Sunburn
by Mackenzie L.
One-shot, requested by CrookedMoon. Oscar and China Girl share a dance one evening.
She still had visions of him, framed by the sunset, wearing that ridiculous top hat, and winning her over with his suave youthfulness and witty charm. He was not sophisticated as one might expect a great wizard to be, but he had a kind of awkward flair about him that instantly warmed her spirit.
She still had vague, misty nightmares of the day her town was attacked. In those nightmares she heard the rustling of his heroic footsteps approaching from afar. She recalled and relived with frightening clarity, the moment she realized both her legs had broken off. How she'd panicked at the sounds of intruders and hidden herself, helpless and sobbing, amongst the rubble of her shattered home. Then she would hear the echo of his voice, clear and comforting, "Hey there... you alright?" The nightmare would turn quiet then, giving her time to gasp before he spoke again, "Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you..."
"Are you...? Are you the Wizard?"
She would whisper the question out loud to her empty bedroom and receive no response. She would stir beneath her blanket and shiver from the night's frigid air, longing for the warmest touch she had ever known.
In the stillness of the night she remembered how tiny her leg had looked in his capable hands as he worked to put her back together again. The scene played out in her dream just as it had that very day. She watched him apply this mysterious "magic in a bottle" and attach her limb seamlessly into its proper place. Her eyes swelled with tears of joy and gratitude, witness to a perfect miracle. She didn't care what he called himself now. He would always be the greatest wizard to her.
She would fidget in her sleep as the dream swept around her, drawing her deeper into the memory, tempting her with beautiful details she would have otherwise forgotten. The honest concern in his voice when he asked her if she wanted to try to stand. How her entire hand had fit between just two of his fingers. How flimsy and delicate she felt when he guided her up onto her toes.
"Now walk to me."
It was inevitable. Every single time, her eyes would flutter open right then. Never was she allowed to carry through the most climactic part of her dream.
Oh, how cruel it was! Always fading right before she could fling herself into his arms and thank him. It had been a fitful few months for China Girl. Sleep no longer came easily for her, and on the rare occasion that it did, it was infested with dangerous dreams like this one. Always filled with him. His face, his hands, his voice... his ingenious, tactical magic.
It was no secret that she admired him. Even he could attest to that. But everyone in the land was an admirer of the great and powerful Oz. There was nothing shameful about admiring a man. The shame did not meet her until much later down the yellow brick road.
Growing up had a lot to do with it. Trying to look and sound mature when she was forever frozen in the body of a tiny china doll was quite a challenge. Just a few things changed drastically while everything else stayed exactly the same, but the few things that did change were the most crucial of all. It was life's impish little way of making things more complicated for her.
She couldn't really say how it all happened. Somehow she believed she could place the source of it to a time long before she knew anything about "fireworks" or "adhesive glue." Once the stories started to circulate that the prophesy was about to be fulfilled, her heart had been yearning to learn how to dance.
Nevertheless her feelings were confusing, especially for a girl as literally breakable as she. True, she had always been more emotional than others, but the emotions he stirred within her were far more vicious than anything she had dealt with before. These were the kinds of emotions that held on tightly and didn't let her go. The kind that nipped at her innocent heart the way water fairies ruthlessly nipped at an innocent swimmer.
China Girl felt a special connection to her Great Wizard, and how could she not when he had been the one to find her and save her life? Her feelings for him had never been out of the ordinary, but the nature of those feelings was verging on something else entirely. Something she was too shy and scared to acknowledge.
She'd recognized it long before she'd been able to tangibly see it. The intensity with which he looked at Glinda, a living woman with the power and capability and grandeur to match his own. China Girl could see that Oscar's relationship with the Good Witch changed as constantly as the wind. It was always in flux, rather like the shifting of seasons. On a sweet note one night and at a dreary distance the next. But China Girl also noticed that Oscar was always persistently kind towards her, and for that at least she was thankful.
China Girl had only known to depend on Glinda's maternal care and support, even after her childhood was through. It was regrettably easy to think of Glinda as a mother, but she could never in a million years see Oscar as her father. Bits and parts of his personality were pleasantly paternal, but this did absolutely nothing to settle her attraction to him. If anything, it worsened it.
