Archive of Our Own ^beta

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!”

Chapter Text

Elphaba flew through the air, circling high above munchkinland, near the last place she had seen Fiyero, desperately hoping that she would find him - that she wasn’t too late this time. She landed quietly, not really wanting to draw attention to herself.

The pole that haunted her visions stood, cruel and tall, in a nearby field. She swallowed, hoping against hope that her vision was false and that this pole was nothing more than what might be used to hurt Fiyero in the future.

She held her broomstick tightly, using it to steady herself as she walked closer, her heart constricting in her chest. Blood stained ropes hung from the crossbeam, and nails were hammered deep into the wood exactly where she had seen them driven cruelly through Fiyero’s body in her vision.

She was too late. He was dead.

Her vision blurred as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh Fiyero,” she whispered.

At least they had had the decency to bury him - hadn’t left him hanging there like a gruesome banner. But he still hadn’t deserved this. He shouldn’t have had to suffer just for saving her. He shouldn’t have become a victim of her latest mistake!

She leaped on her broom, flying high into the sky again, grief threatening to overwhelm her.

She glanced down at the house that killed Nessa as she flew overhead and hatred for the little girl bloomed in her chest again, bringing her a fiery clarity. She couldn’t focus on her grief. If she did, it would kill her. But her anger… she could focus on that. She could achieve something with that. She could get back Nessa’s shoes with that.

“I’ll get you,” she swore, angrily wiping away her tears. “I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I do!”

Nothing was going to stop her from getting that little girl and retrieving her family heirloom.

She wouldn’t fail again.

---

Dorothy skipped along the yellow brick road, arm and arm with Scarecrow, having fun in spite of herself. She wanted to get home, but she liked her strange new friend. He didn’t seem to mind her chattering, and was properly offended when she told him all about that awful Miss Gulch and what she was trying to do to poor Toto. And the Wicked Witch hadn’t appeared, so maybe she didn’t have to be worried about that either.

Scarecrow tripped over himself for what seemed like the 20th time, his forward momentum barely slowing as he flopped his legs forward and back under himself. She giggled. “It looks like this is your first time walking,” she told him.

Scarecrow gave her an odd look, before grinning. “Why, I’ve been walking my entire life!” he protested. “But where’s the fun in walking around if you can’t throw a flop or two in there occasionally?”

“I never thought of that!” Dorothy admitted. “Back home in Kansas the scarecrows don’t walk around or flop around.”

“I bet they can’t even do this!” Scarecrow said, before somersaulting forward, looking a great deal like a scarecrow from Kansas being blown around in the wind.

“Actually,” Dorothy laughed. “They can do that.”

“Oh,” Scarecrow said, flopping down into a sitting position.

“Oh don’t worry!” Dorothy rushed to reassure him. “You do it much better than they ever could!”

Scarecrow flopped to his feet again in one fluid motion, grinning. “And I can do it autonomously!”

She laughed again, linking their arms together again, before glancing at the road ahead. An orchard of apple trees lined the road, branches laden with beautiful red apples.

“Apples!” she exclaimed excitedly, running forward to pick one. “Oh look how delicious they look!”

Standing on her tiptoes she reached for a particularly luscious looking apple on a low hanging branch, plucking it gently.

“Hey!” the tree yelled.

Dorothy screamed, startled, and dropped her apple. She felt Scarecrow run up to her, and she felt a little better with him standing next to her.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she told the tree. “I just…”

“How would you like it if someone came by and picked something off of you!” the tree yelled again, waving its branches at her. Dorothy jumped back and grabbed Scarecrow's hand. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked. “I didn’t think you’d mind!”

She ran back the way they had come, pulling Scarecrow along by his hand, wanting to get out of the shadow of the orchard - at least for a moment. Obviously they would have to go through again, but being yelled at by a tree was not something she had expected!

“Are you alright, Dorothy?” Scarecrow asked when she finally stopped running.

“Yes,” she told him, a bit breathless. “It just scared me, that’s all.”

“That tree had no right to yell at you like that,” Scarecrow said, shaking his fist in the general direction of the orchard. “Why plant an orchard by a road if travelers aren’t supposed to eat the apples!”

“Maybe I just scared him as much as he scared me,” Dorothy suggested. “I surely wouldn’t have liked that either if I wasn’t expecting it.”

Scarecrow laughed. “Dorothy, you are too good to be stuck in a land like Oz. I think that’s just a grumpy, rotten old tree.”

Dorothy laughed too, feeling a little better. “I wonder if you’re related,” she said thoughtfully. “Autonomous straw and autonomous trees. There’s probably a connection, right?”

The scarecrow gave her another strange look, and Dorothy took a step back. He looked… odd - as if what she said had hurt him in some way.

“Or… or maybe not,” she hastily amended. “I don’t think straw and trees are in the same family,” she added.

“No… no I don’t think they are,” Scarecrow said, and his voice sounded funny. Dorothy hesitantly put her hand on his arm, wondering what was so wrong about what she’d said.

Scarecrow looked at her and grinned, and the odd look left his face. “I can show you how to get apples off of even the grumpiest, most rotten old tree,” he whispered conspiratorially.

“You can?” she whispered back, equally conspiratorially.

“Just watch me!” he said, striding back towards the orchard.

“It’s okay, Dorothy,” he said in a louder-than-natural voice. “You wouldn’t want any of those apples.”

Dorothy linked arms with him with a giggle as they sashayed beneath the apple trees. “Those nasty old apples probably have little green worms in them.” He winked at her. “They’re probably rotted right through!”

“Worms!” the tree yelled.

“Why else would a tree not want you to get close enough to his apples to see what they really look like,” Scarecrow continued, acting as if the tree hadn’t said anything.

“I’ll show you!” the tree yelled, throwing an apple right at Scarecrow.

Scarecrow leaped lightly out of the way, that odd look on his face again. “Ha! I bet you were saving that one just for this kind of situation, weren’t you!” he yelled, making a face at the tree.

The tree yelled, and Dorothy giggled. Five minutes ago it would have been terrifying, but she couldn’t help but think that Scarecrow's antics made this whole situation very funny.

“Don’t! You! Dare! Say! Anything! About! My! Apples!” the tree yelled, accentuating each word with another apple thrown in their direction.

“Help yourself, my lady,” Scarecrow said with a dramatic bow, bending almost completely in half.

Dorothy giggled, ducking as another apple flew in her direction, bending down to gather the beautiful fruits and placing them carefully in her basket. One apple flew into the grass at the side of the road, and she ducked under a low hanging branch - thankfully not an apple tree - to pick it up.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, surprised.The apple had landed right at the toes of two metal boots. She knocked gently on them and they echoed hollowly.

She pushed some greenery away, and was surprised to see that the boots were attached to an entire metal man.

“Scarecrow!” she called out, a little bit nervous. If apple trees weren’t very nice, she wasn’t sure how nice a metal man might be.

“What is it, Dorothy,” Scarecrow answered, coming closer with an armful of apples.

“Look!” Dorothy said, pointing. “It’s…”

Scarecrow dropped all the apples he was holding as he stared at the metal man.

“It’s…” Dorothy tried again, surprised at his reaction. “It’s a metal man!”

“Are you…” Scarecrow said softly. “I mean, is he alive?”

Dorothy turned to face the metal man again. “I’m Dorothy Gale,” she told him. “Can you talk?”

“Mmm… Mmmmm” the metal man mumbled, not even moving his lips.

“What’s that?” Scarecrow asked, leaning in.

“Mml mmmn!” Tin Man mumbled again.

“Oil can?” Dorothy ventured a guess. “Are you trying to say oil can?”

“Mmm!!” Tin Man mumbled.

“Oh!” Dorothy exclaimed. “Of course! You must be rusted, is that right?”

“Mmm!” Tin Man agreed.

“Oh quick, we have to help him!” Dorothy told the scarecrow, who was still staring at the metal man. She grabbed his hand, pulling him along. “Come on! We have to find his oil can!”

“Yes, yes of course,” Scarecrow agreed.

It didn’t take long to find the oil can, and Dorothy quickly squirted oil into each of Tin Man’s joints.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed as soon as he could speak. “I got out of one prison just to get into another.”

Dorothy’s eyes widened, and she stepped a little bit closer to Scarecrow. “You were in prison?” she asked, carefully.

“No, he wasn’t,” Scarecrow told her softly - so softly she didn’t think the metal man could hear. It made her feel a little bit better.

Tin Man’s neck creaked slightly as he looked Dorothy up and down. She smiled cautiously up at him, clutching Scarecrow's hand.

Tin Man smiled slightly and his eyes softened. “I just meant I was trapped, Miss Dorothy,” he told her gently. “And then when I got out of there I got caught in a rainstorm, and I rusted clean through and found myself trapped again!”

“Oh that sounds awful,” Dorothy exclaimed, taking a step closer to him.

“Not as awful as…” Tin Man paused, an angry expression crossing his face.

“As what?” Dorothy prompted.

“Bang on my chest,” he told her.

“Oh… okay,” she said, before gently tapping it. It was as hollow as his feet had been. “It sounds lovely…” she ventured, not sure what he wanted her to say.

“What a beautiful echo!” Scarecrow added, backing her up.

“Beautiful,” Tin Man repeated, saying the word as if it left a sour taste in his mouth. “It’s empty.”

Dorothy gasped. “You mean… you don’t have a heart?”

“I…” Tin Man looked at her. “Well yes, I suppose that is part of my problem.”

“Well that just won’t do!” Dorothy exclaimed. “We, Scarecrow and I, are off to see the Wizard. He’s going to give Scarecrow a brain and help me find my way home. I’m sure he can give you a heart too!”

A hopeful expression crossed Tin Man’s face. “You really think so? You think he could fix… well… fix my problem?”

“Of course he can!” she declared. “You should come with us!”

She placed Tin Man’s oil can carefully in her basket before linking arms with both him and Scarecrow. Scarecrow stumbled a bit again as they walked back onto the road, but soon they were off once again.

---

Glinda pulled the dark gray cloak around her a little tighter as she made her way through Munchkinland, hoping the hood would keep anybody from recognizing her. She didn’t really think Fiyero would still be here, but this seemed to be the best place to start.

In her heart she knew she was more likely to find a freshly dug grave than anything else, but she wanted to believe that the Gale Force hadn’t gone that far - that she could still help him in some way. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw dried blood staining the bright yellow brick of the road, but it was only a few drops. Not enough to mean anything. Not proof that he was dead.

She glanced up again, her heart sinking when she noticed a pole in the nearby cornfield. It hadn’t had the ropes dangling from it yesterday, or the thin crossbeam that was there now.

“Fiyero…” she whispered, desperately hoping she was wrong as she made her way over, desperately hoping the ropes and crossbeam meant nothing.

The ground around the pole was trampled, as if several people had gone back and forth here, and a few tufts of straw littered the muddy ground. With a trembling hand Glinda touched the still-damp wood, hoping it was just wet with rainwater.

She gasped when her hand came away flecked with half-dried blood. “Fiyero,” she whispered again, not even fighting back her tears. If this was Fiyero’s blood there was no way he had lost this much and survived.

He was dead, and it was all her fault.

She fell to her knees in front of the pole, not caring about the mud, and pulled a flower out of her hair. “I’m so sorry, Fiyero,” she sobbed, gently placing the flower on the blood-soaked ground in front of the pole. “I should have stopped them… should have…”

“Are you all right, my dear?”

Glinda choked back a sob at Madame Morrible’s familiar voice, quickly jumping to her feet.

“Madame Morrible, what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound bright.

“I saw you leave the Emerald City and was concerned. It’s not like you to sneak out under cover of darkness,” Madame Morrible explained.

Glinda’s lip trembled against her will. She knew Madame Morrible wasn’t as kind as she pretended to be, knew she was capable of turning against her just as quickly as she had turned against Elphaba. But right now she looked so comforting, and all Glinda wanted was to be hugged. All she wanted was for Madame Morrible to reassure her that nothing bad had happened to Fiyero, that things were all going to be okay.

“I think something terrible has happened to Fiyero,” she confessed, holding out her blood-flecked hand. “And I think it’s my fault.”

Madame Morrible came closer, gently taking her hand and examining it closely. “My dear, that is just rust,” she told her. “You are fretting over nothing!”

Madame Morrible pulled her into the comfort of a hug, and for a moment Glinda allowed herself to melt into it. She knew it was false, knew that it wasn’t rust, knew that nothing about this was okay. But she wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that everything was fine.

“Now, what is this about sending that little girl to meet the Wizard?” Madame Morrible asked, pulling away from the hug.

Glinda took a deep breath, allowing her illusion to shatter; Madame Morrible was cold and manipulative, the Wizard was a fraud, Elphie was still on the run, and her hand was covered in Fiyero’s blood. But she could do this, she could put on her perfect persona and manipulate Madame Morrible just as much as she was being manipulated. Even Madame Morrible seemed mostly fooled by it.

“Why, the Wizard can give anyone their hearts desires, can’t he?” Glinda said sweetly, blinking back her tears. “And finding a map home seems like a task he can easily do!” She smiled at Madame Morrible. “It seemed like it would be good for his reputation to help out the poor child who has done Munchkinland such a great service!”

Madame Morrible nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes…” she admitted slowly. “But why give her the shoes?”

Glinda shrugged. “What better way to make her an overnight legend?” she said. “And…” she let her face darken slightly, hoping the act would fool Madame Morrible, “It’s what Elphaba deserves. She took my fiance, I took her family heirloom.”

That had been part of it, Glinda had to admit. She had still been angry at Elphie in that moment, but after the fact a half-desperate plan was forming.

The Wizard had painted Elphie’s magic as dark and terrible, so it was easy to insist that his ‘magic’ of light and goodness was easily overpowered by it. But if the magical shoes, presented by a non-threatening child who was practically glowing with goodness were to be used in some way… maybe it could be enough. Maybe that combined with the Wizard’s inability to help her in any way would be enough to reveal him as a fraud, break the illusionary power he had over the people of Oz. And then maybe things could be better. Maybe Elphie wouldn’t have to be on the run, and the three of them could be together again.

Well… just the two of them now, she realized, looking down at her hand once again. She had lost Fiyero in more ways than one.

Madame Morrible nodded, seeming to accept Glinda’s explanation. “And it won’t hurt anything if the Wicked Witch goes after her,” she added thoughtfully. “It will prove even more how Wicked she has truly become.”

Glinda smiled sweetly at her, but part of her couldn’t believe what Madame Morrible was saying. Did she actually believe her own lies, or was this just another way to try to manipulate Glinda?

“Let us return to the Emerald City, my dear. We must prepare for Dorothy’s arrival.”

---

Fiyero couldn’t help but glance over at the tin man as the three of them walked down the road. It was Boq - he was sure of it. Elphaba had told him what happened, and if he squinted he could almost make out Boq’s features - stiff and metallic though they might be - in the tin man’s face.

He wondered if his own features were as unrecognizable. “They probably are,” he had to admit to himself. “Otherwise Boq would recognize me.”

He thought about telling Boq who he was, but he wasn’t sure if he would take it well. Elphaba had told him how angry he had been when he discovered what had been done to him, so he didn’t think he had an ally in his whole find-Elphaba-and-keep-her-safe plan.

A familiar laugh echoed through the air above him, and his heart leapt in his chest. Or rather, he amended, probably would have leapt in his chest.

“Helping the little lady along, are you, my fine gentlemen?”

Dorothy shrieked, grabbing Fiyero’s hand, as Elphaba hovered high above them. “You’ll find making an enemy of the Wicked Witch of the West is not a great way to prolong your lives!” Elphaba yelled out, her voice shrill with rage.

“You!” Boq yelled, venom lacing his voice, his metal limbs clanking together as he shook with rage. “I didn’t know you cared about my life in the first place!” he yelled up at her.

Elphaba hesitated, and even from this distance Fiyero could see the grief in her face. “I have more important things to worry about than you, Tin Man!” she finally said.

“And you!” she shouted, turning towards Fiyero. “Stay away from her or I’ll stuff a mattress with you!”

Fiyero gaped at Elphaba. She didn’t recognize him! He hadn’t even thought about that possibility.

“You can’t scare us!” he yelled out, hoping she would recognize his voice. “We’re going to do what Glinda the Good said and help take her to the Wizard!”

Elphaba laughed, shrill and piercing. “You think the Wizard can help! Well just you wait! You’ll all find yourselves in my clutches, sooner or later!”

“Please!” Dorothy shouted out, eyes filling with tears again. “I didn’t mean to kill -”

“Didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to,” Elphaba mocked. “I’m sure you didn’t mean lots of things.

Fiyero’s head was whirling. He didn’t really want to shout out to Elphaba that it was him, not with Boq and Dorothy right here, and Boq obviously not in a place where he would be happy with this reveal. But how else was he supposed to let her know he was alive!

“Hey Scarecrow,” Elphaba yelled out.

He looked at her, hopefully. Maybe she did recognize him! Maybe this was all an act, and she was about to try to tell him something important.

“Wanna play ball?” Elphaba laughed.

Play ball? Was she talking about the Ozdust ballroom? Did she want him to meet her there? Surely there were more convenient places than that to…

He gaped, his train of thought completely derailing as she conjured up a ball of fire.

Oh, this was not a secret message…

“Catch!” she yelled, tossing it down at him.

Fiyero sprang back with a yell. He didn’t think fire would hurt necessarily, he didn’t think Elphaba’s spell would let anything cause any actual pain, but he didn’t like the idea of going up into flames nonetheless. And he knew Elphaba would never forgive herself if he did go up in flames and die, and she figured out the truth of what happened after the fact.

Elphaba flew away laughing shrilly as Fiyero tried to keep out of the way of the fireball as it flew towards him.

“Ow, ow, ow!” he yelled as his feet started smouldering.

Dorothy frantically began waving at the tiny flame, trying to get it out. Fiyero panicked - he knew she was trying to help, but that would only help him catch faster!

“Put me out!” he begged, trying to pull the smouldering straw out of his legs.

Boq knelt down over him, carefully putting his funnel cap over the smouldering straw, smothering the flame.

“Oh, are you all right?” Dorothy asked, grabbing his hand.

Fiyero’s entire body was rustling as he shoved down memories of what the Gale Force had done. This was entirely different! Elphaba didn’t know it was him! She didn’t mean to hurt him! She didn’t even try to hurt the straw man that was accompanying Dorothy - she was too good a shot to have missed him almost entirely. But try as he might, all he could think of was Lieutenant Shem’s cruel eyes staring at him as he hung from that pole.

He grabbed Dorothy’s hand, desperately wishing he could feel the warmth of her human skin, wishing he could gain some stability through the pressure of her touch.

“I’m… I’m not afraid of her,” he finally managed to say, turning to Dorothy. “I’ll stick with you all the way to the Emerald City.”

“And maybe I’ll figure out a way to let Elphaba know that I’m, well… me,” he added to himself.

He glanced over at Boq. “Thank you, Tin Man.”

Boq smiled. “At least I’m still good for something,” he said before clanking back to his feet again. “You don’t need to be, uhhh…” he glanced at Dorothy. “Don’t need a heart to put out a fire.”

Dorothy dimpled up at him. “I think you were marvelous,” she told him. “That wicked old witch can’t do anything against the three of us while we’re a team!”

Fiyero smiled hesitantly. Elphaba was a lot more dangerous, especially with how angry she clearly was, than Dorothy was giving her credit for. But he wasn’t going to scare the kid either.

“Let’s keep going,” he finally settled on saying.

Chapter Text

Elphaba paced back and forth in Kiamo Ko’s tower, her heart racing. She hadn’t expected Boq to be with that little girl. If he hadn’t been she probably would have just taken the shoes right then and there, but he was there. He was there, and he was furious.

She couldn’t get the shoes back, not while Boq was with her. Maybe she was a coward, but she couldn’t face him - couldn't face another friend ruined by her mistakes. She didn’t need yet another look of condemnation, another judgment against her, another pleasant memory ruined by the disastrous present.

