AN: This is not an Oz/OC fic, just to clear that up right off the bat.
Also, I know, I know I need a beta. Volunteers? Anyone? Pretty please?

Chapter 1: You Gotta Be Kidding Me

"Stop! Thief! Come back here, you little bastard!"

Cassie didn't even spare the energy to glance over her shoulder, that could easily cause her to trip and lose her lead, and she didn't need that happening to herself again. The heavy purse weighed down her left side, making her feel unbalanced as she tore across the uneven Kansas farmland. Her speed paired with the wind blowing strongly behind her was twisting her hair up into the air, the seething mass of red curls had escaped their bindings after her cap had fallen off, and she knew that she was going to be more knot than smooth by the end of this.

Her breath was coming in hard gasps as she pumped her legs swiftly, cursing again and in the back of her mind she muttered a prayer of thanks that she had started wearing pants. Although to be honest, she wasn't sure if god would listen to her thanks, if he was annoyed at her thievery.

She hadn't meant to steal again, she really hadn't! It had just been right there, the little black bag left out on the veranda, and when she'd peeked in and been greeted by the glitter of gold, what was she supposed to do? She had never seen that much money before in her entire life, and she couldn't help herself, her hand had just shot out and grabbed the bag, tying it around her belt just as the farmer came back outside.

She didn't even know what a farmer was doing with a bag of gold, albeit a little bag, but still. Cassie didn't think she'd ever seen a man that angry in her entire life, and she didn't think she'd ever run this fast either.

"Stop! Help, stop that thief!"

Cassie was forced to barge through a cluster of people on the road, thankfully most were too slow to pick up on the farmer's yells, but one man's hand shot out, grabbing a hold of her little rucksack. She was jerked back for a moment, before she gathered herself and wrenched out of the surprised man's grip, tearing off again.

She noticed that people all seemed to be heading in one direction, towards a cluster of tents and loud noises. As she got closer and closer, she saw that it was one of those travelling circuses that rolled around the country. Perfect, a place like this, full of people, she could find someplace to hide for a spell, then wait until the farmer had given up before she moved on.

Racing up to the entrance, Cassie was almost through when a man stepped out in front of her, causing her to skid to a halt.

"Whoa there, miss," he said, "It's 10 cents for entry."

"I...uhh..." Cassie looked over her shoulder, and saw the farmer hot on her heels, still shouting, "That man," she blurted out, "He's chasing me."

The circus man lifted his eyes to look where she indicated, and in that moment, she darted around him, into the throng of circus goers.

Now two voices called out behind her, but she didn't stop to look, weaving her way in and out of the gathered people, she kept her eyes open for a spot to hide. Casting around desperately, her eyes were drawn to something up high, and set themselves on a large balloon floating there.

"Perfect," she breathed softly.

Giving a cursory glance around, to see how many people were watching, she waited until she felt the least eyes upon her, before grabbing the mooring rope and hauling herself up. It was not easy, she wasn't used to doing this kind of thing, but adrenaline must have been lending her strength.

"It's your Scottish blood, lass. You've got the blood of Clan Chiefs running through you, and that makes you strong."

Cassie shivered, and nearly fell from the rope as a voice from her past whispered in her mind. She shook it clear, and heaved herself into the basket, ducking down quickly as she heard a now familiar raised voice coming closer.

"Shh, calm," she whispered to herself, trying to get her breathing back under control after her long dash.

The urge to poke her head above the basket, and check to see if the coast was clear was strong, but she forced it down. Her red hair would be as good as a beacon up here. Instead, she forced herself to calm down and start thinking, but that was getting harder and harder as adrenaline left her, and tiredness took its place. She pressed a hand against her cheek, feeling the warmth emanating from there, and knowing that her face was probably still blotched with red from the exertion of running, and cursed the annoyance that was the pale skin which came with red hair.

At least, she hoped it was from running, she wasn't sure if she had a fever or not. She didn't want one, but she'd been feeling so strange the past couple of days, and the warmth had been growing. She felt so tired, more tired than just the bad sleep one got from lying on the ground, the kind of tired that makes you want to just curl up wherever you are.

How had she managed to run for so long? Her thoughts were beginning to become jumbled. Who would have thought that the bottom of a balloon would be so comfortable? Maybe if she just rested here for a little, no one would notice.

"Forgive me mother, forgive me father," she murmured, as her lids slid shut, "I didn't want to steal. I'm...I'm..."

Sleep claimed her before she could finish saying 'sorry'.

~0~

In her dreams she was riding. It wasn't a horse; she'd never done that before. And it wasn't a bicycle; she'd vowed never to get on one of those after falling of once. It was her father's shoulders, just like she'd used to do when she was a kid. He would swing her up high, plant her on his back, and parade around telling her stories in his wonderful Scottish accent.

"Clan Kincaid, that's us, lass," he boomed, "You're the daughter of the Highlands, and don't you ever forget it."

"But dada, I've never been to the Highlands," she protested, "How can I belong there?"

"It's in your blood lassie," he replied, "It's in that fiery temper of yours, in that fierce courage and devotion, in that hair red as a fire in mid-winter."

"Your hair isn't red though," she pointed out; tugging on one of his brown locks, "But you are of the Highlands too, aren't you?"

"Aye, but the red hair is for the special ones, like you."

"I think you're special, dada."

He threw back his head and laughed at that. He began to say something more, but Cassie was having trouble focusing on it, the ride had started to become jerky. Why was he doing that? His shoulders were moving unnaturally, jerking up, down, to the side. It wasn't comfortable anymore.

"Da- OOPH!"

Cassie's dream was cut abruptly short as something crashed into her, something heavy.

"AHH!" it cried.

"AHH!" she cried at the same time.

"YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!" someone yelled from below.

The thing, a man she now saw, scrambled away from her, inasmuch as he could with the cramped space, and frowned, "What are you doing here? Who are you?"

"What am I doing here?" she echoed, "What are you doing here!?"

"I-"

"DIGGS!"

He shut his mouth like a trap, standing up in the balloon, and looking down at whoever the angry man was with a smug little smile on his face. Cassie pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing her now painful leg where the man had landed. She missed a small bit of dialogue as she tried to assess how much her leg was hurting, but suddenly the balloon gave an almighty jerk downwards, as if it was being pulled back to ground.

That jolted Cassie into standing pretty quickly, despite the pain that shot through her leg at the motion, and she looked down to see the circus strongman heaving on the rope, helped by a clown.

The man in the balloon with her wasn't looking so smug anymore, and pulled out a pocket knife, beginning to frantically saw at the mooring rope to free the balloon.

"What are you doing? We'll be cast off!" she protested; but then another yell caught her attention.

"Thief!"

She looked after the voice, and groaned, the farmer she'd stolen from was one persistent man, she gave him that.

She turned back to the stranger, "Cut faster!"

"I'm trying," he snapped back; then gave a short laugh as he succeeded in separating the final strands holding the balloon to the ground. It released itself upwards almost at once, the jolt causing Cassie's injured leg to give up and dump her once more on the floor of the basket, while the stranger managed to keep his balance by holding onto the balloon.

Someone from down below must have thrown something to him, for he caught first a bag, and then a top hat. A top hat of all things! Cassie decided that he must be mad. What was he doing leaping into a balloon? And why was the strongman after him? The wind was picking the balloon up strongly now, tossing it around a little, and pulling it high and higher into the air.

He seemed to be laughing, and calling smugly down to those on the ground, until something made him turn around, and Cassie saw horror fill his face.

"What? What is it?" she called; having to shout over the noise of the wind.

He looked down at her with wide eyes, as if just remembering she was there, and simply pointed out in front of him.

Cassie used the rim of the basket to help pull herself up, a difficult task with the basket jerking the way it was, and felt all the blood drain from her face at what she saw.

A tornado, a dark twisting swirl of wind rose up right before her, and the balloon was being sucked into it.

"Oh sweet Jesus," she whispered softly, "This cannot be happening right now."

She turned to the man sharing the small space with her, fully intending to verbally lash him for not seeing the tornado before he cut the both of them loose, but words were stolen from her mouth as the balloon was pulled into the buffeting winds, and she was unceremoniously hurled across the basket.

"Ahh!" she yelled; falling into the other side of the balloon, whacking her shoulder against the wicker.

She fought to keep her eyes open as wind tore all around her, hurling things into the balloon, tearing bits off of it. Something that looked like a organ or something hurtled over the top of the basket, prompting the man to drop to the ground swiftly, nearly landing on top of her again.

"Ahh!" he cried; as something spiked through the basket, narrowly missing him.

A similar cry came from her own mouth as the same thing happened to her. The both of them were kept jumping around the basket as more things crashed around them. Cassie ended up pretty much leaping into his lap so that they took up as little room as possible, her uncontrollable hair whipped him in the face, but she didn't have the presence of mind to apologise right then.

"Please, I can change, just give me a chance," he yelled into the storm.

"Oh god, oh god, I'm sorry for everything I've done," she found herself uttering in turn, "Just please, please help me now."

The storm seemed to pick up pace for a moment, and Cassie clutched hard at the stranger sharing the moment with her, and dimly was aware that he was gripping her tightly as well. She was getting dizzy look at the workings of the storm, so she screwed her eyes tightly shut and prayed silently for her parents to watch over her. She didn't want to die here, a thousand feet in the air with a stranger; she didn't want to die at all.

Eventually, the wind seemed to die down, the darkness lifted, and she felt light on the back of her eyelids. The man beneath her shifted, and she opened her eyes. He was looking around wonderingly, also noticing the change in their surroundings, he grinned down at her.

Cassie picked herself up off his lap, embarrassed now that there was no critical danger surrounding them, and remembered that she had no idea who this man was. She used one of the balloon lines to pull herself into a standing position, and looked out around her.

It was a miracle, surely. They were safe, the winds had gone, there was no sign of a tornado, and the land before them looked calm.

"Yes! Thank you! Yes!"

The man had stood up, and was shouting out to the sky. He turned to look down at her, and gave her a charming grin, "My apologies, my name is Oz, the great magician, and who might you be?"

Belatedly Cassie realised that he was quite handsome, and all her inexperience with talking to men rushed back to her in a flood. She found herself taking a suspicious approach, frowning slightly, she replied, "What kind of a name is Oz?"

"It's short for Oscar," he clarified; the grin staying on his face.

Cassie wasn't sure she trusted him, but she'd be rude not to give him her name, "My name's- whoa!"

Without warning, the balloon plummeted a few feet downwards, stopped, and then did it again. Cassie was unbalanced enough without being able to put much weight on her right leg, and the second jolt tipped her out of the balloon altogether.

"Help!" she cried; barely holding onto the rope dangling a few feet below the rim of the basket, "Oz, help!"

He reached out over the basket, "Grab my hand!"

Cassie strained upwards, but she couldn't pull herself up the rope enough to grab onto his outstretched hand,

"I can't!" she cried; true panic setting in.

"Try!"

Desperately, Cassie let go of the rope with one hand, and reached high up to try and grab onto him. Just for a moment, she felt her fingertips brush his, but then the strength of her other arm gave up, and she felt the rope burn as it slipped through her fingers.

"NO!" she heard him cry above her.

"HEEEELP!" she yelled; as the air whipped past her, and she plummeted towards the crystal blue surface of a river.