And now the awesome, beautiful, epic, sexy and modest crazybeagle and deeplyshallow present to you what you have secretly been craving your entire life! A story featuring Fiyero completely in the nude and a lot of bad jokes!

This was written by us taking turns in writing a passage each – so excuse the change of writing styles. If you are finding that this seriously offends you try to picture what Fiyero is doing at that point in the story and hopefully you'll get over it.

He had to say it wasn't quite how he imagined waking up the morning after he'd run away with the love of his life. He'd thought there would be a glowing sunrise, beautiful birds serenading them, a hot, filling, breakfast (although, thinking about it, he wasn't sure where it would come from) and kisses – lots of kisses – hot ones.

He hadn't imagined that she would be gone without a trace, the only signs of her ever being there being how-the-heck-did-I-get-to-be-sleeping-naked-in-the-forest-otherwise? Oh, and a scruffy little note she had left behind. He picked it up anxiously:

Dearest Fiyero,
I'm sorry Yero, I really am, but family always come first even in our… unusual circumstances. My sister needs me so I know I must go to Munchkinland immediately. I would have woken you up but you'd have done something moronic, like insist I am putting myself in unnecessary danger, and tried to come with me. I couldn't let that happen, not ever. In fact, to make sure you still don't do something really stupid, I've taken adequate measures to prevent you. I've left you the gun because I'm entirely sure that my spells offer me quite enough protection (and I'm not actually sure how to use it).
Lots of love
Elphaba
PS: Stay out of the way of perverts and teenaged girls

Well, to hell with that, Fiyero thought, standing up and stretching, and shivering a little as the light breeze hit his bare skin. All of his bare skin. She must be daft if she thought she was getting rid of him that easily, especially since she was practically running, or, erm, flying really, headlong into certain danger, possibly her own demise. And if he expected her just to sit idly by, especially when she'd as good as told him exactly where she was going...nuh-uh. Not happening. "Adequate measures" my left boot. Speaking of left boots, he thought as he scanned the clearing, where was his? He was sure he'd nestled his boots, along with all his and Elphaba's clothing before their evening of perfect bliss (well, perfect if you ignored the fact that sleeping naked on a forest floor could be rather itchy, especially with twigs and leaves getting all up in your...well, you get the idea), in the hollow of a nearby tree. Well, there was the tree. But clothing there was not.

And suddenly he understood what she meant by "adequate measures".

Aw shiz, Elphie...

He looked around one final time to see if he was mistaken but in his heart he knew he was not. She really didn't want him following her did she? It was a little insulting actually – she didn't think him capable of going with her? Did she still think that he'd rather be safe than making sure she was? Well if she had she had misjudged him. She'd misjudged what measures were 'adequate' to prevent him doing so too. The best part of his teenage years had been spent naked, he could survive a trip to Munchkinland in his birthday suit. It would be a little chilly, yes, but what was a little hypothermia when you were on a quest to save the girl of your dreams? The girl of your dreams who just happened to have stolen your clothes, but still. Anyway, he reasoned, it was not like his body was anything to be ashamed of, in fact it would probably provide a good distraction if they ran into any guards – especially those of the… effeminate variety. He would save her dressed or undressed!

With that valiant thought in mind, he strode over to a nearby tree, stooping down to pick up the one possession he had brought with him other than his clothing, the one that Elphaba had surely left to him so that, clothes or not, he could still defend himself- his gun.

...His unloaded gun.

His shoulders drooped.

He'd gotten complacent, not making sure it was loaded the previous morning. But honestly, how was he supposed to know that it would've been necessary and useful to bring a loaded gun to his own engagement ball?

Oh well, he thought, shouldering the gun. Beggars can't be choosers, now can they? He hoped that, whether it was loaded or not, the sight of a naked guy running at you with a gun would give anyone pause. It'd buy Elphie time to get away, if nothing else, if worse came to worst.

So...next step, then. Finding a means of transportation.

It took hours of wandering around the woods (which was not fun in the chilly morning air, and barefoot no less) before he found something that could fill his needs. An old hermit's rundown cottage in the middle of the woods, with a small stable and a vegetable garden out back.

The hermit himself was pulling weeds in his front yard, whistling an off-key melody to himself as his gnarled hands grabbed at thistles and dandelions. When Fiyero approached him, the poor little man just about jumped out of his skin.

"Hey," he said, in what he judged to be a friendly manner, "please can I ride on your horse?"

But the hermit didn't appear to understand his simple and reasoned request. Instead his eyes widened at his words and shifted uncertainly between Fiyero's naked form and the gun in his hands before emitting a high pitched scream and ran off ranting about naked mass murderers. Fiyero was slightly offended, he was sure he really wasn't that unattractive naked, maybe that hermit was just intimidated at how big he was – maybe he was trying to compensate for his own one by living in a stable and the sight of him had just sent him into fits of depression…

In any case, it was unfortunate because he really did need something to help him catch up with Elphie. He went to the stable. It was locked. Hoping he would not frighten his future horse too much, he kicked the door. It quivered several times and then fell down in a rotting pile on the floor – maybe he'd send the hermit an apology when he wasn't so short of time.

