Yep, that was a glitch that caused the chapter to show up twice - it should be fixed now!

The Truth

The next evening found Elphaba pacing up and down the living room of her tiny apartment, cursing herself and Morrible and the entire world. Mostly herself, though.

After debating for a while, she'd decided to share what had happened with Glinda, who had only stared at her for so long that Elphaba began to think she'd accidentally magically frozen her blonde friend.

"Elphaba," Glinda had finally said slowly, blinking a few times. The fact that she'd used Elphaba's full name didn't promise much good. She'd opened and closed her mouth, clearly lost for words, and shook her head in rage. What eventually came out was a heated, "What in Oz are you thinking?!"

Elphaba wasn't sure, actually.

What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't believe she'd even let this happen, either. She'd been convinced there would never be another person she'd care about; she wouldn't let herself. And now, somehow, she'd broken her own rule.

Perhaps it was just attraction and nothing more. Perhaps it was just the idea of someone caring about her, in any way at all, and treating her with something that was not contempt or anger. She knew what Fiyero had meant, however, when he'd told her it had meant a lot to him. It had meant a lot to her, too, and she wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing.

Glinda had run over to the door to make sure it was shut and locked – which it was, as always – before turning to face the green girl, her blue eyes blazing. "Elphaba, if she finds out –"

"She won't," Elphaba interrupted.

"She will," Glinda had emphasised, "and you know it."

Elphaba sighed. "I do know," she'd admitted. "But…" She struggled to explain this to her best friend. She never thought she'd been deserving of kindness, of love. Not before her family had died, because she'd always been green and unwanted, but especially not now. She had done too many wicked things to ever be deserving of anything good again.

And yet… there was Fiyero. Sweet, kind Fiyero with a heart bigger than the whole castle of Kiamo Ko, who had given her his blanket and talked her through what she thought to be her last night alive in Southstairs four years ago. Who had kissed her as if she were the most precious thing in the world, rather than a wicked witch with several murders on her conscience. He was too good for her and yet he believed himself to be a monster.

Between the two of them, she was more of a monster than he could ever be.

Glinda's face had softened when she'd realised what her friend was thinking. "Elphie…" She bit her lip. "I'm not sure what to say. I want you to be happy, of course I do. I just… don't want you to be dead," she'd said helplessly.

"I'll end up dead either way, Glin," Elphaba had argued. "We both know that, too."

She knew she shouldn't go back. It would only get her into trouble – and him, too, most likely. If Morrible found out, they'd both be killed. But wasn't that a risk worth taking? If this was love, or even if it was just some weird kind of friendship with some attraction mixed in, shouldn't they take advantage of it?

When she voiced that thought, Glinda paused, looking thoughtful.

"Yes," she said finally, before shaking her head. "No. Maybe. I don't know."

"I do," said Elphaba and after a long look at the dark-haired witch, Glinda had caved. She knew her better than anyone; they'd been friends for three years, ever since Glinda had come to the Emerald City. The blonde could always guess what Elphaba was thinking and she could see straight into her soul. She knew what Elphaba's life was like. She could see what this meant to her and Elphaba knew her friend would never want to deny her any kind of happiness, but she understood her concerns about her safety. She was often concerned about Glinda's safety, too, living in the palace with Morrible – even if she was a public figure now and couldn't be harmed without further antagonising the people.

"Do you understand, Glin?" Elphaba had asked softly and Glinda had heaved a deep sigh, but nodded.

"I do."

There were so few things left in her life that were worth living for. Glinda knew that, too. Sometimes when Elphaba awoke from sleep, she'd lie in her bed and stare at the mouldy ceiling, trying to come up with a reason for her to get out of bed at all. Her life was empty and dull. She saved lives, but it felt like even that didn't mean anything anymore. She was a shell of her former self and there was nothing to look forward to; the future was just a large, black hole, more of the same, until the day she died – probably when Morrible discovered what she was doing and slowly and very painfully murdered her.

If this thing, whatever it was, between her and Fiyero was something that made her heart beat faster, something that made her curious about where it could go and that made her actually look forward to being able to see him again… then why wouldn't she take that chance? Sooner or later, they'd both be dead, anyway.