Since the day he went behind that curtain, she was riding a downhill slope.
All she noticed every day was how wonderful he was, for so many different reasons. At first it was only the shallow things - an appreciation for his extra long eyelashes, the way the tiniest of smiles so easily reached his eyes, that pretty cascade of lines that filled his cheeks when he grinned. He may have thrived on glory at one time in his life, but now he thrived on his loyalty to others. Still, he held onto that strangely tender sarcasm he used so effortlessly to tease and amuse her. His natural cunning was balanced by a vibrant playfulness that made him all the more irresistible to her. He was a man who did not realize how complicated he was. As she grew older, China Girl began to notice more of those intriguing complexities about her Wizard, those tempting hints of what the others just didn't understand about him.
Just like his mind, his hands were never idle. How she loved to watch his hands, always moving and creating and fixing and inventing. Sometimes when she watched him she could see the cogs turning in his brain, the twinkling storm of eccentricity raging in his deep brown eyes as he worked to turn his dreams into reality. To everyone in the kingdom he was an epic leader, a master of magic beyond anyone else's capabilities. But to the ones he trusted with his darkest secret, he was merely a gifted illusionist with a genuinely childlike heart.
And he was her best friend in the world, which was both a curse and a blessing.
For example, in his spare time, he liked to solve puzzles. One of their favorite pastimes was the knot-tying game. He would close his eyes, hand her a string of rope, and ask her to tie the most complicated, intricate, tightest knot that she could possibly imagine. Then when she was finished, he would open his eyes and attempt to untie the knot while she watched. They could carry on for hours this way, but while his enjoyment came from the strenuous exercise of brainpower, hers came simply from staring at him while he tried to solve her puzzle. There was something so gratifying about her ability to stump him, and that he appreciated her for knowing just how to challenge him. She was hypnotized by the way his eyes focused so intensely on the task in his hands, how his lovely fingers pried and prodded at the tangled rope. She could have spent all evening trying to hide her smile while she stared at him; trying to suppress the little flutter in her heart when she watched the tip of his tongue peek onto his lip in concentration.
Then suddenly he would find that weak spot in the knot and it would slip apart between his fingers. "A-ha!" he would exclaim, a spark of victory in his dark eyes. "A new record!"
How she loved the knot-tying game. No one else in the world knew about it, and that made it even better.
There was one other secretive pastime that China Girl loved sharing with her Wizard. It all started one night when she was unable to sleep; he took her out of bed and introduced her to the most spectacular device she had ever seen: a telescope. He explained to her how it worked, and he showed her how to stargaze by staring into the lens. He held her patiently while she watched the moon and stars in wonder, marveling at the novelty of having the universe right at her fingertips. Together they took turns watching the night sky melt into morning. And by the time the sun had risen, she was fast asleep in the crook of his elbow.
The only thing China Girl enjoyed more than the knot-tying game was when Oscar let her peek through that telescope. It was an activity reserved only for the two of them, and that made it special. She could just as easily tie knots in her own spare time, but looking through the telescope was something she could never do by herself. She needed him to lift her up, to adjust the intimidating screws and knobs until the image was clear, to fasten his broad hands around the heavy device and turn it at just the right angle so she could connect her favorite constellations. Her dependence on him was never something she had resented until recently. She was caught in the crux of wanting to be an independent woman and still wanting to cling to her childlike innocence. Everything about Oscar represented that bittersweet time of her life where there were no endless spectrums of gray – only black and white; evil and good – and nothing in between...
"You okay?"
"Hm?" China Girl perked up at the sound of Oscar's voice, interrupting her complicated thoughts.
"You looked like you were dozing off there for a second," he said. His smile was hesitant and there was concern in his eyes.
China Girl swung her legs back and forth as she sat on the edge of his desk. "N-no... I'm fine."
He didn't look convinced, but he was clever enough not to press the matter. "If you say so."
He turned his back to her and began to shuffle around the books in his shelves, humming happily to himself as he sorted. She was oddly preoccupied with the way the end of his jacket grazed his waist whenever he lifted his arm. The way his sleeves stretched and wrinkled as he moved, the stray lock of glossy brown hair that spilled over his forehead when he bent his head.