She slammed the back of her fists into the wall, letting out a scream and sliding down to her knees.

She was the one who was on the run! She was the one who was willing to put her neck on the line for the animals. So why is it that everybody she loved was suffering for it? And why now?

For five years she had bested Morrible and the Wizard at their own game. She had used the propaganda against her to her advantage, keeping all of Oz looking to the skies while she set up an underground to help hunted or endangered animals get to safety, allowing the hatred for her to feel more important than the hatred of the animals. Take the fall so they could live another day.

And it had been working! She was lonely, and especially on cold nights with nobody to keep her company she longed for Glinda’s vibrant warmth or Fiyero’s joyous charm, but it had been working!

And now, suddenly, in less than a week she had lost everything. All of her well laid plans were crumbling around her. Nessa was dead, Fiyero was dead, she couldn’t even succeed in getting her family heirloom back, and nothing mattered anymore.

Chistery half-ran, half-flew into the room. “Miss Elphaba?” he asked, cautiously. He couldn’t speak much anymore, the Wizard’s influence saw to that, but he still could say a few words.

Elphaba shook her head, not turning away from the wall. “I’m okay, Chistery,” she lied.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and finally turned to face Chistery. “My family,” he said, gently wiping away her tears. “They’re safe. You save them.”

She turned to look at him.

“We have much to repay.”

Elphaba smiled sadly. “No you don’t, Chistery. You, your family… none of the animals deserved to be used that badly.”

“Save yours?” Chistery suggested.

Elphaba looked away again.

“My family has been destroyed,” she whispered. “Only Glinda is left, and she’s probably only alive because of how thoroughly I betrayed her”.

“What can we do?” Chistery asked.

Elphaba hesitated. She didn’t want the monkeys to risk themselves for her, but right now all she had left of anybody she loved were those shoes. “We need to get that little girl alone, away from her companions,” she said at last. All I have left are those shoes. That’s the only thing in this world I want.”

Chistery nodded. “We will try,” he promised.

---

Boq added a few sticks to the small fire he had built, watching as the light of the flames shimmered against his body. It was… fascinating, but also repulsive. Everything about this new form was repulsive. He threw another stick on the fire, more angrily this time. What Elphaba had done to him was unforgivable, and he would see her die for it. He didn’t really think the Wizard could help turn him human again, but he could certainly help him find a way of killing Elphaba. He was sure of it!

He tossed another stick, watching the sparks fly high in the air. Dorothy murmured in her sleep, and he glanced over at her. She was sleeping peacefully near the fire, Toto curled up in her arms. It had been a long day, and it was Scarecrow who had insisted they stop when they did. He had been so focused, so hell bent on getting to the Emerald City and asking the Wizard for help, that he hadn’t even noticed how tired Dorothy was getting. Tomorrow he would offer to carry her and apologize for not noticing today. Since his transformation nothing seemed particularly heavy to carry anyway, and he imagined her feet were probably sore.

There was something so special about this little girl, and he was glad he had come across her. Or rather, that she had come across him. She didn’t seem to mind that he was made of tin, and acted as if what he was was perfectly normal.

It wasn’t perfectly normal, but he was grateful to her all the same.

He glanced over at Scarecrow, leaning against a tree a safe distance from the fire. He was staring at him with the same odd expression he had been all day long. Boq frowned.

“Why do you keep looking at me?”

“What?”

Boq sighed. “You have been staring at me almost since we met, and I can’t be that strange to you since you’re…” he gestured at Scarecrow. “Well…”

“A scarecrow?” Scarecrow finished with a laugh.

Boq got up from his place by the fire and moved to sit next to Scarecrow. Scarecrow didn’t seem inclined to answer his question, and honestly Boq didn’t really care either way. He had probably given Scarecrow a few odd looks all day as well.

“So what happened to you?” he finally asked.

Scarecrow hugged himself as if he was cold, and maybe he was - his straw was rustling as if he had started shaking.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want to scare Dorothy, she’s already got enough to worry about with El - with the Wicked Witch after her, but I can’t imagine you were a scarecrow your entire life any more than I’ve always been made of tin.”

Boq hesitated for a moment. “She did this to me, you know. She and her sister, the Wicked Witch of the East.” He shrugged, his shoulders creaking slightly, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “That's why I’m not afraid of her. There’s not a lot more that she can do to me anyway.”

“I… I don’t know,” Scarecrow said quietly - so quietly Boq almost couldn’t hear him. “I think…” he trailed off, and the rustling got more intense. Boq looked at him, concerned. Elphaba must have done something awful to him. He fought back another wave of anger. She would pay doubly, both for what she had done to him and what she had done to Scarecrow - whatever it was.

“I think I was dying,” the Scarecrow whispered after a moment. That’s the only thing I can remember before…” he gestured at himself. “Before this.”

“Someone attacked you?” Boq guessed, seething with rage. At least with him there was the excuse that she was probably trying to help after Nessa's curse, but if she had attacked this poor man and then turned him into this mockery of a human form there wasn’t even that pitiful excuse.

Scarecrow shrugged. “I told you, I don’t really remember.”

Boq glanced at him, wondering if he genuinely didn’t remember or if he was too afraid to share what had happened. He gently put his hand on Scarecrow's shoulder. “Well whatever happened, you have friends now,” he promised. “We won’t let it happen again.”

Scarecrow nodded, giving Boq a small smile.

Boq leaned back against the tree, thinking for a moment.

“What does being made of straw feel like?” He finally asked, scowling a little bit as his neck creaked as he turned to look at Scarecrow. “Do you still feel… a little bit human?”

Scarecrow shrugged. “Not really. I feel sort of weightless, and can’t really feel anything when I touch something or when someone touches me.”

An odd look crossed his face again, and he seemed to rustle again briefly - or maybe it was just a breeze blowing through him - Boq wasn’t sure. “I’m aware when I’m being touched, but I can’t actually feel it. It’s like I’m looking at myself from the outside, but I don’t get to experience it for myself.”

Boq lifted his hand looking at it in the dim light cast by the fire. “I mostly feel cold,” he admitted. It’s like I’m surrounded by ice, but I can’t move away from it no matter how hard I try. It’s just always there, unless I’m next to a fire. Then I feel, well… feverish, I guess.”

“And I feel… trapped.” He added with a hollow laugh. “Rusting stiff didn’t help with that, but even oiled up I feel like every time I try to move or talk or turn that something… solid… is in my way.”

He fought back another wave of anger. “I think I would rather die than live like this. The only positive to this is that I’m stronger than I used to be, and I can use that.”

“How?” Scarecrow’s voice seemed strained.

“I don't know yet. I just know that when I finally find her, she’s going to feel the ice and iron I’m trapped in.”

“Or tin,” he amended. “But that sounds less tough.”

Silence descended between the two of them for a moment.

“I also feel itchy,” Scarecrow said softly. “And that’s human enough.”

“Is it?” Boq said angrily. “You would accept not being able to feel Dorothy when she grabs your hand, not being able to hold someone and feel them holding you in return… because you feel itchy?! My new form might be hell, but at least I can still feel! ”

Scarecrow shrugged. “Sometimes we just have to choose the things about ourselves that make us human. Especially when we feel we can never be.”

Boq shook his head. “I don’t think I can do that, Scarecrow. At least not while the Wicked Witch is ali-“

A low growl interrupted him.

“Did you hear that?” Scarecrow asked, jumping lightly to his feet.

Boq stood up, envying Scarecrow’s seeming ease of movement, grasping his axe tightly. “I did.”

Something growled again, and Boq saw a pair of glowing eyes peering at them through the foliage.

“Dorothy!” he yelled, rushing over to her, hoping whatever was there wasn’t hungry for little girls.

Dorothy awoke with a startled gasp just as an enormous lion leaped through the foliage onto the path. She shrieked as he placed himself squarely between her and the lion, even if he was a little bit afraid himself. He knew the lion probably couldn’t bite through tin.

“What are you doing in my forest!” The lion roared.

“We’re just passing through!” Scarecrow called from behind him, and Boq had to smile. Good old Scarecrow - he’d be as useful protecting Dorothy from a lion as an old blanket might be, but he was clearly trying to distract him from her.

The lion yelped, leaping in the air and turning to face Scarecrow.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he roared, rushing at Scarecrow, chomping down on his torso and shaking him furiously.

“No, no, stop!” Scarecrow screamed as bits of straw flew everywhere, before the lion tossed him aside.

“Now who’s next?” the lion demanded angrily.

“Please, we didn’t know this was your forest!” Boq heard Dorothy say tearfully from behind him.

“I said, who’s next!”

Boq planted his feet firmly on the ground and lifted his axe. “Nobody is next,” he told the lion. “Now get-”

“Toto, no!” Dorothy screamed, interrupting him. Before Boq could even react Toto ran through his legs towards the lion, barking furiously.

“Oh you’ll make a really nice little snack,” the lion said, looking down at Toto.

Boq readied his axe - he wasn’t even sure if it was sharp enough to do any damage, but Dorothy loved that little dog and he was not going to stand by and…

Dorothy rushed past him, straight at the lion. “Don’t you dare!” she yelled furiously, punching him square in the nose before picking up Toto. “He’s just a little dog and he didn’t do anything to you!”

Boq rushed forward, ready to step between Dorothy and the lion again. What he did not expect was for the lion to burst into tears.

“What did you do that for,” he sobbed, large tears dripping down his nose. “I didn’t bite him!”

“Well, you tried to!” Dorothy exclaimed indignantly. “It’s bad enough going after a straw man but when you go around picking on little dogs -”

“Well you didn’t have to hit me!” the lion insisted.

Boq blinked, staring at Dorothy, feeling rather proud. She didn’t even need him to stand up to the lion for her, she was doing just fine on her own. He set the head of his axe down and leaned against it, watching the little scene play out.

“Why, you’re making such a fuss, aren’t you,” Dorothy tutted, and Boq almost let out a laugh. “You’re nothing but a big old coward, aren’t you.”

Fresh tears dripped down the lion’s nose. “Yes,” he admitted, sobbing. “I am a coward. I’m scared of everything.”

Dorothy took a step closer. “You don’t need to be scared of me,” she told the lion, soothingly, reaching out a gentle hand to pet his nose. “Is that why you attacked us? Because you were scared?”

The lion nodded morosely. “Ever since that green woman…”

Boq startled. “Green woman?” he repeated, stepping closer. The lion cowered.

“It’s okay,” Dorothy told the lion, wrapping an arm around his mane in a comforting hug. “This is Tin Man, he’s your friend.”

Boq swallowed, trying not to let how angry he was show in his voice. “What did the green woman do?”

The lion looked down, ashamed. “I don’t know. I just know that there was a green woman and a man, and then I was alone. And the forest was so big and scary, and I never learned how to stop being afraid of it.”

“Oh you poor thing,” Dorothy said, petting him softly.

“If we’re not actively fighting for our lives right now,” Scarecrow called out, sounding cross, can somebody please help put me back together. I’m all over the place.”

Boq looked over - straw really was littered everywhere, and Scarecrow resembled an empty bag more than anything at the moment. He was also giving the lion the same odd look he had been giving Boq all day.

“Maybe that’s just how he looks at people,” Boq concluded as he walked over to a pile of straw and picked it up.

“Oh of course,” Dorothy said, giving the lion one last hug before rushing over to help Boq re-stuff Scarecrow.

The lion stood cautiously by as they worked, and Scarecrow didn’t look away from him for one minute. Boq glanced back and forth between them a few times, before shrugging and deciding not to mention it. He supposed if someone had ripped all of his insides out - if he even had insides to rip out - he would also probably stare at them too.

“Good as new,” Dorothy proclaimed, giving Scarecrow a hug. He beamed.

“I feel better already!” Scarecrow told her, before flopping up to his feet again.

“Now that we’ve gotten you re-stuffed,” Boq said, turning back to the lion. “Do you remember anything else about the green woman?”

The lion shook his head, and Boq felt his anger increase. He had heard rumors, unofficially of course, that the Wicked Witch had been trying to help rebel animals, and they in turn were giving her food and shelter. But clearly even that faint praise was a lie, because if she was just trying to help animals she never would have abandoned this poor fellow. She didn’t even have a motivation for what she was doing, she was just hurting and terrorizing people for no reason. He clenched his fists, wishing he could get his hands on her.

“That’s all right,” Dorothy soothed the lion. “You don’t have to remember anything more.”

“In fact…” She glanced back at Boq and Scarecrow, who had come to stand beside Boq and was still staring strangely at the lion. “The three of us are going to see the Wizard. He’s going to give Scarecrow a brain, Tin Man a heart, and he’s going to help me find my way home! I’m sure he could also teach you how to be brave!”

Boq shared an amused glance with Scarecrow. He was pretty sure Scarecrow didn’t need a brain any more than he needed a heart, but bless Dorothy, she just kept on picking up strays with a perceived need and offering to help them.

“Do you really think so?” the lion sniffled.

“I know so,” Dorothy told him. “Now come on, you can sleep by the fire with me until morning. Toto and I can help keep you safe.”

The lion nodded and padded obediently next to Dorothy to lie down near the fire while Scarecrow returned to his tree and flopped down again. But Boq stood where he was, ruminating on this new information. Elphaba had more to answer for, more to pay for, more she deserved to die for than just what she did to him.

He looked up at the clear sky. “Wherever you are,” he swore under his breath. “I will find you. I will make you pay.”

---

Glinda stood demurely in the Wizard’s Throne room, although now that she thought about it she didn’t know why they called it that. She wouldn’t really call the giant head that the Wizard used as part of his act a throne.

“I don’t understand how she manages to keep getting away,” the Wizard said, throwing his hands up. “Every time we think we’ve got her, Poof! She finds some way to disappear.”

“All we need is time, Oscar,” Madame Morrible said serenely. “Now that this Dorothy is on her way with her sister’s shoes, it’s only a matter of time before Elphaba makes a mistake.

Glinda swallowed, wishing her scheme was built on more than a desperate hope born from a moment of anger. And with Madame Morrible scheming too, her own plan was feeling more and more flimsy.

“Maybe…” Glinda hesitated. She needed a backup plan, some sort of option that could keep Elphaba safe. She already had Fiyero’s death on her conscience - even Madame Morrible couldn’t pretend he wasn’t dead, although she did place the blame squarely on Elphaba’s shoulders and tried to insist it had nothing to do with that blood-stained pole in a cornfield. But if Elphaba suffered the same fate - if Glinda was destined to spend the rest of her life with an empty heart and an empty bed… at least she would know she had tried everything.

“Yes, dear?”

“Well, maybe we can stop trying to catch her,” Glinda suggested. “After all, if she gets away too many times people might start rooting for her.”

It was desperate, and she knew it. But she couldn’t count on Dorothy, no matter how legendary she managed to become in the few days it took her to arrive, being able to undo years of the Wizard building up his legacy of being great and powerful.

“Glinda, dear,” Madame Morrible said, a warm smile on her face. “We always need somebody to take the fall.” she put a gentle hand on Glinda’s shoulder, and Glinda held back her instinctive shudder with practiced ease. “Isn’t it better to be her than… anybody else?”

Glinda smiled sweetly. “I suppose you’re right, Madame Morrible,” she agreed airily, putting on her best Glinda the Good voice. She was in a balancing act more treacherous than Elphie’s narrow broomstick. And if it tipped in her favor Elphie could come home - even if it was too late for Fiyero. If it didn’t… she didn’t want to think about what might happen.

She flitted gracefully over to the window, peering out towards the East where Dorothy would eventually come from. “I guess we just have to wait for Dorothy to arrive and hope that her arrival causes the right person to fall.” She glanced over at the Wizard. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint the people of Oz now, would we?”

Madame Morrible took a step closer to her, and Glinda fought back a shiver at the cold look in her eyes.

“Yes, yes,” the Wizard said impatiently. “‘Let’s bring her down’, 'let’s lure her to us’, let’s catch her in her own schemes’, I’ve heard all of it before and we still don’t have her! And I don’t see how this little girl is going to be useful at anything other than putting me in an awkward situation!”

Glinda sighed in relief when he came and stood beside her, peering out the window himself, unintentionally putting himself between her and Madame Morrible’s cold eyes.

“I’m starting to think what we need is a miracle, not time,” the Wizard said. “And Elphaba took the damn Grimmerie with her, so we can’t even manufacture a miracle!”

“I’m sure we can think of some way to manufacture one eventually,” Glinda told him with a smile. “After all, you manufactured my bubble, and it’s much better than Elphaba’s dirty old broom stick.

“True, true,” the Wizard acquiesced. “But I don’t mind saying that this is getting ridiculous.”

Glinda swallowed. ‘Ridiculous’ wasn’t quite the word she would use, but the situation did feel like it was getting more and more out of hand. She just hoped she managed to get some control over it before something bad happened to Elphaba too.

Chapter Text

“Citizen’s of Oz!”

Madame Morrible’s voice seemed to echo with malice. Elphaba winced, part of her not wanting to listen to the broadcast, even though she knew she had to. She had to know what was being said about her so she could take advantage of it.

But more importantly, she needed to know what lies they would tell about Fiyero. She had no doubt that Morrible would jump at the opportunity to use Fiyero’s death as a way to turn people even further against her, she was just afraid how Morrible would do it.

Elphaba didn’t care about her own reputation or how much she was hated, but she wasn’t sure she could handle it if Morrible painted Fiyero as a monster as well. He had already suffered untold horrors for her - given his life for her… she couldn’t let his memory be destroyed too. And if Morrible did paint him as a traitor or a monster… Elphaba would have to somehow change that. His reputation was all that was left of him, even if it didn’t matter to him nearly as much as Glinda’s reputation mattered to her. Elphaba still needed to know that something of him was left intact.

“The evil of the Wicked Witch knows no bounds! Just weeks ago we were celebrating with our dear Glinda the Good! All of Oz was preparing for her wedding day to the dashing Prince Fiyero, who so humbly served as Captain of the Gale Force.”

Elphaba swallowed. At the very least, it was starting off well. She couldn’t imagine Morrible would begin like this and end by destroying Fiyero. It was all likely to come down on her head, not on Fiyero’s.

“But the Wicked Witch was consumed by her jealousy and rage, consumed by her hatred of Glinda, consumed by her fear for our Wizard. She broke into our Wizard’s throne room in an attempt to destroy them both!”

Elphaba smiled grimly. The silence over the broadcast as Morrible paused dramatically was deafening, but she could see where this was headed.

“Worry not, my good people! Her attempt on their lives was in vain, but our dear Glinda was still forced to pay a steep price for the attack. When Captain Fiyero discovered what was happening he rushed in to protect them, and the Witch cast a spell upon him!

“Before our Wizard or Glinda could do anything to save him, the Witch escaped with Captain Fiyero as hostage, and we have received word that as soon as she successfully escaped she destroyed him completely!”

Elphaba wiped away a tear that, unbidden, had rolled down her cheek. It was her fault that he was dead. At least that part wasn’t a lie.

“It wasn’t enough for her that she spread fear and dread across all of Oz! It wasn’t enough for her that she defame our poor Wizard. Now, she seeks to take away our hope. She seeks to quench the brightness of Glinda the Good!

“But worry not, my good people, for Goodness will never be overcome by Wickedness!”

A new voice came over the broadcast, and Elphaba’s heart sank. She knew, deep in her heart, that Glinda was just as trapped by the machinations of the Wizard and Madame Morrible as she was. And oftentimes it was what Glinda said that she was able to use the most effectively to keep the animals safe.

But that never made it hurt less when Glinda spoke against her.

“My fellow Ozians,” Glinda’s voice was subdued. “It is true what the Press Secretary has said. Fiy-”

There was a pause, and Elphaba felt her heart break. Glinda was probably just saying what Morrible told her to - or even a subtly truthful version of her lies as she often managed to do - but Elphaba knew the pain in her voice was real. It matched the pain in her own heart too exactly to be anything else.

