THE TRUTH

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Fiyero sat staring at the envelope in his hands. He couldn't bring himself to open it. He just stared at it.

It was plain white, as nearly every envelope is, and sealed on the seams with the same sort of customary adhesive. There were no postage marks, so he knew the writer must have had it delivered by hand, or delivered it in person. The thought made his heart pound inside his chest. How stupid would it have been… so dangerous… To have been discovered…

Yet his heart was already racing, for he recognized the handwriting that scrawled his name on the face of the envelope. It was too neat to be masculine, yet nowhere as curly and flowery as Galin – no, Glinda's. He sighed. That girl. It was all whimsy with her; flighty, fast decisions that would keep her in everyone's good graces, allowing her to look out for her own needs before those of others.

…So unlike the author of this letter.

Fiyero took a deep breath to calm his nerves, unable to stop thoughts of this unseen authoress from settling in the forefront of his mind. It was dangerous, he knew, to think of her; for when he allowed himself to do so, he found he couldn't function normally. Worries and fears and hopes and questions plagued his mind to the point where he caught himself stumbling through his classes, tripping through the motions of everyday life, trying to cope with how everything had changed in so short a time.

It had been only two weeks since he'd last seen her. It had been at the train station, when she'd been leaving for the Emerald City. He'd brought flowers. If he had known it was the last time he would see her, the last chance he'd have to say goodbye – oh, how things might have been different, regardless of whether or not Galin – damn it – Glinda had been there beside him.

He remembered sitting at the train station after both girls had gone, long after he'd waved goodbye until he could no longer see their smiling faces and outstretched hands. Alone, he had done a lot of uncharacteristic thinking in those hours. Thinking about himself, about who he wanted to be, about who he wanted to be with. It had been the first time in a long time that'd been honest with himself, and he'd wondered why it had taken him so long to understand who he really was.

He'd seen that day that he truly wasn't happy with his life anymore – as someone had pointed out to him. Yes, he was Fiyero, the playboy prince with the "scandalacious" by reputation. Yes, he enjoyed the attention and yes, he really did hate studying – but wasn't all of who he was. He was so much more, and until recently, he'd forgotten it.

It had taken a girl, barely an acquaintance, to challenge his way of thinking and call him out on his behavior. No one - none of his friends, not even Glinda had ever forced him to do such a thing. In a matter of moments, she had lit a spark in his mind that reminded him that he was Crown Prince of the Vinkus and, as such, had a responsibility to his homeland, his people, his parents. Her words had thrown him for a loop, but they had begun a distinct change in him.

So that day at the train station, he had resolved to actually make a change in his life. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd always known that he couldn't remain shallow forever, but he had been content not to think about that for a long time now. It had been easier – not thinking or caring. But, truth be told, it was often dull… bland… tiresome. It felt like he was just floating through life, somehow missing out despite the constant rush of parties and dancing and women and drink.

He'd known right from the start that achieving such a change in his life wouldn't be easy… but the things that mattered the most never were, were they? He'd have to begin to put forth effort, to pay attention, to think more often than when he found himself alone in train stations. He'd have to give up the partying – well, perhaps not all of it – and leave some of his wilder friends behind, drawing closer to ones that would help him become the man he wanted to be.

Perhaps the most shocking thing he'd realized that day was that if he were to stay with Glinda, he'd never change. Glinda was pretty, yes. And nice, too, that was a given. But she was safe. She was comfortable. And she would never allow him to be the person that he wanted to be. With her, he could never be real because she – he hated to say it – was not real. She was still so fake, so plastic, so blissfully unrealistic. With her, he would forever be stuck in a rut, perfectly happy to dance through life without a care in the world. It would be parties and dancing and introductions and dinners and enough fluff to make him feel as stuffed as a straw-filled scarecrow, for Oz's sake!

He'd realized that day that he didn't want that.

He had realized that he wanted to do something in this world that mattered to someone else besides him. He didn't want to hide behind a mask of superficiality anymore. He wanted was to be challenged, pushed, and encouraged to be things he'd never been. He wanted to be real and have someone who was real enough to accept him for who he was and then for all the things that he wasn't.

He'd realized that day that he wanted Elphaba.

Oh, he had known it was crazy and unorthodox and nearly every other word for "strange" that he could think of, but in his heart and his mind, it felt right. Felt righter than being with Glinda did, that was for sure.

So he had gone back to Shiz with a mind to somehow break up with Glinda and win over Elphaba – all without hurting either one of them. He knew they had grown close and the last thing he wanted to do was to ruin their friendship. He had spent the whole day pondering and planning and preparing and waiting and worrying and wishing that it would be easy.

After a near-sleepless night, he arrived at the train station early the next day, anxious to see them and get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. He'd decided not to waste a moment and say what he needed to at the station, before they even got back to Shiz. That way, none of their classmates would be privy to their conversation and, if it came to it, he could easily skip town if his plan backfired and one or both girls decided to kill him. The idea was flawless. His speech… less so, but he was determined nonetheless.

