Author's Note: Thank you to those who are reading/following this story! I'm trying to get back into the groove of things and I have to admit, it's harder than from when I was doing Because You Are So Beautiful, but hopefully it'll all work out. Please review, good or bad (or indifferent! haha); it'll help me know how my story is truly faring. Thank you so much again.

Chapter Two

Long ago, the Land of Oz was met by two forces: one Terrible and one Wicked. Both vied for glory, both competed for attention. The citizens of Oz feared them both, but without supporting one, they knew their country would fall to chaos. Glinda the Good, although she wasn't comfortable with the Wizard's reign, couldn't bring herself to side with the Wicked Witch of the West. Not necessarily because she was wicked, but because she had betrayed her. She had to choose the lesser of two evils and it was much easier to blame the Wicked Witch than to stand against a tyrant.

It was a sad vision. The Wicked Witch had always admired the Good Witch, for her ability to persuade, the gift to make people believe whatever she wanted them to. But, she also realized that Glinda didn't have the courage to lose. She wondered how much her perky, little friend longed for the skies, for being on top, being able to fly. The Wicked had that. The Good tried everything in her control to manufacture that sensation, but it wasn't the same, the Wicked Witch was sure.

The pointed black hat tightened around her head and she felt its weight drop all the way to her shoulders. Her green skin was cloaked by the darkness. The wind pulled her cape behind her and for a moment she thought it would blow the rooftop she was standing on far away. She couldn't command the weather to do anything—that was a power way beyond her reach. Someone else was manipulating it, one of the Wizard's minions.

She saw something in the distance. She leaned over the rooftop's edge and narrowed her eyes. It was the little girl with the red shoes. The spell she had cast on the shoes was giving off this heat that she could feel even from miles away. Every time she cast a spell, she'd leave a little portion of herself to ensure eternalness, brand them with her mark. Those shoes were rightfully hers. And she was going to get it back by any means necessary.

"Chistery." She beckoned the Monkey over with a crooked finger. He stretched out his wings and flew to her. He sat on the ledge, looking at her curiously. Her eyes were still following the little girl and her friends as they made their way to the castle. "After them."

Chistery rose to the sky and dozens more like him formed an army from behind. The Wicked Witch didn't even lift her head up, but she spoke softly and the wind delivered the message up to them. "And don't forget to give them what they deserve… ice-cream and lollipops."

Mom!

Elphie…

What?

That's not how it goes!

Oh, it's not?

Next time we'll let you tell the story, Elena. Your mother keeps changing things.

Gosh, Mom, tell the story right!

But, this next part is so scary!

Mom…

"Janice?"

The noise returned and the dream or vision or hallucination or whatever these things were wilted away. She was back at the university where other animal rights' activists like herself, most of them college students, were protesting and encouraging passersby to vote for Proposition 2. There were signs that read "Yes on Prop 2" and "No to Caged Hens"; a couple of disrespectful, uncreative freshmen were doing some name-calling and it was a shame their vocabulary didn't extend any further than "freak" and "animal lovers."

"You okay? You passed out for a bit." Michelle reached out a water bottle.

Janice took it gratefully. "It's the heat. Southern California is awful." She twisted the cap off and raised the bottle to her lips.

"Yeah, I guess we're all kind of used to it," said Michelle glancing over her shoulders to the others who were sweating, but still sticking it out. "How hot did it get where you used to live?"

The cold water sliding down her throat felt nice and she tried to savor it as much as she could. Also, she needed to buy time because, well, she wasn't really sure how to answer her question, as simple as it was. "I don't know."

"Where did you used to live?"

It was blank. It had always been blank. She could never remember anything about her past, only bits and pieces. She remembered a school dance and that wasn't a very happy memory because she saw faces laughing at her. She remembered loving History. That was about it. She could hardly even remember her best friend—all she could recall was that she was tiny and blonde. And her voice, so distinct, like a child's.

"You're all a bunch of stupid tree-huggers!" Her head shot up. A bunch of freshmen stood a few feet away from them on their skateboards. How on earth did these kids get admitted to a university? She could hardly stand it—just because these kids' probably had parents who were rich and powerful, they think they could push everyone around. Janice tried to stand but felt her head spin. Crap, she thought.

"You uninformed brat, you know nothing about Prop 2, do you?" barked Michelle. Thank God for her. It felt so much better knowing there were people on your side and just as willing and able to fight.

"All I know is that you shouldn't be hindering hardworking Americans from doing their job with your save the whales and forests crap," the kid said, flipping his skateboard.

"Oh, this kid's real bright," she muttered.

Janice decided to say something because, honestly, the boy's ignorance made her itch inside. She sat up on the pavement. "Kid, don't run your mouth, you're just going to make yourself look brainless. First of all, Prop 2 is about the way they treat animals before they're sent to get slaughtered. They cage hens and house animals so they can hardly move."

