Chapter 2

It was over faster than he expected.

Fiyero approached the witch cautiously from behind, his gun still trained on her. He watched as the Witch attempted to stand up using her broom as a crutch. He had to admire her for her strength, for he had seen bigger and seemingly stronger men who had collapsed with similar wounds. He turned slightly as he approached her so that he would face her. She finally managed to stand up, and her legs buckled again when she looked up and saw the face of the man who had shot her.

Her face fell. Her lips moved, but no words came out.

The rumours always described the Wicked Witch of the West as a crazy old woman with moulting skin, skin the colour of sin. Some even said that she had an extra eye that always remained awake. But the Witch in front of him looked nothing like that. Sure, she had green skin, but it was not dry and scaly. And she was not old. She looked like she was around his age or perhaps a bit older. He had expected someone with a wicked sneer and a twisted face, perhaps even foaming at the mouth, but he saw nothing of that. But there was something that he did not expect to see – a pair of brown eyes filled with so much sadness it almost hurt for him to see.

Fiyero felt his posture faltered, and he re-aimed his gun at her.

Just then, the door burst open and half a dozen guards rushed in and surrounded the Witch. They aimed their rifles at her, shouting conflicting commands. But she did not seem to hear them; her eyes never left the Captain's face.

A whiff of the scent of Gillikin rose told Fiyero that someone else entered the room. The rustling of a gown, followed by a gasp.

He did not need to turn around to know who it was.

"Glinda, you'd better go," he told his fiancée, his eyes still trained on the green girl.

"Fiyero…"

"Please, just go back to the ball. She's dangerous."

"But she's…"

Madame Morrible came into the room just then and stopped next to Glinda.

"So this is true," the older woman said. "Your betrothed had captured the Wicked Witch. Good job, Captain."

"Thank you, Madame," Fiyero replied, his eyes still not leaving the woman in front of him. "Gentlemen, please take her into custody," he told his men, and two of them quickly stepped behind the Witch and twisted her hands behind her, forcing her to the ground as they handcuffed her. She looked at Fiyero and Glinda, her expression no longer readable.

Fiyero finally turned and looked at Glinda. Her face was pale, and he noticed that she was trembling.

He holstered his gun and placed a hand on the small of her back.

"Glinda, let's go," he told her as he gave the prisoner one last look. Someone had pulled off her hat, and her long black hair cascaded down, resting on her shoulders like a cloak. The hair framed her face delicately, and Fiyero had to turn away.

She was just a girl.

The Wizard's Palace was both the home of the Wizard and the office of his administration. It had endless corridors, hundreds of rooms and thousands of windows. There was an in-house kitchen that could whip up a feast at a moment's notice for hundreds of guests, four ballrooms that could accommodate more than five hundred people each, a hair salon, a tailor, two bakeries, three restaurants, a bookstore and a doctor (besides the Wizard's personal physician who only attend to him). Deliveries were made daily for the items that were not available. The only thing that was not available and could not be delivered was a prison.

It was thus decided that the Wicked Witch of the West would be locked in a small, dirty, windowless room in the basement, guarded by two guards. The room used to be a storeroom, but was no longer in use. Fiyero had wanted to send her to Southstairs immediately but Madame Morrible stepped in. It was a day of celebration, she had reminded him, and they should not give the Witch a chance to ruin it with her ill-timed appearance. She would be transported to Southstairs first thing in the morning.

The Wizard did not give his speech as planned. He shook uncontrollably, even after the Witch had been removed from his sight, and had to be helped up. Even then, the ruler's knees shook like jelly as he attempted to walk, and he had to be assisted by two bodyguards. His personal physician was called in. The Witch was escorted to her cell by the four guards who would guard the temporary prison on a rotational basis. The two guards on the first shift were in a good mood when Fiyero went down to check on the prisoner. They joked and laughed, and congratulated each other on the capture of the Witch.

Fiyero went back to the Throne Room after that. Madame Morrible had left the room by then. He looked out at the external walls, searching for any claws or ropes that could provide a hint on how the Witch's accomplice that he had seen had escaped. There were none. He dispatched his men to go outside the palace to look for witnesses, and they returned shortly and reported that they were unable to find any. He was not surprised. The windows of the Throne Room faced a garden with a lake, and the garden was not lit at night. The possibility of finding anyone there at night was remote. Without any witness, there was no way he could know if the accomplice was male or female, human or Animal.

Glinda was having an animated conversation with two young women, the daughters of a senior officer, when Fiyero went back to the ballroom. He slipped an arm around her waist, and the blonde turned around and gave him a radiant smile before she kissed him on his cheek. There was no sign of that trembling girl that he had seen in the Throne Room earlier on. The music started again, and Fiyero led her to the dance floor. The couple spent the rest of the evening dancing with each other. She looked back at him, a smile on her face.

