was, it was nobody else's fault but DG's.

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Eventually, as the days turned into weeks, DG found solace again in painting. She'd never questioned where the paints and other supplies had come from when they'd suddenly appeared in her bedroom; she'd simply been relieved that someone had cared enough to relieve her boredom.

There were a minimal amount of personnel in Finaqua—or, at least, DG assumed there was, because although she never saw a servant, her clothes were always disappeared, only to return cleaned and hung in her wardrobe, and she always seemed to return to the dining room to find it full of more than enough food for herself and Az, though they never seemed to eat together. Whoever had left her the paints had probably been one of the invisible servants running about, so DG didn't think much of it.

Instead, she just painted away her waking hours.

After a few days of painting the scenery around her, DG's boredom drew her to paint and sketch from her memories instead. At first, she'd drawn sketch after sketch of her old Kansas home, or her former parents, but eventually, she found herself painting Az, her friends in the O.Z., her parents, but most of all, she found herself drawing and painting portrait after portrait of Wyatt Cain.

The more she drew, the more she missed him, and the more she questioned why she missed him.

Her heart whispered the answer, but DG's ears never quite seemed to hear it.

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DG had been painting Wyatt Cain in the moments after his release, when he'd stood proud, shaven, and beautiful, when Az found her on the pavilion nearly two months after their arrival in Finaqua.

"I'm sorry," Az said simply, leaning against one of the pillars.

DG froze, both at Az's sudden words, and at being caught painting Wyatt, but then she shrugged to herself. Az had no one to tell—she was as trapped here as DG was. Instead, she focused on Az's words.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, setting down her paints and her brush. She wiped her bangs from her face with her sleeve, grateful that she'd argued with the royal tailor weeks back until he'd agreed not to give her any fancy dresses or skirts. Besides, what was the point of dressing up out here, when there was no one to see?

Az fidgeted with the strings of her golden corset—she had done away with the elaborate costumes of the witch, but Az still seemed to prefer a more adult wardrobe than DG did. If it wasn't for the vast personality differences, someone still might have mistaken Az, but there was no faking the sudden timidity her sister displayed.

"I know you hate being trapped here with me," Az said, her voice cracking. "I know you want to travel and go places, and I know you miss your friends."

DG stopped and really looked at her sister, and it was then that she saw just how much her sister's heart had been broken by the witch. Az looked pitiful, like she felt that she deserved to be abandoned and alone.

"It's not your fault," she reassured Az, because it wasn't. DG had been the one who'd released the witch, and she'd also been the one who'd broken their bond and let Az be possessed. "I don't hate being here with you."

When Az sniffled, DG pulled her into a hug. Clearly, Az didn't believe in herself, nor did she think anyone had a reason to care for her any longer.

"I love you, Az," she said quietly, rubbing her hands up and down Az's back. "And our parents do, too. They sent us here to heal."

She thought for the first time that perhaps she'd been wrong. Perhaps their parents hadn't abandoned either of them, but rather cared for them more than DG had ever realized. In sending them here, together, they could heal, while their parents devoted their time to making the O.Z. a place they could return to, and be welcomed.

"They want us to come home when we're ready," DG continued, sniffling herself.

Az offered DG a wan smile. "You think I can go back, Deej?"

"I know you can." DG squeezed her sister. Az would heal, and they'd go back together, but for now, her sister needed a distraction just as much as DG did from her own thoughts. "Would you like to paint?" She held up a spare brush for her sister to use.

The smile Az offered her was the brightest smile DG had ever seen.

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The next few weeks passed quickly, and before DG knew it, four months had passed since they'd arrived in Finaqua. She spent most of her days with Az now, and Az was gradually opening up more. As DG taught Az about Kansas and painting, Az taught DG the many skills she'd learned herself, from sewing, to dancing, to her many magical talents.

The day Wyatt Cain reentered her life, however, was not one of those days. Instead, it was a day where DG had finally managed to coax Az into the clear waters of Finaqua—and both girls had jumped and splashed about in their undergarments, because, really, it wasn't like there was anyone to notice.

Except that morning, there was.

Wyatt Cain stood on the sandy bank of the lake, arms folded across his chest, and laughed when DG had finally noticed him—and promptly slipped on the slick lake sand and fallen right on her rump with a rather loud splash.

For the first time that DG could recall, Az had laughed as well.

DG drew herself out of the lake water with as much pride as she could muster, and then swept her way out of the water.

Stop laughing at me! she'd wanted to say, but all that came out as she stood before Wyatt Cain was, "You're back."

He sobered. The smile he offered her then was so small, but so sincere that her eyes seemed to burn with unshed tears. "I'm back," he agreed.

DG didn't stop to think about her lack of clothing, or the fact that she was drenched. She reached out to pull him into a hug, but he beat her to it.

