I thought this up when I actually got my own library fine a few days ago and my mom was a little irked when she found out. But really? Seriously? Library fines are like 3 cents a day or something. Anywho, originally I wanted this to just be some funny little oneshot, but it kinda turned angsty. And to be quite frank, I like it better this way :)

Enjoy!

"Elphaba! I need to see you."

The summoned girl sighed, knowing full well what was coming. She marked her page in her overdue library book, set it down on the nightstand beside her, then hurried off to find her father. The Governor of Munchkinland was waiting for his green skinned daughter at the base of the staircase and looking rather peeved, which was typically how he looked whenever he bellowed for her. Before she had even reached the last stair he held up a piece of paper.

"Do you know what this is?"

Elphaba stuffed her hands in her skirt pockets and muttered, "I have a hunch."

Frexspar Thropp was not amused. "This is a notice from Center Munch Public Library stating that you have a library fine."

The green girl sighed internally. She had known it would be coming, and she had meant to forewarn her father so he wouldn't be as mad at her, but she had forgotten. And now she was in trouble. As she always seemed to be. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Explain why your book wasn't returned when it was due."

"The library was closed every time I was available to take the trip to return it. You were busy with your conferences, so I had to cart Nessa all over Munchkinland this week, remember? I think we even crossed the border into the Glikkus."

Frex hated when she got cheeky, but she was trying to make a point. He no longer struck her when she did it, for he had finally come to terms with the fact that this was a tic his eldest daughter would never be able to control, but he still let her know of his disapproval. "You should have given it to a servant to return for you. A fine is a serious matter."

"Well, I was too busy to think about that, and in case you haven't noticed, the fine is only about twenty-three cents even though the book was due five days ago. Whoop-dee-doo. I'd rather spend my money supporting my library than on anything else anyway."

The man glared dangerously at her, but lowered the condemning shred of paper. "Since you were busy, I will pay the fine, but only this once."

Elphaba couldn't bring herself to say thank you. She knew Frex wasn't doing this as a kind gesture. Instead, she lowered her eyes and mumbled, "I'll pay you back."

"Consider it your Lurlinemas gift," Frex insisted through his teeth refusing to allow her to redeem herself, and walked off. Boiling, Elphaba turned and started back up the stairs. He just had to keep building her debt. Had to add any little thing to make her feel guilty and remind her of how wretched she was. It was worse than any other punishment he could ever give her.

Mother, Nessa's legs, and now this stupid, stupid twenty-three cents!

****

The all-powerful Wicked Witch of the West stood before the headstone marked Frexspar Thropp snarling down at the ground. Even now, when he was dead and decaying six feet below her, his authority over her tortured her. She stared down as silent as the graveyard in which she stood until at last she couldn't retain her emotions any longer.

"I didn't reach her in time, and I'm sorry! All right? Did you hear me? I'm sorry! I'm sorry Nessa's dead! I tried! I tried to save her, but I was too late, and I'm sorry!"

Silence answered her. A mocking silence. Frex was ignoring her. Refusing to forgive her still.

The Witch snapped. She snatched the vase full of dead flowers from the ground and bashed it against the headstone letting the porcelain shatter, then dropped the pieces so green hands could attack the stone directly. It wouldn't be toppled though, no matter how hard she pushed. She settled for collecting the flowers, love offerings no doubt from her sister, and shredded them to dusty flakes. Then she picked up the pieces of vase and hurled them against the stone's face, trying to at least mar the writing chiseled into it. The marker would not be defaced. The Witch dropped to her knees before her father's grave, ever the strong-willed weakling who could never please him or make him smile or make him proud or stir in him the desire to tell her he loved her, much less look at her without being revolted by what he saw.

The Wicked Witch of the West, the most feared creature in all of Oz, was rendered powerless by her dead father.

When it seemed ages had past, the Witch finally spoke softly, "I'm going to go apologize to Nessa now."

There was no reaction.

The Witch muttered, more to herself than to the earth below her, "She'll forgive me."

She stood, withdrew two roses from her bag and laid them on the smaller and older grave beside Frex's, retrieved her broom and was about to mount it when she remembered what made her seek her father's resting place to begin with. A green hand snaked back into the messenger bag and tossed its silver findings on the earth. Then she kicked off of the ground and flew to find her sister's death site hoping the last two ruby roses she carried would not be crushed by the time she arrived.

From her mother, forgiveness had come in the form of a little green bottle that had been left to the Witch in her mother's will. Having already seen the crash site of the foreign house, she knew Nessa had spared her jeweled shoes from destruction and was leaving them as tokens of her forgiveness. The Witch would take them and treasure them along with the bottle for the rest of her days.

But from her father, she had nothing. Not even a little acknowledgement after she had repaid him her twenty-three cent library fine.