"Will there be anything else, Madame?" Boq asked as he entered the room, carrying a tray and standing tall, wearing his uniform as directed.

Nessarose, sitting in her chambers as she revised her bill, turned to him, a bit surprised at the voice. She hadn't expected him to come back from brewing her tea so quickly.

"I've asked you to call me Nessarose," she said, a bit gently. "Remember?"

" . . . Yes."

Nessarose turned away once again, averting her attention back to her work.

"Madame."

Boq exited. Nessarose felt a sting in her chest at the venom in his words. Turning back around slowly, she sighed, her chest heaving with the motion. Boq . . .

He didn't love her. She knew that. But she would get what she wanted; she hadn't been trying hard enough before - now, it was only a matter of time. She could bend things to go her way, wasn't that the way to do it? School Nessarose had been a mere submissive woman, forever feeling sorry for herself, forever holding her tongue, just like the others whom she so hated for doing so. She was powerful now; she was Governor, and she had written the law. She had changed the transcripts over the course of a year, forbidding anyone of munchkin blood to leave Munchkinland . . . and her ambition, her drive, her determination . . . it overshadowed her guilt . . . and whenever a shred made its way through, Nessarose pictured the young munchkin boy laughing at her so many years before . . . the one that Elphaba had turned upside down with her uncanny ability for magic, and it washed itself away . . . for what did she owe to the munchkins, anyway?

Nothing. Nothing that wasn't worth her love.

She was the Wicked Witch of the East. She would have her way.

Despite her title, she had found she was able to resist the temptation to learn magic if she kept herself away from spell books. It was difficult. She was powerful, oh yes, she was powerful, but she could be even more so with magic . . .

Still, Father would have hated it . . . and she would, in turn, hate herself even more . . .

"Well," Nessarose was pulled from her thoughts abruptly by the voice, "it seems the beautiful just get more beautiful . . . while the green . . . just get greener." It cut through the silence, darkly, out of nowhere.

Nessarose screamed as a light suddenly filled her glass wardrobe, revealing a woman in drab, her glare piercing, her skin . . . green.

It was Elphaba.

She stepped out of the wardrobe, and Nessarose felt as though she was hallucinating. "Have I finally gone mad?" She clutched at her own heart.

"I'm sorry, did I frighten you?" Elphaba asked. "I tend to have that effect on people."

Nessarose didn't answer; she couldn't. She only stared, wide-eyed, at her aged sister. Elphaba looked much older, much thinner, and more menacing . . . her hair was tied up in a messy bun beneath the same pointed hat, her brows were darker, her nose more pointed, and she was clutching a broom as she stepped forward, likely the one she was so notorious for riding.

"It's . . . good to see you," Elphaba tried again upon receiving no answer, her tone sad.

Nessarose suddenly regained her composure and leered. How dare she show up here, now, in the home of their Father, after all these years, and act as though things could be okay?

"What are you doing here?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. Finally, when she thought she had accepted that Elphaba was never coming back, she had. This was not the reunion she had wanted.

"Well," Elphaba said, appearing uneasy, folding her arms beneath her cape. She glanced around. "There's no place like home." Nessarose rolled her eyes; ah, so her sister hadn't lost her ability for sarcasm? Good to know.

"I never thought I'd hear myself say this . . . " She began again, strangely, "but I need Father's help." Nessarose could tell by her tone that Elphaba knew just how far of a stretch her request was.

"That's impossible," Nessarose replied.

"No. It's not. Not if you ask him. You know he'll listen to you; he always has."

How dare she! How dare she come here and immediately start asking Nessarose to do something for her, after abandoning her for so many years without so much as a word! After shaming her whole family, killing their father . . . how dare she!

But Nessarose couldn't feel angry. Bitter . . . yes. She had been bitter for a long time. But angry?

Not at the mention of Father. She only felt remorse.

"Father is dead," she said simply, avoiding Elphaba's gaze.

"What?"

"He's dead, Elphaba. I'm the governor now," Nessarose frowned, her face projecting a moment of weakness. She straightened up, however, glaring once again. "Well, what did you expect, after all? After he learned what you'd done? . . . He died . . . of shame."

Elphaba furrowed her brows. Nessarose continued.

"Embarrassed to death."

Elphaba didn't answer for a moment. She looked down, then back up, meeting her sister's eyes once again.

"Good. I'm . . . glad. It's better that way."

Nessarose curled her lip. "That's a WICKED thing to say."