Glinda had promised to protect her in any way she could – something Elphaba didn't want her friend to do, because it would put her in danger, too; but she would just make sure Glinda didn't need to protect her at all. She'd do this, no matter the cost for herself, and she'd try to keep as many people out of it as possible to minimise the potential damage if worse came to worst.

Her mind made up, she picked up a book to read. It would be another while before dark, but once the sun went down, she'd return to the castle.

He was surprised she'd come back. Despite her promise, he hadn't really expected her to. At first, he'd been afraid one of Morrible's men was coming for him when he'd heard a sound come from the hallway; but at the sight of Elphaba, he relaxed.

"Hey," he said.

She smiled a little shyly when she saw him, clearly uncertain. He thought it was sweet. It was ridiculous, really, how giddy that little smile of hers made him feel.

She lingered in the doorway to his room and then blurted out, "This is weird."

"It is," he agreed. "Do you want to end it here?"

She shook her head. "No."

He grinned. "Good, because I don't, either."

She still didn't seem convinced, though, and she bit her lip. "You do know how dangerous this is, don't you?"

"I do," he said.

Elphaba nodded, but she was still staring at the floor and he moved over to her, gently pulling her into his arms. He could feel her wings through the fabric of her cloak. It felt a little strange. He still had to ask her how that happened, although he thought he could safely assume it had something to do with her magic.

Now, though, he asked, "Will you tell me what she does to you?"

He watched her face closely. She averted her gaze again, but he pressed, "You can trust me, Fae. It's not like I don't know what Morrible can do. What is it she holds over your head to make you work for her? Why do you do it?"

She sighed. "Because she makes me do it if I don't voluntarily do it for her," she said, keeping her head down so he couldn't see her face.

He frowned and she elaborated, "I mean that literally, Fiyero. She… Her magic is more powerful than mine."

He tensed at that. "Are you saying…?" Surely Morrible wasn't that powerful?

"That's why I cooperate with her, rather than fight her," she explained, avoiding his gaze. "She can't read my mind, thank Oz; but she can control my actions. She just… takes over. She only does that if I don't work with her, so I pretend to go along with everything she tells me to do, meanwhile helping people escape instead of killing them." Her face twisted into an expression of grief and regret. "I learnt the hard way that cooperating is easier," she added, her voice only barely above a whisper.

He understood what she meant and he wondered how many people Morrible had forced her to kill before she'd realised she was better off cooperating. Not that many, he suspected; Elphaba was too smart to take very long to figure that out. He felt guilty now for all the things he'd accused her of and everything he'd thought about her. She hadn't had any more of a choice in the matter than he had had.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, tightening his grip on her. "I didn't know."

"You couldn't have known." She shrugged. "You've seen her do it before, though. The headaches she uses to warn me are a part of it. If I don't respond, or I do something out of line, she takes over completely and makes me do whatever it is she wants me to do – and then some, just to punish me for being disobedient."

Now, more than ever, he understood why she did what she did and why there was nowhere for her to go. He'd never fully believed her when she said she didn't have a choice; now he knew she'd spoken the truth. What kind of choice was a choice between cooperating with the most horrible person in Oz or being manipulated into doing awful things by that very same person? It wasn't so different from what Morrible had done to him and he wondered if the green girl was aware of the things she did when Morrible 'took over'. At least he had always had the small consolation that he could never actually remember what the old hag had made him do.

He wanted to ask her what kind of things Morrible had made her do, but he didn't have the heart. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, anyway.

Elphaba extracted herself from his grip, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "What were you doing?"

Rather than pushing her, he went along with the change in subject. "Painting," he said. He showed her the canvas he'd been working on. It was a painting of Kiamo Ko by night, the towers black and foreboding against the dark blue sky, lightning flashing behind it. It was exactly the picture Elphaba had imagined when she first came here, a few days ago, but what struck her most about it was how lifelike it was.

"Yero, that is good," she said in amazement as she studied it closer. "You're talented!"

He smiled a little wryly. "Thanks. It's the only thing that kept me sane in here," he admitted. "I used to love painting, before… and I had to continue after. What else was I supposed to do in here, all by myself?"

