Disclaimer: Me no own. Sorry.
Okay, so this is the obligatory transformation story, but I have put my own twist on it. The method of transformation will probably make me sound very religious, but I'm not. I actually read about something similar in the novel of Wicked, when the Witch is melted.
Some may find this idea a little weird, but hey! :D The story is basically just feelings and fluffle, but I could continue it on if I wanted to. Oh, and there's a teent tiny RENT referance in there. Can you find it?
Review, please?
The Wicked Witch of the West had a short temper at the best of times, but after three weeks of tramping across harsh, merciless desert in the sweltering heat with a man who was a constant reminder of her failures did nothing to help matters. She twisted her emerald fingers together and once again thought back to the day she had tried to save Fiyero's life: the day she had turned him into a scarecrow.
In a way, it was a constant pain to her that he had left Oz with her. Elphaba knew she had nothing to offer him other than uncertainty and misery, teamed with the knowledge that her mortal life would one day end, and he would continue to live. If he had not made the rash decision to run away with her that day in the throne room, he could still be with Glinda. He could be married by now, Captain of the Guard, Crown Prince of the Vinkus, and could burrow under the covers and feel safe with Glinda's tiny blonde frame in his arms.
Elphaba understood that she could never give him that. Yet, the once handsome prince seemed bewilderingly contented with his new life, so long as he was with her.
What she found most frustrating was that Fiyero didn't seem to mind his lack of humanity. He would joke that at least they were even now; a woman with green skin and a man made of straw. She knew that he loved her with every fibre of his being, and every particle of her soul adored him.
But Oz, did he annoy her sometimes.
"You know, Dorothy is actually quite a sweet girl," Fiyero said meditatively, stuffing a few bits of straw back inside his sleeve as he walked. At his side, he felt Elphaba stiffen, and he could almost hear her hands balling into fists.
"Well, why didn't you go with her then? You should have gone to 'Kanziss' with her and left me to rot in that damn cellar. Oz knows you wouldn't complain as much!" the woman screeched.
Fiyero felt his heart sink, and he realised that his innocently meant thoughts had touched a nerve. "Oh, come on, Elphaba! She's twelve!"
"And she tried to kill me! Don't you even care about that? Don't you care about me?"
"Would I be here trekking through this God forsaken wilderness if I didn't?"
"Well let's face it, Yero, you would have been stuck ruling all of Oz if you hadn't come with me; and power, as far as I can remember, was always the thing that you tried to avoid. Perhaps I'm just the easier option!"
"I came with you because I love you, you ridiculous woman!"
"How can you love me? I ruined your life!
Fiyero gripped the top of her arms, and spoke quietly and earnestly. "You saved my life, Fae."
Elphaba caught his gaze, and the intense expression in his cobalt eyes settled her anger. The young woman reached a tentative green hand up and touched his face, still unsettled to notice that it was burlap and not the smooth, pale skin she had been used to.
"I am so, so, sorry…" she murmured, yearning for a way to restore him to the handsome prince he once was. Fiyero held her as tightly as his weak arms would allow, and he smiled at her.
"You did the best you could, Elphaba," The Witch's sharp mind detected the infinitesimal note of regret in his tone, and she pulled away, almost detaching his arms as she went. Her next words were bitter, and the hatred and remorse she felt for her own failure was evident.
"But my best just wasn't good enough. For either of us."
The odd couple walked in a stony silence for two days. The heat of the desert was punishing for Elphaba, who had grown up in the temperate climate of Munchkinland, and she found it extremely difficult to carry on for more than half an hour without stopping to rest.
On the evening of the second day of silence, Elphaba suddenly stopped in her tracks. Fiyero turned around in time to see her sway slightly then fall, the sound slightly muffled by the sand beneath her.
"Elphaba!" the scarecrow cried, running towards her and gathering the Witch into his arms. She waved her hands, weakly protesting.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she muttered, clinging to his cloth body with both hands. Fiyero brushed the dark hair out of her flushed face, his inhuman eyes alive with worry.
"No you're not," he said, wishing that he could feel her skin as he stroked her cheek. Elphaba rolled her eyes and smiled gently.
"Yero, I'm fine. I promise," she insisted. "I'm just not built for this kind of heat!"
"I can understand that, love. We can stop here for the night, if you like? Another day or so and we'll be on the borders of Ix. Can you make it?" Fiyero cradled her, and she nodded determinedly.
"I just haven't eaten much today…The world has stopped spinning, at least. Just let me rest for a little while, Yero. I'll be fine," Elphaba smiled tiredly, never relinquishing her grip on him.
"Would you like me to put up the palace?" Fiyero asked the question with a twinkle in his cloth eyes, and Elphaba smiled wryly, nodding.
The 'palace' was their pet name for the shabby little tent that they carted around with them. It was barely large enough to hold one person, never mind two, and it was full of patches from its years of use. They called it the 'palace' as a sort of personal joke; almost a gesture to what their lives could have turned out like as a future Governess of Munchkinland and a Crown Prince. The palace had been their home for almost a month, and it had seen them right across the impassable desert from Kiamo Ko to Ix, where they held onto a shred of hope that they might be safe.