He looked round the small room expectantly, but there was no horse to be seen, only a collection of bikes in the corner, and not even nice new ones. No, antique ones, which were pretty if you were into that thing, but entirely unpractical if you wanted to get somewhere fast with no clothes on.

He dragged the bike that looked like it was the least likely to fall apart outside and inspected it. It was slightly feminine looking, with a basket on the front, hardly a hero's gallant steed but it would have to do.

He was distracted by a shout behind him. He turned to see the hermit and all his pitchforked friends charging him in a most unfriendly way. With a (rather uncomfortable) leap onto the bike he cycled off into the forest as fast as he could.

It was only afterwards it occurred to him it would have been practical to look for some clothes.

The problem with big, mysterious forests perfect for Wicked Witches to hide out in?

No bicycle paths.

He supposed this should've occurred to him- after all, it wasn't like he hadn't patrolled the Great Gillikin Forest with his troops plenty of times- but trying to pedal a bike through damp, dead leaves and over knobbly effing pinecones was...less than ideal given the situation at hand. So, feeling quite emasculated and not at all like the speeding naked comet he hoped to be once he really got going on this stupid girly bike, he dismounted and pushed the bike along next to him until he was finally out of the forest, which took half the damn day.

When he finally did make it out of the forest and into the countryside, the sun was high in the sky. He stood at the edge of the forest, looking out across the meadow before him, perceiving in the distance the most beautiful sight he could ever hope to see. A tiny town, probably a mere farming community, right on the horizon. And next to it, thank his lucky stars, the sunny golden strip of the Yellow Brick Road. He took off running.

Once he was on the Yellow Brick Road itself, he knew it was a straight shot to Centre Munch, because for some reason nobody could quite figure out, the Yellow Brick road began there. Governor's mansion or not, it wasn't exactly the sort of place you took your children to go see on vacation, especially given its dictator...not that he'd ever use the term "dictator" around Elphaba to describe Nessa but still.

Fortunately, it seemed as though the Yellow Brick Road was simply MADE for bicycles. Though this thing was a creaky old rustbucket and squeaked at him in a very non-heroic manner as he forced the thing down the road as fast as he possibly could. He even stood up in the seat to pump his legs, but that was more to spare...discomfort...than for speed. Fortunately for him, to save him from more shame than necessary, the mass terror hanging over Oz because of Elphaba meant that the Yellow Brick Road was far emptier than usual. The one or two people he passed, mostly merchants who couldn't afford not to stay on the move, wicked witch or no, he waved at cheerfully in passing, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. He was pretty sure one person fainted, but he didn't look back to see. Well, it wasn't as if he could blame them, especially if it was a "her." He tended to have that effect on people.

By the time he finally came within sight of Centre Munch that evening, which was a sight for sore eyes after miles upon miles of corn (and at one point, that obnoxious grove of talking apple trees that jeered and wolf whistled and threw fruit at him as he passed through), his legs felt like they were about to fall off, and the bike like it was going to fall apart. And the second he dismounted, it did. Oh, well. No turning back, right?

As he crept up to the town, which surprisingly a lot easier without shoes to make noise or clothing to rustle, he heard shouting. More like shrieking, really. And he didn't even have to hide behind an old, crooked, dilapidated, rather out-of-place farmhouse in the middle of town and into the town square to know who the voices belonged to.

Greeeeeeat.

He didn't like to see both friends against each other, and he was more than a little shocked to find that Nessarose was dead, and even more so that Glinda had had something to do with it. But he had to admit, seeing them fight? Over him? That was a little hot.

Unfortunately, those sorts of thoughts are a little more noticeable when you're not wearing clothes…

He debated whether he should interfere but ultimately he decided not to, at least not yet. After all Elphaba seemed safe enough at the moment – well except for Glinda – and he didn't really want to run into Glinda, for the next few years preferably, and only in a situation when her nails were not near to his face and he was slightly less… exposed.

But then everything changed.

The Gale Force came hurtling into the town square, rushing over to the girls and pulling Elphaba back roughly. Immediately terrified for Elphaba, he knew what these men could do, he knew he had to save her.

Grabbing a nearby rope, not giving a second thought to its odd but very convenient location nor how much rope burns in… sensitive places... would hurt later, he swung at breakneck speed into the clearing.

He almost laughed at the fact he was 'streaking' through the air before he landed hard on the ground. Pulling himself up, he prepared to face the odd group, all frozen to the spot.

Well, he was always one for dramatic entrances.

To be continued…

Coming soon:

Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Les Miserables

The Awesome Untold Adventures of Four