As the train pulled up, he had stood there, two bouquets in his hands – delicate pink roses for Glinda and fiery red poppies for Elphaba. He remembered waiting, watching the passengers file out, straining for a glimpse of green or a flash of blonde. He waited for every last passenger to emerge before he saw Glinda come down the steps of the train. He looked beyond her for Elphaba, but she was nowhere to be seen.

What happened next, he hated to remember… It was the moment everything changed. Nothing could have prepared him for the scene that was about to unfold. Glinda had crossed the platform to him, glanced at the two bouquets, and burst into tears, pressing herself into him and sobbing about how sorry she was, about how Elphie was gone and how they would never, never see her again.

He'd dropped the flowers…

As he fingered the letter in his hands, Fiyero's stomach felt the same way it had then – tight and low and sinking by the second. He wondered what she could possibly have to say to him, what she wanted him to know so badly that she had faced such danger to get it to him. The urge to know became overwhelming and he tore the end off of the envelope and pulled the letter out.

It was plain white paper, smudged with more than a few blots of ink, but written in the same distinctive handwriting that had graced the envelope. Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

Fiyero,

I am sure by the time this letter reaches you, you will no doubt be acquainted with the rumors and lies surrounding my visit to the Emerald City. My only hope is that you have spoken to Glinda and she has told you what really happened and that you have believed her.

But I want you to hear it from me, Fiyero. I DID NOTHING WRONG. I stand behind my actions. And for that, I am being punished. I will not kowtow to the "authority" of the slanderous Wizard of Oz, and if that makes me a criminal, so be it.

I don't know why your opinion matters so much to me, but it is imperative that you know who I really am. I am not the person I'm sure everyone says I am. I am not a Wicked Witch. You must know this. You saw me like no one else did. That day, in the forest, you really saw me. I only hope that you will remember me as you did that day and you will not be swayed by the slander that is sure to come.

I would tell you more if I could – about how I wish that things were different, that I had said more things, done things differently – but what good would that do? We both know that wishing accomplishes little and wounds much.

Though this letter will raise questions about my whereabouts, please – DO NOT SEARCH FOR ME. It will be safer for us all if you do not know where I am. Know only that I am safe and out of harm's way for the time being. I have food. I have shelter. I am alive and I am fighting. Dear Oz, how I am fighting.

There is much I would ask of you, but nothing so much as this. Please, take care of Glinda. I love her as dearly as if she were my own sister and know you care for her as well. She is not strong, not yet... She will be, but she needs your help to become so.

You are strong, Fiyero. You are a leader. You always have been, since that first day you danced them all out of class. People will look to you in times of confusion. I know I would… Don't let them down. Even the dancers must lead others in the right steps.

And Fiyero… dear Fiyero… don't think your brainlessness will fool everyone forever. After all, you couldn't fool me. Put that brain to good use and be happy. Be the man I know exists inside you.

I only wish that you will one day find all that your heart desires.

Only my best,

Elphaba

When he finished, Fiyero felt his heart pounding in his throat. He couldn't believe it. That couldn't be it! There had to be more, something else she needed to tell him. She couldn't – wouldn't leave him hanging like this, waiting, worrying with no way to contact her. He reread her message a second, a third, a fourth time – searching for a hidden meaning between the lines.

There was nothing. No code. No key phrases. Nothing more than her earnest desire for him to move on without her.

Fiyero shook his head, swallowing thickly. This couldn't be how it ended. He had only just decided that he wanted to live – really live. She couldn't leave him now, not when he knew that she was the one who inspired him, was the one he wanted to live for.

And all those weeks of frantic hoping, of praying she'd come back, dreaming that he'd wake up from this nightmare… it was all over. She wasn't coming back. She wasn't going to return. She had accepted her face and now he had to do the same.

With a curse, he threw the letter away from him. His hurt and disbelief turned to anger. He'd never accept it! He couldn't! He wouldn't! If she was going to fight to stay away, he was going to fight to bring her home. If she thought she was the only one who could sacrifice for the greater good, she was wrong! He'd show her! He'd show them all – every one of them who had hurt her...

And how could they have hurt her? he wondered. Why had this happened? Why to Elphaba? She was the best person he knew. She'd never knowingly hurt anyone. It was ridiculous to think of her as a terrifying witch. So why? Why? Why? Why?

When no answers came, his anger simmered into hate. Not for Elphaba – never Elphaba – but for what had happened, for Morrible, for the Wizard, for Gl…

No, he stopped himself. He was better than this. She would not want this of him. She would want him to be strong, to rise above. She had said so herself.

So he would. He made a promise to himself, right there, with her letter once more in his hands and the passion and determination running hot in his blood. No matter the cost, he would not give in, not give up, not until he found her. He would defy her orders to stay safe – for soon nothing would be safe, not even the easy lifestyle he had grown accustomed to. Safe was without risk, and he wanted, for once, to take a risk – and earn the reward that awaited him.

She had changed him, irrevocably, and he would not be satisfied until she knew that it was she – only her, ever her – that had the power to do so.

That was the truth.