AN: I don't own Wicked, but I hope you like what I've done with it.

Chapter 9

The Shepard

Alright, apparently everyone can't survive for a few hours. Fredrick thought watching the panicking throng of servants and contract employees running around the castle like chickens with their heads cut off. None of them were sure what to do: no one could remember which fork went where, the chief wasn't certain how many chickens she needed to cook, and two whole balloons had popped.

"Alright, alright!" he practically screamed at the crowd. They all turned to him, the only one willing to be a shepherd in the flock. "As long as every plate setting is the same, no one will notice, I don't know, a 6 pound chicken serves about 10 people, do the math, extra balloons were bought for a reason." There was a long pause. "Go!" The ones whose tasks he had just outlined scurried out immediately; the others seemed to identify him as "leader." Suddenly there were thousands of questions and inquiries being flung his way. He did his best to give an intelligent answer to each question, but by the end of it he had lost track of exactly how he was answering. After eight hours of chaos his world was spinning, but things were starting to settle down. Of course, a female maid chose that moment to run up to him with intense panic in her eyes.

"We ran out of pink streamers!" she exclaimed almost hyperventilation. If he hadn't been so tired he would have rolled his eyes.

"Try using a different color," he suggested wearily.

"Okay," she nodded, but didn't move.

He sighed, exasperated. "What?"

"What color?"

"Ah, green," he told her, "Glinda likes green."

"Yes of course," she shot off like a bullet.

"Spare me from the brainless," he mumbled under his breath. He glanced at the clock on the wall, the guest were scheduled to arrive in twenty minutes, the appetizers were ready and the main course was being cooked, decorations were perfect, music was set up. Everything was perfect and going smooth… yet something was missing…. yes, something, but what?

Glinda! The host would be a good thing to have, would it not? "You, uh, uh Mary," he motioned a maid over and she obediently darted to him. "Go wake up Glinda and get her dressed."

"Alright, what should I dress her in?" Mary asked.

"I don't know have her pick it," he told her.

"But she doesn't know what the decorations look like and her dress has to match," Mary insisted.

"Her entire wardrobe is pink and all of the decorations are in pink," he pointed out impatiently, "I think she'll match the color scheme."

"But there are so many different shades and I just don't-"

"Oh for goodness sakes, I am male so I have absolutely no idea and, even if I did, can't you figure it out on your own? Do I have to do all the thinking for you?" A small hand landed on his shoulder and his head turned in a jerky motion almost like a nervous twitch. Glinda, fully rested and dressed in an extravagant pink ball gown, had a mischievous glint in her eyes and seemed to be laughing at him just a bit.

"Go on Mary, it's alright," she said and the maid hastily left with a little bow. He turned slowly.

"I am a calm man," he told her taking a deep breath, "mellow. I don't scream, I don't blow up, and I never lose my temper. But, woman, how the heck do you deal with these people? They have no thoughts of their own! They're all like sheep, no their worse than sheep. At least sheep will wander away and graze without anyone telling them to. They just stand there, dumb, waiting for a wolf to come and eat them!"

She waited for a moment after he'd stopped talking, "Finished?"

He took another deep breath, "I think."

"If it helps, you lasted a whole lot longer than most people would," she noted.

"Hmm…." He intoned his gaze perusing her. Her hair was done up in a complicated bun that had to have taken an hour to pin up, females, he thought bemused, with one little strand framing her face. Her makeup was done with an expertise that his very male mind couldn't quite wrap itself around, but he could understand that, unlike most females, she used it to compliment instead of cover, probably because she didn't have anything to cover. As he had guessed, her pink ball gown matched the pink decorations, lo and behold. He examined her attire carefully and found what he was looking for. She wore a green necklace and a matching green clip in the bun that complimented her blond hair very nicely. She raised an eyebrow at him a bit saucily, an expression he was sure most of Oz never saw on her face. All together it was a really good look for her, minus the smile that was of course plastered upon her face. "There is a lot more to you than most people in Oz would think," he commented quietly.

"Thanks," she paused looking up at him for a moment. "I noticed the streamers."

"They ran out of pink and I knew you liked green so I suggested they use that," he told her trying not to preen.

"Yes, I do," she said, "and thank you for taking over for me today. It means a lot."

"You're welcome," he said gently and then they just stared at each other for a few long moments. They didn't speak, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence; it was simply quiet for a long moment. He was going to kiss her, he thought. He was going to lean in and press his lips to hers and she, well, she was going to let him. He could tell. There was just some kind of connection between them that was pulling them closer and closer. He had just begun to lean toward her when a bell went off. Connection broken. She turned her head away.

"That would be the guest arriving," she told him walking away from him.

"Yea," he exhaled hard and followed her out of the room.