'Just a spoonful of sugar...' Sorry...I had to. :-)

So...I'm feeling kind of needy, and my external locus of self-esteem wants you to review. I think you're out there, because this story gets hits, but I haven't heard from you. Or most of you. That's all. No more pressure. :-)

Enjoy.

Chapter 10

By nearly lunch time, when Fiyero still could not find Elphaba, he was starting to worry. He'd woken to find her missing, and assumed she'd gotten up early and gone for a walk. She tended to do that, since her sleep habits had never been exactly normal. However, when she hadn't returned for breakfast, he'd started to be concerned. Now, hours had passed with no sign of her. She'd left no note, no word, and he had no idea where she might've disappeared to. So Fiyero struggled with what to do. There was a time when this would've been very typical of Elphaba. However, it had been so long since she'd been quite this obsessed, this focused on something, that it now seemed a touch out of character. On all her recent trips into Oz, she had made sure he knew where she was going. She'd at least said goodbye.

Still, Fiyero went about his morning chores, trying keep his mind from worrying. He chopped firewood for a bit with Wilbur, but he could tell was distracted. So after checking with Trudy for about the tenth time, he decided to head across to the big house and see if she might've shown up there. If Elphaba was onto some sort of discovery, it would be like her to start talking to Mae or Tessy and forget that she'd left him alone that morning.

Walking through the farmyard at Mae's house, he noted that his younger children were all there, playing with sticks and a ball of twine. The older girls were trying to keep the little ones out of the mud, with little success. Smiling at them, Fiyero climbed the steps and entered the kitchen. Mae was at the kitchen counter prepping vegetables for a stew.

Seeing him, she said, "Everything all right? I thought you'd be out getting firewood with the others…"

Fiyero sighed, "I was, and I would be, but…I can't seem to find my wife."

Mae gave him a smile, "You mean your sorceress-turned-veterinarian who leaps between worlds and tends to come as go as she very well pleases?"

Fiyero smiled in spite of himself, "Yes…the green one."

Mae wiped her hands on a towel and said, "You know she'll be back. And you know you probably aren't going to figure out where she went."

Fiyero ran a hand through his wiry hair, "I know…she just…usually doesn't vanish for this long without telling someone where she's gone…"

Mae gave him an understanding look, "That's true…and maybe she did tell someone. Maybe Mary? Isn't she supposed to be part of this new plan Elphaba has?"

Fiyero chuckled, "I think that might be true…in theory. If they could get along."

Mae laughed, "Well, keep looking. If she's not back by sundown, we'll worry."

Fiyero nodded, and then began to make his way somewhat haphazardly through the big, farm house. He looked in the parlor and the sitting room, wondering if Elphaba might've wanted a solitary place to read. He checked the rarely-used formal dining room. Then, he glanced into the study. Mary and Dorothy were inside, working through some arithmetic.

"Can I play with the others after this is done, Mary Poppins? Please?" Dorothy was asking.

"Yes, but you best focus on your work right now or you'll be all day finishing it," Mary chirped.

Fiyero watched their interaction, and considered Mary. He hadn't paid her much attention, since she'd arrived. He knew that Elphaba had brought her, thinking she was important to her work in Oz. He knew that Emily had asked her to help Dorothy with her studies, while she was staying with them. Still, he hadn't really talked to her, since she didn't seem one to bother with idle chit chat. Now, he wondered what exactly had made Mary agree to help Elphaba, or if she'd even agreed at all. He wondered what the two of them could possibly have in common.

I suppose, being children of both worlds… he told himself, but, if that means they're related, I don't see it…

Fiyero could see the resemblance between Elphaba and Mae. In spite of the green, they favored each other. They could both quirk up an eyebrow in the same expression. Mae's silver-streaked hair had clearly once been very dark, and full of heavy curls. Their eyes were the same, if you looked closely. Even Dorothy had a family resemblance. The strong jaw, the piercing eyes, they were enough to point to a shared bloodline. But Mary, Fiyero noticed, was entirely different. She had a soft, delicate prettiness that was far from ordinary, but not quite unique enough to call her gorgeous. She wasn't bubbly, made over, and pouty-lipped like many of the girls he remembered from the Emerald City. She looked both very young, and very wise, at the same time. She was graceful and feminine, but she wasn't a slight person, either. She fit her clothes well, and she was as tall as Elphaba. She was polished, coiffed, and perfectly put together. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Fiyero decided that perfect might be the word for her. If he had to pick an example of a perfect lady, solely on looks and manners, Mary was it. He would never admit it to Elphaba, though, because he loved her and all the chaos she caused.