“Fiyero is dead,” Glinda finished quietly. “He died protecting the most powerful magic user in our land. He died for the woman he loved. He died a hero. Let us all honor him, and hold him in our hearts forever.”

Elphaba smiled through her tears, hearing the truth Glinda had managed to communicate in her words. Hearing the forgiveness she was offering for what had happened between the three of them.

Madame Morrible’s voice crackled through once more. “We must do more than simply honor his sacrifice! We must enact vengeance against the Wicked Witch for what she has taken from Glinda. It is not enough to simply find her or capture her - she must be punished!

“Her wickedness must be punished!”

Elphaba wiped away her tears as the broadcast ended. At least Fiyero was being upheld as a hero. At least she hadn’t destroyed everything about him.

She knew she should be scheming, should actively take credit for what happened to Fiyero, should allow herself to cast such a shadow that the animals could be safe in it.

But she couldn’t do it. The very idea of using Fiyero’s death like that sickened her. It didn’t even matter that his death was her fault - she couldn’t use what was left of him so callously.

She couldn’t risk him being seen as anything but a hero, not even by painting him as a victim.

She looked over at the crystal ball she had enchanted to keep an eye on the little girl. They were almost out of the forest, and soon would be within clear sight of the Emerald City. And once they were there - once the Wizard and Madame Morrible had them - the chances of her getting Nessa’s shoes back were slim.

“Poppies,” she whispered, thinking back to the day that Dr. Dillamond had been taken away - the day that she made just as deep a connection with Fiyero as she had made with Glinda at the Ozdust ballroom.

She smiled.

“Attractive to the eye and a soothing smell - and just enough magic to put that little girl to sleep and freeze her companions.” And then Chistery and the other monkeys would be able to get the girl, and Elphaba would get Nessa’s shoes back.

“Poppies,” she whispered again, turning toward the Grimmerie.

---

Dorothy laughed gleefully as they finally exited the dark forest and Fiyero couldn’t help but smile. He would miss this kid when they got her home again, even if he had his doubts that the Wizard could help.

“And maybe that’s the point,” he thought to himself. Glinda had to have had a reason for sending Dorothy to the Emerald City with a pair of shoes that Elphaba wanted very badly, which would undoubtedly make their little journey headline news. She was clever, even if she often presented herself as being air-headed, and what better way to expose the Wizard as a fraud than by making Dorothy an overnight legend and then forcing the Wizard to show his inability to help her.

It made sense. But the more he traveled with Dorothy, the more he hated where this was going. She was going to be heartbroken when she found out the Wizard was a fraud, and that she might not be able to get back home. He hoped that Glinda had a backup plan for that.

“It’s so beautiful today!” Dorothy exclaimed, skipping along happily.

“It’s so lovely, I could almost feel brave,” Lion agreed, a little shyly. “There’s no shadows or anything for something to be hiding behind.”

Dorothy threw her arms around Lion’s mane in a quick hug. “There, you see!” she exclaimed. “And you did that all by yourself! The Wizard will be able to help you be even more courageous!”

Fiyero grinned. “And even better than that, do you know what we’ll see when we get ‘round this next bend?”

Dorothy dimpled at him, her eyes sparkling. “The Emerald City?” she guessed.

“The Emerald City,” he agreed.

Boq gave him an odd look, but didn’t say anything. Fiyero shrugged mentally, not sure what to think of it, but didn’t really feel like bringing it up.

“I’ve always wanted to see the Emerald City,” Boq said quietly. “But I…” he glanced at Dorothy. “I was trapped for so long… I never got to leave Munchkinland and visit before.”

“Well, we have your oil can now and I’ll make sure you don’t ever get trapped again,” Dorothy said, giving him a determined nod.

Boq smiled fondly at her. “I don’t think I’ll manage to rust between here and there,” he laughed.

Fiyero jumped forward, landing lightly on the back of his heels with his back towards the Emerald City. He was getting quite good at maneuvering his new body around. “And now, my lady,” he exclaimed dramatically. “As we come around this hill you will find -” he twisted around, gesturing grandly in the direction of the city “- Poppies?”

The Emerald City gleamed in the distance, its shining turrets sparkling in the sun. And between them, even covering the yellow brick road, was a field of bright poppy flowers.

“Oh… yes,” Dorothy said, coming around the hill. “The flowers are lovely, but…” she pointed. “Is that the Emerald City? It must be! It’s so beautiful, just like I knew it would be!”

“A field of poppies?” Fiyero said softly, glad Dorothy was too preoccupied in drinking in the sight of the city to notice his reaction. He knew this hadn’t been here before, and there was only one person he knew of who could grow an entire field of poppies so quickly. And it’s the same person who also notoriously once used poppies to put everybody, even Glinda, to sleep. Everybody except him.

“Don’t you think we should go around?” he offered lightly. He didn’t think the poppies would kill any of them, Elphaba was too good at heart to do that. But she was always one to act rashly and make a commotion. And right now she was hurting - hurting and desperate - and he wasn’t sure how that combination would impact her proclivity towards rashness. Best to avoid the poppies for now.

“Oh, but we’re almost there!” Dorothy exclaimed, still staring at the Emerald city with shining eyes. “We can’t take a detour now!”

“Yeah, what are we waiting for?” Lion asked.

Fiyero hesitated. “Nothing…” he admitted. He glanced at Boq, who was giving him an odd look.

“Let’s hurry!” he added. Maybe if they moved through them quickly enough Elphaba wouldn’t have time to do… well, whatever she’d put them in their path for.

“Oh, yes - let’s!” Dorothy agreed, running forward as fast as she could.

---

“Something is very wrong!” Glinda jumped - or at least would have if she hadn’t honed her reaction skills into an art form.

“What is,” she asked, wide eyed, turning to face Madame Morrible as she sauntered into her room. “Has something gone wrong with your latest plan to catch Elphaba?” she added innocently.

Madame Morrible glanced sidelong at her. “Not quite,” she said, gesturing towards Glinda’s window. “Look out to the East.”

Glinda did as she was told, peering out her window over the city to the fields and hills beyond. “Is that…” she asked, noticing the field of bright red flowers that hadn’t been there that morning.

“Poppies,” Madame Morrible finished. “Just like what Elphaba used to put you and all your little classmates to sleep at Shiz all those years ago.

Glinda frowned, genuinely confused. “What does that…”

“Is this what you were planning, my dear,” Madame Morrible interrupted, coming closer. Glinda fought back a wave of fear. Madame Morrible’s warmth had never felt so oppressive, so threatening. It felt like a warm front that threatened to lead into a terrible storm.

“What are you talking about?” Glinda said airily, taking a seat on her cushioned window seat and smiling sweetly at Madame Morrible.

Madame Morrible grabbed Glinda’s wrist in an iron grip, and for a moment Glinda wondered if she was going to break it.

“I knew you were scheming, dear,” she said, her kind voice completely at odds with the pressure on Glinda’s wrist. “But even I had higher expectations for you than this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Glinda said airily, trying to ignore the pain as Madame Morrible tightened her grip on her wrist.

“Did you really think this would work?” Madame Morrible asked. “Do you think the people of Oz are as fickle as the flying monkeys were?”

“I don’t even know what you think my plan was, Madame Morrible,” Glinda said coldly, yanking her wrist out of Madame Morrible’s grasp.

Madame Morrible sighed. “Get the people talking about the little girl who killed the Wicked Witch of the East, send her in this direction so that Elphaba could send her into a sleep that not even the Wizard can awaken her from, and do it so publicly, right in view of the city, that the people lose faith in him.” She looked down at Glinda, and Glinda hid her fear behind a cold smile of her own.

“Of course I didn’t plan that!” Glinda said coldly. She had to admit that would have been a clever plan - probably more clever than her own desperate scheme - it’s just not what she was planning.

“I haven’t spoken to Elphaba since the last time I saw Fiyero, and I doubt she would agree with any plan I came up with.” She rubbed her wrist, hoping the red mark Madame Morrible had left behind wouldn’t turn into a bruise. “I told you why I sent Dorothy here! I didn’t think it was outside of the Wizard’s abilities to give her a map! ”

Glinda lifted her chin, meeting Madame Morrible’s eyes. “It’s not my fault Elphaba is just as good at foiling my plans as she is at foiling yours.”

Madame Morrible seemed to soften, and the looming threat seemed to ease a little bit. Glinda didn’t buy it for one second.

“Of course, my dear.” Madame Morrible said, turning back towards the window, waving a hand towards the sky. “It doesn’t matter either way - there’s nothing poppies hate more than the cold.”

Glinda turned towards the window again, keeping Madame Morrible in the corner of her eye, as clouds gathered above the crimson field, obscuring the flowers in a swirl of white.

“Snow?” she asked archly.

Madame Morrible smiled. “Whoever’s plan it was for those poppies to be there, they can not do the harm it was intended they do.”

Madame Morrible swept past Glinda, heading for the door.

“Unless,” Glinda added, not able to help herself. “Her plan was for you to do exactly that.” She smiled sweetly. “I would hate for you to fall into one of her traps, now that she’s so clearly sprung all of yours.”

Madame Morrible smiled back, feeling like that warm storm front once again. “I wouldn’t worry, my dear. “Bubbles are much easier to catch than a storm cloud.”

“Yes,” Glinda agreed, allowing a matching poisonous warmth to enter her tone. “But a storm cloud has much farther to fall.”

“We shall see, my dear,” Madame Morrible said before turning and sauntering out of the room. Glinda shivered, suddenly feeling cold.

“What are you doing, Elphie?” she whispered, looking out the window again. “What are you doing…”

Chapter Text

Elphaba was furious.

Her spell had worked, would have worked, if not for the sudden change in the weather that she knew had to have been Morrible’s fault. It hadn’t impacted that scarecrow for some reason, but it had put that little girl and the lion to sleep, and it had frozen Boq in place. If Morrible had waited just a few more moments before interfering, Chistery would have gotten there before they woke up. He would have taken the shoes.

She began pacing frantically, back and forth, trying to make sense of the jumbled thoughts in her head, trying to tame her fractured emotions. The second that little girl had come to Oz her entire world had begun to crumble, and now Elphaba felt helpless against her. No scheme, no plan, no desperate hope had led to anything but despair ever since she arrived.

Elphaba put a shaking hand to her aching head, leaning exhaustedly against a wall. It was days since she had eaten, since she had slept. Her last bit of food was the meal she had shared with Fiyero - the last time she had slept was in his arms. And now she felt like a husk - dry and lifeless.

Perhaps that little girl had done that too. Perhaps she had entered Oz with a strange magic, the ability to strip Elphaba of everything - including her own humanity.

There was only one thing she had left to try - one last desperate move she could pull. But it all depended on if the people feared her more than they believed in their Wizard.

---

Fiyero pushed down a wave of apprehension as they got closer to the gates of the City. Whether by design or accident they had not run into any of the Gale Force on their road to the city, but there was no chance that he would not see them here.

And there was even a chance that he would see his torturers here.

They wouldn’t recognize him - even Elphaba hadn’t - and his uniform was so torn and stained that the original bright green color was barely there any longer. But even without being recognized, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see them again.

“This is the last time I make a prediction about rusting,” Boq was grousing. “Not five minutes after saying I won’t possibly rust before getting to the Emerald City I was rusted solid.”

Dorothy laughed. “Well at least we had your oil can and fixed you up quick as can be.” She twirled around in an excited dance. “And soon we will be there, and the Wizard will be able to help us all!”

Fiyero smiled fondly at her, trying to push down his fears. He would face an entire army for this kid, no matter how scared he was.

Dorothy rang the bell, and Fiyero felt frozen in place as a guard stuck his head out an upper window, memories of blood and broken bones drowning out everything. That man had been there.

“Who rang that bell?” the guard demanded.

“We did,” Dorothy answered, somewhat indignantly.

The guard turned to look at him and Fiyero felt himself start to shake. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Was he about to be recognized? Was Dorothy going to have to witness him being dragged off somewh-

“Can’t you read?”

Fiyero blinked. That was not what he had expected the guard’s next words to be. “Read what?” he asked.

“The notice!”

Fiyero felt himself calming down, recognizing the quirkiness that the Emerald City often tried to present itself as having to visitors. This was all for Dorothy’s benefit. It was all part of the Wizard’s charade.

Well… he could play along with the best of them.

“What notice?” he and Dorothy asked at the same time.

“It’s on the door!” the guard said, indignantly. “As plain as the nose on my face!”

Dorothy raised her eyebrows and stared pointedly at the clearly notice-less gate. The guard followed her gaze and with an audible groan disappeared for a moment before appearing again to hang a large notice on the door.

“Bell out of order, please knock.” The four companions all read together.

With an amused gleam in her eyes, Dorothy knocked on the gate and the guard opened it immediately - all wide smiles and welcoming gestures.

Fiyero wanted to stay clear of him all the same.

“Now, state your business,” the guard said genially.

“Well, we’re here to see the Wizard,” Dorothy told him.

“Do you have your invitation? The guard asked.

“Why… no? Did I need one?” Dorothy looked worried.

“No invitation, no Wizard!” the guard said crossly. Fiyero knew it was still part of the act, but he found himself taking a step back anyway.

“Oh, please!” Dorothy begged, eyes starting to fill with tears. “I’ve got to see the Wizard! It’s the only way I’ll get home!”

“She was sent by Glinda the Good,” Boq added. “And I’m sure her instructions are just as valid as any invitation.”

The guard looked suspiciously at Dorothy. “Prove it.”

“She’s wearing the jeweled slippers that Glinda gave her,” Fiyero suggested, hoping this conversation would end quickly.

“Why, so she is!” The guard’s face was all smiles again. He spread his arms out in welcome, and Fiyero felt sick. “Welcome to the Emerald City!”

Dorothy grabbed Fiyero’s hand excitedly as she ran forward, taking in all the sights and sounds and smells of the city. Fiyero followed, legs flopping slightly as he ran with her, letting her excitement calm him. No matter what else happened, he was here for her.

“What should we do first?” Dorothy asked, eyes shining.

---

Madame Morrible looked out at the city, annoyed. There was revelry in the streets again, and she suspected it was all about this Dorothy child. She was an unknown element, and that made her dangerous.

And she didn’t like how tangled up she was with both Elphaba and Glinda.

“I don’t like this, Oscar,” she commented, turning to look at the Wizard, who was lounging lazily in his ‘sandbox’, writing something.

“Don’t like what?” Oscar asked, hardly sparing her a glance. “Did you know I have just come up with another marvelous idea! What about -” he paused dramatically “-Autonomous Robots!” he looked up, grinning. “Eh? Wouldn’t that be…”

“-Something we can focus on at a future date,” she interrupted. “Right now we have something much more pressing to worry about.

She gestured out the window to the celebrations below as Oscar got up to join her.

“Why, they’re celebrating!” Oscar said with a pleased shrug. “What’s so bad about that?”

Madame Morrible sighed. “Because I don’t trust Glinda, and they are celebrating because that Dorothy has arrived on her instructions.”

“Well I don’t see how there’s anything we can do about it.”

Madame Morrible smiled sweetly, putting a gentle hand on his chest. “We can take back the narrative, of course,” she told him. “Whatever Glinda is planning will fall to pieces, because Dorothy will be taken to meet the -” she stretched out her arms for dramatic emphasis “-Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz!”

“Yes, but I still don’t see how that’s going to ruin whatever plans Glinda or Elphaba have for the little girl.”

Madame Morrible glanced at him. “Glinda says the child’s greatest desire is to return home. You must tell her it comes at a price.”

“Hmmm… yes I see,” Oscar nodded. “I can send the little girl after Elphaba.”

“Exactly,” Madame Morrible agreed. “And if she is desperate enough to get home, she will kill Elphaba. Or Elphaba will kill her.” She smiled widely. “Either way, whatever plan Glinda has will fall to pieces, and we will be rid of our problem.”

“And, uh… what if the little girl does manage to kill Elphaba?” Oscar asked. “I will still be stuck needing to help her home. And if I don’t that could be bad for my, uhhh… my image.”

“I’m sure you will find a creative solution, my dear,” Madame Morrible said, turning to look out over the city once again. “You always do.”

---

Elphaba refused to think as she flew towards the Emerald City - refused to give herself the chance to talk herself out of this.

All of these years of building up a reputation of fear and terror, and for once she was going to get something for herself out of it. If it worked…

With a flick of her wrist, she created a trail of black smoke, spelling out her message in the sky.

“Surrender Dorothy!”

She smiled grimly at the screams from down below. Maybe this would work. If they were this terrified about clouds, they might surrender the little girl to her.

She flew forward, centering herself above the city, looking down at the screaming citizens.

“Citizens of Oz!” she yelled out, using magic to make her voice echo threateningly. “You think you have seen my power! You think you have felt my wrath! You think you have experienced fear!”

She cackled, playing up the role placed upon her.

“You are all fools!” she shrieked shrilly. “The time of my wrath has come, and it shall fall upon you and upon your precious Wizard if you do not surrender Dorothy to me!”

With another wave of her wrist a crack of what sounded like thunder echoed around her. It wasn’t actually thunder - try as she might she couldn’t manage weather the way Morrible could, but it was enough to scare the people.

“Take Dorothy and leave her alone and companionless outside the Haunted Forest, and I may spare you yet! Protect her, and feel my wrath!”

She circled around the city, cackling. “I will find you, dearie! No matter who gets destroyed on the way!”

She swooped lower, grim satisfaction swelling in her heart at the scream the motion elicited.

“I shall not warn you again!” she yelled out, before flying away toward the West once again, leaving a terrified city in her wake.

She had done all she could, and if the people of Oz didn’t fear her enough to fall for her bluff and hand Dorothy over to her then there was no point any longer. If they didn’t hand Dorothy over, all she could do was wait for Morrible to stir the fear she incited today into rage until they came for her.

She would either get those shoes, or she would die. And part of her didn’t care which one happened.

---

Dorothy sat perched on the edge of a sofa, hugging Toto in her lap. After the Wizard had given her her task she and her new friends had been shown to a suite of rooms by a tall guard with a nose that looked like it had just been broken. Scarecrow had gone off somewhere almost immediately - he hadn’t even walked past the tall guard to go into the room before he had run off. She, Lion, and Tin Man had explored the rooms, and on any other day she would have been excited about the giant canopy bed waiting for her. But right now she was scared and just wanted to go home.

Now, she was sitting on the sofa, waiting for Scarecrow to come back. Lion was sitting on a large mat next to her, looking apprehensive, and Tin Man was standing by the open door by the balcony, listening to a woman’s voice that was booming over the city. Dorothy had been scared the Wicked Witch was back at first, but Tin Man reassured her it was just the press secretary.

“Their task is to go, and hunt her, and find her, and if they must - kill her!”

Tin Man pumped his fist in the air at the cheer from the city, but Dorothy couldn’t help but shiver. “Good fortune, witch hunters!” a voice called out, and Dorothy wanted to cry. She didn’t want to kill anyone, but she needed to get home. Auntie Em might be dying, and she had to get to her before it was too late.

“The evil of the Wicked Witch must be effectively eliminated,” the press secretary continued. “Wickedness must be, and now finally shall be, punished.”

Another cheer went up from the crowd, Dorothy sniffled again, not able to hold back her tears.

“Don’t cry, Dorothy,” Lion said gently, putting a large paw in her lap. “The Wizard wouldn’t have told you to do it if he didn’t think you could.”

Dorothy sniffed again, wishing she had a handkerchief to wipe her tears away with. “But what if I can’t?” she sobbed. “I’ll never find my way home without his help!”

“Well… it wouldn’t be so bad, staying here with us, would it?” Lion asked timidly. “I feel braver when you’re around, and wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

“Oh, Lion,” Dorothy exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “I simply can’t stay. I have to get back to Auntie Em before it’s too late.”

Lion nodded as she pulled away from the hug. “Well, I’ll still miss you somethin’ fierce,” he told her.