"What else do you paint?" she asked curiously and he showed her the paintings he'd made. Portraits of his father and his mother, of his older brother and his two little sisters. The sun setting over the Thousand Year Grasslands, bathing them in a soft golden light. Impressions of fangs and claws, the beast he believed he now was; but also of dungeons, dark and damp and grey, and of pain. He'd painted what she had felt, these past years, and it made her feel even more connected to him. It was funny, she mused, how shared misery and loneliness could forge a bond between two people faster and tighter than years of spending time together under normal circumstances.

He was watching her closely now, those bright blue eyes of his unreadable. "Are you all right?" he asked her quietly.

She blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Morrible," he said. "Why did she give you that headache yesterday? What did she want from you?"

"Oh." She deflated. "She had another assignment for me." She sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I just hope those people made it to the border safely."

"Does she do that every time?" he wanted to know. "Make sure you're in pain to let you know she wants to see you?"

"If I don't return to her in time, yes," said Elphaba, leaning heavily against the wall. "She likes inflicting pain on people, even when it's not really necessary to make them do what she wants. She especially likes doing it to me because it shows me how powerless I am against her, despite my own magic. I can't stop her. I never could. Perhaps I'm not strong enough, perhaps I'm just not skilled enough and I could learn, but… it's useless, really. She's had years of practice that I haven't. I could never catch up with her. I stand no chance against her and she knows it."

Fiyero clenched his fists and she could see the muscles rippling beneath his skin again, betraying his rage. She touched his shoulder lightly and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Instead of allowing his anger to take over, he took Elphaba in his arms again, holding her to him and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She closed her eyes at the feeling, her arms encircling his waist. It scared her a little how strongly she responded to him, but at the same time it felt wonderful. Still…

"This is stupid," she said to his chest. "Last week, you hated me for working with Morrible and you thought I was trying to kill you."

He looked thoughtful. "I didn't hate you. I just didn't understand." He shrugged. "I get it now. I should have seen it sooner, really, after what she's done to me. I of all people should have known what she's capable of… that she has ways to get what she wants from even the strongest of people."

She looked up at him. "And now what?"

He sighed. "I don't know."

"I have an idea," she said. "Let's pretend to be normal."

He raised his eyebrows and she chuckled at the look on his face. "I mean it. Let's just… do normal things. You could show me the castle, maybe, or we could go for a walk, or make dinner together…"

"I like that," he said truthfully. "But can we do something else first?"

She gave him a questioning look and he admitted sheepishly, "I'd really like to kiss you again."

She rolled her eyes at that, but she grinned. "I can live with that."

She stayed with him the rest of the day and for the first time in a long time, they both felt normal. They explored the castle, Fiyero telling Elphaba everything he knew about its myths and history, showing her the hidden rooms and passages. They went into the kitchen and prepared a meal together. When Elphaba asked Fiyero how he came by his food, he shrugged.

"I gather," he said. "Sometimes I go out into the woods. I found a few abandoned farmsteads in the vicinity and emptied their storage rooms. When it's necessary, I cover up and go to the market to buy food, or fresh paint or paintbrushes." He hesitated, then added, "Sometimes I go out and hunt."

He had hunted long before he had been imprisoned; it was part of his culture, and as a prince, he had learnt a lot about the Vinkun culture. Nevertheless, somehow admitting it now felt like such an animalistic thing to do and it made him feel ashamed.

Elphaba, however, only nodded, his reply apparently making sense to her, and she didn't say anything else on the subject.

A couple of times when they kissed, he caught himself changing again; but she never seemed to care, which made him feel a little more confident about himself. They ate dinner together and he disappeared off to do the dishes. At some point when he turned around, however, much to his horror, she suddenly approached him with a pair of scissors in her hands and he looked at her in alarm. "What in Oz –"

She rolled her eyes at him. "If I was going to kill you, I'd have done it already, and I wouldn't have used scissors," she said, clearly amused. "I can promise you one thing, though: I'm not going to be kissing you again anytime soon until you've had a bath, a shave, and a haircut."

He chuckled, mildly relieved. "I didn't really have any reason for baths and haircuts before."

"You do now." She held up the scissors. "Shoulder-length hair really isn't your look." A faint grimace crossed her face. "Ugh, I sound like Glinda," she complained. "She's my best friend and she always goes on about what does and does not look good on a person." She shook her head. "I mean it, though. If you don't let me cut it, I'll cut it in your sleep."

