Title: How to Destroy Yourself 1/?

Rating: R

Warnings: Mentions of rape, language, violence, mens touching.

(posted on lj communities tinandstraw and glitchwyatt)

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-The problem with remembering the things that you wanted to remember is that you manage to remember the things that you so desperately tried to forget.-

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The O.Z. had been out of the witch's clutches for just shy of half an annual. During this time everyone had been busy putting what fragmented pieces they could manage to scrape up of the Outer Zone back together. It evident that it would be years before the damage that the possessed Azkadellia caused would be erased as best it could.

Every waking moment was a reminder to all involved that nothing would ever be the same. Luckily, they had DG to remind them that a world without change is just boring.

The Queen and King took their places on the throne as the two princesses resumed their training and studies necessary to rule. Azkadellia did not agree with the decision to allow her to be prepared for a place in power, but was quickly quieted when DG grudgingly agreed to the training and argued that if she was forced to do it, her sister had to do it too. No one had the extreme amount of patience needed to battle her when she got something stuck into her head. There was no winning against her stubborn nature.

Raw had spent most of his time searching for what was left of his people. Those that were left were few and far between, many killed for the witch's purposes. He was constantly going back and forth from the palace and his travels, keeping his friends updated and checking in on Kalm, whom the queen insisted stay there and that she would be more than happy to take care of him personally. No one questioned this decision, as they were all well aware that the Queen had missed out on raising her own children normally and that this was her chance to enjoy that experience.

Both of the Cain men were busy with reconstructing the Outer Zone. Jeb had taken a position as a highly revered officer and was almost instantly recognized by the people for his ambition and loyalty to the royal family. Wyatt had taken a position closer to his new friends as head of the guard in the palace. When the job was originally offered to him, he had politely declined under the impression that it would be a cushy and boring position. Within a week of the witch being removed from power there had been at least half a dozen well planned attacks inside the palace, causing Wyatt to change his mind. While it was amusing to find DG and Az, and sometimes an angry Glitch, hovering over unconscious Longcoats waiting for someone to clean up the mess, it was wasting valuable time and putting the royal family, the royal adviser, and even Kalm in harms way.

The people of the O.Z. had different ways of adapting to the change. There were those that ran out at the first sign of the end of the witch's reign with every intention of signing up for anything they might be useful for. Then there were those that offered what they could and those that chose to stay uninvolved.

The Underground was another story. It remained as untouched by law as it had before, the now jobless Longcoats and Witch supporters crawled around the place like rodents infesting a poorly protected kitchen. While the Underground had been a place to be feared during the Witch's control, it was now a death trap to anyone that wasn't "truly evil" (as Jeb referred to them). The lesser convicts, small time thieves and tricksters were quickly flushed out by the more violent and sadistic group. Even at half an annual of work, the reconstruction of the O.Z. did not have the time nor the effort to put towards thwarting what ever horrid world the rats were concocting down there. While the Tin Men's numbers were increasing, it would take time to gain enough numbers as well as adequately train them to not get themselves killed.

As for people that should try not to get themselves killed, Glitch did not seem to have that particular talent until the last moment of a predicament. The man had been running around like a maniac trying to put what he could into order, yet managing to cause more chaos than one would think is possible for a head case. On several occasions he had locked himself in rooms that were rarely used, only to be found hours after he had been noticed missing at dinner. Most if not all of those times, he was found by Wyatt Cain. Cain had been furious at first, but upon finding the royal adviser avoiding eye contact and rushing out of the room in a flurry of embarrassment and apologies, he gave up trying to reprimand Glitch for what really couldn't be helped. On the other hand, during the times he was locked away, Glitch managed to write down enough of his thoughts that he was able to work with the scientists and magic users lurking around the palace on a way to reattach his other half of a brain.

Cain asked him once how he planned on successfully reuniting his brain.

Glitch responded by saying "You know what they say! What goes up must come down."