"No," Elphaba said, hoping Nessarose would understand. "It's true. Because now it's just us. You can help me, dear sister. And together, we can-"

"Elphaba, shut up!" Nessarose saw so much red, she could barely make her sister out. Her delirious, reckless sister. "Listen to yourself! Why should I help you? You fly around Oz, trying to rescue Animals that you've never even met, and not once . . . not ONCE have you EVER thought of me, back home - not once have you EVER thought to use your powers to rescue ME!"

Nessarose felt her voice catch in her throat, but she refused to cry. She was too strong now for that.

"All of my life I've depended on you, how do you THINK that feels? In this hideous chair . . . scrounging for scraps of pity to pick up, longing to walk . . . " She grit her teeth, almost wanting to spit. "How do you think that feels?" She repeated.

She was losing her façade. She knew it. But she couldn't' help it.

"Nessa," Elphaba said, pained. She knew what she had done wasn't fair, and she had never wanted it to be this way. But she couldn't have returned . . .

"There isn't a spell for everything. This power is mysterious," she continued. Nessarose saw Elphaba's eyes fall on her silver shoes; she never took them off, not ever. "It's not like coddling up a pair of . . . "

Elphaba suddenly stopped speaking, reached into her bag, and pulled out, with slow, long, spindly fingers, what could only be a spell book. The title was ancient and woven, the pages torn. It read: Grimmerie.

Nessarose felt her eyes grow wide. No.

Not a spell book.

"Wait," Elphaba said.

"W-What are you doing?" Nessarose asked, feeling very much like a child again.

But Elphaba wasn't answering her.

Falling to the ground, her hands pressing the book open to one page, Elphaba narrowed her eyes in concentration and then began to chant, making geometric, perfect movements.

"Am-bu-lahn-dah-re, Pah-to pah-poot Am-bu-lahn-das-ca Cal-da-pess . . . "

"Elphaba! Stop!" Nessarose commanded sharply, too afraid to move away. "What are you doing? What does that mean?"

Elphaba continued, repeating the same motion.

"Lau-fen-ah-to, Lau-fen-ah tum, Pe-de pe-de Cal-da-pess . . . "

"Stop!" Nessarose continued to plead.

Elphaba suddenly reared up, directing her spell at Nessarose's feet.

"Am-bu-lahn-dah-re, Pah-to pah-poot Am-bu-lahn-das-ca Cal-da-pess . . . "

An overwhelming burning scorched her ankles, traveling up her legs as if it were a snake. Nessaroses's shoes, to her horror, began to emanate red light. "Ahhh!" She screamed involuntarily. "My shoes; they're on fire! Elphaba!"

And Elphaba finished her spell, leaning forward, putting her all into her chanting.

"Lau-fen-ah-to, Lau-fen-ah tum, Pe-de pe-de Cal-da-pess . . . "

Nessarose, before she knew what she was doing, began to stand.

She hadn't done it voluntarily; as the magic faded away it had willed her to her feet . . . pushing her up, away from her chair, and Nessarose stood, if only for a moment . . . losing her balance, twisting both ankles as her knees buckled and she fell forward, much like a baby calf who had never used its legs before in its life. Elphaba rushed to her side, holding onto her shoulder.

Nessarose was panting. She could not believe it.

She could walk.

"Finally," Elphaba said, coming out of her trance. "I've done what I should have, long ago. Finally . . ." she brought her hands up, in front of her face, "from these powers . . . " she stared at her own palms, her fingers spread, as if she could not control them. "Something good."

Nessarose couldn't think. She was overwhelmed. She could walk! She was beautiful . . . and she could walk! Why, she . . . her problems, all of her problems were solved! Instantly, the little Nessarose from Shiz University filled her insides and she smiled, drunk with power. She pushed herself off of the ground and struggled to her feet; she fell forward, and Elphaba clutched her arm, steadying her, but Nessarose shrugged her off, roughly. She was done relying on others. She had sworn this.

"No," she said. "Don't help me." For once, don't help me . . .

Getting to her feet, wobbly, but surely, she did what her first impulse told her to do: she called for Boq.

"Boq!" She yelled, ringing the bell that was his cue, then sitting back in her velvet chair. Elphaba panicked; her head darted around in all directions.

"Nessa, no! He mustn't know I'm here!"

But it was too late. Boq had entered. Elphaba froze.

"What is it, Madame?" Boq immediately noticed Elphaba, and he almost doubled back in fear; in shock. "Y-You!" He exclaimed, picking up a knife that had been resting on a nearby table and pointing it at her, inching closer. "What are you doing here? You stay back!"

