(*cries* I love you all. One review I recently read of this stood out in particular to me.

"Oh. My. God. you did not! :O that had to be one of the most intense chapters I have ever read. i'm like...shaking as im typing this.. Wahhhh! SOO MANY FEELS! You better update soon! I don't know how i'll be able to live with the wait for too long!"

Gah. It's reviews like this that give me the courage and the inspiration to continue writing. I love these people, and so I'm going to give a big shoutout to ViCtOrIoUsGaL41882 for such an absolutely lovely review that really made my day.

Now, onwards with this crazy story that I love so much! I still don't own the rights to Oz the Great and Powerful. Just a clarification :P) HERE COMES YOUR AWAIITED OZINDA. It's short. But sweet. Good things don't last in this world.)

Oscar woke from what he had expected to be a very fitful sleep by a lovely sound that he hadn't actually heard since he had left Kansas. The sound was soft and sweet, and unlike some other variations of the particular sound he had heard in his day, this one was a blessing to his ears. He found himself smiling at the pleasant sound.

It was singing.

His mind fumbled over this like a drunken flying monkey trying to catch a banana. Singing. So pretty. If he were a girl, he'd probably sing. Wait. What girl was singing? The Wizard of Oz's eyes flew open to see his still messy bedchambers, and found he had fallen asleep in his tuxedo. Hopping to his feet, he lurched slightly to the doorway, his head spinning from the sudden blood rush. Poking his head out the door, his jaw dropped.

There once had been a very frail looking, pale looking, sick, terrified witch who was trying to quash everything by being stoic about her pains. She could barely look Oscar in the eye. She was growing skinnier by the day, as if eating had lost all value for her. This witch was not the witch Oscar had seen before.

Glinda the Good paused her singing, her lips creasing into the beautiful, gentle smile Oscar had missed in the past week. Gliding towards him, her eyes sparkling with the pure goodness she embodied, she stopped in front of him and curtsied slightly. She did not look terrified, skinny, and pale. This Glinda looked like the quintessence of health. But how could that be?

"Good morning, Wizard," she said, her voice cracking only slightly, as if she had not had anything to drink yet that morning. Oscar was confused, yes. But a tiny nagging voice in his head planted a terrible, growing seed of ideas. Maybe, he thought, maybe the illness and the past few days all together had been a dream? Maybe, he thought, a smile spreading to his face, maybe Glinda was just fine, and nobody was dying, and he was hallucinating severely! That must be it, he confirmed, that was the only plausible explanation.

"Good morning, Glinda," he replied, giving her a little bow in return as a response to her curtsy, which he did have to admit was a bit odd. But, Oscar reasoned, maybe she did that normally. If this had all been a dream, they had kissed yesterday, and that meant...A cocky grin creased his face. He stepped a little closer. As if on cue, a slight shimmer of pink crept up into her cheeks, and she looked up into his eyes, biting on her lip slightly in a way that Oscar found extremely attractive. A feeling of victory filled him. He still had Glinda. Glinda wasn't going to die. She wasn't terrified and logical and scary. Everything was going to be just fine.

On that note, he pressed his lips to hers. She gasped a little, startled, but he could feel her soft, warm lips pull up into a smile before her arms were wrapped gently around his neck and she was kissing him back.

Of course, as if someone had been waiting for this exact moment, a knock thudded violently at the door. Oscar felt like throwing a tantrum worthy of China Girl, who he hadn't seen in a while. His features arranged themselves into an exasperated look as Glinda slowly, awkwardly pulled away from him and putting a few feet of distance between them, her face likened to the color of a torch and her hands obsessively adjusting her dress and her hair, as if the short kiss had somehow tarnished her appearance forever. It was cute, Oscar noticed, and he scowled at whoever was in the door way.

Oscar could barely resist a laugh at the absolute expression of startledness on Finley's mug. Glinda giggled and drifted into her chambers and shut the door, to get changed out of what Oscar belatedly realized was a rather thin, albeit floor length long sleeved nightgown. He berated himself slightly for missing the view, although another part of him internally slapped himself for thinking about taking advantage of Glinda's 'wardrobe malfunction'.

"How-what?" Finley sputtered. Oz chuckled at his expression.

"What do you mean?"

Finley huffed shockedly.

"She wasn't like that yesterday. Yesterday she was babbling about apprentices and attractions-"

Oscar interrupted him, the color draining from his face.

"What? That was real?"

Finley nodded, an expression of solemn awareness creeping over his features.

"I think..."

Oscar prodded him. "You think what?"

"I think Lady's having some memory problems."

(Short, sweet, I'm done for tonight!)