Cain replied with "And an object in motion stays in motion."

"Exactly!" Glitch exclaimed before quickly frowning in confusion. "No no, that wasn't it." Cain rolled his eyes and patted the head case on the back. He opted to refrain from asking about the surgery a second time.

On the day that the studies had been completed, the Queen insisted that everyone gather to discuss the change that was about to take place with their close friend. Ahamo had seemed to disagree with this meeting, but was quieted when Glitch insisted in front of everyone that it was his own suggestion that led to it.

In short, everyone feared the change that would be taking place. Glitch was afraid of losing his friends and his friends were afraid of losing him. However, it was something that needed to be done. He insisted that this sacrifice was needed in order to negate his last sacrifice. Cain insisted that this particular logic made absolutely no sense, but trying to argue logic with Glitch really was an impossible task. Everyone had their own point to insist. If an outsider were listening in, they would insist that everyone was insisting on everything possible to insist on. By the end of the meeting, the word had been repeated so many times that no one could remember if they were saying it correctly any more.

The next day, Glitch got his brain back.

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Ambrose woke up with a slight throbbing pain on the top of his skull. That was until he opened his eyes. Then it was a severely debilitating and blinding pain that caused him to gasp and then groan and proceed to shut his eyes once again. He felt someone nudge his lips open and pour a small amount of water into his mouth, which he gratefully swallowed. A few moments later he was almost asleep, vaguely thinking about what exactly had been in that water to subside the pain so quickly.

It was two days before the herb in the water had worn off and Ambrose woke up again. His sleep had been dreamless, an effect of the healing properties of the drink. He opened his eyes to the view of DG looming over his bed.

"You're awake! He's awake! How do you feel?" Her voice was louder than it needed to be and it caused him to wince. He'd prefer a hang over any day. Movement from the side of the room made him aware of Wyatt's presence. Cain began to speak in a much lower voice, which Ambrose silently thanked the man for.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Cain grinned, but his eyes betrayed the act. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction, something to let him know if the man laying there staring at them even knew who they were.

Ambrose tried his hardest to come up with something to say, or even the capacity to verbalize it, but nothing came out but a short grunt followed by a longer more irritated grunt.

DG raised an eyebrow, "Really? Is that all? Alright, well the doctors said you'd have to work on those motor functions for a while. Now that you're conscious, it shouldn't take long to recover them fully." She moved closer to plop down on the side of the bed. "They also said that I should remind you that you're not going to remember everything all at once. The magic used to heal you was set to wear off gradually, so it should take a few days before you're at full function."

Cain shifted nervously at their side, "So, do you remember us at least?"

Nodding slowly, Ambrose turned to face the blond to offer a faint smile. The expression was cut short with a confused look and a deeper frown. Ambrose was starting to remember their adventures, and the consequences that went with his actions. He was consumed by these memories and began to ignore the two watching over him. DG left after a few hours and others came to visit him from time to time. Cain barely left his side for the rest of the day, well into the next morning. Ambrose was aware of his presence, but there was nothing he could do to acknowledge it at that point, for his mind was over flowing with things that he had been trying so very hard to remember. It was when Cain had finally left to take care of his duties that Ambrose started to really regret having his brain placed back in is head.

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Cain tried his best to quietly sneak into Ambrose's quarters well past midnight. He quickly realized that it did not make a difference as the royal adviser was almost catatonic. Wyatt watched Ambrose stare at the ceiling for a few minutes before entering further into the room. It wasn't until he had gotten to the chair he had strategically placed next to the bed to keep an eye on the recovering man (as well as have a perfect view of the door) that he realized something wasn't right. The paler man laid silently without expression, but it was obvious that it hadn't been long since he had cried. His cheeks were tear stained and his once child like eyes were now glassy and red.

Wyatt Cain, the protector of the royal family and their closest friends, including the man before him, did not know what to do other than sit and wait.

So he did.

