"Just hold still."

"I am."

"I'm working on it."

"I know."

"I think I may have got it this time."

She bit her lip and frowned at the Grimmerie, a dark flush creeping up her cheeks. Why wasn't it working? Her hands fluttered like nervous sparrows around its ancient pages.

Fiyero sat and watched her patiently, his black button eyes almost motionless. Almost. He was in there, somewhere. This beautiful Winkie prince she had locked inside a scarecrow.

Elphaba stumbled around another spell, brow furrowed, fists now balled in the folds of her skirt. Nothing happened.

"It's okay," Fiyero said softly. "We can try again tomorrow."

"No, we can't," Elphaba snapped. "I'm almost there, I know it!"

"Elphaba, please," he pressed. "It's getting late."

She shoved the old tome aside and gazed at him mournfully. In the past twenty-four hours she had tried and failed to cast so many spells she was sick of magic altogether; she had been trying to avoid looking into his face. Now she reached up and touched his cheek, stroking the rough burlap with her thumb. Her bitterness was nearly inaudible. "I can't believe what I did you."

"Elphaba, stop," he said quietly. "You were brilliant. You saved my life. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive right now."

"I wouldn't call this alive," she whispered angrily. "What if we can't change you back?"

"You'll find a way," he murmured. "We'll find a way." He wrapped his straw arm around her waist, but she was stiff, and he felt idiotically fragile. Elphaba moved away and grasped one of his gloved his hands in hers, saying nothing. "Aren't you tired?" he asked her.

"No," she said immediately. He could see the lie everywhere on her face. "There's a lot I haven't tried yet."

"I know," he responded, "but it would be better to try again after resting. You'll be more focused." She didn't answer him. He felt both of their hearts shatter, and they were silent for a short while.

"What about true love's kiss?" Elphaba said suddenly.

"What about it?"

"It may work, who knows?" she said eagerly. "Some of the oldest magic. I used to think it was just a myth, but..." She sat up straighter and looked at him intently.

"Well, okay," Fiyero said mildly, hoping his fear and embarrassment wouldn't show on his new face. How was he supposed to kiss her? He brushed her hair out of her face. Her strangely glittering eyes were the last thing he saw before she brought her mouth to his.

He was coarse and unyielding, but she didn't care. If it would work – if anything would work...

One, three, five long seconds. They broke apart. She turned away, her head in her hands.

"Elphaba – "

"No! It's fine," she said too loudly. "It was foolish. I should've known. It was all just rumors anyway." She laughed hysterically, hugging herself against the night air. "I should've known." Should've known her best was not enough, she could never master the Grimmerie, perhaps it was even because she couldn't love him, not truly, not a scarecrow. She felt wild in her desperation. And he knew it, too; he always had been able to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling. The tears burned her eyes, and she wiped at them furiously with her sleeve. He held her as best as he could - her weight would probably crush him, all straw and flannel.

After a few shuddering moments, Elphaba cleared her throat and stood, walking over to retrieve the Grimmerie. "There has to be a loophole," she muttered. "If I can just remember where I found that spell – " In her head she cursed the damn book and its infinite pages.

"Can't you create a spell of your own?" Fiyero suggested. "Forget the Grimmerie. Whatever you cast before wasn't a real recitation. You brought yourself to it. Make something completely new."

She said sourly, "That could take ages. I have no idea how to even start."

"I don't care, Fae," he said earnestly. He got up and seized her hands. "I'm glad to be standing here, right now, with you. I will wait however long it takes for us to figure it out, but until then, I'm content to just be alive with you by my side, scarecrow or no scarecrow. I am."

Elphaba was taller than he was, now. She gazed again at his button eyes, the stitched nose. She had made this horrible mistake. "How can you say that?" she whispered.

"It's true," he said.

That was all. And that was the world.