"Oh, boo-boo!"

"If they can't move, they get stressed and that stress compromises their immune systems," she pressed on. "You and all your friends eat these animals, we're protesting to make sure your sorry asses are sold healthy food!"

"Don't you cuss at me!" he shouted. "Get a real job!"

"You prick," interjected Michelle. "Get over here and say that to our faces."

Janice tugged at her friend's shorts. The heat, both from the sun and the argument, had made her feel weak. The perspiration was sticky and warm; her skin felt like it was burning. For a moment, she thought she was melting.

Michelle looked at her worriedly. "Hey, are you okay? You don't look like yourself." She suddenly turned around behind her. Janice buried her face in her hands. Oh God, please don't let him start anything. The boy they had been arguing with had just approached them and he was standing an inch away from Michelle's face, with a menacing stature neither of them had seen from a few feet away. He was a bit lanky, but tall, his eyes almost like ice. Michelle clenched her fists, trying not to shrink away.

"Move back," ordered Janice. She managed to stand up, although her knees wobbled and she felt safer on the ground. But, she wasn't going to let some ill-bred kid intimidate them. She wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

"She called me over here," he said, motionless. "I'm here."

She pushed Michelle aside and took her place, unafraid. A smile formed on his lips and it were times like these that reminded her why she fought so passionately and so hard. If there weren't anyone to fight against the rich and the powerful, then the world would fall under their dictatorship.

She inhaled, slowly discovering some strength. Her eyes dug deep into his. He was so easy to read—every hidden wrinkle, the slightest twitch, the control of his breathing. She could see a piece of his soul and saw a generally good kid, just too proud and immature. And she thought she saw something else. His first few steps, a vision of him in high school, his friends and him skate boarding in front of the library. That was strange.

"Jan, get away from him, we don't want trouble," said Tobias, the head of their activist group. He tried to go between them, but the match was about even and neither of them would budge. Tobias put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hey, man, let this one go."

"Don't touch me!" the kid yelled. His reaction was quick and strong. He shoved their leader and, although Tobias was much bigger than him and hardly fell back, it set her off.

Everything happened before she could blink. Apparently, the kid initiating the fight didn't just set her off, but others as well. A punch was thrown in some direction, some yelling in the background. Someone called for security. But, this was happening out of her range. She never took her eyes off that kid, who didn't dare make the first move. Anger seethed inside her, but she couldn't even lift a finger.

She didn't have to. The confidence in his eyes faltered. His body collapsed to the floor and he started to convulse. She watched as his arms and legs shook violently, uncontrollably. The pavement scraped his skin, his mouth began to foam and it wasn't until she heard a loud crack that she snapped out of her stupor.

"Let's get out of here," said Michelle, pulling her away. A riot had broken loose and the cops had come. She could see a couple of activists a head's start away.

"I just… I can't just leave him—"

"Jan, come on. I heard Tobias had trouble with… just, come on!"

"Trouble? What trouble?"

"With getting a permit."

xoxoxo

It was interesting. The bars of the holding cell were carved with different letters, initials, rusted red. She didn't know why she was separated from the fourteen others they had arrested at the school. Two hours had passed and she was exhausted. She had been trying to pry away any sort of information from anyone at the precinct house, where her friends were, why they were arrested and where her damn phone call was. No one listened. She wasn't the least bit scared. As a matter of fact, she was more annoyed than anything else.

"You lose your voice to nag us some more?" She looked up and saw the Captain, a man with gray hair and a calm expression, standing in front of her on the other side of the cell.

"Ron, let me out," she said tiredly.

"You know, you're not making your husband look too good right now," he said quietly. "He's one of my most promising detectives. He means a lot to the family, here at the station and at home."

"You have no reason to hold me," she said. "You know our group, we follow the rules."

"Two kids hospitalized. One of your men can throw one hell of a punch."

"Okay, arrest the punk. I never liked him anyway. But, why arrest the rest of us?"

"You were involved with a potentially dangerous protest without police escort."

She just about threw her head back and cackled. "We were encouraging people to buy eggs from non-caged hens! Captain, this is ridiculous! I'm going to be laughing at your squad when I read it in the paper tomorrow."

"How did he get away with not having a permit?"

"I don't know!" She pressed her forehead against the metal, her gripping the bars until she felt it sinking into her skin. "I thought he got the permit. I would have kicked his ass if I knew." She raised her eyes to him. "Ron. You know me. I was there at your son's graduation. Don't treat me like a hardened criminal."

