Hi. So, uhm... I'm new. This is my first fanfic. Like... ever. I had some serious doubts about putting this up here, but I figured it couldn't hurt - worst case scenario would be for you to tell me it absolutely sucks, in which case I'll stop torturing you and won't update anymore. But I just wanted to know what other people think. Reviews would be very much appreciated - but like I said, first fanfic ever, so take pity.

It also happens to be written in English, which isn't my native language. I hope that isn't too obvious, but please feel free to point out to me any grammar or spelling mistakes you come across!

Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Upon hearing the good news, Morgana Morrible rejoicified along with the rest of Oz.

She was very pleased with how the situation had turned out; the Wicked Witch of the West, the greatest threat to her and the Wizard's reign, had been successfully eliminated. How the little farm girl had managed to get close enough to the Witch to melt her, remained a mystery to Madam Morrible, but she didn't particularly care; all that mattered was that she had done it. All in all, she decided, things couldn't have gone better.

It was only when she was heading towards the Throne Room to meet the Wizard – who, no doubt, would want to discuss with her what had happened; it had been a big development, after all – that the doubts started to rise. According to the farm girl – Dorothy – and her travelling companions, Dorothy had succeeded in melting the Witch by throwing a bucket full of water at her, the water causing the Witch to melt. But, Madam Morrible mused, slowing her pace when the thought occurred to her, was it even possible for someone to melt because of plain water? The people of Oz believed the Wicked Witch to be so evil that pure water could melt her, that much was certain, but hadn't that been a rumour Morrible and the Wizard themselves had spread? She had a bad feeling about this – a feeling she couldn't just ignore. This matter was too important.

Then it struck her – the meaning of the feeling. A memory that, much to her dismay, more or less proved her feeling to be right. She hadseen Elphaba get wet before – years ago, at Shiz University. Morrible had been looking for the green girl to hand her the invitation from the Wizard and it had been raining. And, noted Morrible, who was really starting to worry now, the rain didn't have any effect on her. She hadn't been in pain, she didn't melt, her skin didn't blister, the water had just touched her and done… nothing. Nothing besides getting her wet.

Of course that could have changed since then, but now that the idea was planted in her mind, she couldn't seem to shake it off. Could it be? Morgana wondered. Could it be a setup?

Could the Wicked Witch of the West still be alive?

In a matter of seconds, she decided to take a detour on her way to the Throne Room and visit the Captain of the Guard – the new one, of course, since the old one had run away with the Wicked Witch. He and the other guards were having a small party in their chambers, laughing and cheering and drinking beer, but they all jumped up to salute when they noticed her. 'Good day to you, Madam,' the Captain said, bowing and almost toppling over in the process; he had clearly had a few beers to much already.

'Good day, Captain,' Morrible replied. 'Can I speak to you for a moment? In private?' She couldn't waste any more time than was absolutely necessary. If the Witch was still alive, the guards would have to go after her as soon as possible or she might escape and vanish forever.

The Captain nodded and walked over to a door at the far end of the room. Madam Morrible entered the small chamber behind the door and as soon as the Captain had closed the door behind him, she cut straight to the chase. 'I have reasons to believe the Wicked Witch is still alive,' she told him, upon which he went a bit pale – well, Morrible noted, at least he looks sober now. 'I need you and a few of your most trustworthy men to get over to Kiamo Ko as soon as possible to see if that is the case. If that is indeed so, deal with her.' She left no question about how the Witch was to be dealt with.

The Captain of the Guard saluted. 'We're on our way, Madame,' he assured her in the most serious tone she had ever heard him speak in. 'If the Witch is still alive, we'll find her.'

Morrible nodded, but stopped him when he made a move to open the door. 'One more thing, Captain.'

He looked at her. 'Yes?'

She looked him straight in the eyes to convince him of the importance of what she was about to say. 'Do not tell anyone.'

'Of course not, Madam,' he agreed, before leaving the room. Morrible smiled to herself. Whether she had been right or not in thinking the Witch wasn't really dead, didn't matter. One way or another, Elphaba was not to see the sun rise ever again.