"Boq, it's just me, you fool!" Elphaba hissed, holding her hands out in front of her, desperately trying to reason with him. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

"No! Don't LIE! That's all you ever do - you and your sister. She's as wicked as you are," Boq accused, the knife in his hand shaking, his eyes darting from Elphaba to Nessarose, pointing it at the younger Thropp. "She's responsible for the little that's left of my life," Boq continued. "Ever since she took power, she's been stripping the Munchkins of their rights . . ." He looked at Elphaba again, who hadn't moved. "And do you know WHY?"

Elphaba didn't answer.

" . . . To keep you here. With me," Nessarose cut in softly, interrupting him. Elphaba looked at her sister, puzzled, her brows furrowed above her lost eyes. "But none of that matters anymore," she continued, believing every word. "Look."

And, slowly, she rose to her feet.

Boq, too stunned to speak, dropped the knife. It made a panging sound against the wooden floor, and Nessarose felt as though she might burst with satisfaction.

"Y. . ." He looked to Elphaba. "You did this for her?"

"For both of us," Nessarose said, gently, moving forward before Elphaba could answer.

Boq suddenly smiled. It was the first smile Nessarose had ever seen on his face since the Ozdust Ball, and, in that moment, she knew she had triumphed at last. At last!

"Nessa," he said, grasping her hands as he stepped forward. "This changes everything."

"I know," Nessarose purred. Finally. She was getting what she wanted. She could walk. She was an equal.

"Surely now, I won't matter to you, Nessa . . . and you won't mind my leaving here tonight."

Nessarose couldn't believe what she had just heard. She jerked her hands away. "What? Leaving?"

"Yes . . . Glinda. Fiyero. That ball. She's engaged."

Nessarose felt so shaky at that name that she almost went numb.

"Glinda."

"Yes, that's right. Nessa, I've got to appeal to her. I've got to tell her how I feel."

This could not be . . .

"I lost my heart to her the moment I saw her, Nessa," Boq continued, sadly. He grasped her hands again, brought them close to him, and looked her in the eyes.

"You know that."

Nessarose could not speak, she could only see white dance before her eyes. Her lip quivered, but not in sadness. She looked at him; at Elphaba, who still hadn't moved an inch from her spot. Her sister did nothing but stare back, uneasily, unmoving.

"But it doesn't matter," he tried again, shaking her hands, trying to cheer her up. "You can walk now! Why should I matter to you?"

Boq was still leaving her.

Nessarose could walk.

And Boq was still leaving her.

Stripped of equality a moment after gaining it.

She could walk, and it did not matter.

She felt her breathing become heavier, and it came in spurts . . . in brisk, heavy spurts, as though she couldn't control it. Her elegant chest began to heave with emotion, and she curled her lip, lowering her head in a very Elphaba-like manner, hunching her shoulders as she spit out her next words.

"Lost your heart?" She hissed, lowly, glaring at Boq, willing him to obey her with every fiber of her being. "Well . . . we'll SEE about THAT."

She jerked away and strode toward Elphaba, pushing her out of the way, dropping down in front of the open spell book. She flipped to a random page and readied her palms, staring at the foreign words on the page.

"Did you think I'd let you leave me here flat?" She hissed, staring up at him. Elphaba sped toward her.

"Nessa, no, let him go; do not touch that book!"

Nessarose ignored her. "You're going to lose your heart to me, I tell you!" And she began to chant, reading the words on the page, pointing her palms toward Boq in the same way she remembered Elphaba doing so . . . but the words were difficult, foreign, hard to pronounce . . . this kind of thing took years of practice, even for a natural like Elphaba . . .

"Nessarose!" Elphaba snarled, reaching her and knocking her forward at last. "You're pronouncing them all wrong!"

"AHHHH!" Boq screamed, and then clutched at his chest. It was too late; Elphaba had stopped her sister too late. Nessarose, pushing herself off of the ground with her palms, looked to him, suddenly losing her impulsive rage. "My heart! M . . . y . . . heart . . . "

He sank into her chair, motionless.

Nessarose panicked. What had she done?!

"Elphaba, I . . . d-do something!" She screamed.

"I can't!" Elphaba sneered, getting to her feet and swiping the Grimmerie from the floor. "You cannot reverse a spell once it's been cast!"

It was all happening too quickly; Nessarose felt everything spinning, and she pushed herself to her feet. Oh, she had killed Boq. She had killed him. She had gone too far; she had no idea how to handle things on her own . . . no idea how to seize charge! Nobody had ever given her a chance, and she had too much of one now!