Dorothy giggled, in spite of herself, and impulsively bent forward to kiss him on his nose. “I’ll miss you too,” she told him. “But I’ve got to get home.”

“Dorothy,” Tin Man said softly, coming across the room and sitting next to her on the sofa. The glee in his face during the announcement was gone, and now he just looked concerned.

“Yes?” Dorothy prompted.

“Dorothy… the Wicked Witch of the West is very powerful - very dangerous,” Tin Man said, his voice soft.

“I know she is-”

“I need you to promise me that you will not get too close to her,” Tin Man interrupted. His voice was still soft, but she could hear the metal of his jaw creaking as his eyes flashed with anger.

“But how am I supposed to get her broomstick?” Dorothy protested.

“You have to promise me, Dorothy,” Tin Man grabbed her by the shoulders, and she could feel him shaking. She felt tears come to her eyes again. Why was Tin Man so upset about this?

“I…” she stuttered, “Don’t I have to do what the Wizard says?”

“Oz curse the Wizard,” Tin Man said angrily. “I’m trying to keep you safe!”

Dorothy smiled slightly, glad that Tin Man was angry because he was worried about her, and not for some other reason. “I will be,” she told him. “I have you and…”

“No!”

She jumped at the ferocity in his voice. He seemed to hesitate for an instant, and Dorothy could feel her heart pounding.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he said after a moment, his voice soft again. “Neither was Scarecrow.”

Dorothy gasped, her head reeling. “I don’t understand!”

“We used to be people - normal people, just like you. The Wicked Witch did this to us.”

Dorothy pulled Toto tighter against her chest. “You… you weren’t built that way?” she asked, trying to disguise her shaking by tucking Toto under her chin.

“It’s due to her I’m made of tin, Dorothy. Her spell made it… made it happen. She put a spell on me when I tried to escape from where I was trapped!” He held up one hand and Dorothy flinched.

She didn’t think he would hit her, but he seemed so odd - so unlike the kind friend she had made on the road.

“She’s the one who made me heartless, she’s the one who turned me into this,” Tin Man added, clenching his fist. “I think, for this once, I’m glad I’m heartless. I’ll be heartless killing her.”

Dorothy shuddered, not sure if she wanted to run away or give him a hug. She wished Scarecrow was here. He’d know what to say or do.

“Oh Tin Man, how awful!” she whispered after a moment, putting a shaking hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“She did the same thing to Scarecrow,” Tin Man added. “She attacked him and then turned him into a scarecrow. She’s even to blame for Lion’s cowardice! If she hadn’t abandoned him when he was young he wouldn’t be a coward today!”

Dorothy glanced over at Lion who hung his head in shame. “He’s right,” he whispered.

Tin Man took her hand gently between his, and she looked up at him again. “If she wants those shoes badly enough, and I know she does -” Tin Man’s voice was gentle again. “-she won’t hesitate to do something awful to you too.”

Dorothy nodded, even more scared now than she had been before. Tin Man put a gentle hand under her chin. “I just want to keep you safe, Dorothy,” he told her. “And the only way I can think to do that while getting the Wizard what he wants to send you home is to tell you the truth.”

Dorothy nodded. “But what am I supposed to do?” she asked, trying to sound brave. “I have to get her broomstick if I’m ever to make it home again.”

“You need to leave it to me and Scarecrow,” Tin Man told her gently. “We will all have to leave the City together, but when we get close to her castle you need to stay behind with Lion. The two of you can take care of each other.”

Lion nodded. “I’ll keep her safe,” he promised.

“You can’t be anywhere near the Wicked Witch,” Tin Man added.

“But… but what about you?” Dorothy asked, squeezing his hand. “What if she does something to you?”

Tin Man laughed. The sound was odd and hollow. “There isn’t anything more she could do to us, Dorothy.”

---

Fiyero couldn’t breathe as he made his way blindly down the hallway - which was an odd sensation he realized, since he didn’t need to breathe in this new form anyway.

Of course Lieutenant Shem - of course the man who had ordered his torture - was the guard who walked them down to the Wizard’s throne room. At least everybody else was so awed and terrified by the Wizard himself that his own shaking didn’t seem out of place. He had barely heard the Wizard’s demand that they kill Elphaba as he fought back his fears - memories of those agonizing hours overwhelming his senses.

He ducked down another hallway, not caring where he was going, just knowing he needed to go somewhere else.

If he didn’t already know the Wizard was a fraud, he would have thought he could read his mind when he assigned Shem to show them to their suite, forcing him to remain in his presence even longer. But when they got there, he hadn’t even been able to walk through the door as Shem stood smartly at attention beside it - he couldn’t bring himself to get that close to him. Not even for Dorothy.

He didn’t even know what he had said to the kid before he fled - hopefully something good enough so she wouldn’t think he had abandoned her - but that hardly mattered. All that mattered was getting away! All that mattered was finding somewhere that he could be safe.

He saw a door and ran through it, closing it again behind him - desperately trying to stop shaking. He allowed his eyes to explore the space he was in, trying to distract himself. The room was large, with windows that reached to the ceiling looking out over the city and the fields beyond to the east and the west. Elegant pink pillows decorated the deep window sills, and on the other end of the room a large canopy bed was covered in familiar pink and white pillows.

Fiyero gasped. In his blind panic he had run straight to Glinda’s room.

Her presence seemed to linger in this room, even though she wasn’t in it, and he allowed it to calm him. He could no longer smell the soft fragrance of her perfume, but he had no doubt that it lingered all around him. He stepped deeper into the room, eyes closed, as familiar with the layout here as he was with the layout of his own rooms.

He made his way to her makeup table, taking a seat on the chair. He couldn’t really feel how soft the fabric was anymore, but he could remember how soft it was. He ran his fingers along it absent-mindedly, pretending he could still feel it, before finally opening his eyes and looking into the mirror.

He looked like a strange mockery of himself - as if a small child had drawn him. Close approximations of his familiar features peered out at him from a burlap face and the shape of his nose and lips were formed by folds in the fabric held in place by tiny, even stitches.

He leaned in closer, trying to find any part of himself that he could really recognize, finally landing with surprise on the oddly human eyes peering back at him. They weren’t exactly how they had been before - but if a small child had drawn most of his face, a professional artist had stepped in to draw his eyes. It gave him some level of comfort, that at least something of who he used to be remained.

He stretched his mouth into a smile, then an O shape, fascinated by how the folds of fabric moved with his expressions. No wonder Elphaba hadn’t recognized him from a distance, and even Boq hadn’t seemed to have figured out who he was. If he wasn’t looking at his eyes, he wasn’t sure he would have recognized himself either.

“And”, Fiyero told himself with a wave of relief, “It’s probably why Lieutenant Shem didn’t recognize you either.”

“What are you doing in here,” a familiar voice demanded, and Fiyero jumped up, startled, flopping out of the chair so fast some straw fell out, scattering itself across the slick floor.

Glinda was standing in the doorway of her room wearing an elegant blue gown, holding her wand in one hand, and with an expression of amusement on her beautiful face - so here, and present, and real that Fiyero felt like he couldn’t breathe again. Which was still weird.

“Glinda!” he exclaimed, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to pick up his straw.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Glinda laughed lightly, kneeling down to help him pick up his straw and tucking it carefully into his chest.

“Thank you,” he said softly, wanting desperately to reach out and take her hand. She had always been a shining source of light and cheer, and after the darkness of his panic he wanted so badly for her to brush it away like it was nothing more than a bunch of cobwebs.

She could do it too - he knew she could. They had done it for each other many times over the years, when worry for Elphaba had dimmed even the moments of happiness they had with each other. But deep in his heart, he knew he couldn’t.

He had hurt her enough, and it would be best for her if he just quietly left her world - allowed her to continue on without him. Eventually the pain of his betrayal would fade - or at least he hoped it would - and it would be replaced with memories of the love that both he and Elphaba had for her. But if she knew he was alive, knew what he had gone through… he wasn’t sure if she could ever have that rosy future.

“My apologies, Miss Glinda the Good,” he said, getting to his feet and bowing as low as he could, hiding his face against his knees. “

Glinda laughed - it was the elegant, airy laugh she used for the citizens of Oz, not the warm familiar laugh he was used to. “I’m not used to strange scarecrows coming to my room unannounced.”

He stood up - there was only so long he could bow down before she suspected he was just trying to hide his face - and finally looked at her. A perfect smile was on her face, and she was tilting her head archly as she waiting for him to answer her unspoken question. Anybody who didn’t know her would only see the picture-perfect Glinda the Good.

But Fiyero did know her, and could see she was on the verge of tears. And if Glinda had been told about the Wizard’s callous mission for Dorothy - and he had no doubt she had been - he knew the reason why.

Fiyero hesitated, scrambling for a reason why he might be in here. “I got lost exploring the castle,” he finally said, shrugging affectatiously. When I couldn’t find our suite I came into the first one I could find. I figured somebody would come in here eventually and tell me where I needed to go.”

Glinda laughed again - her light, airy, show laugh and Fiyero felt a pang of regret. “I’ll never hear your real laugh again,” he thought.

“Well, I can certainly direct you to where you need to go,” she told him, gesturing towards the door. He followed her to the doorway, and she pointed towards the end of the hallway. “You go straight down that way and then take a left, and follow that until you get to some stairs leading down three floors. Then you take two more rights and you’ll be at the guest suites.”

He peered down the hall for a moment.

“Well, goodbye then!” Glinda said airily as he started walking through the door. “And the best of luck to you!”

Fiyero bowed again, then hesitated before walking away fully. He had to ask. He half-turned towards her again, trying to keep his face in the shadow of the hallway. “The Wizard will be able to help Dorothy, right? Or at least… at least someone can? She’ll be able to get home?”

Glinda paused for a moment. “Dorothy will get home,” she said gently, using her real voice. “I will make sure she gets home.”

Fiyero nodded, taking one of her hands and bending over to kiss it. “Thank you, dear Glinda!” he said. “With everything I am and was, Glinda… thank you,” he added silently.

“If I am too busy to see you off, tell Dorothy I said good luck!” Glinda said, the airy voice back once again.

Fiyero managed a nod before he turned his back to her and walked away. If he could still cry, he had no doubt he would be.

“Goodbye, dearest Glinda.”

---

Boq paced back and forth in their suite, getting more and more agitated by the second. Dorothy and Lion had both gone to bed not long ago, and Scarecrow still hadn’t returned.

He kicked at the wall in frustration, annoyed at the clanging sound. Sometimes that was the worst part - the noise he made any time he moved. Scarecrow needed to get back from wherever-it-was he had taken himself. They needed to come up with a plan of how they were going to keep Dorothy safe. He already hated himself for having to scare her with the truth, but if Scarecrow was gone for good and Boq had to get her to help him that would make it even worse! He couldn’t do it on his own, and now Dorothy might be too scared to help him!

He shook his head, trying to get rid a strange nagging feeling. Had Scarecrow abandoned them now, after everything, because they were ordered to kill Elphaba? He knew Scarecrow was lying about some things, but he had let it go - a man was entitled to his secrets. Even a straw man.

But the more he thought about it, the less sure he was. Something about all of this didn’t fit, and if it risked Dorothy’s safety or his plans to make Elphaba pay for what she had done he had to get to the bottom of it.

With a frustrated grunt he stalked to the door and threw it open, looking out into the hallway. Scarecrow was nowhere to be seen. He glanced behind him for a moment, but Dorothy was safe in her room. And even Elphaba wouldn’t dare trying to enter the Wizard’s castle to retrieve her, anyway.

He closed the door gently behind him, not wanting to wake Dorothy, before starting his search.

He eventually found himself in a high-walled courtyard bathed in the cool light of the rising moon. Scarecrow was sitting on a bench, hunched over slightly to stare at the ground, seemingly deep in thought.

“Scarecrow,” Boq called out, suddenly furious. They needed to be planning their next steps, figuring out how to kill Elphaba while also keeping Dorothy safe. Instead Scarecrow was just out here doing nothing!

The nagging feeling returned, and suddenly everything fell into place. Scarecrow did know Elphaba, he was sure of it.

Scarecrow jumped slightly at Boq’s voice before peering in his direction. “What is it, Tin Man?” he called out softly.

Boq stalked closer, not caring to even try to stop his feet from clanking on the stone path.

“You know her,” he shouted, accusatory.

“What?”

Boq stomped his foot, the metal clanking against the hard stone of the courtyard. His jaw was clenched so tight he could hear the metal grinding. Whoever this Scarecrow was, he was going to be honest with Boq or he was going to regret it.

“The Wicked Witch - Elphaba! You know her, and you know me!”

Scarecrow got to his feet, an odd look on his face.

“I told you, I don’t remem-” Scarecrow began.

“Yeah, I know. You don’t remember anything from before you were a scarecrow.” Boq stepped closer, and Scarecrow shrank further back.

“Except that’s all a lie, isn’t it.”

Scarecrow shivered slightly, but Boq didn’t care. Dorothy’s safety was on the line, and that’s all that mattered.

“You knew that the Emerald City was just around the bend, so you definitely remember being there before.”

Boq took another step forward.

“You were suspicious of the poppies.”

Another step, and Scarecrow seemed to shrink in front of him.

“You have been giving me odd looks from the moment we met!”

Another step, and Scarecrow was pressed up against the stone wall of the courtyard. “Tin Man, I…”

“Stop lying to me, Scarecrow!” he interrupted, grabbing Scarecrow’s wrists and pinning him to the wall spread-eagled. There was no breeze in this walled courtyard, but Scarecrow had started rustling violently as if it was storming. For whatever reason being pinned spread-eagle had disturbed him, but Boq didn’t care. All he cared about was finding the truth.

“You knew her, and you know me!”

He peered into his face, trying to recognize something in the folds of burlap.

“Who are you!”

Scarecrow didn’t answer, only stood against the wall shaking as Boq held him in place, eyes wide with terror.

Those eyes…

Boq stepped back, letting go of Scarecrow, feeling as if he had been punched. Scarecrow collapsed in a shaking heap in front of him.

“Fiyero?” Boq asked, hardly believing it himself. It couldn’t be Fiyero - tall, handsome Fiyero who had stolen Glinda’s heart before Boq ever had a chance to try to win it. It couldn’t be him here now, a cheap mockery of a human.

Scarecrow didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him, but Boq knew he was right. Now that he’d noticed, he couldn’t unsee Fiyero’s familiar features.

“It is you, isn’t it?”

Fiyero’s body still didn’t stop rustling, and Boq sat down next to him - concern outweighing his anger. What had happened to the strong, confident man he had always been so envious of? It couldn’t have been Elphaba - her doing something to Fiyero was as unthinkable as her doing something to Glinda.

But somebody had done something - had transformed his confidence into anxiety as much as they had transformed his flesh into straw.

“What happened to you, Fiyero?” he finally asked, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, trying to keep his voice soft.The touch seemed to help, as Fiyero’s shaking lessened and the haunted look in his eyes faded.

“She’s not the monster you think she is, Boq,” he finally answered, and Boq fought back a feeling of betrayal. Fiyero had known who he was, and yet never told him the truth.

He felt his jaw clench in anger, both at Fiyero’s words and at his own realization. “How can you say that?” he demanded. “Look at what she did to you - at what she did to me! What she did to Lion!”

Fiyero flinched slightly at the harsh tone in his voice, then shook his head again. “She saved me, Boq… almost.”

Boq’s swirling thoughts stopped cold. “What do you mean?”

Fiyero hugged himself, his voice shaking slightly. “They had her, Boq. The Gale Force had her. They were going to do to her what they…” he trailed off.

“What they did to you?” Boq asked, trying to keep his voice gentle.

Fiyero nodded.

He shouldn’t ask, not when it clearly was bothering Fiyero so much, but he had to know.“What did they do to you?” Boq shook his head. It made no sense! He would rather have died, collapsed on the ground as his heart shrank down into painful nothingness, than live the rest of his life the way he was now. “What could they have possibly done that makes an existence where you can’t even feel the touch of somebody’s hand worth it?”

“They tortured me, Boq,” Fiyero said, his voice so soft Boq could hardly hear it. “They tore me apart, destroyed me completely. I think this form -” Fiyero gestured at himself “-was the only way she could use her magic to save me from the pain of it.

He shrugged. “It’s just… they had already done their worst by the time it took effect.”

Boq’s head was reeling, not even sure what to think or feel anymore - not sure who to direct his ire at. Sure, he had always been jealous of Fiyero and how magnetic he was - even Boq himself had felt the pull of his charm on more than one occasion - but he had never wanted that for him. And for it to have come from the Gale Force, maybe even the Wizard himself… it was unthinkable. But he knew Fiyero enough to know he wouldn’t lie about this - even knew Elphaba enough to know that she wouldn’t transform Fiyero into this mockery of a human form without as good of a reason as Fiyero had just given.

But if Elphaba did have a good reason for what she did, and if the Gale Force and the Wizard were the villains of Fiyero’s story… what did that mean about everything else going on? All the time he had spent trapped under Nessa’s thumb he had chosen to believe what was said about Elphaba, chosen to believe that the sisters were both wicked, and that wickedness couldn’t endure. What they had done to him had solidified that for him.

And now he didn’t know what to think anymore.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said at last, not sure what else to say.

Fiyero shrugged. “It’s why this form doesn’t bother me,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “When the last thing you feel is… what I did, you don’t miss it that much.”

Boq shook his head, a thousand thoughts and emotions swirling in his mind. He knew he should re-evaluate his thoughts on Elphaba, especially with this new information, but he couldn’t help being angry. It didn’t matter if she did it out of goodness or wickedness! He would have had an easy death, and this new form was limiting, and hideous, and he would never be able to win Glinda’s heart looking like this!

Glinda!

He looked at Fiyero again. “Does Glinda know?”

“No!” Fiyero said forcefully, turning to face Boq fully.

“You need to listen to me, Boq! Glinda can never know!”

Boq frowned. “Why not?”

“Would you want her to know who you are, in the form you are in now?”

Boq sighed. Fiyero was right, no matter how much he wished that he wasn’t. Glinda, always beyond his reach, was too far for him to even dream about anymore.

“You’re right,” he admitted.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Boq was still reeling from everything he had just learned. If he had known all of this before he wouldn’t have scared Dorothy the way that he had. If Elphaba did have that good of a reason for Fiyero’s transformation Dorothy probably wasn’t in any danger of being transformed into something herself, no matter how much she wanted Nessa’s shoes. Which means he had scared her more than she already was for no reason.

“Listen,” he said at last. “I’m not saying I forgive Elphaba for what she did to me, or even that she doesn’t deserve to be punished for it - because she does. But we still have a problem.”

Fiyero nodded.

“Elphaba is still going after Dorothy,” Fiyero said softly.

“And we need to kill Elphaba if Dorothy is going to make it home,” Boq thought, but it didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up. Not after Fiyero’s revelation. “And we need to keep Dorothy safe,” he said instead.

---

Dorothy lay down curled up on her bed, wide awake. She had waited for hours for Scarecrow to come back, and when he didn’t she had just gone to bed. But try as she might she couldn’t fall asleep - she was just too scared.

It was all too much! She had been so excited to get to the Emerald City, thinking that as soon as she arrived she would be sent home. She’d get back to Aunt Em before it was too late. And now… now she was expected to kill someone. And it was someone who could turn her into something else - maybe a china doll. Auntie Em wouldn’t even recognize her, and that would be worse than never getting home at all! She shivered. The Wicked Witch might even be able to turn Scarecrow and Tin Man into something else! Tin Man didn’t think she could, but what if she turned them into a chair, or a vase, or even a green gem - something that she couldn’t even talk to anymore. She didn’t want that to happen to them!

She sniffled, not even fighting the tears that rolled down her cheek and onto her pillow. She choked back a sob, and a moment later the door to her room opened.

“Dorothy?”

Dorothy sat bolt upright in bed. “Scarecrow!” she cried, running over to him. “Oh Scarecrow, you’re back!”