It seemed, however, that this day had even more surprises in store for her. She was just discussing the whole situation with the Wizard when Glinda turned up at the Throne Room.

'Oh Glinda, I thought you'd be out festivating!' exclaimed Morrible, who hadn't expected the blonde girl to show up. She was a bit worried; how long had Glinda been in the room? Could she have heard anything… well, anything she wasn't supposed to have heard?

No, Morrible decided after doing some quick thinking. They had not been discussing anything that important – thank Oz. She wouldn't want Glinda to turn against them, not when she was so loved by all of Oz.

Glinda didn't answer to Morrible's remark; instead, she turned towards the Wizard and held out a small, green bottle.

'This was Elphaba's.'

'What?' Morgana asked, slightly irritated at the interruption, especially since it didn't really seem to make sense what Glinda was saying. The Wizard, however, sat up a bit, his gaze fixed on the bottle. 'What's that you say?'

'It was a keepsake,' replied Glinda. 'It was her mother's. I've only seen a little green bottle like this one other time and it was right here, in this room. You offered me a drink from it.'

The Wizard took the bottle. 'This belonged… to her mother?' he asked slowly. Morrible saw his eyes widen when it finally dawned on him. 'Oh my lord…'

'So she was yours all along,' Glinda said. It wasn't a question – merely a statement. Morrible nodded as the pieces of the puzzle fell together. 'That's it! That's why she had such power! She was a child of both worlds!'

The Wizard seemed broken now, which worried Madam Morrible. He didn't respond; he just sat there, clutching the bottle and staring at it. Surprisingly, it was Glinda who suddenly spoke up with an authority in her voice neither the Wizard nor Morrible had ever heard before.

'I want you to leave Oz. I'll make the pronouncement myself: that the strains of Wizardship have been too much, and you're taking an indefinite leave of absence.' When the Wizard didn't respond, she shouted, 'Did you hear what I said?!'

Much to Morgana's dismay, the Wizard merely nodded and muttered: 'Yes, your Goodness.'

'You'd better go get your balloon ready,' Glinda suggested rather bluntly. The Wizard didn't seem to be able to fully grasp the fact that he had basically murdered his own daughter; he seemed truly affected by the revelation and left the room without protest. This worried Morrible even more. She knew what was going to happen next; Glinda had never really liked Madam Morrible and Morrible knew the younger woman's dislike had turned to almost downward hatred ever since she had declared Elphaba a Wicked Witch and thus brought the hatred of Oz down on her. Elphaba being murdered was the final straw; Glinda was probably about to do something that would remove Madame Morrible from the Ozian government permanently. She also knew she would not be able to avoid it. With the Wizard gone, the people would only listen to one other person in all of Oz, a person they knew and trusted to do the right thing… and that person was not Morgana Morrible.

She turned out to be right when Glinda suddenly shouted, 'Guards!'

'Glinda, dear.' Morrible made a final, rather desperate, attempt to save herself. 'I know we've had our minuscule differentiations in the past…'

'Madam,' the blonde girl interrupted, 'have you ever considered how you'd fare in captivity?'

The older woman stared at her blankly. 'What…'

'Cap-ti-vi-ty,' Glinda spelled out for her, as if talking to a five year old. 'Pri-son. Personally I don't think you'd hold up very well. You see,' she started mimicking Morrible while repeating the exact same words her former headmistress had said to her when she had handed Glinda her training wand, so many years ago, 'it is my personal opinion that you do not have what it takes. I hope you prove me wrong.'

Morrible glared at her, knowing what would come next and suddenly regretting having ever said the words. She hated the irony of this.

'I doubt you will,' Glinda finished her sentence, as Morgana had expected her to do. 'Take her away!'