"So what do we do?!" She asked, panicked. Elphaba always knew what to do, but Nessa never did, she never would; she had never been given the opportunity before. Angry, desperate, not wanting to accept herself as a killer, she remembered her father's disposition toward magic and felt as though she could have never used it more . . . it was a filthy art, used only for blackness, only to lie, cheat, steal and harm . . . it was dangerous, and Elphaba would do well never to use it . . .

"This is all your fault," Nessarose said, pointing an accusatory finger at her sister, who was standing over Boq, stiff and stoic. "If you hadn't shown me that HORRENDIBLE book- " I would have been able to control myself . . . I would have never dabbled into my magical side . . . ever . . . I have betrayed father and all he ever taught . . . I have killed Boq, my Boq, the only one I've ever loved . . . and it was all because I was too weak to resist the magic Elphaba had shoved in my face . . .

Truly, she didn't blame Elphaba. But she had never learned how to blame herself.

"QUIET, will you?" Elphaba hissed, her face angry, and then she lowered her voice - softened her features. "I have to find another spell," she said. "Something that might work." She sounded doubtful, but she wheeled Boq behind the wardrobe anyhow . . . out of sight . . . and Nessarose, choking back tears, closed her eyes. She heard Elphaba begin to chant again.

"Save him . . . oh, please . . . just save him . . . my poor Boq . . . "

It was suddenly all she cared about. She wanted nothing more than for him to live. She loved him. She hated herself so, but she loved him. She did not care if she didn't live for another second; she didn't want Boq to die at her own hands.

"Boq . . . " Nessarose choked on her words, finally submitting to her tears. "Don't leave me . . . don't leave me until my sorry life has ceased," she spat out these words, thinking of her own face in the mirror, her own, pathetic, sorry face, drenched with darkness and age and bitterness . . . not beautiful, never beautiful, far from beautiful . . . "just the GIRL in the mirror . . . " the Wicked Witch of the East . . . "Yes, oh yes . . . we deserve each other . . . the girl in the mirror and I . . . "

She closed her eyes and squeezed another angry tear from her iris, shaking her head. What of her life . . . what of her choices . . . she deserved her title, right down the very last syllable.

Elphaba reappeared, as silent as a stalking tigeress, looking solemn, her book tucked beneath her arm. Nessarose looked up at her, feeling pathetic.

She had lost.

"Well? What of his heart?"

"He won't need one now," Elphaba answered simply.

Nessarose didn't understand, but she accepted it anyhow.

"I have to go now, Nessarose." Elphaba pulled her to her feet; stared at her over the crow of her pointed nose. "I have business to attend to in the Emerald City."

And with that, she began to leave.

Nessarose reached for her. Not Elphaba too. Please, someone . . . she couldn't be alone any longer . . .

"Elphaba, don't leave me, please don't leave me!" She begged, hysterical. She had just gotten her back.

Elphaba turned around, gripping Nessarose's wrist, arching her neck to look her dead in the eyes. "Nessa, listen to me. I've done everything I could for you, and it hasn't been enough." She paused; watched as another large tear fell down Nessarose's cheek. " . . . Nothing ever will be."

Nessarose wanted to say it wasn't true, to tell her that she had had her all along, had love all along in her sister, equality in her sister's eyes, and that she just had been too blind to realize . . . that nothing else would matter if Elphaba would just come home . . . but she couldn't bring herself to speak, only whimper, and Elphaba slowly pulled away, letting her grip linger as she walked out of the door . . .

"Elphaba, wait!" Nessarose reached for her. "Elphaba!"

But silence filled the manor once more; Elphaba was gone.

Nessarose stood, alone, shaking . . . her red shoes glimmering like blood rubies . . . well . . . what could she do next?

She suddenly heard stirring behind her, in the chair, and looked, remembering Boq was still there. He's alive. He was alive.

"What . . . happened?" He asked in a sleepy voice, still out of view.

"You just fell asleep," Nessarose said, looking to the floor at her lie, tired and broken but relieved that he was alive. She didn't want Boq to leave her too.

"I . . don't rem- AHH!" He shrieked, and Nessarose whipped around. She grew wide eyed at the sight. It was not Boq who was standing there in front of her; it was a Tin Woodsman, his arm outstretched as he stared at himself, unbelieving . . . horrified . . . he fell backwards, he began to run, still shrieking . . . "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?" He screamed as he fled, and Nessarose tried to go after him, but fell against the table, realizing she had already lost . . . doubled over in pain . . .

"It wasn't me, Boq; it was Elphaba!" She yelled after him through her sobs. "It was Elphaba . . . "

But she let him go, for she deserved nothing . . . nothing but the girl in the mirror . . .