Now, he cleared his throat and addressed Mary, "I was wondering, have you seen Fae? Elphaba?"

Mary cocked her head, "No. Not as of late."

"She's taken off, no doubt on one of her crazy…"

Fiyero was cut off by Mae calling from the kitchen, "Fiyero! I've found her!"

With a smile of relief, Fiyero gave Mary a nod. She turned back to Dorothy, who'd just finished her arithmetic.

Fiyero headed back into the kitchen. Crossing through the living room, he found Elphaba leaning on a kitchen chair, talking excitedly to Mae.

She clutched her broom in her right hand as she said, "I've really done it! It really does work, and I truly can fly! You have no idea what this means! There's most likely no end to the things I can do, now…"

Mae gave her a knowing smile, and then Elphaba saw Fiyero.

"Yero! It works. My spell works!"

He crossed to her, and noticed she was trembling. He started to suggest that she should sit down and tell them the whole story, when Mary and Dorothy came into the room. Dorothy had finished her work and bounded out the door to play with the other children. As Mary crossed the room, Elphaba went to her. Her earlier animosity was clearly overshadowed by the experience of flight. She handed the broom to Mae as she went.

"Your spell-word," she said to Mary, "it is just for you! It's…a spell language, I think. There are so many possibilities in it! It's so much more complicated than I…"

Mary looked genuinely interested, as she came closer to Elphaba.

Elphaba stepped within a few feet of Mary, in front of the sofa, and suddenly struggled, "I…think…I think that…"

Suddenly, the trembling increased. Elphaba paled slightly, and she put her hands on her face as she tried to speak. Then, she dropped in a dead faint. Seeing that she was the only thing between Elphaba and the very hard floor, Mary reached out and caught her. Then, she held her limp form with a look of surprise while Fiyero and Mae rushed over. Fiyero carefully lifted Elphaba from Mary's arms, noting Mary looked genuinely concerned.

As he laid her on the sofa, Mae asked, "Is it another one?" referring to Elphaba's paroxysm.

Fiyero sighed, "Most likely. I'm going to assume that flying around Oz for hours is not a low-stress activity?"

"I would say not," Mary interjected softly.

"She'll be all right," Mae said knowingly, "we'll just give her time…"

"I know," Fiyero sighed, "I just hate when she pushes this hard."

Mary took a step back and let Mae cover Elphaba's trembling form with a blanket. Then, she asked, "What troubles her?"

"This happens to her, when she works too hard and doesn't sleep. Or if she lets herself get emotionally overwhelmed. She had a head injury a long time ago…" Fiyero tried to explain, "but I wouldn't press the issue with her, when she wakes. She hates having this weakness. And her story…is hard for her to tell…"

Mary's expression was strange for a moment, and then she reset her features into calm confidence. In her eyes, there was a touch of compassion. Leaving the room for a few moments, she scurried up the stairs, and then returned with what looked like a bottle of medication. She crossed back to the sofa where Elphaba lay.

Looking at the deep green, apothecary bottle in Mary's hands, Mae said, "I don't think medicine will help. She's not ill…it's something in her head."

Mary gave a little smile, and said, "This is not just any medication, though. In my experience, it has quite a calming effect."

"I suppose it won't hurt," Mae conceded.

"What's in it?" Fiyero demanded.

Mary turned to him, "That's for me to know. But rest assured, it's safe, even for children."

When there were no other arguments, Mary produced a spoon and poured a small amount of the thick liquid into it. It was clear, without smell or color. Fiyero helped Elphaba sit up, and got her to focus as best she could on him for a moment. When the trembling had subsided just a little, he took the spoon from Mary and helped Elphaba drink. Then, he lay her back down.