The next thing she knew, Morgana Morrible was being dragged away by the guards, down a few sets of stairs, to the dungeons. She cursed herself for letting this happen, but at the same time knew it had been inevitable from the moment the Wizard broke upon realizing Elphaba had been his daughter. Thank Oz I sent those guards to kill the witch before going to the Throne Room, Morrible thought, while the guards threw her in a prison cell and locked the door. The woman smirked, despite her current situation. I'm going down… but at least I'm taking her down with me.

It took the guards only a few hours to get to Kiamo Ko. The sun was just setting when they arrived; they dismounted and tied up the horses, then turned towards their Captain for further instructions.

'Search the castle,' the latter commanded. 'Look for hidden chambers, tunnels, trapdoors – things like that. If you find the Witch, don't hesitate for a clock-tick. Kill her instantly.' He fell silent and the soldiers had already turned to act out their task when the Captain of the Guard spoke up again. 'And men?'

They all turned to face him expectantly.

'Be careful,' the Captain told them harshly. 'The Witch is immensely dangerous.'

The guards nodded and, already readying their spears just in case, spread through the castle.

Elphaba had no idea whatsoever of how much time had passed since she had pretended to melt, hiding underneath this trapdoor in the process. Somehow, it felt like no time had passed at all, and at the same time it seemed like it had all happened days ago. She was pretty sure it had worked, though; she had heard the Witch Hunters cheer, celebrating her death, their voices muffled by the floorboards that separated them from her. If only they knew I was just underneath their feet.

She had heard them congratulate Dorothy, the little farm girl that had 'killed' the Wicked Witch. They had left not long thereafter; with the Witch gone, there was no reason for them to stay behind in this old castle. They had probably went back to the Emerald City to party with the rest of Oz.

She did some quick calculations; the Scarecrow had probably gone with them, to avoid potential suspicion, but she was sure he would make his way back here as fast as he could. He'd probably be back within a day, two days at the most. And then we can leave Oz together, Elphaba thought, trying to suppress all the feelings that came with that thought. She still couldn't really believe what had happened and what they were about to do. Fiyero loved her and they were running away together. Glinda, the best and only friend she had ever had, was to stay behind, thinking them both to be dead. That was her biggest regret, but she knew she couldn't tell Glinda she was alive or someone else might find out – with disastrous consequences. Just for this one time, she had to be selfish in order to save herself and the man she loved.

The floorboards above her head suddenly creaked and she held her breath. He couldn't have gotten here so soon! she thought, pricking up her ears. She heard voices. The floorboards creaked again.

'She's not here!' a harsh voice said right above her head, making her jump. 'Perhaps she did melt after all.'

'If Morrible suspected her to still be alive, I'd assume she has her reasons for that,' countered another voice. Soldiers. No doubt about that. Elphaba froze, as if not moving would lessen the chance of them discoverating her, while her mind rapidly processed what she was hearing. Morrible had suspected something and she had sent these guards to make sure the green witch was really dead. How could she have underestimated her former headmistress like this? She had always known Morrible to be an intelligent woman – she should have taken into account the fact that she might figure out what the green girl was up to.

'She told me to look for hidden chambers or something the like,' continued the second voice she had heard.

'I still can't believe she had us rushing over here within a few hours to look for a Witch that is already gone,' a third voice grumbled. 'I would much rather have stayed at the party!'

'We all would have,' the second voice, probably their new Captain of the Guard, spoke sternly. 'But this is a very important matter. If the Witch was to still be alive, we would all be in danger.'

Another soldier muttered something unintelligible and Elphaba heard the floorboards squeak again when they started moving around the room. She had never prayed before in her life, but now she closed her eyes, huddled away in the far corner of the small space beneath the trapdoor, and sent a silent prayer up to anyone above there who might be listening.

It did no good, though, because only clock-ticks later, one of the soldiers exclaimed: 'Look at this! These are seams, right here in the floor!' She kept her eyes closed as she heard them come closer. 'It's a trapdoor,' one of them concluded. 'She could very well be in here! Weapons ready!'

She could hear the clattering of metal and opened her eyes at the moment the trapdoor swung open. She looked straight into the startled face of the Captain of the Guard.