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There had been times that he had wished he had just told them what they wanted to know. Months had been taken just to try to pry the information out of him through what ever means necessary before deciding to just take poke around as they pleased and physically remove it from him. It wasn't their first choice, he would have been so benificial to the witch if he would just cooperate. Instead, he chose to remain silent and forced them to attempt a surgery that could quite possibly kill him and leave them with nothing.

He shouldn't have been able to survive that time before the surgery. He really shouldn't have. There had been so much blood, so much pain. They beat him repeatedly, making sure to never damage his precious brain. They took advantage of him in what ever way they could, physically and mentally destroying him. He never stopped pleading for it to end, yet never once gave a bit of useful information.

Even at the end, he pleaded. It was useless, for even the man above him had explained to him not a few hours before his head was being carved into, "No point in keeping what is broken" the surgeon gleefully explained, "You just salvage what is useful and discard the rest".

As Ambrose drifted off into a fitful slumber on that operating table, all he could think was that the man had been right. Although he had previously had his moments, at this point, he was completely and utterly useless.

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It was Cain's job to watch over Ambrose. The queen had said so. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had almost demanded the job and that he would have done so whether she had told him to or not. He needed to be there. He owed Glitch for more than just saving his life when he almost froze to death. He owed him for saving him from himself. At first he had figured that DG's behavior would be what kept him from having time to fall headfirst into his own nightmares, yet it was Glitch's inane conversations and annoyingly insightful comments that kept him going. It gave him time to think without letting him drown in his own memories.

Somehow Glitch had become his closest friend and Cain had no idea how he hadn't noticed. He needed Glitch, or Ambrose or whatever name that man wanted to be called, to wake up and keep him company.

Every time he closed his eyes, he'd remember his life in that tin suit. The first few days, he had been torn between anger, fear and sorrow. He cried for his son and wife, hoping with every blink of his eyes and every breath that he took that the hologram before him would stop and his family would walk out of the house with open arms and pull him out of his prison.

As the days became weeks and the weeks ran into months and time lost any meaning or purpose, he just stood and watched. There were times where he would remember something irrelevant, such as missions he had taken part in as a Tin Man, but the guilt of ignoring the images before him hurt just as badly as watching them, if not more. His eyes lost focus of everything and everything, the hologram played in his mind whether he chose to watch it or not. Memories would only mingle with the horror and his entire past became that one moment.

According to Wyatt Cain, there is nothing more painful than remembering.

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There had been talk of an uprising in the underground. Every rumor led directly back to Zero, the man that was locked up securely in a dark cell, with no human contact. Even food was given through what was more or less a pipe leading from some unknown place to a bucket. No one could figure out how someone in that position would be able to communicate with those that might want to cause trouble to the reconstructing kingdom.

Zero constantly thought of how he had been a coward. He had given in so easily, choosing his own safety over the witch's cause. If she hadn't been defeated, she would have hunted him down and killed him in the most painful way imaginable, or quite possibly worse. In what he considered sheer luck, she had been destroyed. Now he had to redeem himself in order to be saved from the little hell that had been prepared for him. The thing about bad people is that they are more than likely to know how to do sneaky things in the most horrible ways. Such as sending scouts that appeared to be of the rodent nature to keep in contact with him, yet not bothering to train the things to avoid viciously attack him while he was sleeping, or worse yet, while he was relieving himself. Perhaps they had been trained to do just that. Either way, it wasn't amusing in the least.

He would be released from this prison and he would make that Tin Man and head case pay. It would be his pleasure to describe the death of that simple woman in great detail before he killed Cain. It would be even more amusing to make that adviser remember ever little thing he had gone through before he was graciously relieved of half his brain. Zero wondered if he shouldn't keep the law man around just to watch their fear ferment in each other's pain. Then he would kill them together. After that, well the whole royal family could use with a good cleaning out. After all, it was power he was after, nothing else really.