"I'm back, kid," he repeated, "so try to stay out of trouble this time, eh?"

As he squeezed her, she grinned and stole his hat, placing it on top of her own head. "Mr. Cain," she said primly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He snorted. "I know better," he said as he released her, though he made no efforts to retrieve his hat. Instead, he turned to face Az, who was making her own way out of the water. "Would you mind if I stayed in Finaqua?"

"I'd mind it more," Az said slowly, with a meaningful look at DG, "if you didn't." With that, Az gathered her dress from where it had been draped carefully over their mother's swing, and redressed, before making her way back to the castle.

"What took you so long?" DG growled as Az walked away.

Wyatt's eyes grew dark—and when had she stopped addressing him as Mr. Cain or Tin Man, even to herself?—and he rubbed his hand over his recently shaved chin. "There were some things that I had to do," he said simply.

DG ached to press him, but she figured it'd be better to let him tell her, in his own time. For now, she'd just bask in the fact that he planned to stay, because god, how she'd missed her friends—and her Tin Man most of all.

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Another week passed, but this time, it was Ambrose who arrived, and his entrance was far more dramatic than Wyatt's had been.

He'd thrown open the double doors of the castle, and shouted, "I'm back, DG!" And then he stood, dressed to the nines, and preened until DG had run into the main entryway and wrapped him into a fierce hug.

"I thought you were helping my mother," DG said as she'd pulled back. Wyatt hovered not too far away, but her sister had stood in the very back wall of the room.

"I am—I was," Ambrose corrected himself. "But, you see, putting two brains back together is a tricky business, and, well, it seemed like it would be better if I took a small break. Besides, this allows me to come visit my dearest friends, and work on these new plans I have for this grand machine that, once I design and build it, is going to—"

"Hey, Glitch," Wyatt interrupted with a wan smile, falling back on the old nickname, "how about no more machines for a little while? I'm still recovering from the last one you made."

Ambrose blanched. "Right, of course," he apologized quickly, but then he immediately brightened with the cheer that had made him such a delight, even as Glitch. "Well! I'm hungry. Let's go find something to eat, shall we?"

Ambrose took both DG and Wyatt by the arm, but he froze when he reached Azkadellia. For several moments, he didn't even seem to breathe, and DG watched as the horror on Az's face grew.

DG opened her mouth to try and do something, but before she could, Ambrose dropped to a deep bow. "Princess Azkadellia," he said softly, "I hope you'll join us for supper."

Both DG and Az cried then, at the acceptance Ambrose so quickly gave to the body of the woman who had hurt him most. But, DG reflected as they made their way to the elaborate dining room of Finaqua, it was Ambrose's acceptance that Az probably needed the most.

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After Ambrose's arrival, the castle seemed more warm and welcoming, but it was their last arrivals that finally brought an air of comfort to the castle nearly three days after Ambrose himself arrived.

Wyatt Cain had begun to join Az and DG when they painted, though he'd refused to paint, and DG was careful not to get caught painting him. Ambrose, however, had no qualms about painting, but he was so terrible at it that it'd become a sort of comic relief. And with every laugh, Az seemed to relax and ground herself more, and DG felt her own guilt slowly start to fade.

When Jeb Cain and Raw had suddenly arrived, however, it brought an entirely different air to Finaqua. DG still couldn't quite say what had happened, but suddenly, the castle felt like home.

Jeb, surprisingly, had reacted very differently to Az than DG would have guessed, and DG was left to assume that Wyatt must have, at some point, filled Jeb in on the details. Instead of hostility, he approached Az with a bemusing gentleness, as though she were a dandelion that would easily blow away if he made the wrong move.

Raw, on the other hand, had begun to sit in with both DG and Az, encouraging them to speak about their feelings when, perhaps, they otherwise wouldn't have.

Just a few weeks after Raw's arrival, DG finally accepted that she'd been a child when the witch had been released, even if she'd been a willful one. She might have erred, but she'd done so with the knowledge of a child, rather than the maturity of an adult. She couldn't blame herself for being scared.

And Az . . . she'd confessed to DG that she'd once hated her sister for abandoning her, but that had been so long ago now. That part, their sisterly bond, had been the easier of her problems to fix. The rest, the acceptance of what Az had done under the influence of the witch, would probably take far longer.

But, to DG's surprise, Jeb had begun to talk to Az about how the people of the O.Z. were doing, and that, more than anything, seemed to do her the most good. Occasionally, he seemed to sneak out at night, because some mornings he gave Az flowers at breakfast—flowers that DG knew for a fact from her days of exploring Finaqua since her return did not grow around the summery palace.

But the flowers delighted Az, and so DG never questioned Jeb. He was helping Az heal, and that was more than DG could have ever hoped for.