And so he let her shave him and cut his hair; and after he'd taken a bath as well and looked into the mirror, he had to admit it was a huge improvement. He felt more like himself again than he had in years. When he appeared again, Elphaba smiled in satisfaction and circled him, studying him from all angles.

"Much better," she decided, tilting her head a little to the side and reaching up to brush some of his sandy hair out of his eyes. "I mean, I could cut this a bit shorter, if you want me to, but I like it this way."

He shrugged. "I don't care either way," he said honestly. "Whatever you want."

She smiled and kissed him briefly on the lips.

They moved back upstairs not long after that and sat down on his bed again, both of them a little uncertain at first. After a while, Elphaba curled up in his arms and he rested his chin on the top of her head, pulling her hair loose from the bun she'd kept it in and slowly running his fingers through the long strands.

"You know that this, whatever it is, won't last," she said matter-of-factly. "I shouldn't have come back here at all, really. Sooner or later, she will find out. I should leave, and you should flee Oz."

He knew that, but he didn't care. "What if I want you to come back more often?"

She shook her head slightly. "I shouldn't endanger you like that. Not even if you want me to."

"Elphaba, this is no way to live," he said. "Ever since my family was killed and I was taken away, I haven't really been living. Surviving isn't living. What you're doing isn't living, either." Suddenly determined, he tightened his grip on her and said, "We have to stop her."

"How, Fiyero?" she asked him. She sounded weary. "Don't think I haven't tried. The rebels have tried for years. She plays mind games, Yero – literally. She controls King Oscar and through him, she controls all of Oz. She can do anything she wants to do because anyone who dares to stand up to her can be obliterated in the blink of an eye."

"You have magic, too," he persisted. "What else do you want to do, Fae? Go back to your old life? Forget about me and continue to pretend-kill innocent people until she finds out and kills you? Or continue your job and visit me in secret until the day we get caught and she'll skin us both alive?" He felt her shudder at that, probably because they both knew Morrible would actually, literally, be capable of doing such a thing. "We could flee, of course – leave the country…"

Elphaba shook her head in frustration. "Don't you think I've thought of that?" she demanded. "I would have left ages ago if I'd been able to. She made sure I wasn't. I tried once," she admitted. "The moment I crossed the border, my head exploded. I was flying and the pain was so sudden and so terrible I crashed down; I had to crawl back to the border and the moment I was back in Oz, it stopped. She warned me after that. If I try to leave, she'll know – she has some kind of magical markers in place."

Fiyero was quiet for a while. He couldn't think of any solution to that problem.

"She can't just physically punish people, either," Elphaba said softly. "She could destroy minds just as easily, if she wanted to. I've seen her do it before." She shuddered again, more violently this time. He couldn't even imagine what she must have seen. He didn't want to imagine. "We'd never get away with leaving."

"So if we can't flee and we can't fight, where does that leave us?" he asked her and she sighed heavily.

"I don't know. I've been working on a plan, but it's hardly fool-proof and it would probably end in disaster, anyway." She sighed again. "I just… don't know."

They both fell silent, neither of them really knowing what else to say. He realised bitterly that even though, at last, they weren't lonely anymore, they were still desperate and things were still hopeless. Whatever was going to happen to them, it wasn't going to have a happy ending. Morrible would make sure of that.

At some point, he must have drifted off to sleep; because when he opened his eyes again, it was morning. He stirred and noticed that he was covered by blankets, but Elphaba wasn't beside him. When he sat up, he found her in the arm chair by the window again, in the same spot she'd been in after she'd healed him that first night, once again fast asleep with her wings tucked tightly around herself for warmth.

Rather than waking her, he sneaked out of the room and went downstairs to light a fire in the kitchen and make them both breakfast. She appeared in the kitchen when he was just setting the table, looking sleepy and with her hair all tousled. It was kind of adorable, although he would never tell her that. She was shivering, but sighed in contentment when she entered the warm kitchen. He could sympathise. Kiamo Ko could get very cold in autumn – in winter even more so.

"You didn't have to sleep in the chair, you know," he told her and she shrugged.

"I wasn't planning to," she admitted. "I planned to leave while it was still dark, but I fell asleep as well."

