A/N: I know I should probably put some big greeting here, but honestly I can't do it without sounding stupid. XD So, for now, I'm just going to dedicate it to all my FanFiction homegirls (including the ones I know in real life :) ), and just go ahead with the chapter. :) Short, sweet, and to the point.

The Wicked Witch That Never Was

by Nor of Kiamo Ko

Chapter One:

Beginning with an End

"...pious, even at her tender age; beautiful, for all her bodily imperfections; strong, but gentle as well. She was a dutiful daughter, a loving sister, and an inspiring message to us all. Now let us pray for her soul..."

Elphaba bent her head and folded her hands in her lap, praying to please her father and the soul of her sister, who had doubtless gotten into heaven without anybody's help.

She was so young, she meditated. The only one I had left... Her face was stony as she fought the tears rising in her eyes.

Really, it was probably a good thing that she was at this funeral. It was a way to remember Nessa as she had been: twelve, handicapped, and happy instead of twelve, sick, and dying. Now, twelve and dead.

The prayer ended, and the preacher continued to speak. Elphaba's mind wandered as freely as she would let it.

If Nessa were here listening to this, she'd be blushing like mad. She almost smiled to herself. One sister bright pink, and the other bright green.

She flashed back to the day the Owl doctor had come out of Nessa's room, polishing his glasses and looking almost embarrassed to be the bearer of bad news. "Would you like us to do anything special with the, ah, er..."

Say wheelchair, Elphaba had silently urged him.

"Burn it," her father had snapped bitterly. He had covered his eyes with his hand for a moment. When he had uncovered them, he had shot such a look of unadulterated hatred at her that it almost seemed like he blamed her for the death of his favorite daughter and his wife.

She shuddered and made herself listen to the preacher again. Mustn't think like that now, she scolded herself. Not here.

"Finally," Elphaba huffed as she took off her dress. The wake had been a night of listening to people who cared only for her father (just as well--she didn't give a pig's wig about them either) tell her about how sorry they were for her loss. While she was fairly sure the wake was supposed to make her feel better, it only made her cynical.

She pulled on her nightgown, remembering the nightly routine that had ended what seemed like years ago.

"Elphaba, will you help me with my nightgown, please?"

"Of course." Elphaba stood up and went to help her sister, pulling the nightgown down until her pretty white hands poked out of the sleeves, her face came out of the neckhole, and the hem hung decently around her ankles.

"Thank you." Nessa smiled, her heart-shaped face lighting up.

Elphaba picked a hairbrush up off of the bedside table. "Do you want me to do it?"

Nessa indignantly took it from her. "Thank you, Elphaba, but I am perfectly capable of brushing my own hair." She turned to face the mirror and began to do just that, each stroke careful and precise.

Elphaba pursed her lips and tried not to cry. She pulled back the sheets on her bed and lay down, putting out the lamp as she settled herself on her pillow. She ran her fingers through her hair, letting it out of its tight braid, and stared at the ceiling.

She was the last thing keeping me here, she thought drowsily, the last thing keeping me from running off to the Emerald City...

So why stay?

She sat bolt upright. The question had not occured to her in the past three days, not even briefly.

Her mind raced. What did she have to lose? Certainly not her father. She had no friends to leave. No one would think to miss her: the quiet, sullen, angry green girl.

She stood up. She opened her window...

...and got back into bed.

Stupid, she thought. I have to time this right, collect a few things... I can't just up and leave.

She rolled over and tried to get some sleep. A few days. Maybe a week at most...

And then it's the Emerald City for me.

Her chance came four days later, on the next clear night. She was almost glad she'd waited; if she hadn't, she wouldn't have thought to wear her boots instead of going barefoot, much less pack food and a cloak.

She knew tonight would be her last chance. The rainy season was coming, and that would keep her in Munchkinland for months. The moment her lamp was out, she was pulling on her boots, throwing her pack over her shoulder, and bounding toward her window.

When she was, by some miracle, on the ground in one piece, she did something that surprised herself: she turned around and looked at the house that had been her home for fourteen years.

"Goodbye," she whispered. Whether it was meant for the house, Nessa, or even her mother, she wasn't able to tell.

And then Elphaba slipped silently into the night.

Galinda Upland sat in the dining hall at Upland Manor, listening to her parents talk. Well, talk would have been the nice word for it.

"You spent how much on that dress?" That was her father: always concerned about money, even though, as far as Galinda and her mother were concerned, they had more than enough of it already.

"Now, dear," her mother said, swallowing a bite of Winkie quail, "it was genuine tsebra hair. It's all the rage in the Emerald City." As long as Lady Upland was fashionable and beautiful, she didn't care about much else.

Sir Upland's face turned a deep shade of purple. "I don't care if it was--" He was interrupted by a knock at the dining hall door. "Come in," he snapped.

One of the guards, an Ox, entered as cautiously as a member of his species could. "Sir Upland," he carefully addressed his employer, "I found this outside, near the forest." He shifted the large bundle of fabric in his arms to reveal the horrendibly disfigured face of a young girl.

Galinda gasped. Her mother swooned, and even her father looked a little queasy.

"Is she sick?" Galinda asked before she could stop herself.

The Ox answered her, clearly unsure of himself. "Well, she's got a bit of a fever... but I never heard of a disease that turned your face green before."

Perla, the Upland's head maid, quickly bustled over to have a look at the girl. "Tut, tut," she said, placing her hand on the discolored forehead. "You're right about the fever." She turned to Sir Upland. "If your lordship pleases, the girl will need to stay here."

Sir Upland quickly assented. "Where will you put her?"

"The Magenta Bedroom, I think," Perla answered briskly. "Better to have her close to the kitchens so I can check on her."

"Fine, then," said Sir Upland, waving his hand in dismissal. The Ox took the invalid out of the dining hall, with Perla waddling closely behind. Galinda was entirely unsure of what to say about this strange new development, so she took her parents' lead and continued eating as if nothing had happened.

Still, she thought, I wonder: is she green all over, or just on her face? She pondered the question as her parents resumed their... discussion.

A/N: So... whatcha think:) Constructive criticism always appreciated... remember, this is my first Wicked fanfic. Go easy on me. XD