Chapter Text
Fiyero’s eyes fluttered open and he shook his head slightly. He felt lightheaded, almost as if he was slightly intoxicated, which was very confusing. He didn’t remember spending a pleasant night drinking yesterday…
Wait…
Fiyero’s head snapped up as the memories of the last few hours came crashing back. Glinda’s tear-filled eyes filled his memory, and he fought back another wave of regret. He wished saving Elphaba hadn’t come at that cost, or at…
He frowned. Shouldn’t he be in more pain than he was? If nothing else, he could see his shadow stretching out in front of him - his arms outstretched as he hung limply from a pole. That alone should make him feel stiff, not to mention the torture he had gone through for helping Elphaba escape. He could still feel the nails, solid and immovable, through his wrists and feet. But they didn’t hurt any more than a pair of stiff new boots might.
Maybe he was dead - he had never really given much thought to what being dead might be like. It made as much sense as anything else for death to simply feel like continuing forever in the very last place he was alive - and at least death was kind enough to numb the agony of how he had died.
But he was sure he had felt Elphaba’s presence just before he had lost consciousness! And the only way that could have happened is if she was dead too, and she couldn’t also be dead! He refused to even entertain the notion. If she was dead too that made everything he had done to Glinda - and the torture he had suffered after - meaningless!
“Elphaba?” he whispered. It was a question, a prayer, and a desperate hope all in one. Had she managed to save him?
He tore his eyes away from his shadow and looked down at himself, half expecting to see his mangled body, afraid that when he looked down at himself the illusion of numbness would shatter and all the agony of the day before would return.
To his surprise, he looked mostly normal. His green uniform was torn and stained, morbid proof of the torture he had suffered, and through the holes… Fiyero squinted. Was that straw?
A slow grin crossed his face. “Elphaba…” he whispered again, looking out towards the west. “You did it, my love. You saved me!”
Now he just had to figure out how to get down from this pole and get back to her. He ran his eyes over the ropes and nails holding him down, trying not to think of the ordeal that put them there in the first place.
“This… might be harder than anticipated.”
---
Elphaba stared numbly from her seat on the floor as golden light from the rising sun beamed through the window of Kiamo Ko’s uppermost tower, illuminating the Grimmerie in front of her.
She hated that book. Hated everything about it. Hated what it had done to Chistery and the other monkeys. Hated what it had done to Boq. Hated what had happened to Nessa because of it.
But most of all, she hated it for failing her when she needed it most - when Fiyero needed her most.
She closed her eyes, trying desperately to forget the horrifying visions from the night before - visions of Fiyero hanging from a pole, screaming in agony - visions that didn’t change no matter how much she chanted, no matter what spell from that cursed book she tried, no matter how much she begged and screamed and sobbed for the magic to work.
Her failures seemed to dance before her in the darkness behind her eyelids as all the people she loved and failed stared at her in condemnation. If not for her, her mother never would have died, Nessa would have never ended up dead, Glinda wouldn’t be forced to hide a part of who she is, And Fiyero… the horrifying visions replayed behind her eyelids in gruesome detail, shattering her heart as his screams seemed to echo in her ears.
Her eyes flew open again - she couldn’t even find solace there.
She got to her feet. All that was left was to find that little girl and get Nessa’s shoes back. She wanted to be angry at Glinda for giving them away, but in her heart she knew she couldn’t blame her. Stealing Nessa’s shoes might have been petty on Glinda’s part, but it was nothing compared to what Elphaba had taken from her. It had been Fiyero’s choice to leave her, just as Elphaba had chosen to leave her five years earlier, but it still hadn’t been fair to take her heart and shatter it. Twice.
She could hate that little girl, though. She could hate her for what she did to Nessa, and for walking off with her shoes. Focusing on that hurt less than focusing on her failures.
Focusing on that hurt less than remembering the vision of Fiyero - beaten, bloodied, desperately calling her name as the unthinkable was done to him - that would haunt her forever.
But Glinda had taught her to hope, and even now she found herself hoping. Maybe her vision was still in the future; maybe she still had time to stop it.
Maybe she could still save him.
She had to try - had to see for herself before giving up entirely.
---
Fiyero sighed, feeling a bit bored. He had managed to wiggle his arms and legs off of the nails that pinned him down - it turned out if your limbs are stuffed full of straw, nails are easy to get unhooked from. He had even managed to wiggle out of the rope around his ankles, but try as he might he couldn’t figure out how to wriggle out of the ropes that bound his biceps to the spear shaft.