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Cain had been grateful when Ambrose had fully awaken post surgery. Even a thin set smile and a lackluster "Hello" was enough to give him hope that Glitch was still roaming around somewhere in that tender skull. However, with each moment it became more evident that something wasn't right. The Ambrose he had seen in Glitch's memories hadn't been as full of remorse and soft spoken, which was definitely saying something. The change was inevitable, especially with the events that had occurred, but the pain that was pouring through Ambrose's gaze with every look was from something else entirely. Cain understood that Ambrose felt responsible for the Sun Seeder being taken advantage of, as well as other inventions, but Glitch had warmed up to forgiving himself even if only a little bit. That was not reflected in this Ambrose in the least.

Self loathing Ambrose seemed to be quite the scary individual. On many occasions he was seen storming down halls with a look of absolute anger, yet no one stopped him to ask why. They were too afraid to. At meals, he was silent and barely ate. The only contribution he made was a soft clicking noise that grew louder as the days passed. During one of his periodic checkups, the doctor commented that Ambrose should try to avoid grinding his jaw. The only response from the advisor was a thin lipped nod followed by a quick exit and the faint receding popping noise that proved he wasn't about to let go of that particular habit.

Ambrose massaged his jaw as he glared at his reflection in the mirror by his night stand. Why should I stop grinding my jaw now? I've done so for as long as I can remember, he thought. The muscles were sore and it was becoming more and more difficult to open his mouth without discomfort. He often woke up unable to part his upper teeth from the bottom more than a few centimeters. He honestly couldn't remember it ever being that bad, but it wasn't something he did on purpose. It was, however, something that was his. No matter what he had gone through, it was a piece of him that had always held true. They couldn't take that away from him, full brain or not.

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Cain winced every time he heard that popping noise. He was well aware that there was no way it couldn't be painful to the other man. Every attempt he made to confront Ambrose about it was thwarted by the advisor himself. Cain did not receive the cold glares that others had, but was constantly met with an expression that told him Not now, please. It hurts too much, I need time to sort myself before I can talk to anyone. The first time he had seen that look, he barely suppressed a choking noise. Cain did manage to make it to his own room before covering his face with his hands and yelling at the top of his lungs.

He needed Glitch. Cain needed to be selfish.

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He cried out in pain as they laughed an one man kicked his ribs again and another aimed for his kneecap. Two weeks he had been in this hell and he had the blood stains and broken bones to prove it. Two days ago, that had been different. That had been the day that he was violated in the most personal way. Even as he was being beaten, there was a small part of his mind that wanted the day of the surgery to arrive, if only to be able to forget.

If only Cain had shot the damn thing.

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Ambrose woke up from another vivid nightmare to the sound of someone pounding on his chamber door.

"Ambrose! Open the door! GLITCH!" Ambrose pulled himself out of bed and stomped over to the door, opening it to face a very agitated looking Wyatt.

"What? Didn't feel the need to break down the door too? You know, for dramatic effect." Ambrose's words held the most sour stench of sarcasm, but angered features softened when he noticed that Cain looked frantic. Cain was the epitome of stoicism. He wasn't supposed to look frantic.

"It's Zero. He's gone." Cain pushed out the words in a growl through tightly clenched teeth.

Ambrose responded less than gracefully by running around his room grabbing anything that even half resembled an outfit and attempting to throw it on while trying to throw off his bed clothing at the same time. While it wasn't graceful, Cain noticed that it was done with an odd amount of efficiency. He also noticed that the top of Ambrose's head was not the only part of him that contained distinctive thick pink scars. His flesh was littered with them, mostly on but not limited to his torso, also running along his legs and arms.

The ex-head case finished dressing and finally noticed he was being stared at. Cain was slightly squinting and with his teeth still clenched tightly, he was frowning.

Ambrose raised one eyebrow and gave a faint half hearted smile. "Well, now you know what the striped undershirt is for."

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(TBC)