Title: Eye of the Beholder
Author: Aerohead
Email: in my profile
Website: In my profile
Pairing: Fiyero/Elphaba
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer/Dedication: For L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and Winnie Holtzman who own this idea that I'm extending. Thank you for giving me the first part.
Warning: If you haven't seen the show, you may be lost
Genre: Romance, general, a little humor
Summary: Fiyero and Elphaba's small talk while they are escaping through the Great Gillikin Forest
Author's Notes: This is just a short ficlet. It's been rolling around in my head for a while now, and I can't think of anything else at the moment, so I decided to write it. It's not exactly good or anything, but it wasn't exactly written in any length of time, either.
The wind was howling around them, and Elphaba had to keep her broom in check, for fear that it would go flying off without them. The sound of Fiyero breaking back branches so they could walk through the dense forest was muffled, and if it weren't for his hand wrapped around her wrist, she wouldn't have known he was with her.
Lightning flared in the sky, atrociously outlining Fiyero's face for a brief moment. He seemed so determined to find amnesty, and Elphaba felt her throat clench.
He stopped her as they reached a small cottage. He pulled her inside, placing his lantern onto a small table. "We'll stay here for the night, then we'll keep heading northeast, towards Quox." He said.
"We can't stay here." Elphaba said. "They'll find us here; they'll hurt you." Fiyero stared at her for a moment, before laughing.
"They wouldn't dare." He said.
Elphaba pursed her lips as she took off her cloak, revealing the torn dress. "You seem to be very sure of yourself, Master Tigular." She said as she placed the cloak around a chair.
Fiyero sat down and leaned back, his look distant. He looked over at Elphaba, before his infamous, teenage grin returned. "Miss Elphaba the Delirious, I am protected by the Wicked Witch; no one would dare lay a finger on me because you might curse them."
Elphaba's frown deepened and she laid her hands onto the top of the chair. "You know very well they'll try and kill you right after they've left me as a bloody corpse."
Fiyero grimaced. "That's a wonderful image, Elphie, thank you."
Elphaba pulled the chair out, the screeching of wood on wood louder than the wind outside. She sat down and took Fiyero's hand. He looked down at where they were conjoined, before his eyes caught hers. Elphaba squeezed his hand, and licked her lips. "Why did you leave with me?" she asked.
Fiyero smiled. "That's a very odd question; why wouldn't I leave with you? I love you."
Elphaba let go of him, feeling her throat become even tighter. "But why do you love me?" she whispered.
Fiyero's face contorted in confusion for a moment, before his eyebrows shot up. He looked around the cottage for a few minutes, before it landed on the flame. It weaved around itself, taking on a bright white and hearty red glow. It licked at the sides of the lantern, trying to break free. He stared, unblinking, before whispering, "Because you're beautiful."
His trance was broken by Elphaba's harsh staccato laughter. "I'm beautiful? You have me confused with my sister, Fiyero." She told him. He looked up at her dolefully, and her mirth fell away. "I'm not beautiful." She said resolutely.
Fiyero moved the lantern to the side so he could lean over to Elphaba. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." He told her. The grin reappeared. "And your eyes have beheld your beauty so long that you've become blind to your own beauty." He teased.
Elphaba shook her head. "Fiyero…" she whispered. He put his hand to her lips.
"Don't you ever let anyone else talk?" He asked. Elphaba's lips twisted, but she didn't say anything. The smirk turned into a smile. "So your beauty is…unconventional, I'll admit that, but, Elphaba, you've said so yourself, 'beauty is not about looks, it's about the heart.'"
"I've never said anything to that effect." Elphaba said. Fiyero leaned back, arms crossed.
"Fine, then repeat after me: Beauty is not about looks."
"Fiyero –" Elphaba said, her eyes shifting to the dying wind.
"Elphaba, repeat after me." Fiyero groused.
Elphaba sighed. "Fine; 'Beauty is not about looks."
"It's about the heart." Fiyero finished.
"'It's about the heart.'" Elphaba mimicked. She scowled. "Happy now?"
Fiyero's smile became smug, and he didn't answer. He looked outside. "The wind's dying down; maybe we should start out again." He said. Elphaba nodded. The got up. Elphaba wrapped her cloak around herself, and picked up the broom. Fiyero took the lantern, and held out his hand. Elphaba stared at it, unsure, before taking it. He smiled at her fondly, before they started out of the cottage and through the forest.