His body felt odd to him, like it was there and yet not there. He could wiggle around at will, could move his fingers and toes, could nod his head, but the lightheadedness he had noticed earlier seemed to permeate his entire body. He felt itchy, he had finally decided after a few hours trying to determine what his new body felt like. It was odd, but not uncomfortable, and infinitely preferable to how he knew he would feel if he wasn’t currently stuffed with straw. He wondered what walking would feel like, but that was still pretty low on his list of priorities.
He was still tied to that pole, and getting down was currently a higher priority than walking was. But the fact that Elphaba hadn’t come for him probably meant that she didn’t know he was alive, either convinced that her spell hadn’t worked or that it hadn’t worked fast enough. There was no other reason why she wouldn’t have come for him. And Glinda… part of him hoped she would come for him, and part of him hoped she wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve her help anyway, even if she could find him. Not after the way he had hurt her. She deserved to be happy, and him being in her life would always keep that from happening.
He sighed again, watching the crows flying around him. He’d tried to entertain himself earlier by trying to spook them, but their utter lack of response was honestly rather offensive. He even got the distinct impression that at least one of them was laughing at him.
“...low brick road. Follow the yellow brick road.”
Fiyero glanced down the road leading back to Munchkinland. He definitely heard someone singing. Maybe he’d get down from here sooner than he had expected!
A little girl in long brown pigtails and a blue gingham dress was walking down the road towards him, a pair of familiar silver shoes sparkling on her feet, and a little brown dog at her heels. Fiyero looked at them curiously, wondering if the little girl would be able to help him.
The little girl stopped at the crossroad, looking first one way, then another, then peering forward in the same direction she had been going. “Follow the yellow brick road,” the little girl said to herself. “But… which way?”
Without thinking Fiyero pointed back in the direction of Munchkinland with both hands. “That way is a nice way,” he told her.
The little girl jumped. “Who said that?” she called out, picking up her dog and petting him anxiously.
Well Fiyero didn’t want to scare her, that certainly wouldn’t result in him getting down from here. Maybe if he just…
“It’s pleasant down this way too,” he added, now pointing in the opposite direction, hoping the movement was as non-threatening as he intended it to be.
“That’s funny,” the little girl said, her eyes gleaming with humor as she stared directly at him. “Wasn’t he pointing the other way just a moment ago?”
Fiyero grinned. He liked this little girl. “Of course, people do go both ways,” he told her, stretching out his arms so that one was pointing towards the Emerald City and the other was pointing towards Munchkinland - holding his arms out just how they had been nailed down just a few hours before. He felt a twinge of panic and allowed both arms to flop back down. He hadn’t liked that at all.
Thankfully, the little girl hadn’t seemed to notice his momentary panic.
“Why, that was you!” she exclaimed excitedly, face dimpling into a smile.
Fiyero nodded, then with a twinkle in his eye solemnly shook his head no.
The little girl giggled. “Are you doing that on purpose, or can’t you make up your mind?”
Fiyero grinned. “Well that’s the problem, I’m afraid,” he said, hoping to make her laugh again. “I can’t make up my mind.” He shrugged. “I haven’t got a brain, only straw.”
“Well that can’t be right,” the little girl told him with an air of dignity. “Without a brain you shouldn’t be able to talk.”
“The same goes for vocal chords,” Fiyero realized, amused. “I’ll really have to ask Elphaba how all of this works when I find her.”
“A lot of people without brains do an awful lot of talking,” he told the little girl, matching her dignified air.
She giggled again before walking closer to him. “My name is Dorothy,” she told him, bobbing into a tiny curtsey. “Dorothy Gale.” She held up her dog. “And this is Toto!”
He bowed as best he could from his pole. “And I’m…” he hesitated. It probably wouldn’t do to tell her his name. “You know, I can’t even remember!”
“You can’t even remember your own name?” Dorothy asked, looking genuinely sad for him. “How terrible!”
Fiyero heaved a dramatic sigh. “Not as terrible as being stuck up here,” he told Dorothy. “It’s very tedious being stuck on a pole all day long.”
“Why… can’t you get down?”
Fiyero shook his head solemnly.
“Well that won’t do at all!” Dorothy exclaimed, walking into the cornfield and examining the pole he was tied to.
