A/N: This was inspired by a lot of snow falling around where I live. So...enjoy. Please review, because I really haven't been getting many.
Disclaimer: enim ton s'tI. Neither is the OzDust Boutique, and the 'genetic lottery' thing is part of a quote from The Perfect Man.
The streets were busy this time of year, with Lurlinemas coming up soon. People bustled about to and fro, purchasing usually useless, ridiculously expensive gifts for their loved ones and their good friends who they felt were worth wasting their money on. Shopowners' goods were disappearing off the shelves on a regular basis; business was booming the most significantly in this particular part of the winter. Outside, sparkling snowflakes hid the sidewalks in a sea of white and dusted the heads and shoulders of pedestrians. To most, the city seemed like an emerald (although not much green was visible anymore) winter wonderland.
Among the bustling shoppers there were, chattering animatedly, a young woman with light blond curls, dressed in the latest winter wear from the OzDust Boutique; with her was a man with reddish-brown hair, clad in his uniform wear. They seemed to be a couple, and walking beside each other, they looked like they had recently won a genetic lottery; from a distance, they seemed so flawless they could have been wax sculptures, misplaced among the live folk rushing through the streets.
But of course, several things look better from a distance. Their relationship, for instance.
To the rest of the Ozians, Glinda the Good and Fiyero Tiggular were perfect for each other. But propaganda has ways of manifesting itself and spreading through the news, the gossip, and the whispers; their so-called "Wicked Witch of the West" was a purely propaganda, after all. Fiyero and Glinda had been arguing lately, and more than usual. At times, it had gotten so bad that they refused to speak to each other (except in public, of course) for weeks on end. Fiyero felt himself wishing to see one of his college friends: Boq, Crope, Tibbett--even Avaric--and . . . Elphaba.
Where had she disappeared to, after all these years? He knew she must be in some part of the city, because there had been sightings: a speck of green, a broom hidden badly in an alleyway. He only wished he could talk to her, even debate politics if it came to that, but he doubted that would happen anytime in the near future. He had joined the Wizard, along with Glinda, and become Captain of the Gale Force. He couldn't stroll up to her in broad daylight and start a conversation; he doubted she would let herself be seen by him, because she didn't know he didn't actually hate her. If only he could tell her. But he was a stranger to her, basically. They had barely known each other that well at Shiz, and they hadn't seen each other for Lurline knew how long. They were both strangers.
As he stood watching the Ozians hurrying up and down the streets (Glinda had gone inside a clothing store to buy a gift for Shen Shen, and he had refused to accompany her into the land of frills), subconsciously searching for a misplaced green girl, sticking out like a sore thumb, he didn't notice a hooded figure slipping toward him on the ice at a dangerous speed until it crashed into him, knocking both down both of them.
"Oof."
They both grunted with the impact and Fiyero proceeded to help the person up from the pavement. When she--it was a she, he thought--was able to stand up, he let her go and studied her, a habit of his. He could see dark hair hidden behind a hood and a strategically placed hat, spilling out in a sea of black. When she stretched out a gloved hand to steady herself, he couldn't believe his luck when he saw a flash of green cross her face, misplaced in a sea of white. She was looking at the passers-by, not at him, and he desperately tried to get her attention.
"Hey! You're--I mean, aren't you--Elphaba!"
She whipped around, looking at him for the first time, pulling her hat lower still. Her expression was angry, and . . . scared? Of course she was. He was someone who was supposed to hunt her, to kill her, and here he was, making friendly conversation. She collected herself and tightened her hood.
"I think . . you've mistaken me for someone else. Sir." She spoke in hurried tones, her voice low to disguise it, and so as not to draw attention. "I apologize for bumping into you. Good day." She said the last words with an unmistakable hint of sarcasm, assuring Fiyero that it was her. He looked at the store window, searching for Glinda, hoping to tell her news of her best friend's appearance. When he turned around again, he could see the same tall, hooded figure walking away quickly. He considered pursuing her, but she was already almost lost in a sea of other figures, not quite as tall as her. He squinted, trying to see where she was heading, and she turned around, looking around her, doubtless assuring herself she wasn't being followed. Maybe his imagination got the better of him, and maybe not, but he thought she saw another flash of green, so different from the plain, pale faces around her. A snowflake flew into his eye, and he blinked.
When he looked back, she was gone.