To Mae and Fiyero's surprise, after just a few quiet minutes, the trembling eased up. Elphaba, clearly relieved, gave Fiyero a groggy, incoherent smile before falling into the deep sleep that usually followed one of her fits. This time, however, she looked much more at ease than was typical in this situation. Satisfied, Mary put the cork back in her bottle of elixir and started to walk away. She did not appear to expect thanks, or even recognition. It was simply a job completed.

Fiyero stood and stopped her, though, and asked again, "What exactly is that?"

Mary held up the bottle, which read simply Miracle Elixir.

Looking at it, Fiyero felt a twinge of familiarity, as though he should recognize the tonic. He couldn't place it, however. So he asked, "Is it from Oz?"

"Yes," Mary said curtly.

"And you don't know what's in it?" he asked again.

Mary gave him a knowing look, "No, I said what's in it is for me to know," she started back up the stairs, and then threw back, "And perhaps for Miss Elphaba to know, when she wakes."

For the briefest moment, Fiyero finally saw a fleeting similarity between Mary and Elphaba. Then, it vanished as Mary put her chin in the air and ascended the stairs.

Later that evening, Bert drug himself in from his work. He'd been helping Wilbur and the others prepare the fields for winter, so they would be fertile come spring. Having been born and raised in the city, he'd never considered how much work it took just to wrestle food from the ground. He had no idea it was necessary to start in the cold of winter, in order to have a good harvest. Still, it was work, and Bert enjoyed being kept busy. He liked working with his hands and seeing a job completed. It was enough, for him.

As he made his way back to the farmhouse, he understood that there was something distinctly different about this job, however. At the end of every day, Mary was there. Unlike in London, where he never knew if he might catch her in the park, or see her up on the roofs in the winter, he now knew where she was. He knew that when the work was done each day, she would be in the kitchen helping Mae, or making Dorothy wash up for dinner. It made his heart lighter and his step quicker as he came in after a long day.

That evening, however, the scene in the big farmhouse was more chaotic than usual. Mae was preparing dinner, with the help of Tessy, as usual, but the room was full of children. The older ones were at the table, drawing with pencils, while the younger ones were playing with several dolls and some wooden blocks. The children were a palette for all the colors of skin, from very dark, like Fiyero, to very pale. Bert assumed this must be Fiyero's adopted family that he'd yet to officially meet. Dorothy was also among them, trying to show the youngest little girl how to properly swaddle a baby doll. Glancing around, Bert found what might be the reason for the chaos.

Elphaba was sitting on the sofa, looking quite pale. She was wrapped in a quilt, with a cup of tea in her hands. Fiyero sat next to her, looking concerned. Mary tended them, bringing Elphaba more tea without a word. Elphaba looked too tired to either protest or offer thanks. Fiyero looked around then, realizing his children were causing chaos amidst the dinner preparations.

"I suppose I need to see them home. They've enjoyed this extra playtime, but Trudy will be wondering where they are," Fiyero stated.

Mary set the teapot on the stove and addressed him from across the room, saying, "No need. I'll take them. It's just a bit of walk to your house, and it's not yet too cold."

Fiyero gave her a grateful smile, "Thank you…Trudy will be expecting them for dinner. And I'm sorry that they're a bit worked up…"

"Not to worry," Mary chimed.

She opened one of the kitchen cabinets and produced the same bottle of elixir from earlier in the day. Taking it and crossing to the center of the living room, she snapped her fingers. Surprisingly, the children all turned to look at Mary. Using the same spell she'd shown Elphaba a few nights previous, she waved her hand in the air and produced a shower of glowing sparks. The bits of light covered the children momentarily before disappearing, transfixing them. Then, snapped her fingers again.

"Up from the floor, all of you," Mary ordered cheerily, "it's time to go home and we've no time to waste. Dinner is waiting."

There was some groaning, and clearly some of the little ones had lost their patience with the toys. Anticipating their general fussiness, Mary added, "And you'll all have a spoonful of this before you go."

"But we're not sick!" little Molly argued, pouting.