“I’m afraid the problem is up here,” Fiyero told her, pointing at the ropes around his biceps. You wouldn’t happen to be any good at untying knots, would you?”
Dorothy frowned. “Those knots look awfully tight,” she said doubtfully.
They had been, Fiyero had to agree. He wasn’t sure if such a little girl would be able to untie such cruelly tied knots - even if she had been tall enough to reach them.
“It’s oka…”
“I have a pair of scissors in my basket!” Dorothy interrupted him brightly. “Would that do?”
Fiyero hesitated. He wasn’t sure how well his new hands would be able to handle scissors, but it was probably the best option. “We can certainly try!”
Dorothy reached into her basket and pulled out a pair of scissors, before standing on her tippy toes to hand them up to him. Fiyero took the scissors carefully and snipped them open and closed a couple of times, pleased that his fingers were cooperating with him.
He made short work of the ropes around his right bicep, then hesitated for an instant before cutting the ropes around his left. It’s not that he had far to fall, but he was worried about how well this new body would work without the support of the wooden structure he was tied to.
“Are you alright?” Dorothy asked. “Can you not reach the other side?”
“Oh, I’m sure I can,” he told her brightly. “Why don’t you get out of the way. I don’t want to land on you.”
Dorothy stepped demurely back onto the road, and Fiyero snipped through the ropes and flopped gracelessly from his pole, disconcerted as some of his straw flopped out and onto the ground.
“Well that’s… odd.” he decided.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Dorothy exclaimed. “Are you okay?” She asked, rushing back to his side.
He grinned. “There goes some of me again,” he told her, trying to hide how disconcerting it felt to have bits of himself just… fall out.
“But does it hurt?” Dorothy asked, worried.
“Of course not. It’s by design,” he told her cheerily. “I just pick it up and put it back in again.”
“Oh…” Dorothy said doubtfully, but seemed reassured when he stuffed the straw back into his chest.
Fiyero got to his feet, swaying slightly as he did so, but relieved that he could stay upright even with nothing inside but straw; even if he did feel like a stiff breeze would send him flying. This would take some getting used to, but didn’t feel like it would be impossible.
He stepped tentatively out of the cornfield and onto the road, nearly flopping over backwards in the process.
“Well,” he told Dorothy. “It’s much nicer meeting you this way!” He reached out and shook her hand, fascinated by the way his arm rustled as it moved. “Thank you for helping me down.”
Dorothy giggled again, her face dimpling charmingly. “You’re very welcome,” she said.
Fiyero glanced down at Nessa’s shoes, gleaming on Dorothy’s feet. Now that he was off that pole, he should probably ask about those.
“So where are you off to today?” he asked. “And what’s more, in shoes that don’t seem appropriate for a long journey?”
Dorothy’s eyes filled with tears, and Fiyero almost regretted asking.
“Hey, you don’t need to cry,” he reassured her gently, reaching out to brush away a tear.
“Oh, Scarecrow, you don’t know what it’s like,” Dorothy said softly. “I accidentally killed somebody, and now the Wicked Witch of the West is after me because it was her sister, and Glinda the Good Witch told me to go see the Wizard because he can help me get home, and I don’t know why Glinda gave me the shoes but she said not to take them off and then she told me to follow the yellow brick road and find the wizard and he can help me get home but now the yellow brick road is going three different ways and I’m not sure what to do!”
Dorothy paused, breathless, before gathering Toto in her arms again and burying her face in his fur.
Fiyero blinked. He hadn’t expected all of that, but it was useful. If Elphaba was going after Dorothy, going with her would be the easiest way to find her. And if Elphaba was angry enough - which, he had to admit, she probably would be - going with Dorothy would also help keep her safe. Once Elphaba saw that he was alive she’d be less likely to do something rash.
But what Glinda was thinking in sending Dorothy to the Wizard, he couldn’t even venture a guess.
“Do you think I could go with you?” He asked. “To see the Wizard, I mean.”
“That awful witch is after me, I don’t think you’ll be very safe,” Dorothy said.
“I’m not afraid of any old witch!” Fiyero said, possibly a bit more hotly than he should have, but Dorothy didn’t seem to mind.
“Well then of course you can come with me,” Dorothy said. “And maybe the Wizard could even give you a brain!”
Fiyero smiled at her, linking his arm in hers. “Let’s go, then!”