"What are you thinking?" she asked softly. Fiyero smiled back.

"Just how beautiful you are," he replied automatically. Glinda giggled. Fiyero held his fiancée close as they swayed gracefully to the music, but his mind wandered, replaying the scene in the Throne Room over and over again, reliving the first glimpse he had of the Witch, the sadness in her eyes.

The party ended before midnight, and his men pulled Fiyero to a nearby pub for another round of celebration. He treated his men to several rounds of beer, but left after the first round. His men did not mind.

Fiyero stood outside the pub. It was a long night and he still had to submit a report in the morning on the arrest of the Witch. He looked at the Wizard's Palace. The building loomed tall in the darkness, the yellow lights on the both the interior and exterior casting an eerie glow on the green walls. Glinda should be asleep by now, and so would the Wizard. But the guards on duty would still be awake. He could carry out his interrogation tomorrow morning before the Witch was moved to Southstairs, or he could do it tonight. He doubted that he would be able to sleep tonight. He could have killed the Witch with the one chance that he had, but that was never his intention; he only wanted to stop her from harming the Wizard. There was so much information he could get from her that she was more useful alive than dead. He thought of the Witch and, for a strange moment, wondered how much the gunshot wound hurt. He shook his head. The injuries of the prisoners were not his concern; the doctor in Southstairs would take care of that. He turned his thoughts to the shadow that he had seen jumping out of the window when he had first entered the Throne Room. He wanted to know who her accomplice was. There was another arrest to be made, and soon.

Fiyero turned and made his way back to his office which was two streets away. He had a safety kit in his office. Perhaps the Witch would be more cooperative if he showed some kindness to her. The report would have to wait. He never liked to write reports anyway.

If anyone had looked in, they might think that the Witch was asleep or dead. She was propped against the wall, her head down, like an unwanted toy left on a shelf. Her hands hung lifeless in front of her, cuffed, and her legs were splayed. The only sign of life was the blood that was still oozing out from the gunshot wound on her leg. And she stayed in that position, not moving, not even when the door opened cautiously and a head popped in.

"Elphie?" a soft voice asked.

The Witch looked up and raised her hands to shield her eyes from the bright glow in the other person's hand.

"Oh sorry," the voice said and she quickly mumbled something and the light dimmed significantly. She stood there for a while and then hastily stepped into the small confined space, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the smell in the room.

"Sweet Lurline, what are you waiting for? A green carpet?" she chided the Witch gently.

"Glinda?" the Witch blinked her eyes, bringing them into focus.

"Yes, it's me. Of course, it's me."

The blonde quickly squatted down in front of the Witch. She pulled up the hem of her skirt and tucked it in her lap, trying to prevent her skirt from coming into contact with the dirty floor as she slotted a key into the tiny hole on the cuff. It opened easily.

"I got your broom." With that, Glinda shoved the old, weather-worn stick into the green girl's hand. It was not much of a broom anymore. There was hardly any bristle left. The stick had been smoothened through years of wear and tear, but its tip was sharp, having broken off recently. The feel of the broom seemed to trigger something in the Witch, and she struggled to stand up, using it as a support like before. She winced in pain as she put some of her weight on the injured leg.

The Witch looked at Glinda the Good. She had changed out of her ball gown and was dressed in a simple blue dress ending above her knees. There was a sling bag across her body.

"Wait," she said as she bent down in front of the Witch. She took a piece of gauze from the bag and wrapped it around the wound, stopping the blood from flowing.

"That's better," she commented as she stood up and wrapped an arm under the other girl's shoulders. "Come on," she said as they hobbled out of the room.

At the main gate, the guards greeted the Captain of the Gale Force and let him in. He made his way immediately to the basement. More and more questions were popping into his head, and he would like to get them answered as soon as possible.

The Witch looked at both sides of the corridor when Glinda closed the door behind them and secured the padlock to the door. "No guard?" she asked, surprised to find the corridor empty.

"Are you complaining?" the blonde asked. The Witch shook her head slightly.

"Well, I kind of suggested that they must be tired and hungry guarding you, and that there is some leftover food in the kitchen. 'Isn't it a waste to throw away all these delicious food?' I asked. What I didn't tell them was that I had sprinkled something into the food before that. Ingenious, aren't I?" She tried to stifle a giggle and then looked at her injured friend and was glad to see a slight smile on her face.

Glinda turned to the left, towards the back of the Palace. They had barely reached the staircase at the end of the corridor when she heard the sound of footsteps coming down to the basement from the other end of the corridor.

"Hurry," she said as she helped Elphie up the stairs.