And the more time Jeb, Ambrose, and Raw spent consoling and entertaining Az, the more time Wyatt seemed to spend with DG.

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DG had eventually stopped keeping track of time, so she couldn't say for sure exactly when it had happened.

But one morning, when she'd been sitting and relaxing on the banks of Finaqua's waters, buried up to her knees in the lake, Wyatt had sat down besides her. Without a word, he'd taken off his own boots and socks, and rolled up his pants to stretch his own feet into the water.

"I'm not a tin man anymore," he offered into the silence.

"You'll always be a tin man to me," she teased, but the words had seemed wrong as soon as they escaped her. "I mean—that—I—" she fumbled, unsure how of how to correct any damage she might have unknowingly caused.

He gently placed a hand on her arm, cutting off her stuttering. "No, DG," and her breath caught at the way he said her name, "I'm not a tin man anymore. I'm not a lot of things that I used to be."

She considered that for a moment. "I'm not, either," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's a scary feeling, changing."

"It's a part of healing," he clarified, his touch growing a little more firm as he slowly rubbed his fingers along his arm.

DG stared down at his hand in surprise, but he didn't stop, nor did he seem to notice, because he never turned his gaze away from the lake.

"I was a broken man when you found me in that suit, and I was still a broken man when we found Jeb." Wyatt sighed as his other hand pulled his hat off of his head and dropped it to the ground besides him. "Finding Adora's grave didn't help me heal, and neither did defeating Zero or that witch. I thought that if I took some time to help Jeb and his people, and bond with him, that would help. And maybe it did," he clarified after a moment. "But there's no one, not in all of the O.Z., that has inspired me to live again the way you do, DG. I think I've cared for you the moment you risked everything to set me free."

DG's breath caught at the way he'd looked at her then. She'd painted portraits before, of how he might have looked when he offered all of his very being, but she hadn't even come close to the intensity he showed her now. "Wyatt—" she began, but he didn't let her do more than sigh his name.

He kissed her as he twisted his body to pull her into his lap. The water splashed around their legs as he pulled her tighter, but she didn't care, and neither did he. The way he kissed her seemed to give her air, make her feel like she could do anything, but more than that, it made her feel loved. His touch was so gentle, so soft, that it belied the need his kiss inspired.

And she kissed him back with everything she had, because god help them all if he let her go.

"Please don't leave me again," she whispered, feeling helpless as he broke the kiss.

"I'm not leaving, DG," and he sealed the promise with a kiss to the corner of her eye, catching the tear that had escaped. "We'll travel this road together, if you'll have me."

"I'm not leaving you, Wyatt Cain," she told him fiercely, tugging him forward by her grip on his shirt collar into another kiss. "Not after all of this. You've accepted my sister—"

"It wasn't her fault, any more than it was yours," he replied calmly. "You were both kids."

"And you like my friends," she teased, growing more confident by the way he continued to smile at her.

"They're likeable enough, as long as Ambrose doesn't design any other machines." He looked a bit surly at that, and DG laughed.

"And you like me," she announced, shifting in his lap so she could rub his thigh with one hand. "You like me enough to even let me paint you naked."

"I'd say it's rather obvious that I like you," Wyatt grumbled, but then his eyes widened, and he coughed. "You want to paint me naked?"

"Well," DG began with a mischievous smile, "I've painted you just about every other way, so it seems only fair that I paint you naked, too. Besides, you do want to be naked with me, right?"

Wyatt's eyes seemed to bug out of his head for a moment as he stared at her hand that was growing increasingly more and more bold. "Ah, well . . . " he started, and then faltered when her hand shied just inches away from a truly provocative touch. "DG—"

She kissed him deeply before he could think to protest. "I want to paint you naked," she whispered in his ear when she finally broke the kiss. "I want to see you naked."

She wasn't sure if it was her blatant offer, or the way she'd shifted to touch him, but something in Wyatt snapped.

"To hell with the slow path," he snapped, pulling both of them to her feet. "I surrender, DG. Have pity on an old man."

DG smirked as she tugged his shirt off. "I think," she told him as she kissed his jaw, "that you'd look beautiful covered in blue paint. It's my favorite color, Wyatt."

There was a sudden glint in Wyatt's eyes as he dragged them both over to the blanket she'd left a few feet away, and DG knew then that, like so many times before, Wyatt was refusing to back down.

"While you're thinking of that," he rumbled against her, kissing his way down her throat, "I'm going to paint you red. You won't stop blushing for a week."

DG decided much later that she liked the way Wyatt Cain always lived up to his promises.

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Later that evening, DG couldn't get Az's knowing smirk out of her head.

But, she took consolation in the fact that, as Az smelled a tiny pink flower that almost resembled a lily, soon DG would have something to tease her sister about, too.