He raised his brow and he adjusted his posture, his shoulders rising and falling. He turned around and began to walk slowly away. "I'm not." She watched as he opened the door to his office. He called for someone and Isaac appeared. He jogged to her and his hands met hers, slowly loosening its grasp on the bars and clinging on to his skin. His soft hazel eyes were green in the lack of light. They reminded her of something from her past, maybe… she wasn't sure. But, she felt nostalgic every time she looked into them.

"You okay?" he asked.

"How's the kid?" She had almost forgotten about him. She felt guilty, as if what had happened to him was all her fault.

"He's getting his stomach pumped," he said, frowning. "He had a seizure. Drug overdose. They're keeping him until he's stable; his parents are on their way to the hospital."

"God, it's my fault."

"This isn't your fault."

"I got mad and–"

"And what? You made him go into a seizure? Come on, Elphie, you and I both know that's insane."

"Maybe you're right." Not necessarily that she had caused this to happen, but the idea that she was insane seemed very plausible. Even so, she still felt like she had brought it upon that kid. She knew it was crazy—science couldn't prove that psyching a person out into having a seizure. It was preposterous. Maybe.

"Isaac?"

"Yeah?"

"Get me out of here."

xoxoxo

"Don't leave me!"

"Darling, let go."

"My love, stay with me. I am gravely ill."

"You had a premonition 3,000 feet in the air. You got woozy." She yanked the skirt of her dress from the Emperor's hands. Men, she swore, they could be such babies. She straightened the lace and the ribbons, the fabric. She stole a glance from the full length mirror across the room. She learned to cherish her reflection in the few seconds she was given throughout the day because often she wasn't able to set a couple of hours aside just to stare at herself. Her husband waved his hand from behind as she was admiring her beauty.

"I need Glinda's legendary remedies," he said, pulling the covers up to his chin.

"The physician says you'll be fine," she said. "The only remedy you need is rest. Now unless you're having an important vision, I have business to attend to."

"Wait! I see something…"

"Oh do you?"

"Yes… just give me a moment… you know, to make sense of it."

"Darling, can you hurry, dire business, emergency, possible deaths?"

"Right. I see… I see… a white Maltese puppy? That's not right."

She huffed and opened the door. She told her ladies-in-waiting to fetch her Bubble. "Now you're just making things up."

"Perhaps I am. What in Oz is a Maltese puppy?"

She looked back once more and thank goodness his eyes were drooping into what she hoped was going to be a nice, long slumber. The poor dear needed the relaxation. The times he was with her were the only times she saw him smile; they were the only times she saw him not take things so seriously, even though most of the time he was teasing her. She didn't like seeing him with that stone-cold face at the Meetings with the Governors, that expressionless, yet somewhat reassuring face when addressing the rest of the Oz.

A rehabilitation center for Animals was built shortly after the Wizard's departure down at Quadling Country. Every Animal who had lost their tongue was sent to the facility in order to restore their speech: lessons in vocalizations, pronunciation and elocution were offered every day. It was a success for the most part. Many were able to reenter the community and regain normal lives. Unfortunately, there were few that had permanently been damaged and remained in the facility to this day, deemed as "animals." And then there were those that were recovering very, very slowly.

The Bubble lowered itself to the ground in front of the rehabilitation center. There was an emerald carpet rolled out and gold shimmering like an aura around the entrance. It was a funny sight, an ironic one, she supposed, as the place was always sad and one that she never enjoyed visiting. She walked down the thick carpet, feeling her heels sinking in. Those who resided in the hospital and various other Quadling residents bowed from the sides. Even the Governess of Quadling Country, who Glinda now approached, curtsied in her presence.

"Rise, Rowena," said Glinda, smiling. "You need not bow."

"I was just admiring your feet, they're quite small," she said, rising. "How is the Emperor?" Her caramel-colored hair was almost like silk, smooth and woven in five long braids behind her. She had fair skin and the most interesting pair of eyes, a shade of olives.

"He is resting," the Good Witch replied.

"Or dying?"

"Please, 'Ro, now is not the time for your twisted sense of humor."

"I saw him yesterday; he seemed quite healthy."

"Well, it's tomorrow, isn't it?" The Good Witch followed the Governess into the facility, which felt very warm and welcoming. If she had lived there, she would rather much stay indoors than to hang around the dreariness of the Quadling country, always so gray and cloudy.

"Can you tell me anything?" Glinda asked as she followed Rowena in a secluded area all the way in the back. The atmosphere changed and the walls grew bleaker, the halls narrower. It frightened her a bit.

"One of the Monkeys—Chistery—well," she said pausing. "He was doing so well, his conversations began to become a little more articulate each day…"

"So, what's happened?"

"His wings began to grow back. And he's in terrible pain." Rowena held a star-shaped necklace in front of the keyhole. A flash of violet appeared. She slipped a hand around the knob and looked at her superior. "I hope you didn't give your poor husband any of your remedies because from what you're about to see, he could be in great danger."