Fiyero reached the basement. The lights were dim, and he wished that he had brought some light. There was some scurrying at the other end of the long corridor, but there was no one to be seen. Rats perhaps. The basement and the lesser-used corridors were filled with vermin. The whole place was quiet as he expected, but something was wrong. It was a tick-tock before he knew what it was.

The door to the cell. It was closed and locked, but it was unguarded.

"Guards!" he raised his voice.

Glinda nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice. She looked behind her, expecting to see Fiyero at the foot of the stairs. He was not. She pulled the Witch's hand as they made their way up and stopped at the top of the stairs. Glinda pushed at a part of the wall lined with faint markings. The wall moved with hardly a groan, revealing a dark passageway. The two girls went in, and the wall closed behind them.

Glinda knew the whole castle like the back of her hand and she led the way, deciding to go this way or that, or choosing a route that was not guarded and not in use. The Witch was surprised by the number of secret passageways and corridors. There were so many of them, hidden behind tapestries or in plain sight. She wished that she had known of them before. She wanted to ask Glinda how many more such hidden passageways there were, but her friend was too busy determining the way to go. They could hear shouts from different directions, male voices that were uncomfortably close, and they knew that an alarm had been raised and a massive search for the escaped prisoner was underway.

Glinda started to walk faster, but the Witch stopped in her tracks.

"Go," she whispered to her friend. "You can't be found with me."

Glinda shook her head. "I can't leave you here. You'll get caught. We'll be there soon," she promised as she gave the green hand a tug, not explaining where 'there' was.

The Witch swallowed and allowed herself be pulled again.

Many turns later, Glinda pushed at a wall in front of them and the duo found themselves on the upper floor of the castle, near to the Throne Room. The corridor was thankfully empty. The windows lining the corridor had never looked more inviting.

The shouts of the men echoed from downstairs. They were not out of the woods yet.

"Here," the petite blonde pulled the sling bag over her head and hanged it on the green girl's neck. "There are antiseptic, gauzes, cotton wool and some food inside. And your hat." The two girls could not help but smiled at the mention of the hat. The ghastly, black pointed hat that had sealed their friendship so many years ago, turning the two roommates who had loathed each other initially into best friends.

"Now go." She grasped the taller girl's hand, unwilling to let go. The Witch's long fingers wrapped around hers.

"Thank you, Glinda, for still caring about me," she finally choked out the words.

"Of course I still care about you, silly," Glinda pressed a hand to her cheek. "I always will. We're best friends, aren't we?"

The Witch nodded. She looked down and noticed the sparkling ring on the blonde's finger.

"I'm so sorry for today, for spoiling your engagement party," she sniffed slightly and then tried to give a brave smile. "And I forget to say congratulations to you – to you and Fiyero. I wish the two of you happiness."

There was no tear, her Elphie would never cry, but Glinda wiped her cheek, trying to erase the sadness from her face. And because she herself would cry if she stopped moving and stopped talking.

"Elphie, please don't be angry with Fiyero. He's just doing his job."

The Witch nodded slightly. Another shout in the distance. The guards were getting closer.

"Can you fly with that wound?" Glinda asked as she watched the other girl swung the broom between her legs.

"I can fly it even if I have no leg," the Witch replied dryly.

"Elphie!" Glinda admonished, knocking on the dirty old broom for effect and the Witch cackled softly.

The two of them stood there, facing each other, each unwilling to say the last word, until Glinda thought she heard the sound of footsteps approaching and the sense of danger returned to them.

"Goodbye, Elphie, and try not to put yourself in danger again."

"Try not to buy another pair of shoes, Glinda," was her reply and she was gone.

Glinda placed her hands on the window ledge and was about to lean out of the window when she heard a voice behind her.

"Glinda?"

She spun around.

Fiyero was there, still in his Gale Force uniform. A few of his men were behind him. They were all armed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as his men moved to the windows and looked outside.

She held her breath until they had finished looking out of the windows. They did not see anything.

"Well… ," Glinda twisted the ring on her finger as she stepped away from the window. "I couldn't sleep and so I just walk around. And I thought I saw a shooting star. It's a good omen, you know." She gave a nervous giggle. "So why are you gentlemen here?" she asked innocently.

"The Witch has escaped, Glinda." She tried to look surprise. Fiyero's eyes bored into hers. He knew, she thought. Her hands shook, and she quickly put them behind her back.

"Do you happen to see anything or hear anything suspicious?" He asked as he took a step towards her. She shook her head. The air suddenly turned stifling and Glinda found that she could not breathe.

"Glinda?" his eyes softened, and his voice was softer as he took another step and his hands reached out to her. "Glinda, are you alright? You look –"

Glinda fainted into her fiancé's arms before he could finish his sentence.