She threw her arms around him in a hug, taking comfort in the softness of his straw. “Don’t let her turn you into a green rock,” she sobbed.

Scarecrow laughed gently, patting her back. “What’s this about?”

Dorothy pulled away, feeling a little foolish, even though she was still scared. “Tin Man told me what happened to you,” she whispered.

“Ahh,” Scarecrow said gently, walking over and taking a seat on the foot of her bed. Dorothy followed, hopping up beside him.

“What did he tell you?”

Dorothy sniffled again, feeling fresh tears come to her eyes. “He said that you were both people like me once, but then the Wicked Witch of the West turned him into tin when he tried to escape from where he was trapped. And he said she attacked you and turned you into straw.”

Another tear fell down her cheek, and Scarecrow reached out and gently wiped it away.

“He also said she might do it to me too,” Dorothy whispered. “And that when we go off to get her broomstick, Lion and I need to stay behind and you two will get it alone.” She turned towards Scarecrow. “But what if she turns you into something that I can’t even talk to anymore? I would never forgive myself if that happened!”

Scarecrow didn’t say anything for a moment, instead just sitting where he was with a thoughtful look on his face. Dorothy shivered, starting to get even more scared. Was she right? Would the Wicked Witch actually turn him into a rock or a chair?

“Dorothy,” Scarecrow said at last, taking both of Dorothy’s hands in his. “I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter how this all plays out… you don’t need to be afraid. And you will get home.”

Dorothy blinked. There was so much conviction in Scarecrow’s voice, so much certainty, that she almost believed him.

“But Tin Man said…”

“It doesn’t matter what Tin Man said,” Scarecrow said softly. “He was wrong. It’s not the Wicked Witch’s fault that I’m like this, and I promise you,” he nudged her chin gently. “You will get home again.”

Dorothy nodded. “And she won’t turn you into a chair or a rock?”

Scarecrow laughed. “I promise you, Dorothy, we will all get back to the Emerald City exactly the same as when we left it.”

Dorothy smiled, relieved, then bit back a yawn. “I think I can sleep now,” she said, crawling back to her pillow and lying down.

Scarecrow got to his feet and headed for the door. “Wait!” Dorothy called out. She still didn’t want to be alone. Not right now - not even with Scarecrow’s gentle promise.

“Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” she asked.

Scarecrow nodded, closing the door again so that the only light in the room came from the stars through her window, before coming and sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I can do that,” he told her softly.

Chapter Text

Elphaba felt numb.

Her bluff had been called, and as anticipated Morrible had stirred up the people against her even more, daring to even send out “witch hunters” with explicit orders to kill her. She should be angry, or despondent, or even trying to find a way to escape. Especially after what they did to Fiyero, she couldn’t imagine her own end would be pleasant when they got to her.

But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She would play her part when the time came - she would do what was expected of the wicked, and would even raise the ire of the people after her so that nothing would stop them. She would put on a show that Oz would talk about for centuries, long after any of the true details of her life were lost - but she wouldn’t truly fight anymore. She had failed everybody she ever loved, and even worse she had failed all of the people who loved her. And when she had put everything on the line just to retrieve Nessa’s shoes even that had failed.

Her life was marked with failure, and now her death would do the same. And at least this way she couldn’t bring Glinda down with her. She would just be a footnote in a single chapter in Glinda’s life, hardly worthy of mentioning, other than as the one person in her entire life who managed to hurt her where it mattered most.

At least her death would allow Glinda to close this chapter. It would allow her to move forward, find the joyful rosy future that she deserved. If there was any meaning to be found in her entire sorry life, maybe that was it.

---

Glinda shivered as she looked out the window of her room facing the West, desperately hoping that Elphaba was planning some sort of scheme. She was helpless, caught up in a web spun of iron, unable to stop what Madame Morrible and the Wizard had set into motion.

They were going to try to kill Elphie, and it was her fault, just like Fiyero’s death was her fault, and Nessa’s death was her fault.

If only she had gone with Elphie when she first defied gravity and learned to fly. If only she had gone with her and Fiyero when they had run off together. If only she hadn’t suggested that to catch Elphie they should put Nessa in harm's way. If only she hadn’t given Dorothy those shoes. If only she hadn’t gotten in that stupid fight with Elphie that had gotten her caught - that had forced Fiyero to take her place.

There were so many “if onlys”, and she would carry each one of them with her for the rest of her life.

And now nothing would be the same again. The delicate balancing act she had managed for so long was all for nothing. Madame Morrible and the Wizard had won by ordering an innocent child to kill Elphie. And even if Dorothy didn’t, Madame Morrible had stirred up the entire city. Whether Dorothy failed or not, Elphie didn’t have long before all of Oz poured through the countryside ready to destroy her, not even fear stopping them any longer. And she would have to stand by and do nothing as the last person she loved was taken from her.

No, worse than that. She would have to embrace the poison of her popularity and celebrate Elphie’s death.

“If only I could stop all of this,” she whispered to the dark western sky. “Oh, Elphie… if only I could.”

---

Fiyero paced back and forth in his bedroom, trying desperately to formulate a plan. Glinda had promised that Dorothy would make it home no matter what happened, so he didn’t need to worry about that anymore - but there was still the whole kill-Elphaba plan that Boq was too on board with and Dorothy too desperate to get home to go against.

And Elphaba was spiraling - he had seen it when they had seen her on their road to the Emerald City, and he had seen it when she’d appeared above the city to demand they surrender Dorothy. He didn’t know what lengths she would go to anymore, and was deeply afraid that she would end up dead before he could get to her.

He sighed, stopping his pacing to look out his window towards the west, wishing he could go to Glinda for help. Together they might be able to think of something, but he couldn’t risk Glinda anymore. He would have to do this on his own.

He just couldn’t think what to do.

Fiyero started pacing again. In the morning he was supposed to set out on a mission to kill Elphaba, and he had no idea…

He stopped short, staring out the window looking into the west, towards Elphaba, a desperate plan slowly forming.

Why not use this to his advantage? He, for all intents and purposes, was already dead. So why not let the people of Oz think Elphaba was dead too. Then they would be free to escape somewhere - it didn’t really matter where. They could just go. They could be together, far away from the lies and propaganda and schemes that had her on the run for so long and that had resulted in his own fate.

And then Glinda would be able to live the life that she wanted, free of the pain that they brought to her. She would be happy, and he and Elphaba would be safe.

He sat down at a desk in the corner of the room, looking frantically for pen and paper. He was sure after Madame Morrible’s announcement this afternoon that the flying monkeys would be on the alert. No doubt they would stir up some trouble when the four of them set out together, which was perfect. All he needed to do was write Elphaba a letter, and when they inevitably ran into the flying monkeys he would ask them to deliver it.

He flattened a piece of paper, wondering what exactly he should write. It had to be vague, just in case somebody else found it, but something Elphaba would instantly recognize as coming from him.

Dearest Elphaba

He finally wrote.

Miraculously, I’ve managed to escape, thanks to the spell you cast on me. I’ve had to pay a great price, but my love is still strong for you.

He fought back a wave of apprehension as he glanced at the mirror in front of him, examining the strange burlap face staring back at him. He knew Elphaba wasn’t shallow. Even Glinda, as shallow as she pretended to be, would have still loved him in this form the same way they both loved Elphaba - no matter how odd others found it to be. Elphaba would still love him - but part of him had to make sure… had to say something.

I only hope that you will still want me when we next meet.

He didn’t elaborate - he didn’t know how to.

I have a plan for us and I will come to you and explain it.

Tell no one I am ALIVE!

My only hope - OUR ONLY HOPE IS FOR ALL OF OZ TO THINK I’M DEAD, and for you to be the same

He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he should sign it, before ultimately deciding not to.

Elphaba would know it was from him, and he couldn’t risk the letter falling into somebody else’s hands. He couldn’t risk a rumor that he was alive.

He read the letter over again before carefully folding it and placing it inside his chest.

All he could do now was wait for the flying monkeys to intercept them on their way to Kiamo Ko, and hope he could convince them to give Elphaba his letter. Her life - their lives - depended on it.

Chapter Text

Elphaba stared at her crystal ball, watching as the little girl and her three companions entered the Haunted Forest. It wouldn’t be long now before they got to Kiamo Ko.

It wouldn’t be long before Elphaba would finally be able to join Fiyero in death, and no longer be a burden on Glinda in life. And at the very least her death would likely be quick - she couldn’t imagine the “witch hunters” that Madame Morrible had sent after her were capable of the horrors inflicted on Fiyero.

“I believe in spooks,” the lion was saying, his eyes wide with terror. “I’ve heard whispers of-” Elphaba waved her hand, muting it. It’s not like she was planning any sort of escape or defense. She didn’t need to hear what they were saying to each other.

She walked to the window, looking out in the direction of the Emerald City. “Take your army to the Haunted Forest and bring me that little girl and her slippers,” she told Chistery, her voice shrill. “And backtrack as close to the Emerald City as you can - make sure nobody else is coming.”

“Fly, fly!” she called out to the monkeys perched on the nearby turrets. “Bring me that girl and her slippers!” she let out a cackle. “And take special care of those jeweled shoes! I want them most of all!”

She glanced at Chistery who was still standing beside her, staring at her solemnly.

“You heard me!” she shrieked. “Do what you want with the others. Scare them, delay them, make them turn back, I don’t care - it doesn’t matter! Once I have that little girl there is no stopping the people from coming to me!”

She turned back to the window. “Fly! Fly!”

“Miss Elphaba… you do not need to pretend for us.” Chistery said quietly.

Elphaba looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Fly, Chistery,” she whispered. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Chistery nodded quietly before leaping out the window, flying out towards the little girl and her companions - flying out to hasten Elphaba’s death.

---

“I’ve heard whispers of strange things in the forest,” Lion whispered.

Fiyero glanced at Dorothy as she walked, concerned. She smiled up at him, but he could see she was scared. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently.

“Jitterbugs that make you dance until you drop dead of exhaustion,” Lion continued. “Princesses who will steal your head and wear it, even-”

“Lion,” Fiyero interrupted gently. “You’re scaring Dorothy.”

“I’m scaring myself!” Lion wailed. “But I can’t help it!”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Lion,” Fiyero said gently.

“There’s the Wicked Witch,” Boq cut in.

Fiyero gave him a sharp glance, and Boq at least had the decency to look contrite.

“It’s okay Lion.” Dorothy said, letting go of Fiyero’s hand to throw her arms around Lion’s mane as they walked. “We can be scared together.”

Fiyero felt a surge of pride and affection for this little girl. No matter how scared she was, Dorothy was putting it aside for someone who was even more afraid. He would have liked to meet Aunt Em and Uncle Henry - let them know what a special little girl they were raising, and how good of a job they were doing at it.

After a moment, Fiyero caught Boq’s eye, and the two of them fell in step a few feet behind Lion and Dorothy.

“Do we have a plan of exactly what we are going to do when we get to the wi… to Elphaba?” Boq whispered, his voice low enough that Dorothy couldn’t hear him.

Fiyero shrugged, still not sure how much he should trust Boq. He might not be holding a grudge against Elphaba for what had happened to Fiyero anymore, but Fiyero had no doubt he was still holding a grudge for his own fate. Still, the fact that he’d corrected himself from ‘the witch’ to ‘Elphaba’ was a promising sign.

“What do you think we should do?” he whispered back. “Does she deserve to die for making a mistake?”

The metal of Boq’s jaw creaked as he clenched it, but he didn’t answer Fiyero.

“Does she deserve to die for saving your life?” Fiyero added softly.

“This isn’t life,” Boq hissed angrily. “It’s barely existence!”

“It can be one. And you have to decide if the new life you want to make for yourself should start with murder.”

Boq shook his head. “I won’t forgive her, Fiyero, but…” he trailed off, looking ahead at Dorothy and Lion, still huddled close to each other.

“But?” Fiyero prompted.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Boq said finally. “Elphaba needs to die if Dorothy is ever going to get home. That’s more important than either of our feelings.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Boq!” Fiyero said, desperately. “Glinda promised Dorothy will get home, no matter what happens. Can’t you at least have faith in that?”

“I don’t kno-”

Dorothy shrieked, interrupting their conversation. “Monkeys!” she cried. “It’s flying monkeys!

Before Fiyero had time to react to her scream, or even take another step, the monkeys were everywhere.

“Dorothy!” he yelled out, trying to get to her.

“Oh please, help!” She yelled as she was lifted high into the air.

“Dorothy!” Boq screamed, swinging his axe at a nearby monkey. The monkey screamed as it bit deep into his wing, causing him to fall to the ground.

“Boq, no!” Fiyero yelled, but it was too late. Boq had already swung his axe again, burying it deep in the monkey’s chest. Blood gushed out, and the monkey let out a gargled yell before his eyes dimmed.

The death of their comrade infuriated the monkeys even more. One of them ripped Boq’s axe out of his hands, and then Fiyero felt himself lifted off the ground and flung high into the air, his limbs flailing. The ground careened back towards him - slower than he might have anticipated it - before a second monkey grabbed him and flung him through the air once again. He felt bits of straw fall out of his chest, and in a moment of panic he dug his hands deep into the straw - searching for the letter. If he didn’t get the letter to the monkeys Elphaba could die!

He flopped down to the ground, a few hundred yards away from Boq, and the monkey landed beside him - eyes red with fury.

“Please!” Fiyero gasped, holding out the note. “Elpha-”

The monkey roared, flying at him and knocking him to the ground. Fiyero fought down a wave of panic as rough hands tore into him. He fought against the monkey blindly as handful after handful of straw was ripped violently out of his body, trying desperately to push down the memories of his last agonizing moments as a human. A second monkey joined the first, and Fiyero screamed as he felt his body tear in half. It didn’t hurt - it couldn’t hurt - but all he could see was Lieutenant Shem’s cold stare as his all-too-human body was slowly shattered.

“Please,” he tried again, desperately trying to come back to the present moment. Elphaba was all that mattered. His fears didn’t matter, his past didn’t matter, this strange form that he was in now didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to her before it was too late. All that mattered was that she stayed alive.

“Give this to Elphaba!” he begged, trying to hold his nearly empty arm out, the note almost falling from his limp fingers. “I don’t care what you do to me just… just give it to her.”

The monkey growled at him again, but grabbed the note from his hand before flying off again towards the Emerald City.

“No…” Fiyero whispered. “No, not that way… she’s to the west…”

But the monkeys were already gone.

Fiyero lay where he was for a moment, stunned, before trying to pull himself upright. Instead, he flopped over again, barely able to move without his straw.

“Help!” he called out, hoping Boq and Lion could hear him. “I’m over here!”

A moment later he heard Boq’s now familiar clanking footsteps and Lion’s soft paw pads coming closer to him.

“Well, what happened to you?” Boq asked. Fiyero winced slightly. He could hear the tightness in his voice beneath the light tone.

“They tore my legs off and threw them over there,” he answered, gesturing limply with his slightly-more-stuffed arm, trying to keep his own voice light as well. “Then they took my chest out and threw it over here!” he added, nodding towards the pile of straw beside him that used to be in his chest.

“I can go get your legs,” Lion suggested helpfully before creeping warily in the direction Fiyero’s legs had been thrown.

Boq knelt down beside Fiyero and began aggressively stuffing the straw back into his torso. “She’s taken Dorothy, Fiyero,” he hissed furiously. “No matter who she used to be, who she could have been, who you think she is - she has taken Dorothy!”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“She is exactly the monster that I think she is, even if you can’t see it!” Boq interrupted.

Fiyero didn’t say anything. At the very least, he needed Boq’s help to put himself back together. Antagonizing him in his current state didn’t seem to be the wise decision.

“No matter how it’s done, no matter what I have to do, no matter what I have to sacrifice to see it done, Elphaba has to die!” Boq added as Lion ran up, carefully clutching Fiyero’s legs in his mouth.

“They look to be in good condition,” Lion said softly after laying Fiyero’s legs carefully on the ground. “Still nice and stuffed. It shouldn’t be hard to tie you back together.”

Fiyero didn’t take his eyes off of Boq. “Yes,” he said softly. “Even when I’m torn apart, I’m fixable.”

Boq met his gaze. “Not all things are, Scarecrow.”

---

Dorothy stood where she had been placed by the monkeys, afraid to move at all, shivering with fright. The Wicked Witch was holding Toto in her lap, petting him, while staring at her.

She had never been this close to the Witch before, and now that she was she didn’t like it. Her eyes looked dead, as if she didn’t even have a soul. “Maybe she doesn’t have a soul,” Dorothy thought, trying to fight back tears. “Maybe that’s what makes someone as wicked as she is.”

“Please,” she finally said. “Please give me back my dog.”

The witch laughed, and Dorothy shivered again. She had never heard a laugh like that before - not even when she had met the Witch before. It was as if the Witch wasn’t even sane.

“Why, certainly! I’ll give you your dog,” the witch crooned, coming closer. “But only when I have those slippers.”

“But Glinda the Good told me not to!” Dorothy said, trying to sound brave.

“Very well!” the witch laughed again, handing Toto to the flying monkey that was standing beside her. “Take the little dog and drown him.”

The monkey nodded and put Toto in Dorothy’s basket, taking a step towards the door.

“No!” Dorothy begged. “No, please stop! Scarecrow said you wouldn’t…”

“Scarecrow said,” The Wicked Witch mocked. “If this scarecrow of yours knew anything he wouldn’t have joined your little posse to come after me!”

Dorothy shook her head, thinking back to the night before they left the Emerald City. Scarecrow was so certain that the Witch wouldn’t do anything to her. She had to believe him now. “He said I didn’t have to be afraid,” she said, lifting her chin up. “And he wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Well then he’s nothing but a fool!” the Witch laughed. “Because you should be afraid.”

The Witch stepped closer to Dorothy, leaning in conspiratorially. Dorothy shivered again at the dead look in her eyes. “I want those slippers, my pretty, and they won’t come off your feet until you’re dead.”

Dorothy gasped, and the Witch cackled again. “I just need time to decide how it should be done. These things can’t be… rushed, after all.”

“Please,” Dorothy tried again. Scarecrow wouldn’t have told her she didn’t need to be afraid if it wasn’t true. Somehow, he had known that even the Wicked Witch couldn’t do something to her.

“Keep begging, my pretty!” the witch cackled. “It won’t save you.”

Dorothy choked back another sob, finally looking away from the Witch’s cold, dead eyes. She wasn’t sure how long she could pretend to be brave, even with what Scarecrow had said to her, when looking at those eyes. She gasped - behind the Witch, the monkey had placed her basket on the floor and Toto had just nosed the lid open.

“Run, Toto! Run!” she yelled as he jumped out, running for the door.

The Witch whirled around. “Catch him, you fool!” She shrieked.

The monkey ran out the door after Toto. Dorothy tried to follow, but the Witch grabbed her by the arm. “Please stop!” Dorothy begged. “You’re hurting me!”

“I’ll do more than that before I’m through with you!” The Witch said as she dragged Dorothy over to the window, the grip on her arm loosening slightly. Dorothy choked back another sob, terrified she was about to be thrown out the window. A moment later she saw a tiny furry shape darting over a drawbridge and into the darkness of the forest.

“He got away!” she sobbed. “Oh, he got away!”

“Which is more than you will,” the Witch said, letting go of her arm and striding across the room to pick up a large hourglass. “This is how long you have to live, my pretty.”

She slammed the hourglass down on the table, and the sand began falling alarmingly fast. “And as you can see, it isn’t long!”

She stormed to the door, turning back once more before leaving the room. “You’ll see that you have reason to be afraid!” she said shrilly. Her voice sounded hollow, as if the dead look in her eyes had spread all the way to her voice. “No matter what your little scarecrow friend might have said!”

The door slammed behind the Witch, and Dorothy found herself completely alone. She sank down to the ground and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. “Oh Scarecrow,” she whispered. “Please don’t be wrong.”

---

Boq stalked forward, not even wanting to look at Fiyero.