Then she heard it. Sweet and distant, like a melody from a dream. A faraway tune that tickled her memory and struck a small flame in her heart.
The song started out so soft she swore it was only her imagination. But after a little while the music swelled in volume, and she could no longer deny what she heard was real.
"Do you hear that?" she whispered to Oscar.
He chuckled mysteriously in response, burying his attention in the corner bookshelf.
"What is it? That song?" she demanded softly, leaning off the edge of the desk in attempt to hear it better. "It's so beautiful... so familiar..."
Slowly he turned around. In his hands was a music box.
China Girl gasped.
"Do you remember?" he whispered back to her as he placed the box down on his desk. She gazed in wonder at the miniature dancing couple with a particular fondness, noting that they were not so unlike herself. Made from ceramic and glass.
"I do." She nodded, almost feeling tears well up in her eyes at the haunting memory she couldn't quite place. He came to stand behind her, casting a shadow over her where she sat.
"Sometimes when I'm feeling nostalgic, I like to play it," he confessed, his voice furtive and husky. "It reminds me of Kansas."
"Your home?" she questioned meekly, glancing up at him where he stood.
He nodded solemnly. She wasn't used to seeing him look so serious. Instinctively she reached out to touch his hand, but she pouted when she realized he probably couldn't even feel her tiny ceramic fingers on his skin.
To her surprise, his hand turned over in response, welcoming hers to rest in his palm instead. China Girl reeled with joy at the humble gesture. "Do you miss Kansas?" she asked, no longer struggling to pronounce the foreign name of his homeland.
"Sometimes." He shrugged, then smirked. "It's not half as exciting as it is here, that's for sure."
She settled her chin on both her hands and leaned forward in interest. "What is it like?"
He waved his hand at her. "I've told you about Kansas before."
"Not really. Just that there were lots of farms. I want to hear more."
"There's not much else to tell," he said reluctantly.
"Please!"
He laughed at her insistence, shaking his head. "There were storms," he said vaguely, "almost every day."
"Storms? Like the kind with lightning and thunder?"
His eyes sparkled. "You bet."
She shuddered. "I don't like thunder."
"You learn to appreciate it when you live in a place like Kansas."
"What else?"
"Well, when it wasn't storming, the skies were blue and the sun was so strong that your face would turn pink if you stayed outside for too long."
That made her giggle. "That's ridiculous!"
"You can't get sunburned here!"
She half-wondered if he was serious or just making up fantasies to tease her. "I've never heard of such a thing!"
"Well, believe me, you're lucky you can't get it."
"Why? What's so bad about your face turning pink?"
"It doesn't just turn your face pink," he said emphatically. Lifting one finger in mid-air, he drew a small circle around her face without touching her. "It burns. That's why they call it 'sunburn'," he added with a patronizing smile, and he tapped her head.
While she supposed it was easy for someone with sensitive flesh to think that way, China Girl swooned at the thought of being visibly affected by the sun's heat. "I still think it sounds nice."
Oscar scoffed, his teeth gleaming as he grinned down at her. "Ha! Nice and painful."
"How about flowers?" she asked eagerly, changing to a more pleasant topic. "Are there lots of flowers in Kansas?"
"Yes, yes. There are flowers there that are taller than me. Bright yellow flowers with brown centers. And they're huge, too!" She absolutely loved the way he used such animated hand gestures to bring his descriptions to life. His hands went in all directions while he talked, measuring and estimating, fingers stretching and closing. "We call them sunflowers because they turn to face the sun when they grow."
"Oh, that sounds divine! I want to see a sunflower someday!"
She could tell that Oscar was surprised by her enthusiastic interest in his world. Compared to the Land of Oz, Kansas was dull, or so he said. In Oz they had flowers that towered over buildings, yet China Girl genuinely found the concept of sunflowers fascinating. Oscar seemed to feed off her excitement, and his willingness to elaborate grew as she pressed him to describe more of his home.
"But there's not just sunflowers, there's corn too. And wheat. Wheat fields that stretch on for so long they look like they never end." He swept his arm out theatrically to illustrate great distance, like a magician welcoming his assistant to the stage.
