A/N: This is just a random, for-no-reason one-shot/drabble thing that popped into my head after reading one of those "Copy this into your profile" things. Who came up with those things anyway? I digress...

Disclaimer: *sarcastically* Yes, I most definitely own Wicked and the WoO. Totally. Right.

Fiyero: Seriously? (O.O) Woah...

Me and Elphaba: *facepalm*


Dorothy stood… well… she wasn't quite sure where she stood. Or if she stood at all, for that matter. It was just hazy whiteness around her. For what she could see, there was nothing but whiteness. Not even Toto was with her, and Toto was always with her. Always. So then, where was she? Was she dead? No, she couldn't be dead. She didn't know what death felt like, but it most certainly didn't feel like this. Besides, she was breathing. Breathing while dead sort of defied the point of being dead.

So then, where am I and what is happening? Dorothy wondered, on the verge of tears. She was confused and lost, two feelings that did not sit well with her. She opened her mouth to call for someone, anyone, but no sound would come out. This, naturally, frightened the small Kansas farm girl even more.

"If you have no ability to speak out, you ain't got no ability to do nothing" her Aunt Em always said. So she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, without Toto, and without the ability to do anything about it? Dorothy would have gone into full sobbing mode if not for the fact that she sensed something behind her. Turning around, she saw a door just standing there in the mist. She wasn't aware of any wall for the door to be set in, or any reason for there to be a door there at all, but she attempted to go through it anyway, as she was mostly relieved to find a solid object in this place that wasn't herself.

Dorothy was relieved to find that the doorknob turned with ease. Pulling the door open, she found that beyond it was a long, narrow passage way. Lanterns hung from the ceiling to illuminate the otherwise dark passage. Maybe that way will get me home, Dorothy thought, and, not seeing any better idea, started walking down the passage. She wasn't sure how long she walked, but eventually she reached another door. This door, too, opened easily at her touch. She was about to walk in, but then shot back into the passage and hid behind the door. She had seen a group of people sitting around a table. She didn't want to disturb them - who knew if they'd be friendly - but curiosity got the best of her and she peeked around the door.

Five people sat around a table in a small wooden cabin. They all looked rather familiar. Dorothy scanned the table. A man made of tin, a scarecrow… Dorothy gasped, then covered her mouth in alarm. They were her friends from Oz! Was this a portal back to the wonderful land of Oz? Under any other set of circumstances, Dorothy would have ran into that room with no second thoughts, but the strange events that had occurred before that had sharpened her sense of caution, and she decided to check if the coast was clear before entering. She settled on observing each person carefully, starting from the woman on the far left.

Dorothy didn't remember ever seeing this woman in Oz. She was a rather beautiful girl, no older than twenty. She had dark brown hair pulled up in a tight bun and her lips were firmly pursed together. Dorothy couldn't recognise this person at all until she shifted her gaze downward. On her feet were the shining, ruby slippers. Dorothy gasped again, despite her hand that was still covering her mouth. It was the Wicked Witch of the East who she had crushed under her house not a month ago. Dorothy thought to run, but then reasoned with herself; a rare occurrence.

The Witch of the East didn't seem to be moving, nor did any of the other Ozians. Besides, Dorothy had crushed the witch under her house, so this couldn't be in the present. Dorothy couldn't even start to imagine how or why this was happening, but she was pretty certain that it was safe enough to walk into the room for a closer look, so she did.

Dorothy shifted her gaze to the next person. She smiled, recognizing the tin man in front of her without trouble. There was something queer about this, though. The Witch of the East seemed to be staring at the tin man in a peculiar way. Dorothy couldn't identify it, but she was suddenly worrying for the tin man's personal safety. At a closer look, though, she realized that the tin man was staring at someone too. Looking to the right, the young farm girl saw Glinda the Good in front of her.

As happy as she was to see Glinda, she was thrown off by the obsession on the face of her old tin friend. It stirred an old memory at the back of Dorothy's mind. When she and her friends had gone to see Glinda after their adventure, she had noticed that the tin man had acted very strangely around Glinda. She hadn't noticed it then, but had the tin man been… in love with Glinda?

Dorothy shook her head. Of course not, Dorothy, don't be ridiculous. The man doesn't have a heart! He can't fall in love, can he? At this moment, Dorothy sensed something strange about Glinda as well. Sure, she was still as pretty as she had been a month ago, but her happy air had disappeared. In it's place was total anger and hate. The look looked unnatural on the blonde's face. Dorothy looked to see what Glinda hated so much… and would have screamed if not for her inability to do so at the moment. At the very right side of the table were the scarecrow and none other than the Wicked Witch of the West.

The Wicked Witch leaned against the scarecrow, deeply immersed in a thick novel. It never occurred to Dorothy that the Wicked Witch would like books, or anything for that matter. She always seemed like the kind of person who just rebelled against everything. The strangest thing about her appearance at the moment, though, was that she looked… younger. When Dorothy visited Oz, the Wicked Witch seemed like an old woman who had grown to dislike everything and everyone, but the woman in front of her looked no older than 25, with long, ebony flowing locks. She actually looked sort of pretty.

Dorothy shifted her attention to her straw friend, and what she saw surprised her. The scarecrow looked happy. Not scared, not disgusted, not even bored. Just happy. He had his arms around the witch and rested his chin on her head. The both looked very content with the situation. Could the Wicked Witch of the West and the scarecrow be-

No, stop thinking like that, Dorothy. Dorothy told herself, sternly. There must be something else going on. Anything but that. But, try as she might, Dorothy couldn't come up with another explanation for the scenario. But now what? Dorothy was about to see if there was any other exit than the one she entered from when the Wicked Witch looked up from her book and stared at her for a good, long second. Dorothy froze in her tracks.

"Hey! It's that farm girl!" The witch stood up and ran towards Dorothy. There was a blinding flash of green light…


Dorothy sat straight up in her bed, panting heavily. Great, it was just a dream! Dorothy could have jumped for joy that the Witch of the West didn't have her, but there was a strange reality to that dream she had. Dorothy stood up and walked across her small room, stopping at the window to open it. She took a deep breath of fresh air. She couldn't help but wonder, though: Was there something that she missed?


A/N #2: 5 days left of school! Sorry I sort of disappeared. I will start updating my other stories regularly once summer starts. Though it's cloudy today...

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