He had almost convinced him. Almost convinced him that El- that the Wicked Witch was more than what he believed. Had almost convinced him that she wasn’t a monster, and that she had just made mistakes.

But she had taken Dorothy. He clenched his jaw, trying to forget Dorothy’s terrified scream that still echoed in his ears. He had taken down at least two of the monkeys for that - his red-stained axe was proof of it - but theirs was not the blood he wanted staining his axe.

“Are… are you sure we’ll be able to rescue Dorothy?” Lion asked timidly, breaking the heavy silence.

“We will,” Boq said, not turning to face him. “We will rescue her and end the Witch’s reign of terror.”

Lion shivered, but Boq couldn’t bring himself to care. He would later, and would apologize to Lion. But right now all that mattered was getting to the Witch and killing her.

“It won’t be as dangerous as you think it will be, Lion,” Fiyero said gently, putting a gentle hand on Lion’s mane. “I don’t think she’ll put up much of a fight.”

Boq finally whirled on Fiyero, not caring that he flinched away from him at the sudden movement. “She won’t put up much of a fight?” he demanded angrily. “You think kidnapping Dorothy, maybe even telling her monkeys to drop her from an unimaginable height, isn’t putting up a fight?”

Fiyero didn’t say anything.

“For all we know we will find her dead body on the road before we even get to the Wicked Witch! And I imagine if we don’t it’s only because the Witch wants to be present when she kills her or destroys her like what she did to me!”

Lion cowered at Boq’s words, but Fiyero didn’t back down. “I know Dorothy is alive,” he said softly. He glanced down at Lion for a moment, before meeting Boq’s eyes again. “She wouldn’t hurt her.”

Boq scoffed before turning away and stalking forward once again. “I don’t have the faith that you do, Scarecrow.” he said. “I’ll only believe she’s still ali-”

A tiny shrill bark interrupted him as Toto came running towards him out of the darkness.

“It’s Toto!” Lion exclaimed. “And Dorothy isn’t with him!”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Lion,” Fiyero said gently.

Boq clenched his jaw, peering forward into the gloom, not sure if he really was expecting to see Dorothy’s body lying on the ground in the distance or not. At this point, he would believe El- the Witch was capable of anything.

Toto barked again, then ran along the road a bit, before turning back.

“Don’t you see,” Fiyero said. “He’s trying to lead us to Dorothy.”

Boq tightened his grip on his axe. “Then let’s follow him.” he ground out.

Toto turned out to be a good guide, leading them quickly without ever losing them, and before long they found themselves hidden behind a pile of brambles looking at a dark castle.

“What’s that?” Lion asked fearfully. “Is that…”

“The castle of the Wicked Witch,” Boq answered softly.

“Dorothy’s in that awful place?” Lion asked, tearfully. “She must be so frightened!”

“We’ll get her out, Lion,” Boq promised, looking at the tip of his axe.

“But first, we’ve got to get in,” Fiyero added.

Boq glanced at him. He didn’t trust him not to get in his way when the time came to kill Elphaba, but he was a prince. He probably had a better understanding of how to get in and out of castles than he ever would.

If nothing else, he would be easy to dispose of if he got in the way - even if it had to be permanent.

“I assume you have a plan?” he asked, not wanting to look Fiyero in the eye.

Fiyero nodded. “I think I can get us inside.”

---

Elphaba took a gasping breath, hardly much more than a sob, as she paced back and forth.

She had done it. That little dog would lead Dorothy’s friends to the castle, ensuring that they got here sooner rather than later. Dorothy would tell them about the threat on her life, and they would hunt her down. And then she would die.

She was ready for this - she wanted this.

But now that the moment was marching irreversibly closer, doubt was starting to crawl at her mind. Fiyero had given his life so that she could live, and now she was throwing it all away.

“It’s too late now,” she reminded herself. “You’ve made your bed, and it's of thorns, not of roses.”

“Elphie?” Elphaba’s heart clenched at Glinda’s familiar voice.

“Go away!” she wasn’t sure if she was ordering it or begging for it. She just knew she didn’t want Glinda to be here. Didn’t want her to witness whatever was about to happen to her.

“Elphie please, just let the little girl go!” Glinda begged.

Elphaba didn’t answer - couldn’t answer. It was too late for that now.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Elphie,” Glinda said, coming closer and putting a hand on her shoulder. “But you are out of control.”

Elphaba whirled around. “Am I?” she demanded. “Am I really? Aren’t I just living up to my reputation? I am the -” she spread her fingers out like claws in front of her face “-Wicked Witch of the West, aren’t I? I can do whatever I want!”

“Elphaba, please!” Glinda yelled. “Just take some time to think! ”

She stomped her foot, eyes glistening with angry tears. “I have been playing their game, fighting against them bit by bit, and I thought you were too. But you are completely out of control! All you care about is those shoes, and you don’t care what happens to you as long as you get them. And now, because you couldn’t calm down, because you couldn’t let it go, because you had to fly off the handle again, there is a mob after you! And I’m about to lose the person in this world that I love most! The only person left that I love!”

Glinda sank down in a nearby chair. “Don’t make me lose you too, Elphie,” she whispered.

Elphaba knelt down on the floor in front of her, taking both of her hands in hers. “It’s too late for that, Glinda,” she said softly. “I really am wicked now. There is no escaping who I am, and who I’ve become. There’s no escaping what comes next.”

Chistery flew through the window, and Elphaba and Glinda both jumped to their feet. “What is it, Chistery,” Elphaba asked.

Chistery glanced at Glinda for a moment before handing Elphaba a carefully folded piece of paper.

“What is this?” Elphaba asked, taking a few steps away from Glinda and unfolding the paper. Who could have written her a note? If Glinda wasn’t here she might have thought it came from her, but Glinda was here. “Why are you bothering me wi…”

She trailed off as she read the letter, then read it a second time. There was no signature, but it couldn’t have come from anybody but Fiyero. Which meant…

Fiyero was somehow still alive, even after everything he had suffered.

Tears sprang to her eyes as for the first time in what felt like a lifetime she felt hope. She fought back a sob, feeling as if her heart was about to burst.

“What is it?” Glinda asked from behind her.

Elphaba swallowed, glancing down at the letter again. She couldn’t tell Glinda, not until she and Fiyero found each other again. Not until he was able to explain his plan further.

“It’s Fiyero, isn’t it,” Glinda guessed, her voice soft.

Elphaba didn’t say anything, her mind racing as she tried to guess Fiyero’s scheme, replaying everything that she had seen and heard since that disastrous moment when he had taken her place.

She caught her breath as she mentally reviewed the strange companions Dorothy had with her. A Lion, Boq, and a scarecrow.

A scarecrow who had told Dorothy not to be afraid - who had convinced her so fully that even in the face of the threat on her life that little girl had enough faith to try to be brave. The same scarecrow who was unaffected by her poppy spell, when even Boq had fallen to her spell and frozen stiff.

“Oh Fiyero,” she thought silently, tears finally falling, remembering the expression on his face when she had thrown a fireball at him. How could she have been so blind this whole time?

She turned to Glinda again. “We will never see his face again,” she whispered.

“Oh no,” Glinda sobbed. “I knew it was true, but… part of me hoped it wasn’t.”

Elphaba grabbed a bucket. She didn’t have time to think up a really good plan, but maybe if she played into one of the many rumors about her…

“You’re right,” she told Glinda. “I have gone too far - but it’s too late for me. I can’t turn back now.”

“You can’t say that,” Glinda said. “Elphie, please…”

“You can’t be found here,” Elphaba interrupted. “You have to go.”

“No! I won’t leave you to be killed!”

“Please Glinda,” Elphaba begged. “Whatever happens to me, I can’t see you die too.”

“And I can’t see you die!”

Elphaba put down her bucket and met Glinda’s eyes, not knowing what to say to her.

“Please, Elphie… please don’t give up now.”

“Glinda… I can’t.” Elphaba admitted, finally letting the pain of the past few weeks get to her. “I’ve fought so hard, given everything I had. And I’m so tired. I just want it to end.”

Glinda’s lip was trembling as her eyes filled with tears. “Well, then I’ll tell them everything!” she said. “I can’t just stand by and…”

“Glinda, I need you to promise me not to clear my name.” Elphaba interrupted, stepping closer to her.

Glinda looked aghast. “No! No, I won’t promise that! I’m going to tell them everything.”

Elphaba grabbed her by the shoulders. “You can’t!” she protested. “They will only turn against you!”

“I don’t care!”

“Well I do!” Elphaba let her hands slide down Glinda’s arms until she was gently holding her hands. “I need to know that when I’m gone you will be safe.”

“Then don’t go,” Glinda begged, bringing their clasped hands close to her heart. “Don’t give up now!”

Elphaba couldn’t answer, love and grief warring in her heart.

“Stay with me, please,” Glinda whispered. “We can convince them together. I know we can.”

Elphaba shook her head. “I can’t ask you to risk that - I won’t ask you to risk it. Not after…” she hesitated. “Not after what happened to Fiyero,” she finally said after a moment. It made her heart ache to hurt Glinda this badly, but it was the only way she could keep her safe. The only way all three of them could be safe.

Elphaba stepped closer, leaning her forehead against Glinda’s, closing her eyes as her familiar sweet scent washed over her. It had been so long - too long - since they had been this close. “If I never see you again…” she whispered gently.

Glinda pulled back. “Don’t say that,” she gasped. “Elphie, you’re going to be okay. You’ll get away! You always do.”

“Glinda… I can’t.”

The tears in Glinda’s eyes fell softly down her cheeks. “Elphie…”

Elphaba swallowed, not wanting to see Glinda in this much pain - wishing she had another option. “If I never see you again, I want you to know that… in spite of everything…” the words caught in her throat.

She couldn’t make this worse for Glinda - couldn’t break her heart all over again.

“You made me better,” she said at last. “No matter how long I live, there will always be a part of you in here,” she placed a hand over her heart. “Everything I am, everything good I accomplished - it all came from you.”

“Oh, Elphie…” Glinda whispered, cupping her face with her hand. Elphaba leaned into the warmth of her touch, locking this moment deep within her heart.

“You’re the only friend I ever had,” Elphaba whispered.

Glinda let out a quiet sob. “And I’ve had so many friends. But only one that mattered.”

Elphaba reached out and gently wiped away the tears on Glinda’s face.

“I think that… that I knew you for a reason, Elphie.” Glinda added. “You taught me things I never would have learned without you, you made me into the person I am today.”

She hesitated for a moment. “Elphie… if I never see you again, I want you to know that if I do someday manage to be Glinda the Good… it’s because of everything you taught me - it’s because of how much you changed me. And no matter what happens, I need you to know how… how grateful I am for that.”

Elphaba drew a shaking breath, leaning her forehead against Glinda’s one last time. “I will treasure that for however long I live,” she whispered. “No matter how long or short it is.”

She closed her eyes, wanting to prolong the moment, before pulling away and walking over to the Grimmerie. “Here,” she said, picking it up. “I want you to take this.”

“Elphie, you know I can’t read that,” Glinda whispered.

“You will have to learn,” Elphaba told her, placing it gently in her hands. “It’s a symbol of hope for the people of Oz - it’s a symbol of our past, and of a future that you can build for them. Let that be your legacy.”

Glinda nodded. “It will be your legacy, Elphie,” she said. “Even if I’m the only one who will ever know it.”

Elphaba nodded, at a loss for words. She didn’t deserve someone like Glinda in her life, no matter how brief a time it lasted.

“Now please… go hide, Glinda.”

Glinda turned around and started walking away. “Wait,” she said, turning around again. “The Wizard… he needs to help get Dorothy home, and I don’t think he can.”

Elphaba laughed hollowly. “No, I don’t think so either.”

“If… if things turn out badly… is there something you can do?”

Elphaba nodded, laughing sadly. “All this time she had the power to get home.” she told Glinda. “I enchanted Nessa’s shoes to give the wearer her hearts’ desire. Nessa didn’t want to dependent on her chair, so that’s what they did for her. All Dorothy has to do is wish for the shoes to send her home, and they will.”

“All this time…” Glinda said softly, before turning away again and walking to the door.

“I’ll never forget you, Elphaba Thropp,” she said with another quiet sob, before walking through the door, and out of Elphaba’s life for the last time.

“Nor I, you,” Elphaba whispered back to the emptiness Glinda left behind her.

---

The positive side of owning the castle that Elphaba was hiding in was that Fiyero knew exactly how to get in without being noticed.

The negative side was that things just got a lot more dangerous. Elphaba’s life was dependent on too many if’s for Fiyero’s comfort. If Boq could be convinced to not go off on his own to kill Elphaba, if they found Dorothy in time to hopefully cool the murderous fire in his eyes, then maybe Elphaba could survive this. And most importantly, if Elphaba had gotten his note she might have some sort of scheme in place to fake her own death.

He glanced over at Boq as they followed Toto up a flight of stairs, and had to suppress a shudder. He wouldn’t have thought that Boq could be capable of this kind of violent rage, but the blood-stained axe proved that the look in his eyes was anything but an act.

Toto ran up to a closed door and jumped up against it, barking.

“Dorothy must be in there!” Fiyero said, relieved. At least they found Dorothy before Boq found Elphaba.

“If she’s even still alive,” Boq said harshly.

Fiyero glanced at him. “We can make sure of that.”

He leaned against the door, trying to peer through the cracks between the wooden beams. “Dorothy?” he called out. “Are you in there?”

“Scarecrow?” he heard Dorothy sob through the door. “Oh yes, it’s me! She’s locked me in!”

“It’s her!” Lion exclaimed. “Oh, we’ve gotta get her out!”

“Move out of my way,” Boq said from behind Fiyero, his voice icy.

Fiyero moved out of the way as Boq slammed his axe into the door, sending wood chips flying.

“Please hurry,” Dorothy begged through the door. “The hourglass is almost empty! She’s gonna be back and kill me any second!”

Boq gave Fiyero a hard look, but Fiyero met his eyes calmly. He knew there was more going on than Dorothy knew, and Elphaba was either planning for her death or her escape - he just hoped it was the latter.

“Dorothy, stand back from the door,” Boq said, his voice still icy. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

A moment later Dorothy’s voice came faintly through the door. “I’m on the other side of the room, but please hurry!”

Boq swung his axe again, the icy rage in his face giving Fiyero a chill. Even with proof that Dorothy was alright, Elphaba’s life was in grave danger.

Another swing, and the heavy wooden door finally fell open. Dorothy practically flew through the door and into Fiyero’s arms.

“Oh Scarecrow,” she sobbed. “You were wrong. I wasn’t safe! She’s going to kill me!”

“Of course he was wrong,” Boq said, before Fiyero could even think of a way to respond.

Fiyero glanced at him, wishing he could convince him of how wrong he was. “Let’s hurry,” he said instead. “We’ve got no time to lose!”

Dorothy picked up Toto, who was jumping up on her legs excitedly, and snuggled him to her chest. “Where do we go next?” she asked, sniffing back her tears.

“Go next?”

Fiyero jumped at Elphaba’s voice, spinning around. She was leaning, arms crossed, against an archway on the other end of the room.

“You’re not going anywhere, my pretty,” she laughed.

Boq jumped in front of Dorothy as Lion cowered behind her. “That’s where you’re wrong, witch!” Boq hissed out. “You’re the one who isn’t going anywhere!”

With a cackle Elphaba turned and ran down the hallway, her long cloak billowing behind her. Boq chased after her with a yell, his axe at the ready.

“Oh, we can’t let him go after her alone!” Dorothy cried, grabbing Fiyero’s hand and rushing down the corridor after him.

“Wait, we don’t -” Fiyero was interrupted by a loud growl. He stopped short and looked behind him. The monkeys were coming up the flight of stairs behind them.

“Hurry, hurry!” Dorothy cried, running down the corridor once again, Lion bounding at her heels, dragging Fiyero with her.

Boq was standing in the middle of the hallway, looking furious.

“She did some trick and got awa-” he started to say, turning towards Dorothy.

“No time for that, Tin Man!” she cried, grabbing his hand as she ran past. “The monkeys!”

They all ran, darting down this hallway and up that staircase. And everywhere they turned they seemed to run into more flying monkeys. Fiyero couldn’t help but think they were being herded in one particular direction, and if Elphaba hadn’t gotten his note and didn’t have a plan to fake her death…

He didn’t even want to finish the thought.

Dorothy stumbled, and Fiyero wished that he had the strength to carry her. He looked ahead - monkeys were starting to run and fly towards them from both directions. They were trapped! “Quick, in here,” he said, gesturing towards a nearby door.

Dorothy nodded, breathless, and followed him through the door. Boq slammed it shut behind them, lodging his axe in it to keep it closed.

“We’ll be safe here,” Boq said, turning back towards Dorothy. “At least for the moment,” he added, giving Fiyero another dark look as they heard the monkeys clamoring furiously against the wooden door.

Fiyero looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. The room was mostly sparse, but was lit with several sputtering torches. A large bucket of water sat on the floor near them, and Fiyero allowed himself to hope. If Elphaba had gotten his note, she might be using the exact same scheme he had used to fool his men when he had run off with her.

A window to Fiyero’s right shattered as one of the monkeys flew through, then another window shattered, and a third.

Fiyero grabbed Dorothy’s hand as the monkeys came closer and closer, pinning them against the wall close to the bucket. He saw Boq glance at his axe, still lodged in the door, and felt a sense of relief. At the very least Elphaba wouldn’t have to worry about getting axed.

“Well, here we all are!” Elphaba cackled, walking through the monkeys surrounding them. “You’ve made me late for your execution, little girl.

Dorothy lifted her chin, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You can’t win!” she said, bravely. “They won’t let you kill me!”

“Don’t worry, child,” Elphaba cackled. “You won’t die until you’ve seen your three friends die first!”

She lit the tip of her broom on fire from a nearby torch, and held it out towards Fiyero. She hesitated for a moment, meeting Fiyero’s eyes. She recognized him! He nodded faintly at her, trying to push back his fears. Memories of the cold eyes of his torturers crept unbidden to the forefront, and he could feel himself start to shake.

“How about a little fire, Scarecrow?” Elphaba asked, and he could hear the catch in her voice as she brought the fire closer and closer to him.

Time seemed to slow as he looked into her eyes, seeing the love reflected there. He took a breath, his shaking quieting. The cold eyes of his torturers melted away in the recesses of his memories - he could only see her. He shifted, disguising it as a flinch, allowing the flames to touch his straw. For what felt like the first time since that agonizing day, he wasn’t afraid. Elphaba was here. Elphaba was here, and he could endure anything.

“Help!” he shouted, shaking his arm as the flames crawled up the dry straw. “Oh help, I’m burning! I’m burning!”

He shifted, catching Elphaba’s eyes once more before turning his back to her. He didn’t have it in him to watch what came next, no matter how false he knew it was.

Dorothy grabbed the bucket of water and flung it at him, extinguishing the flames.

Elphaba screamed. It was worse than being lit on fire.

“You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done!”

Dorothy, Boq, and Lion all looked horrified at what was happening behind Fiyero, but he still could not turn.

“You’ve made your bed, witch,” Boq spat. “Now lie in it!”

Elphaba screamed again, and Fiyero’s heart ached. She sounded like she was in agony. “All my schemes, my plans - you’ve ruined everything!”

Fiyero felt a warm pool of water reach his heels, and he stumbled forward - not even wanting to touch it. Dorothy caught him as he fell forward, clinging to him desperately.

“I’m going…” her last words sounded more like a sob than a scream. “You’ve won…”

And then there was silence.

“She… she’s dead,” Boq whispered. “After all this time, she’s finally dead.”

“You killed her,” Lion added, his voice awed.

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” Dorothy sobbed, still clinging to Fiyero. He rubbed her back gently. “I know you didn’t,” he whispered softly.