He brightened. "Does that mean you can't leave again until tonight?"

She hesitated. "It's risky if I stay too long," she said slowly. "Then again, flying by daylight is risky, too, so I suppose there's no harm in staying." She gave him a weary smile. "If you don't mind, of course."

He gave her a look and she chuckled. "All right, then. I'll stay."

She did, and once again they spent the entire day together, talking, reading, and even chasing one another down the halls of Kiamo Ko as if they were two excited little children. Elphaba couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much.

When he'd been chasing her and he eventually caught her with his arms around her waist, one of her wings brushed against his cheek, reminding him to finally ask her the question he'd been wanting to ask for a while. "How did you get these? You didn't have them when we were in Southstairs, or I think I'd have noticed." He gently ran one hand down the edge of one of the wings. It felt a bit leathery, but soft at the same time – like feathers, which was also what they looked like, but harder. Stronger.

She shivered a little at the feeling of him touching it – or perhaps she shivered because of the memory his question brought up; he couldn't be sure. "When Morrible made me her Huntress," she began, "she said it would be easier for me to travel to distant parts of Oz quickly if I had a way to fly. That was the only time she ever showed me her most powerful magic book. She made me cast a levitation spell from it."

Elphaba hadn't known what the spell would do. The word 'levitation' implied she might be able to just soar up into the air at will, which was what she had expected when she'd cast the spell. She hadn't expected the sudden, sharp, agonising pain in her back, followed by the wings sprouting from her shoulder blades. They'd been awkward and heavy at first; she'd actually collapsed under their weight. Morrible had only laughed.

She remembered the moment vividly. Especially the pain, which had been unlike anything she'd ever felt – and that said something, given the things Morrible had already put her through by then. She'd lain there, collapsed on the floor of Morrible's throne room, whimpering, for at least half an hour before she'd been able to so much as move.

Fiyero touched them again, softly running his fingers along the feathers. No-one but her had ever really touched them before, not even Glinda. It was a strange feeling, but she decided that it wasn't really all that unpleasant. "Did it hurt?" he asked.

"Like someone stuck two knives in my back," she murmured, shifting the wings a little. "It was horrible, but after a few days, I got used to them. I had no idea how to fly at first, but I learnt."

"They're so big," he mused, still stroking them. "Do they not get in your way?"

They were big. They had to be in order to carry her weight in the air; when she didn't pull them in, they touched the ground when she stood up straight. "They did, at first, but I learnt to tuck them in," she explained, demonstrating what she meant by folding the wings tightly against her back. They moulded to her body, making it easy for her to cover them with her cloak. "They're not fragile, either – they can bend quite far. I hate that Morrible made me do it, but they grew on me… literally as well as figuratively speaking, I suppose," she added when she realised what she'd said. Fiyero grinned a little.

"Anyway," she continued, "the biggest issue I have with them these days is that fact that I have to cut holes into the backs of all my dresses."

He laughed and carefully pushed one of the wings aside a little. He saw that there were, indeed, two uneven holes cut into her dress, through which the wings emerged.

"I think they're beautiful," he said honestly and she blushed a little at that, which only got worse when he pressed a kiss to the feathers.

"Would you…" She hesitated. "Would you like me to take you flying sometime?"

He blinked at her and she explained, "I've done it before, with Glinda. They're strong enough to carry two people. It wouldn't be wise to go out by daylight, but if I ever stay another night here, I could take you."

He couldn't imagine those wings being able to carry the weight of both of them, but he supposed she'd know that better than he did. The thought of flying terrified and exhilarated him at the same time. "I think I'd like that."

She smirked, sensing his hesitation. "Just wait until you're up in the air." She laughed and he couldn't help but smile at the sound.

She left him again that evening at nightfall and although she didn't exactly say she would be coming back, Fiyero knew she would. If she wasn't planning to, she'd have said good-bye, but she didn't. Instead, she just kissed his cheek and flew off. He watched her go, marvelling at the sight of her leaping off his bedroom balcony, her wings stretching out to catch the wind and then beating in the air, once, twice, taking her up and away. He hoped he was right and she would indeed come back.

By the way - I forgot to ask before, but I'd love to hear any favourite lines again, if you have them!