While Elphaba slept soundly beside him, Fiyero took the chance to reflect. The very notion of reflecting always made him want to laugh. If his eighteen year old self, who cared little for anything and philosophised about dancing through life, could see the deep, passionate man he would have become in just six short years, he would have thrown in the towel right where he stood. He wouldn't have gone to Shiz. He would have made sure to get kicked out of the first day to try and avoid the pain.
Fiyero always rationalised this thought with a glance at the young woman who lay nuzzled into his side. If his eighteen year old self could see the intense love he would one day feel for the resident Artichoke, he might have picked up his towel again and gone quietly on his way.
All of the hardship, the pain and the loss that Fiyero had gone through was worth it, just to see Elphaba safe beside him. Of course he missed Glinda; what man in his right mind wouldn't? But the love he felt for Glinda could never compare to his love for Elphaba. One was a flickering candle, the other a roaring flame, much like the respective women themselves. What he felt for Glinda was like the love he felt for his younger sister: purely platonic. He missed them both a little, but that particular loss was simply a dull ache somewhere in the back of his mind.
He burned for Elphaba. For someone so afraid of fire, his ability to burn was impressive. For four and a half years the fire had smouldered steadily inside him, and then suddenly erupted into fervent life the night he had run away with her. Contrary to what she believed, the green girl was Fiyero's reason for existence. Whenever she happened to leave this life, he would happily sink into a pit of real physical fire, just to set his spirit free to be with her once again.
The young woman groaned a little in her sleep and cuddled closer. Fiyero was always amused at how childlike she appeared when she slept, and he could never fathom how she had been the most feared woman in Oz for four whole years.
"How could they ever have hated you?" he murmured, running a finger down her long, verdant nose.
"Stop watching me sleep. You're making me nervous!" Elphaba shot in reply, opening one dark eye a smidge. He could see it sparkling, and knew she was joking. He held her tighter, and she slept again.
Early the next morning, the couple continued their trek. Their argument from a few days previous was all but forgotten, and they held hands and chatted animatedly about what life would be like in Ix.
"I hope there's a library…" Elphaba sighed dejectedly. She, as an avid reader, missed books almost as much as her sister and her best friend. Fiyero smiled.
"Do you know, I actually started reading a year or two ago?" he said, grinning. Elphaba feigned shock, opening her brown eyes wide so that they were as big and round as dinner plates.
"Never! I didn't know you could read!" She was joking, of course.
Fiyero pressed a textile hand to where his heart should be, and rolled his head back in mock despair.
"The lady doth doubt me! O' heart, she wounds my vanity! But did she know how I read so avidly in memory of her!" he cried, losing some straw from underneath his hat, so vigorous were his actions. Elphaba laughed and shook her head at his contorted syntax.
"You read classics, I suppose? Judging by that ever-so-scripted little speech,"
"How did you guess?"
"I never could find enjoyment in the way they spoke. Oh, don't misunderstand me Yero, the sentiment behind the words was lovely. They were just ridiculously florid and always seemed to go about sentences back to front. I feel that if something is worth saying, simply say it straight. No need to show off your entire vocabulary every time you make a statement," Elphaba sniffed haughtily, and Fiyero couldn't suppress a chuckle.
"Of course, no one could ever accuse you of that, sweetheart," He laughed, and she hit him lightly. They continued on in a comfortable, companionable silence.
"Come on, just a little further! I can see the sky at the top of the hill!" Elphaba called, hauling herself through the thick vegetation of the Ixan jungle. At least, they presumed that they were in Ix; the desert sands had suddenly disappeared and given way to the lush greenery of the forest. Much against Fiyero's 'better' judgement, they had entered without a thought, and were now hopelessly lost. He kept losing sight of Elphaba as she camouflaged so well with her surroundings.
When the young woman got to the top of the hill, she clambered through a dense growth of leaves and out into the sunshine. What she saw almost made her scream in a combination of fear, confusion and delight.
The sea.
The mystical sea that had only thus far existed in myths and legends.
Or at least, what she assumed to be the sea. It was definitely a huge body of water, and it spanned much further than her sharp eyes could take in. The air was a heady concoction of salt, wet sand, and uninhibited freedom.
"Yero!" Elphaba screamed joyfully, stepping back into the forest to see the scarecrow approaching.
"What? What is it?" Fiyero asked nervously, confused by the look of wild excitement in her eyes.
"It's the sea! The actual sea! The mythical sea! We found it!" The woman threw herself at the young man, pulling him impatiently out into the glaring sunlight.
Fiyero stared in undisguised awe at the sight before him. The feeling of the fresh air was completely lost on him, but the vision was not. Elphaba leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin comfortably on the top of her head.
"It's so beautiful…" he breathed, gawping in wonderment as birds swooped and glided on the wind, far in the distance. Elphaba turned to him with a wicked grin on her face.