She drew a deep breath, then slowly let go of him, stepping forward. “Please,” she said to the monkeys. “I didn’t mean to kill her. It’s just he was on fire, and…”

“Hail Dorothy!” one of the monkeys interrupted. “The Wicked Witch is dead!”

“Hail Dorothy!” the others echoed. “The Wicked Witch is dead!”

Fiyero smiled grimly. He wasn’t sure if they were in on what just happened, but they at the very least knew enough to help Elphaba sell it. “As if her screams weren’t enough to convince anybody,” he thought to himself with a shudder.

---

Glinda sat in the corner of a dark room, sobbing quietly, her hands pressed to her ears. She should have left the castle - she knew she should have - but part of it couldn’t. She had to stay, because maybe if she had gotten to Fiyero in time she could have saved him. And now, with Elphie’s life in the balance, she couldn’t live the rest of her life with another ‘maybe’ haunting her. If getting to her in time could save Elphie’s life, Glinda would be there.

She hadn’t anticipated the screams that echoed all the way to her hiding spot - screams that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Elphie,” she sobbed. “Oh, Elphie…”

She didn’t know how long she sat where she was, afraid of what she would find when she finally came out - knowing she had to wait until nobody could see her. She had promised Elphie that much at least.

She clutched the Grimmerie to her chest as she cracked open the door and peered out. Nobody was here - everything was absolutely quiet. The little girl and her friends had to be long gone.

With a deep breath she stepped out into the hallway, going in the direction Elphie’s screams had come from. Maybe there was still something she could do to help her.

Chistery swooped down the hallway towards her. “Miss Glinda,” he said softly, gesturing towards a half-open door.

“Is she…” Glinda couldn’t finish the sentence. Elphie couldn’t be dead.

Instead she went to the door and peered inside. Elphaba’s hat - that silly old hat that she had given to her so long ago. The hat that had become a symbol of their friendship - was sitting in a puddle on the floor. She gasped, rushing forward. That couldn’t be…

She reached out a trembling hand, gently touching the puddle, relieved when her hand did not come away red. “It’s not blood,” she whispered to nobody in particular. “But where are you, Elphie?”

She walked to the hat, skirting the puddle of water, and picked it up - holding it to her chest. “What did they do to you?”

Chistery walked over to stand next to her. “They killed her,” he said sadly.

Glinda shook her head, not wanting to believe it.

“No, they couldn’t have!” she said. “It’s just water! Water couldn’t kill her!”

Chistery reached out and picked up Elphaba’s green bottle. Glinda hadn’t even noticed it at first. “Book lets many things happen, Miss Glinda,” he said softly, handing Glinda the bottle.

Glinda took the bottle in shaking hands. “She cursed herself…” she guessed softly. “Oh Elphie…”

It made sense - a horrible, heartbreaking, sense. Elphie had been done fighting, done hiding… she had said it herself. She just wanted it to be over. And after seeing that blood stained pole Fiyero had died on, Glinda couldn’t really blame Elphie for wanting whatever easy death the Grimmerie could grant her.

Glinda fell to her knees, overwhelmed, clutching the hat and bottle against the Grimmerie to her chest. Everything that Elphaba was, everything she loved, everything she believed in and fought for… and this was all that was left of her. She had failed Elphie, just like she’d failed Fiyero. And now she was all alone, left with nothing but an aching heart and the hollow glamor of her own popularity.

“Elphie, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

Elphaba sat beneath the floorboards, listening to the commotion above, heart pounding in her chest.

Her desperate scheme had actually worked, even though she had nearly broken her ribs as she “melted” through a trapdoor - her magic merely created an illusion for anyone watching, hiding the trap door itself from view. It did nothing to change how solid it was, or how painful it was to catch herself against the edge.

Above her, Chistery and the other monkeys were cheering - celebrating her ‘death’. “Thank you, my friends,” she said silently. She hadn’t clued them in on her plan, hadn’t dragged them into it, but Chistery knew her enough to react in a way that would be the most helpful both to her and to the animals she cared so deeply for.

The monkeys would be safe, and she and Fiyero would be safe.

Fiyero! Who in spite of her visions, in spite of what she saw, in spite of that blood-stained pole… he was somehow still alive. And he didn’t even resent her for it.

Her heart caught in her chest and she gently touched the note in her pocket - a note that should have been nothing more than another condemnation. A note that should have been nothing but more proof that she had failed again.

And yet… it wasn’t. Fiyero loved her even now - even after what she had done to him.

Part of her couldn’t believe it - but she had seen it in his eyes, now that she recognized him in his new form, just how much he still loved her. It had broken her heart to set him on fire, but it was the only way she could have made this work. She had seen forgiveness for that in his eyes too.

She listened quietly as the commotion above slowly faded, trying to decide what to do next. It wouldn’t be safe to stay where she was and meet Fiyero here, but it would be equally as dangerous to leave him a note telling him where she had gone. And he wouldn’t be able to stay behind, or it risked revealing his identity.

There was only one place she could go, she realized. One place they would both be drawn to.

“Where are you Elphie?”

Elphaba’s heart caught in her chest.

Glinda!

In the end - even after promising to leave - Glinda hadn’t left her side. She pressed a gentle hand to the underside of the floorboards, imagining Glinda’s hand pressed down on the other side, straining to hear what was happening.

Glinda’s first quiet sob seemed to pierce her through her heart, but she couldn’t go to her. She couldn’t risk whatever plan Fiyero had set in motion or Glinda’s safety - Glinda was already in enough danger just being here. If she was somehow seen with her after her supposed ‘death’... Elphaba didn’t want to finish the thought.

“I’m sorry, Elphie,” she heard Glinda sob through the floorboards.

She wanted desperately to go to her - to hug her and tell her that there was nothing to be sorry for, to let her know that she was safe.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered instead. Glinda couldn’t hear her, but it made her feel better to say it.

She wished she still had her hat, or even her cloak - something that Glinda had given to her; something tangible to remember their friendship by. Instead, all she would have were memories too precious for words.

---

Madame Morrible stood looking out the window of Oscar’s throne room, taking in the jubilant celebrations below. The little girl and her companions had played their parts - pawns that had taken down the rival queen, and won her their little game.

And if the price of winning was taking down Oscar - she glanced over at him as he paced back and forth in front of the Wizard’s Head - well it was a price she was willing to pay.

“Don’t be despondiary,” she called out. Oscar stopped pacing. “The people of Oz are delighted by this turn of events. You should be too.”

“The people of Oz aren’t the ones who have to send the little girl home,” Oscar answered tightly. He came to stand beside her, hands thrust in his pockets. “I am!”

Madame Morrible smiled warmly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I have complete faith that you will think of something, my dear,” she said.

“That’s what you said before I sent them on this errand,” Oscar groused, looking out the window. “But I didn’t actually think they would succeed in killing Elphaba.”

“Well they did!”

Oscar jumped at the sound of Glinda’s voice, but Madame Morrible just smiled as she turned slowly towards her. She could hear the tears trembling just on the edge of her voice. It would be even easier to manipulate her now.

“Oh, Miss Glinda,” she greeted. “I thought you’d be out…” She arched her brows, allowing a bit of poison to enter her tone. “... Festivating.”

Glinda ignored her and walked right up to Oscar, shoving something against his chest.

“This was Elphaba’s,” she said, as Oscar took a step back. Even Madame Morrible felt disconcerted. She had never felt this much icy rage from Glinda before.

“What’s that you say?” Oscar asked, holding up what Glinda had given him - a small green bottle - and examined it closely.

“I’m sure Elphaba had many little trinke-”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Madame Morrible,” Glinda said icily, turning to face her. Madame Morrible took a step back. In all the years of their little dance, Glinda had never felt as dangerous as she did in this moment. The little bubble was apparently made of steel.

“It was a keepsake,” Glinda said, turning back to the Wizard, eyes flashing. “It belonged to her mother. She told me so herself.”

“Her mo-” Oscar began.

“I wasn’t finished, Your Ozness,” Glinda interrupted. “I’ve only seen a little, green bottle like this one other time. It was right here, in this very room. You offered me a drink from it.”

Madame Morrible watched, fascinated, as Oscar seemed to shatter at Glinda’s words. She should have used Glinda as a weapon, not just a figurehead.

“Oh my Lord…” Oscar murmured, falling to his knees, clutching the bottle.

“She’s yours,” Glinda said. “And you ruined her, tried to bring her down, and finally orchestrated her death.”

“I always thought… I thought I would have been a good father, if I had a daughter,” Oscar said quietly - so quietly Madame Morrible wasn’t sure if he knew he had even spoken out loud.

“So that was it,” Madame Morrible said, trying to take control of the conversation again. “That was why she had such powers!”

Oscar clutched the bottle to his chest. “My child… what have I done?” he whispered.

“She was a child of both worlds,” Madame Morrible added, still trying to gain control.

“I want you to leave Oz,” Glinda told Oscar, pointedly ignoring Madame Morrible. “I'll make the pronouncement myself: that the strains of wizardship have been too much for you and you are taking an indefinite leave of absence!”

Oscar didn’t answer her, still cradling the bottle.

“Did you hear what I said?” Glinda demanded, a touch of steel entering her voice.

“Yes, Your Goodness.” Oscar said, his voice broken.

“Or, if you so choose, I will give you just one kindness, in honor of the hope that you gave Elphaba throughout her childhood.”

Oscar looked up, a hopeful expression on his face, and Madame Morrible felt a swell of disgust. He was weaker than even she had thought.

“When Dorothy and her friends return, you can save face by saying you are simply taking her home.”

“Thank you, Your Good-”

“I’m not finished!” Glinda interrupted. “You are to leave in your balloon, but if it goes even a foot above the ground while Dorothy is inside I will destroy what is left of you.”

Oscar bowed his head again. “Yes, Your Goodness,” he repeated, getting to his feet. “I will prepare for Dorothy’s arrival,” he added, backing hastily towards his Wizard Head.

“Guards!” Glinda called out as soon as Oscar vanished behind the curtain.

“You did that quite well, my dear,” Madame Morrible said warmly, placing a calculated hand on Glinda’s shoulder.

“As for you, Madame Morrible,” Glinda said, turning towards her. Madame Morrible took a step back, not expecting the intensity of her icy rage now that it was turned against her. “You manipulated our poor Wizard, and forced him to task a child with taking down the so-called enemy of the people.”

Three guards entered the room and stood at attention. “What can we do for you, Your Goodness?” The leader - a man with a broken nose - asked.

Glinda smiled, ignoring the guards, and if the smile had not been directed at her Madame Morrible might have been proud of the icy power in her expression. “That is a crime greater than the Wickedness you accused Elphaba of.”

“Now, my dear,” Madame Morrible tried, trying to melt Glinda’s ice with a warm smile of her own. “I wouldn-”

“Now,” Glinda interrupted. “You will have to consider how you’ll fare in captivity.”

“What?” Madame Morrible’s smile faltered.

“Captivity,” Glinda repeated. “Prison!”

Madame Morrible felt stunned. She had just won their game! She was the victor! Oscar was the only one who could possibly be taking the fall. How had she misjudged her opponents this badly?

“Personally, I have no faith in you,” Glinda added, a trace of bitterness creeping into her icy tone. “In my opinion you do not have what it takes. I hope you prove me wrong.

Madame Morrible stared as Glinda smiled sweetly. “I doubt you will,” she added.

She turned her back on Madame Morrible, walking towards the window, “Take her away!”

“No!” Madame Morrible thundered as the guards took her by the arms. They hesitated for a moment, looking towards Glinda.

“Do as I say,” Glinda said, not even turning around.

“You cannot pretend forever, Glinda,” Madame Morrible said furiously.

Glinda finally turned toward her again, any icy smile on her lips. “There is no pretense here, Madame Morrible,” she said sweetly. “I’m merely finding out how far a storm cloud can fall.”

Madame Morrible couldn’t bring herself to meet her eyes as she was dragged out of the room.

---

Dorothy sat next to Scarecrow on the sofa of the suite she and her friends had stayed in the last time they were at the Emerald City, hugging Toto to her chest. Lion was sitting on the floor next to her, staring at her with enormous concerned eyes, while Tin Man stood near the window, looking pensive

Her head was aching, and she wasn’t sure what to think or feel - she had killed someone… again … only to find out that the Wizard was just a man behind a curtain who didn’t have any magical powers. He was from Kansas, just like her, and didn’t have any more magic about him than she did.

And now they were all in their suite, waiting while the Wizard prepared his balloon to take her home, and she was supposed to know how to feel. She sniffed quietly, fighting back tears. More than ever, she just wanted to go home where life was simpler and nobody would ask her to kill anybody.

“What are you thinking, Dorothy?” Scarecrow asked gently, interrupting her thoughts.

She felt hot tears slide down her cheeks. “Oh Scarecrow,” she sobbed, putting Toto down and throwing her arms around him. “It’s all just too much!”

Scarecrow didn’t say anything for a moment, just rubbed her back gently while she cried, but Dorothy still didn’t feel any better. Scarecrow had told her she didn’t need to be afraid, that she would be safe, that the Wicked Witch wouldn’t do anything to any of them. And instead the Wicked Witch would have killed her if her friends hadn’t gotten to her in time, and she almost killed Scarecrow.

“Please don’t cry, Dorothy,” Lion said after a moment, putting a gentle paw in her lap. “That’s worse than anything I was ever afraid of.

Dorothy picked up his paw and kissed it gently. “I can’t help it, Lion,” she sobbed. “I don’t understand what’s happening anymore and I just want to go home where everything makes sense.”

“But you are going home, Dorothy,” Tin Man said, walking away from the window to stand beside the sofa.

“I know, but…” Dorothy couldn’t think of anything to follow that ‘but’, but everything just felt wrong.

“Was that the first time you saw someone die, Dorothy?” Scarecrow asked gently.

Dorothy nodded, trying to forget that terrifying moment when the Witch slowly melted in front of her, her face running in horrifying rivulets down into nothingness. “The way she screamed…” she whispered. “It was horrible.”

“But you were brave, Dorothy,” Lion said. “You were so brave I don’t think it was the Wizard that gave me my courage - I think it was you.”

Dorothy shook her head, blinking back more tears. “But I wasn’t brave,” she confessed. She turned to Scarecrow again. “I tried to be, tried not to be afraid like you told me. But you were wrong.”

Scarecrow looked down, an odd look on his face.

“If you hadn’t gotten to me when you did…” Dorothy couldn’t finish her sentence.

“She would have killed you?” Tin Man asked.

Dorothy nodded. “And she almost killed Scarecrow, too,” she added. “And it would have been my fault.”

Tin Man knelt beside her. “Lion is right,” he told her. “That’s what makes you so brave. Even when you should have been too afraid to do anything, you were brave enough to…” he hesitated, glancing at Scarecrow. “Brave enough to protect yourself, and to protect Scarecrow.”

“And I’m alright, Dorothy,” Scarecrow added. He held out his singed arm. “There’s no harm done.”

Dorothy sniffed, feeling a little bit better. “Does it make me a bad person?” she asked hesitantly. “I didn’t want to kill her, but I still did. I don’t think good people kill other people.” She sniffled again. “Even if they’re wicked,” she whispered.

Scarecrow cupped her chin with one hand, gently turning her to face him. “Dorothy, if you believe nothing else I have ever said to you, I need you to believe this: It’s not your fault that she’s dead.”

“And even if it was,” Tin Man added, taking one of her hands in his, “Being upset, even over the death of someone as wicked as the Witch, just proves how good of a person you are.”

Dorothy nodded, smiling through her tears. “You three are the best friends anybody could have ever asked for,” she said. “I’ll never forget you, even when I get home.”

“We’ll never forget you either, Dorothy,” Lion said softly.

---

Glinda floated in her bubble, hidden high above the Emerald City, watching silently as the Wizard did exactly as she had instructed. He didn’t deserve this kindness - didn’t deserve to leave with his reputation untarnished.

But it wasn’t about what he deserved. It was about preserving what was left of Elphaba - allowing the hope that had given her strength throughout her childhood to continue on. That hope was all that was left of a soul so beautiful it could have inspired others to greatness. But corruption and lies had turned people against the beauty of that soul, tarnishing it, destroying the good it could have done.

“Goodbye, folks!” The Wizard’s voice echoed up to her as he floated away, and Glinda smiled grimly. It was time to step in and send Dorothy home now.

She painted a smile on her face, and pulled on the mask of Glinda the Good - the mask she was doomed to wear forever now.

Cheers greeted her as she descended into the city, and even before she had popped her bubble most of the crowd was kneeling in reverence.

“Here’s someone who can help you!” she heard the scarecrow say as she popped her bubble.

Dorothy ran up to her, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, please,” she begged. “Will you help me? Can you help me?”

Glinda smiled, placing a feather-soft hand on Dorothy’s shoulder. “You don’t need my help, Dorothy.”

“Oh, but I do!” Dorothy protested, fresh tears springing to her eyes. “All I’ve wanted was to get home and I still don’t know how!”

Glinda laughed. “You don’t need to be helped any longer. You’ve always had the power to go back to Kansas!”

“I have?” Dorothy gasped.

“Why didn’t you tell her before?” Scarecrow asked, stepping forward. Glinda glanced at him, and he turned away slightly, hiding behind Dorothy.

“Because she wouldn’t have believed me,” Glinda laughed, trying to ignore her heartache. She hadn’t known either until Elphie had told her just before her death. She smiled warmly at Dorothy, shoving aside her grief, her Glinda the Good mask not slipping even an inch. “You had to learn it for yourself.”

“What have you learned, Dorothy?” Tin Man asked.

“Well, I think that… that it wasn’t enough to want to see Uncle Henry and Aunt Em again.” Dorothy said slowly. “I needed to see why home was so important - that no matter how beautiful it might be away from home, it’s never as beautiful as the people who make a home a home.”

Glinda smiled past the lump in her throat, careful not to let her mask slip as Dorothy’s words seemed to stab her in the heart. Dorothy would hopefully never know how right she was, or how much pain was left behind when everybody who made a home a home was dead. “Is that all?” she asked lightly.

“Well, my heart’s desire will always be found with the people who make home a home, so if I ever go looking for it again I shouldn’t look any further than my own backyard. Because that’s where my heart’s desire has always been.” Dorothy added thoughtfully. “Is that right?”

Glinda nodded, almost not trusting her voice. “That’s all it is,” she said, perhaps too brightly. All she wanted was to leave, to be alone somewhere where she could mourn in peace, but she had to see this through.

“That’s so easy,” Scarecrow said softly. Glinda felt his eyes on her, but when she looked at him he glanced away again. She smiled lightly - he hadn’t seemed this shy when she found him in her room before they left on their quest, but she didn’t really care. She just needed to focus on Dorothy, focus on getting her home, focus so hard that she wouldn’t have to think about the emotions that were threatening to tear her perfect mask apart.

“I should have thought it for you,” Scarecrow added.

Glinda laughed again. “No, she had to find out for herself.” She used her wand to point down at Nessa’s shoes. “And now those magic slippers will take you home in two seconds.”

“Oh, Toto too?” Dorothy asked, her face dimpling into a charming smile.

“Toto too,” Glinda agreed.

“Oh, can I go home now?” Dorothy begged.

“Whenever you wish.”

“Oh how wonderful!” Dorothy gushed, turning away from Glinda towards her friends. Glinda looked out over the adoring crowd, not sure where else to look.

“But it will be so hard to say goodbye to all of you.” Dorothy added.

Glinda smiled, her mask in danger of cracking, her own recent goodbyes weighing heavily on her. “You don’t know how lucky you are, Dorothy,” she thought silently, barely listening as Dorothy went to each of her friends in turn. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye to Fiyero - not really. And Elphie’s dying screams would haunt her for the rest of her life, undoing whatever healing the closure of a goodbye might have offered her.

But Dorothy was able to say goodbye, was able to leave her friends behind leaving nothing unsaid, and without a looming threat of death shadowing her departure. And she was leaving for Home - leaving for a place filled with people who loved her. Glinda’s goodbyes had resulted in her Home being destroyed forever.

