A/N: Oh. My. Oz. Stupid plot bunnies keep attacking me! It's another one again! To those who read my other fanfics, I know I haven't updated in a while, mostly due to the lack of time as well as all these other plot bunnies and also because of my newfound obsession with Newsies (Oh my Oz it was the most amazifying musical ever I still don't understand why it had to close) but yea it's the holidays now so I'll see if I can update any of my other fanfics. For now, here's my newest idea, R&R if I should build on it!


Where there is a ruler, there is insurgence.

The ruler is the magnet, the core of the country, who pulls together the very filings the country consisted of. The ruler was the center of gravity for parliament.

And yet the ruler is a repulsion. She or he is the off-thrower of balance, the spark of revolution, the drug of all misdeed. She sets off a bitter hatred in people whose beliefs didn't coincide with hers. The ruler forever treads on thin ice, just waiting for it to give way and have the dark waters of rebellion drown her.

Glinda the Good tread on thin ice, and her ice was cracking.

Fast.

The ultimate crack happened on a summer's night, five years into her leadership over Oz.

She awoke to the pounding on her door in the middle of the night.

"Lady Glinda!"

"What is it?"

"We must evacuate you immediately!"

"Why in Oz —"

"Insurgents, ma'am, they have overrun the city!"

Glinda didn't even bother to change before she burst out of her room, carrying a satchel with all her essential items.

Lurline, would Elphie have laughed at her for being so rational.

No, don't think about Elphaba now, she told herself as she ran alongside the guardsmen, think about getting out of here alive.

"My Lady, you must listen," spoke the head guard. "Once we exit the palace via the emergency route you must continue on through the woods to the shelter. Do you understand?"

Glinda could only nod.

The escape took them through an underground passage. Just when Glinda was sure it was bound to go on for eternity, they reached a trapdoor. Wasting no time the head guard unlocked it and threw it open, and the troupe burst out into the woods.

Yet, no sooner than Glinda had emerged, gunshot rang out in the air, and she screamed, hitting the ground at once. All around her bullets zipped through the air, her ears ringing with the sound of gunshot, so loud that she nearly missed the 'Go, My Lady, run! We will take care of these ruffians!"

But she didn't, and she scrambled to her feet, sprinting into the woods. Bullets flew past her as she ran, hitting the trees all around her as she zigzagged her way through them. She had no time to even register where she was going, or how she was even still alive. There was only one thing, one word pounding through her mind. Run, RUN!

There was a sharp sting in her left shoulder, and suddenly her whole arm felt as if it were on fire. She let out an agonizing scream, and fell upon the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision.

Suddenly the ruffians ceased fire — did they think her dead?

Glinda decided not to take any chances; she stumbled to her feet and ran. She felt herself running through the darkness, felt the blisters forming on her feet.

And then she realized she was alone.

Glinda whisked around to look at her surroundings. Oh Oz, oh Oz, where to go now? Where was the shelter? She dared not summon her bubble, lest it attracted the attention of the insurgents. All around her the trees loomed down upon her, wherever she turned she was faced with the same quoxwood.

Glinda was lost.

It is in these despairing moments that the heart yearns for companionship, for someone to guide her out of her ordeal. Suddenly the physical pain that gripped her wasn't as bad as the emotional pain that stabbed her.

"E-Elphie..." she whispered. "Elphie help me..."

She was replied by the silence of the forest.

Glinda sunk to the ground, curling herself into a tight ball. She wished she could disappear from the world, to escape this land of her misery and grief, of the reminder of her ultimate failure as a friend. She'd promised to succeed as a leader, to make Oz a better place for Elphaba's sake, and now she'd failed to keep that promise.

You're such a disgrace, whispered the voices of her despair, a failure.

The floodgates opened, and the tears fell freely.

"My, my, what do we have here?"

Glinda's head snapped up at the sound of the devious voice, and on instinct she scrambled backwards, only to hit a tree, sending jolts of pain down her injured shoulder once more. She stifled a scream, biting her lip till she could feel the metallic taste of blood.

Then another voice echoed from the darkness. "Lady Glinda? Is that you?"

Glinda dared not reply, in spite of the nagging voice at the back of her mind telling her that second voice was strikingly familiar.

"We won't hurt you," assured another voice — a woman's voice.

Glinda finally found the courage to speak. "W-who's...who's there?"

The first voice replied, raising his voice in some sort of grandeur. "The Patchwork Conscience of Oz!"

As if on cue, a pair of red lights shone upon her, and smoke began to trail from the two holes beneath them. Black shadows rose on each side.

Horror struck as realization dawned: The red lights were eyes, the holes below the nostrils. The black shadows were wings.

Glinda screamed.

In the next moment a rough hand clamped over her mouth attempting to shush her. "Shut up, lady!"

In her panic, Glinda thrashed even more.

Then the hand was forced off her mouth. "Quit it, Mr Boss!" hissed the woman. "You're scaring the Lady!"

There was a weary sigh from behind them, and the second voice spoke. "Oz, you just love scaring people with the Dragon, don't you, Mr Boss?"

"The Dragon's the reason why your pitiful mane isn't in Southstairs yet, Brrr," snapped the first — Mr Boss, was it? "so shut that snout of yours."

Glinda furrowed her brow. Brrr. Wasn't that the name of the Cowardly Lion?

Slowly, her eyes finally adjusted to the lighting, and she found herself surrounded by the strangest company — a Lion, a veiled woman, and a dwarf. Oh, not to forget the giant clockwork dragon sitting on a wagon that was strapped to the Lion.

"Lady Glinda," the Lion bowed his head. "A pleasure to meet you again. You know me as the Cowardly Lion." The Lion seemed to cringe in shame of the title. "The woman is Illianora, and the jerk of a dwarf is Mr Boss. We are the company of the Clock of the Time Dragon."

Hesitantly and slowly, Glinda spoke. "I see..."

"We're here to help your sorry ass, not to harm it," said the dwarf gruffly. "So you'd best cooperate."

"Help?" repeated Glinda, struggling to her feet. "How are you supposed to help me? Use your makeshift dragon to burn down the insurgents? Teleport me to another world?"

"Exactly."

"What?"

"We'll teleport you."

"What?" Glinda was stupefied. She hadn't meant her words.

"I said, we'll - "

"Mr Boss, she gets it, she just doesn't believe it," explained Brrr, before the dwarf could lose his temper.

The dwarf folded his arms. "Well you'd better believe it, or we won't help you no more."

"Fine! I believe you!" cried Glinda, desperate. "Just help me get out of this living hell of my life!"

"Now you're talkin'!" the dwarf leapt behind the clockwork to start it up.

"I can't believe you take pleasure in such things as removing people from this world," muttered Illianora.

"I can't believe I agreed to this idea in the first place," added Brrr.

The machinery began to whirr, the Dragon spreading its wings and smoke billowing from its metal nostrils. A sector in the clock slid open, revealing swirling white mist that lead into a seemingly endless deep black hole.

"Where will I go?" asked Glinda.

"Wherever the Clock wants you to go," replied Mr Boss.

"Well that didn't help my twisting insides."

"It wasn't supposed to."

Glinda sighed and looked up into the night sky of Oz, presumably the last midnight she'd ever witness.

Then she closed her eyes, prayed Elphie would watch over her, and stepped through the portal.