"That sounds lovely!" China Girl exclaimed.
He laughed robustly. "Lovely? Nah. It's boring," he insisted. But judging by the smile that speared his cheeks, he was clearly pleased by her excitement.
"I want to go there someday. Will you take me to Kansas?"
"I—" He paused, hesitating before he answered her softly. "Maybe someday."
"I want you to show me sunflowers and wheat fields and the farms with all those animals. And I want to get sunburned so my face turns pink!"
His sudden manly burst of laughter both startled and pleased her tremendously. "You're such an odd little girl."
The last two words echoed emptily in the back of her head. Little girl.
China Girl frowned, suddenly not feeling so giddy about visiting Kansas with her Wizard. She noticed at once that the music had long since stopped, and now the room was silent and cold. He'd put a halt to her dreams with just two innocently insulting words.
"Oh, no. What is it now?" he asked, worry evident in his furrowed brow.
Afraid to share the true reason for her disappointment, China Girl swung her legs back and forth and shrugged nonchalantly. "The music stopped."
His eyes flicked to the music box then quickly back to her face. He never took his eyes off of her as he slowly turned the knob on the box to ignite the music. The melody melted to life again, filling the silence with its dulcet, romantic notes. "There."
Shying away from his intense gaze, China Girl looked back at the dancing figures and sighed. "It sounds like a lullaby."
"Not a lullaby," he corrected, standing up tall. "A waltz."
Her face turned pleadingly to him, her eyes large and glassy in the candlelight.
A grin broke across his face, candid and crooked. She felt a strange feeling inside her belly, so thrilling and startling – like one of his infamous fireworks exploding with brilliant colors in the void.
Before she could prepare herself, he proffered his hand to her, reaching out in invitation...
She almost wondered if she was in fact dreaming, but as soon as her delicate feet stepped onto the firm bed of his palm, she knew it had to be real.
Up, up she rose, feeling as weightless as she had when he took her to ride in that magical balloon in the sky. He lifted her higher until she was tucked against his shoulder, and then he began to move slowly in time with the music.
Her hand looked like nothing more than a little white seed between his two large forefingers as he held her. She was torn between feelings, not knowing whether to feel small and insignificant, or proud and thrilled. It was incredible whenever he held her. At his height she could see everything in the room from a new and beautiful point of view. He didn't realize how lucky he was to get to see the world this way every day. She would have given anything to be tall like him.
More specifically, she would have given anything to be tall enough to dance with him properly, in an endless field of sunflowers with the sun beating down on them so strongly that both of their faces would glow pink.
Now that would have been divine.
As nice as it was to be carried around in a slow circle with the music box playing in the background, China Girl wanted more than this. She didn't want to be perched on his arm like a pet parrot anymore. This was not dancing. She wanted to dance with him the way a real woman could dance with a man. She wanted so desperately to match his precious proportions, to be aligned with him, body to body, in the proper way. She wanted his hands – his warm, solid hands – fastened about her waist the way he fastened them around that telescope in his study. She wanted to be able to wrap her arms around his shoulders and look up into his eyes.
"You're still pouting," he accused, gently poking her chin with his finger.
"Sorry," she murmured. "I'm not sad. I'm just ... thinking."
"You've been doing a lot of that lately."
She sighed heavily. "I know. I can't help it sometimes."
"You don't find it that boring to dance with me, do you?" he teased.
"Oh, no!" she cried a bit too defensively. "Of course not. I love dancing with you, Oscar."
Her words floated like petals in the air between them. Careful. Shy, but sweet.
He smiled back at her, his eyes warm and tender. Unreadable. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around her hand. And they continued to dance just like that. Like a helpless little doll perched on the arm of a fully grown man. Deep in her heart, she knew it would never be anything more than that. And somehow, she knew to accept it.
That night, when the music slowed to an inevitable silence, China Girl's heart was flushed with new hope.
Like every other night before, her Wizard laid her down in her bed and tucked her beneath the quilts. And like every night before, she dreamed about him. Strange, magical dreams where his smile burned her more than the sun ever could.