Glinda looked away as Dorothy threw her arms around Scarecrow in a hug, not able to bear it any longer.

“Thank you, Scarecrow,” Dorothy said. “For everything.” She kissed him gently on the cheek. “I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

Glinda cleared her throat, hoping her voice would stay steady. “Are you ready now?”

“Yes,” Dorothy said, finally turning back to her. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Glinda smiled gently. “Just tap your heels together three times,” she said softly. “And think to yourself ‘there’s no place like home.’”

---

Fiyero took a deep breath as he followed Lion back into their suite. Now that Dorothy was safe at home, it was time for him to go find Elphaba - time for him to say goodbye to his new friends. He would find Boq later - he had wandered off after Dorothy had vanished, but right now he had to let Lion know he would be leaving.

There was so much he wanted to say to Lion - so much he had wanted to say from the moment he realized that Lion was the same cub he and Elphaba had rescued together. He had thought he’d brought him to safety that night, and hadn’t even considered how terrifying the forest could be for such a young cub. He wanted to apologize, wanted to tell Lion how brave he was, even when he thought he was a coward - but he couldn’t; not without revealing who he was.

“This place feels so empty without Dorothy,” Lion said sadly, sitting in his traditional spot beside the sofa.

He turning to look at Fiyero. “But at least I still have you and Tin Man,” he added in a brighter tone.

Fiyero flinched slightly, pushing back a wave of guilt. “Not me, Lion,” he admitted softly.

Lion paused, his face falling. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

Fiyero smiled gently. “Of course not. I can go because you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He hesitated a moment. “We got Dorothy home, we defeated the Witch, and you earned your courage.” He walked over, taking a seat on the sofa, and stroked Lion’s mane gently. “You don’t need me anymore.”

“Oh, but I do!” Lion said, tears forming in his eyes. “Why do you have to leave me?”

“There are other people who need me too, Lion.”

“Not more than I need you!” Lion protested, a giant tear dripping down his nose. “What if…” he hesitated.

“What if what?” Fiyero prompted gently.

“What if Dorothy really was where my courage came from?” Lion said quietly. “I don’t know if I can be brave without her and without you.”

“You have Tin Man,” Fiyero said.

“Yes, but I need both of you now that Dorothy is gone,” Lion insisted. “I can’t be brave without you.”

Fiyero reached out and gently wiped away Lion’s tears. “Lion, your bravery didn’t come from Dorothy or from the Wizard, and it doesn’t come from me or Tin Man,” he said softly. “It comes from you .”

Lion sniffed. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Fiyero promised. “You are capable of greatness I could never hope for, Lion. And it’s because you have the courage to overcome your fears. Having courage doesn’t mean that you are suddenly immune to normal fears and foibles.”

“But you’re brave,” Lion insisted. “And you don’t have fears, Scarecrow.”

Fiyero smiled sadly. “I do, Lion. I have been…” he hesitated, wishing he could tell Lion more. “I have as many fears to overcome as you do.”

He patted Lion’s nose fondly. “You can be great even without Dorothy, and without me. I know you have it within you.”

Lion nodded. “I’ll miss you, Scarecrow… almost as much as I already miss Dorothy.”

“I’ll miss you too, Lion.”

---

Boq sat on the bench in the high-walled courtyard, deep in thought. It had been hours since Dorothy had left, and he had wandered off alone, needing to make sense of his jumbled thoughts.

The sun had set long ago, and he still was no closer to a place of clarity. Dorothy had such faith in him - believing him to be good and kind. And while she was here, part of him had been able to believe it too. But someone good and kind would have felt regret for Elphaba’s death - even Dorothy, who didn’t know her, had felt it.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t feel sorry that Elphaba was gone. Any love or friendship he had felt for Nessa or Elphaba had dwindled into almost nothing, quashed by the anger and bitterness that grew and grew as sat helpless beneath Nessa’s thumb. The sisters’ cursing him, no matter what the intentions were, had sapped even the memories of happier times of their warmth. He knew Fiyero had hoped to change that, and hoped he would allow their old friendship to overcome his current hatred - but it hadn’t been enough.

Celebratory shouts continued echoing through the city, even as the darkness of night descended softly around him, but he didn’t feel like joining in the revelry. He would rather sit by himself in this courtyard, surrounded by darkness that even the lights of the city didn’t do much to illuminate.

He sighed, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last few days - not even sure what he was feeling.

“You have to decide if the new life you want to make for yourself should start with murder.”

Fiyero’s words echoed in his ears, a gentle warning in the moment, but now reeking of condemnation. He had begun this new chapter in life with murder, but the worst part is he didn’t think he regretted it.

He didn’t regret Elphaba’s death, and he wouldn’t regret her death.

But he did regret murdering the monkeys - they were as much victims as he was, and perhaps that was what was bothering him so much. If he had started this new life with a murder he didn’t regret, one that felt just and righteous and earned, it wouldn’t eat at him like this. But his axe, abandoned back at the Witch’s castle, was stained red with the blood of innocent monkeys.

It would take a long time before he could find peace with that.

“I wondered if I would find you here,” Fiyero’s soft voice interrupted Boq’s reverie. He lifted his head, startled. He peered through the darkness of the moonless night as Fiyero’s shadowy figure walked across the courtyard towards him.

“What are you doing here?”

Fiyero shrugged, sitting on the bench next to Boq. “I came to say goodbye.”

“What?” Boq frowned.

An odd, complicated look crossed Fiyero’s face. “I can’t stay here, Boq. I can’t stay in a city that’s celebrating her death.” Fiyero turned to look at him, and Boq met his eyes steadily. “She didn’t deserve that, Boq, and you know it.”

“No I don’t, Fiyero.” Boq said, angrily. “She might not deserve it for what she did to you, but she did deserve it for what she did to me, and for what she threatened to do to Dorothy.”

He got off the bench and began pacing back and forth, getting angrier with each hollow clang his footsteps made. “She spent all her time trying to help the animals, when the people who really needed her help were the people under Nessa’s thumb - the people like me !”

He whirled to face Fiyero again. “And then when she did show up, she only made things worse! She should have let me die, and instead I am cursed to live. So I returned the favor. Maybe she should have been allowed to live, and maybe she shouldn’t have - but I cursed her to die.”

Fiyero sat quietly, just looking at Boq.

Boq stalked closer, fists clenched, but Fiyero would not look away.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Fiyero!” Boq yelled, slamming a fist into the bench Fiyero was sitting on, denting it. Fiyero flinched, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Are you asking for absolution, Boq?” Fiyero asked gently. “Or are you asking me to agree with something that you know I never will.”

Boq turned away again, even more angry than before. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself.

“I know you were her friend, and I know you didn’t want it to end this way. And as your friend I am sorry for the grief you are undoubtedly feeling.”

He turned back, facing Fiyero fully. “But that is all I can give you.”

Fiyero nodded. “You’re like her in that respect, Boq,” he said softly. “I don’t think she could forgive herself either.”

Boq flinched, not sure if the words felt like condemnation or absolution.

“There is one difference between us,” he said softly, turning away again. “She wouldn’t have murdered those monkeys.”

He stalked toward the entryway, not wanting to look at Fiyero again. Maybe that’s why he was so angry - even her hands weren’t as stained with blood as his own. No matter how much he hated her, no matter how much she deserved to die, he would always be worse than her.

And unlike her, he could never pay for his sins through his own death. Instead his payment was the very curse that led him to murder. An unending cycle with no resolution.

“Goodbye, Scarecrow,” he said, just before leaving the courtyard. “I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

---

Dorothy blinked her eyes open. She was lying in her own bed, and Aunt Em was gently dabbing her forehead with a wet cloth.

“Dorothy, dear,” Aunt Em said, smiling gently. “It’s Aunt Em, darling. Do you know me?”

Dorothy sat straight up in bed, throwing her arms around Aunt Em. “Oh, Auntie Em!” she cried. “Oh, I missed you so much!”

“Dorothy, you just saw me this morning,” Aunt Em laughed as she gently rubbed Dorothy’s back.

Dorothy pulled back. “Oh, but it’s been weeks and weeks since I was gone!”

Aunt Em smiled. “You must have been dreaming, honey. The tornado was just this morning.”

“But I wasn’t dreaming,” Dorothy protested. The strangeness of Oz, the terror of the Wicked Witch, the beauty of Glinda the Good Witch, the warm hugs of Scarecrow - she couldn’t have dreamed any of that up. “It was a real, truly live place. Some of it wasn’t very nice, but most of it was beautiful. And the people were the same - some were nasty and cross, but most of them…” she smiled, thinking of her travel companions. “Most of them were the best friends I could ever have.”

“Even better than your old pal Hunk?” Hunk asked, poking his head through the window, as Hickory and Zeke grinned beside him.

“No,” Dorothy laughed, jumping out of bed. “But just as good.”

She glanced down at the shining jeweled shoes still on her feet. “And just as real,” she added with a smile.

---

Fiyero peered around a large tree as the first beams of the sun shone over the top of the forest - painting the very air around him with a rosy glow. Feldspur was grazing peacefully just ahead, which meant that Fiyero had guessed right. Elphaba had come here, to the cave where they had spent the night together in passionate bliss - the cave where he had spent his last night as a human.

He took a deep breath. She had already seen him in this form, but he couldn’t help but be nervous. He had never been good enough for her, but at least he had been beautiful for her. And now he couldn’t be - not anymore.

He stepped out from behind the tree and Feldspur lifted his head. “Fiyero?” he snorted.

Fiyero laughed. “Yes,” he said, bowing in half, his head knocking against his knees. “It’s me!”

Feldspur trotted over and sniffed Fiyero curiously. “Now I know why the humans always called you a snack,” he chuckled.

Fiyero smacked his head away playfully. “Don’t you be taking any nibbles,” he warned with a grin, before glancing past him towards the cave. Feldspur turned his head and followed his gaze.

“Is she…”

“She’s waiting for you inside,” Feldspur said, nudging him forward.

Fiyero pushed down a wave of apprehension as he walked to the cave entrance. At least she had waited for him, even after seeing what he looked like. He peered through, staying mostly hidden. Elphaba was sitting leaning against the wall of the cave staring at her hands, seemingly deep in thought.

Fiyero gathered his courage.

“It worked,” he called out by way of greeting.

Elphaba looked up at his voice, a smile crossing her face. It was the most beautiful sight Fiyero had ever seen.

“Fiyero!” she said, getting to her feet and running to him. “I thought you’d never get here!”

“I came as fast as I could,” he said, still not able to pull his eyes away from her beautiful face - wishing he could be everything she deserved.

She reached out a hand and cupped his face gently and Fiyero gasped. For the first time since his transformation, he could feel it when he was touched.

Elphaba pulled back, concerned. “Are you…”

“Go ahead, touch,” Fiyero breathed. It made sense in a strange way - it was her magic that made him this way, so why wouldn’t she be unaffected by the impact of the spell? Why wouldn’t he still be able to feel her the way he had before?

She cupped his face with one hand and took one of his hands with the other. He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation of feeling her touch.

“Fiyero, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t…”

Fiyero gently placed a finger against her lips. “I don’t mind, Elphaba. You did the best you could.”

He gently traced a finger down her jawline, wanting to memorize what she looked and felt like, intoxicated by the warmth of her skin. “You saved my life,” he added.

Elphaba smiled. “You’re still beautiful,” she whispered, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

Fiyero laughed, wishing it were true - wishing he could be as beautiful to her as she was to him.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he told her.

Elphaba intertwined their fingers together, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s not lying,” she whispered, repeating what he had said to her the last night they had spent together. “It’s looking at things another way.”

He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her shoulder, overwhelmed with emotions. He had so much to tell her, so many questions to ask, but right now he was content to just hold her close and revel in being near her - content to feel the warmth of her touch.

“Let’s make this moment last,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Glinda sighed, exhausted, as she tried to undo the clasp of her long cloak with aching fingers.

She had taken to wearing cloaks more in recent years - choosing them over the elaborate gowns of her youth. Part of her tried to insist it was because it was more practical - the cold seemed to seep deep within her bones in ways it never had in her youth. But deep in her heart she knew it was her way of honoring Elphie - even though it was almost seventy years since she had died.

It had become easier over the years, as the lies became more and more fantastical, and the details of Elphaba’s true story were lost until she became little more than the easily disposed antagonist in the story of a little girl from Kansas. She could separate the story of Elphaba Thropp from the story of the Wicked Witch of the West. At this point they were almost two entirely different people to her.

One, the friend she still mourned, even now. The other, a fairy tale to tell young children.

She talked about her - more and more as the years had gone by. The people who could have remembered who Elphaba was were all long since gone, and the young people who still flocked around her wherever she went never realized that the friend of her youth was the Wicked Witch of legend. It made her feel better to know that over the years she had created a legacy for Elphie - talking of how she became Good because of the influence of Elphaba, how Oz became the free and illustrious country that it was, where Animals and People alike prospered because of her. She finally was able to honor her memory in the same way Fiyero’s was. And now, it was hardly less common for her to meet little girls named “Elphaba” than for her to meet little girls named after herself or Dorothy, or little boys named after Fiyero.

They asked her what happened to Elphaba and Fiyero sometimes, and the only lie that felt satisfying was to tell them “Fiyero died to protect the greatest Good in our world, and Elphaba sacrificed her life to help bring about an end to the Wicked Witch of the West.”

She imagined the grief that she knew still filled her face at the very mention of them kept people from pressing further.

Her long cloak finally fell to the ground as the clasp opened, and Glinda found she did not have the energy to pick it up again. Instead she walked unsteadily to her bed, lying down on the soft cushions. Time had taken its toll on her, and even the adoration of the people of Oz couldn’t stop time from ravaging her withering body.

Soon she would say goodbye to the people of Oz, and if she was lucky maybe… just maybe… she would join Elphaba and Fiyero in whatever afterlife they found themselves in.

She closed her eyes, too tired to even crawl under her blankets. A heaviness, heavier even than sleep, was creeping over her.

“Glinda.”

She frowned, almost too tired to open her eyes. She hadn’t heard anybody come in.

A strange, soft hand took hers and squeezed it gently, and she finally opened her eyes. The scarecrow who had played such a pivotal role in Dorothy’s story, but who had quietly disappeared not long after, was sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her hand in his. He looked more worn, more ragged, than she remembered him being.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

Of anybody who might come to her at the end of her life, she hadn’t expected him.

Scarecrow leaned in closer, cupping her face with his hand. She should be annoyed, but his hand was soft and gentle, and there was a tenderness in his touch she hadn’t felt in decades. “I’m here to finally tell you the truth, Glinda,” he told her gently.

She frowned again, even more confused than she had been before. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. Her heart started beating faster in her chest, as if it knew what was happening before her head could catch up.

“Look into my eyes, Glinda,” Scarecrow said. “Can’t you recognize me?”

Glinda peered up, trying to focus her failing eyesight on his eyes - oddly human eyes that peered out of a burlap face

“Fiyero?” She breathed as her heart sped up even more. He nodded, an odd smile on his face.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It’s me, Glinda.”

She squeezed his hand tightly, eyes blurring with tears. She had mourned him for so long, and now he was here - here, and alive, and looking at her with those same kind eyes she had fallen in love with so long ago. Her heart felt like it would burst as the grief of nearly seventy years of mourning merged with the joy of seeing him alive again.

“Oh, Fiyero…” she whispered, almost afraid to ask her next question. “If you’re alive, then is…?”

Fiyero nodded. “She didn’t die that day, Glinda.”

Glinda bit back a sob - the joy in her heart was almost too much to contain. After all these years, to find that Elphie and Fiyero were both still alive was almost too much to bear.

She knows what you’ve done for her, how you’ve told her story,” Fiyero added, gently wiping away a tear from her cheek. “She wanted you to know how grateful she is for it - how much she loves you for it.”

Glinda nodded. “It’s the least I could do for her, Fiyero. But why couldn’t she… why couldn’t she tell me that herself?” A wave of grief and guilt, suddenly made all the more potent by the knowledge that they had both been alive all these years, overcame her.

“She wanted to, Glinda,” Fiyero whispered. “We both did. But we couldn’t risk your life or hers by coming back. Even with the stories of the Wicked Witch becoming just legends.”

“Tell her… tell her I wish I could have done more,” Glinda whispered, feeling very very tired again.

Fiyero smiled sadly. “I can’t, my dearest Glinda.”

Glinda felt her heart shatter once again. “She’s gone now, isn’t she?”

Fiyero nodded. “She wanted to see you one last time, and she had so little time left she couldn’t have been in much danger.” He bowed his head, stroking Glinda’s hand. “But she didn’t make it all the way here.”

Glinda blinked back fresh tears. A moment ago Elphie and Fiyero had been dead for almost seventy years. A moment ago her grief was an old companion, its sharpness eased by time. And now… now Elphie was alive again, and also dead again, and the sharpness of her grief never felt more potent.

The grief that had followed her for so long, that left an ache in her heart even in her happiest moments, was suddenly both unnecessary and also the most important thing to feel in this moment. Almost seventy years of mourning, and it did nothing but deepen the grief she felt over this second death. She reached up, gently cupping Fiyero’s face. It felt odd, but he didn’t seem to mind. “What about you, Fiyero?”

He laughed softly. “It was her magic keeping me alive, Glinda. Even now I can feel it seeping slowly away. I don’t have long either. But I needed to get to you - I needed to fulfil her last wish.”

Glinda let her hand fall back onto the coverlet, too tired to keep cupping Fiyero’s face. Not even the joy of Fiyero being alive could last. Perhaps that was her curse - that any true joy she was to ever feel in this life must end almost before it began. Fiyero gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she turned her face into the comfort of his hand.

“You had her heart, and you both have mine,” she finally whispered. “So it’s like you’re both here with me.”

She closed her eyes, the heaviness that felt almost like sleep was creeping closer again. “Will you both stay with me?”

If Fiyero had an answer, she never heard it.

---

Dotty knocked gently on the door of Miss Glinda’s suite, carrying a tray with some fruit, toast, and a cup of tea.

She had been honored to be Miss Glinda’s caretaker for the past five years, but over the past few months Miss Glinda had struggled to eat as much as she should. She knew the day was coming soon when Oz would have to mourn the loss of their greatest hero - and every morning she hoped and prayed that the fateful day had not arrived.

She knocked again, her heart catching when there was no answer.

“Miss Glinda?” she called out gently, before softly opening the door and peeking inside.

Glinda was lying on her bed, flat on her back, holding the hand of a ragged scarecrow that was flopped over beside her. Dotty barely had the presence of mind to set her tray down before rushing to her side, shoving the scarecrow out of the way.

The scarecrow flopped limply over the edge of the bed, but Glinda was holding his hand too tightly for him to fall to the floor. Dotty clasped Glinda’s stiff, cold hand with one of her own - desperately trying to find a pulse with the other.

A harsh sob burst out of her chest. There was no denying it. Glinda the Good - the most beloved figure in all of Oz’s history, surpassing even the Wizard that she had succeeded - was dead.

But there was a smile on her face - a warm, gentle, peaceful smile. A smile so beautiful that Dotty had to smile through her tears. She glanced over at the limp scarecrow dangling from Glinda’s cold hand - his painted eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. He seemed to be smiling too - maybe he was the reason Glinda looked so peaceful.

With another quiet sob, Dotty carefully arranged the scarecrow next to Glinda. Perhaps he was her guardian angel, appearing to guide her home.

“Guide her well, Scarecrow,” she whispered through her tears.

------------

The End

------------

Chapter Text

“Fiyero?” She breathed as her heart sped up even more. He nodded, an odd smile on his face.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It’s me, Glinda.”

She squeezed his hand, eyes blurring with tears. She had mourned him for so long, and now he was here - here, and alive, and looking at her with those same kind eyes she had fallen in love with so long ago. Her heart felt like it would burst as the grief of nearly seventy years of mourning merged with the joy of seeing him alive again.