amedia

oddsbobs asked for "An AU of an important decision they made," and something short and gruesome popped into my head.

"DG, this isn't your fight!" called Glitch.

DG lowered the stick. There were a lot more of those men than there were of her, especially since it didn't look like Glitch would be any help. All she would do was make them even angrier than they were, and they'd probably treat their victims even worse. She sighed. That poor family. Wish I could've helped them.

Glitch suddenly brightened. "I know where I took a wrong turn before! Follow me and we'll get to the Road soon enough."

This time he was actually right. As they crossed through a barren area that obviously used to be farmland, they came across a poor creature webbed into some dead branches with a tough, organic material. Through the webbing they could just make out its whimpers of fear. "Huh," said DG, wishing she had a knife to rescue it with. "You know, Glitch, I don't think I like this O.Z. of yours very much."

"That's all right, DG," said Glitch. "You're not going to have to worry about it any longer. For that matter, neither am I." He pointed.

A silent group of Papay had gathered around them.

DG, Glitch, and Raw were all very delicious, and the Papay were happy... for a while.

oddsbobs had also made the request "Glitch/Cain - It's all a game of chess" and that struck me as a nifty opportunity for something that would be metaphorically slashy, or slashily metaphorical.

The days following the Eclipse were busy ones for everyone. The four companions who had saved the O.Z. would have loved to have spent time together, but each was kept so busy, there was no chance for quiet time.

Until one day, when Ambrose suddenly found himself with, of all things, an evening free. Two meetings and a brain-therapy session had been canceled for various reasons, and the due date of a report he had expected to write had been moved forward by two weeks.

He went down into a room he thought of as the library, a softly-lit room furnished in dark woods and deep colors. Although many books lined the shelves, his eyes were drawn to the intricately-carved antique jade chess set laid out on a side table. Approaching it, he found to his surprise that someone was already sitting on one side of the table, staring intently at the pieces.

"Cain!" he exclaimed.

Cain glanced up and smiled. "Glitch," he said. "I mean, Ambrose. Sorry."

Ambrose waved his hand. "I don't mind. Not from you. I take it you have some free time?"

Cain nodded. "And I have no idea what to do with it."

Ambrose seated himself in the opposite chair. "I suppose you're not used to having nothing to do. Well, other than all those years when you were in the tin suit. Oh, that wasn't tactful." He tapped the side of his head and grinned sheepishly. "Internal editor must be offline."

Cain, to his surprise, grinned back. "I'm so tired of people being tactful all the time. I can appreciate a little frankness. It's not so much the free time, as it is, being free to do whatever I want. It's almost intimidating to try to figure out something to do, instead of just looking at my schedule."

"That's exactly how I feel," said Ambrose. He gestured to the chess set. "Do you play?"

"After a fashion."

"I think I used to be rather good," Ambrose said. "Want to give it a try?"

"With these?"

"Of course! What else would we play with?"

Cain shook his head. "Each of them costs more than my annual salary, back in the day."

"You're in the palace now," said Ambrose. "Besides, they were meant to be played with. They're not happy just sitting there."

As they began playing, Ambrose realized that he must have been very good indeed; the moves came back to him with surprising ease; although he didn't always know why he did what he did, it always seemed to pay off. As in other areas of his life, his intuition seemed to tap into parts of his brain that ordinary reasoning could not reach. Cain, as one might expect from his personality, seemed to play very simply and directly; then he would catch Ambrose off-guard with a hidden twist.

Midway through their second game something happened that was purely accidental. Cain was moving a piece off to the side just as Ambrose was reaching out to make his next move, and their hands came briefly into contact. Ambrose wasn't so sure that the next time was an accident; he was positive that the third was deliberate, since it was he who initiated it, and it was he who lingered, prolonging the contact for just a moment, carefully not looking up.

Ambrose was about to make a bold move in the game when he reconsidered; something didn't just feel right. His hand hovered over the piece.

"What is it?" asked Cain.

"It just seems inappropriate," said Ambrose. "Bishop takes Queen. Rather scandalous behavior for a man of the cloth, wouldn't you think?"

Cain laughed. "I suppose I never thought of it quite that way," he said. "So what would be more appropriate?"

Ambrose reached for a different piece. "Well, lately I've been thinking in terms of Knight takes Knight," he said, completing the move and taking the defeated knight off the board.

"Ah," Cain said. He reached out and put his hand over Ambrose's, leaving it there. "That was a pretty little trap I had set up, and you stepped right out of it." He studied the pieces for a moment. Ambrose did too, although it was hard to focus with Cain's warm fingers now stroking his palm. After a moment, though, he saw what Cain saw."

"Mate in three moves," said Ambrose, feeling more surprised than triumphant.

Cain reached out with his free hand and very carefully toppled his king. "I don't think we need to play them out, do you?"

Ambrose looked up and met Cain's eyes. Reaching out to take Cain's other hand, he squeezed it and said, "At least, not here."