'Sweet Oz!' he cried out in utter surprise. Unfortunately, it didn't take them very long to recover from the shock of seeing her; they all jumped down and suddenly the small space was filled with soldiers. Seven or eight of them, Elphaba decided after some quick observations. She was far outnumbered, but she had magic on her side. Maybe she could overpower them and get away.

'Prepare to die, witch,' one of the soldiers growled and they all poked their spears in her direction. She concentrated, collecting her power, and made a hand gesture; every single spear in the room shattered, spraying splinters of wood and pieces of metal through the room.

The soldiers just stood there for a few moments, staring first at what was left of their weapons, then at each other… and then at her.

'Attack!' the Captain boomed suddenly, and before she knew it, the soldiers were all over her. She tried to focus and use her magic, but more soldiers were appearing every clock-tick and she was so busy trying to get them off her back that she couldn't concentrate. With their spears gone, they started using brute force to try and overpower her; they started beating her, and for every guard she managed to get out of her way, three more jumped on her. There were too many of them; it was only a matter of time before they would either capture or kill her, and she knew it.

This was a fight she knew she couldn't possibly win.

'That is enough,' the Captain of the Guard decided some moments later. The soldiers finally stopped kicking and beating the Wicked Witch and climbed back up, all except for one of them, who stayed behind to check on the Witch – to see if she was really dead. The Captain looked down the trapdoor at the bloody heap lying in a corner. There was no sign of life whatsoever. 'Is she dead?'

The soldier who was still with the Witch nudged her between the ribs with his foot. She didn't respond. He then knelt next to her body and started shaking her, then slapping her in the face. Finally, the soldier looked up to his Captain and nodded. 'She's dead.'

'Good job, everyone!' the Captain said, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. He helped his soldier back up and carefully closed the trapdoor behind him. The Witch would remain in her hiding place to rot. Oz would never know the truth; Morrible had already told him they would officially stick with the melting story, though she had assured him that he, as well as his men, would receive a reward that suited their wonderful achievement – and that was all he really cared about.

'Let's head back to the Emerald City,' the Captain then decided. 'If we leave now and keep going all night, we could be back by midmorning and join the others in the festivities.'

The men all cheered and went back downstairs, to their horses. It wasn't long after that before they galloped in the direction of the Emerald City, the stamping of the horses' hooves trailing away in the otherwise silent night.

It took Fiyero more time than he had anticipated to get back to the castle. He had travelled back to the Emerald City along with Dorothy, Boq and the Lion – a trip that hadn't taken that long. However, he had been stuck in the City for two days, forced to party along with the other Ozians and to stick with Dorothy while everyone congratulated her and her travelling companions. It had only been that morning Dorothy had left – she was probably back in Kansas by now, though he still had no idea where that place would be. One way or another, he was finally able to leave the Emerald City to get back to Kiamo Ko.

It didn't take him too long to get back. He had money, so he bought a horse and forced the animal to run as fast as it could, eager to finally get back to the woman he loved. As he was holding the reigns and looked down at his hands, he noticed, not for the first time, that the Scarecrow spell was wearing off. It had started a few days ago; slowly, his cloth skin was being replaced with real skin, his body started to feel heavier, more real. He was turning into himself again. He hadn't known that this would happen – he even doubted if Elphaba had – but he was glad it did. He himself did not particularly care; he owed Elphaba his life and if being able to be with her meant him being a Scarecrow, then a Scarecrow he would be. But he just knew she would feel guilty about him remaining a Scarecrow for the rest of his life, even though she had done nothing wrong – on the contrary. She had saved his life. That was the most important reason why he was happy to see the spell wearing off – not for his own sake, but for hers.

He nudged the horse to walk faster, fixing his gaze on the horizon. There, in the distance, he could see the contours of the castle. Just a few more hours, he told himself. Just a few more hours before I will see her again. And this time, nothing in the entire world will be able to separate us ever again.