"Do you mind if I go in?" she asked, almost trembling with childlike excitement. Fiyero smiled softly at her. "Go ahead!"
The sandy strip of land beside the water was deserted, so Elphaba stripped down to her undergarments and ran towards the water. Throwing her arms out with a jubilant whoop, Elphaba dived head first into the sea. Fiyero ambled towards the waters edge, watching with a gentle expression.
As he watched Elphaba's lithe green form cutting through the water, Fiyero wished that he could join her. His better judgement told him that it was a ridiculous idea, and that he would have to go in search of new straw in this strange land. With a heavy sigh, he tentatively dipped one glove into the water, yearning to feel it. He looked up and saw Elphaba waving happily from a little way away.
Upon waving back, he lost his balance and toppled into the water, which was much deeper than he thought. Elphaba's panicked shriek was audible to him even as he thrashed around in confusion.
"Yero!" she screamed, wading through the waves towards him. Suddenly, her strong hands grasped at his sleeves and she hauled him out and onto the sand. "You fool!" she screeched, punching him roughly in the chest. Fiyero simply lay there, recovering from the shock.
"Don't worry, don't worry, I'm fine!" the young man assured her, sitting upright with a grin. "Well, I'm all wet. That doesn't really count as not alright though, does it?"
"No," Elphaba replied stonily, obviously upset at his little accident. Fiyero smiled fondly at her and thumbed her cheek.
"Water can do nothing to me, don't worry. I'm fine. I've got more to fear from you fire-balling me than a little slip into the sea. I was just surprised that's all,"
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure, love," She breathed a sigh of relief, and they went to explore the surrounding area.
The discovered a thriving town over the brow of the nearby hill, the streets filled with people, carriages and carts. This was their new start; here was where their life together would truly begin. The citizens did not even look twice at their odd appearances, and they were given a room in a small hotel without a second glance from the receptionist. It was a new, odd feeling, but the Witch and the Scarecrow did not question it.
"Oz, I'm itchy!" Fiyero muttered quietly during the late afternoon. Elphaba smiled in amusement as he scratched his arm frantically.
"You shouldn't get wet, I suppose," she shrugged, making a mental note to pop down to the farmers market to get him some new stuffing.
"That's funny, I haven't been itchy for a long time," he mused, taking off his hat and scratching his head. An odd, bemused expression crossed Elphaba's verdant face as she watched him.
"You're itchy." she stated flatly, looking at his face with wide eyes.
"Yeah, so?"
"Take your gloves off for a moment, please," Her tone was businesslike, and she advanced towards him with her arms outstretched. Fiyero obliged, noticing that his hands felt a little stiff. His hands felt a little stiff…
"Oz! My hands!"
Underneath the gloves were hands: real human hands, made of flesh, blood and bone. Fiyero could actually feel the cold air on them. Elphaba hurriedly brushed some of the wet straw from his fingers and gathered them to her face, pressing frantic kisses on his palms. She gazed in awe at his divinely large hands, unable to believe.
"If I have hands…" Fiyero trailed off, and Elphaba nodded robotically, tugging violently at the cloth of his head. He felt the air on his face too, and his green companion let out a cry of delight. She traced his handsome, well crafted features with her long, thin fingers, and Fiyero relished the warmth of the digits on his face. She caressed down his straight nose, along his high cheekbones, and paused when she reached his lips.
"This can't be real!" she murmured, a dry sob escaping her. Fiyero laughed quietly, and felt the vibration of it in his throat.
"It's real," he assured her, surprised at the unfamiliar sensation of his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
"But…how? The spell wasn't reversible, I haven't even tried…"
Elphaba was perplexed as she searched her brain for ways the transformation could have taken place. Fiyero, on the other hand, didn't care much how it had happened, just that it had. He leaned forward to kiss her for the first time in too long, but she raised a hand to stop him, pressing a finger to his lips.
"The water," she said suddenly, her eyes lighting up.
"What?" Fiyero mumbled against her forefinger, creasing his brow in annoyance.
"The water! It was the water that did it!"
"What…You mean like a baptism?"
"Yes, that's exactly it! It was like a baptism; it gave you a new beginning. It fixed you! It didn't do anything to my skin, because I was born to be this way, this is who I'm meant to be. But you weren't born to be a scarecrow, Yero. You were born to be a handsome prince."
That night, Elphaba lay in Fiyero's arms with her cheek pressed to his chest, directly above his heart. Making love had been the only way to convince her that Fiyero really had returned to her, and now neither of them were in any doubt. He wound his fingers through her raven black hair and kissed her lips hungrily. He had always been a person of touch, and had relied most on that sense above all of the rest. Being deprived of it for so long had made him greedy for sensation, but Elphaba didn't mind, because she needed it too.
"Yero?" Elphaba murmured, caressing the hairs on the back of his arm.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Fiyero replied from the brink of sleep, brushing her bare shoulder with his lips.
"I love you," He smiled, and realised how much he had missed feeling his heart soar.
"I love you too, Elphaba."
I needed to get that off my chest. Sorry. :)