"Aye, but you do like sweet dreams, don't you?" Mary asked.

Molly nodded.

"Then you'll take your medicine and go to dinner without a fuss."

The children gathered around her then, curious if nothing else. One by one, Mary gave them each a spoonful of the elixir. Bert watched knowingly, having seen this done many times. Hesitant, at first, the children began to express their pleasure and wonderment over the unusual tonic.

"It tastes like fresh strawberries!" Elizabeth, who was eight, exclaimed.

"No…it's peach ice cream," her older sister, Edy, argued.

At little Molly's turn, she said, "Sugar apples…"

One by one, they each took their turn. They enjoyed the magic of the flavors, but Bert also noticed that it seemed to calm them. The frowning and whining ceased, and they all gathered their toys and followed Mary out the door. The other adults watched, amazed. Bert, shaking his head and smiling, went to wash his hands in the washbasin. As he finished, Fiyero came to fetch the sugar for Elphaba's tea.

Before he walked away, he asked, "Is this something you've seen Mary do before?"

"What? The magic?" Bert asked, "All the time."

"No," Fiyero corrected, "The elixir."

Drying his hands, Bert understood Fiyero's uncertainty, "Yes. And it seems safe. But I can't tell you what's in it. She won't even tell me."

Fiyero smiled his appreciation, "Well, it certainly seemed to help Fae…"

Bert glanced over at Elphaba and asked, "Is she all right? Did something 'appen?"

Fiyero sighed, "Yes and no. I believe she's found her wings, so to speak. She worked out the spell that was troubling her, and she flew. And it was a bit much…for her. She has fits, sometimes…like a seizure. It's a long story…"

"I understand," Bert was compassionate, "And I'm glad Mary's tonic did some good. I've never really known exactly what it can do…"

"Well, once Fae gets back on her feet, she'll drag it out of Mary, if she can," Fiyero chuckled.

"Good luck to Elphaba," Bert smiled in return.

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, as though they'd just found a bit of common ground. Then, Fiyero took Elphaba the sugar. Bert offered to help Tessy set the table, and insisted that she sit down and rest. As he pulled out her chair and offered to bring her some milk, Mary came back into the kitchen.

Observing him, she threw out, "You've always been quite the gentleman, Bert. It's one of the things I admire most about you."

Bert looked up, his eyes locked on Mary with obvious adoration, as he said, "Why thank you, Mary."

It was clear to everyone in the room, in that moment, that he was absolutely smitten with her. Up to this point, some of them might've guessed it, or wondered how he felt. Some, like Fiyero, might've been clueless. They might've wondered why he would travel from London just to find Mary. His face gave him away in that moment, however. His incredibly transparent feelings were obvious to everyone. Still, no one said anything.

Crossing to the couch with her bottle of elixir and a spoon, Mary sat next to Elphaba and ordered cheerily, "Open. You need another dose, I think."

Elphaba looked at her sharply, alarmed.

"It's okay," Fiyero soothed, "this is what brought you out of the paroxysm earlier."

Looking incredulous, Elphaba stared at Mary as she poured another spoonful of the tonic and held it in front of her. The green woman, still apprehensive, said, "How do I know you're not trying to kill me?"

Mary laughed a musical little laugh, "If I wanted to kill you, perhaps I'd set you on fire. There are much simpler ways, for that. And you've just seen me give this tonic to the children."

Too tired to argue further, Elphaba took the spoon and downed the clear liquid. After swallowing, she said, "It takes like whiskey, with honey…and wild blackberries…"

Mary cocked her head, "Interesting…"

"Meaning?" Elphaba couldn't let it go.

Corking the bottle, Mary said, "Well, it's different for everyone. For the children, it's mostly sweet, but for adults…you never know what it will taste like."

"Can I see it?" Elphaba held out her hand for the bottle.

Looking quite uncertain, Mary considered for a moment before letting Elphaba hold the bottle.

Elphaba turned it over in her hands, surprised at the weight of it. Bert watched her reaction as she turned it around and read the label. Then, Elphaba's face went pale. She didn't say anything for a long time.

When she finally spoke, she whispered, "I just don't understand…how?"

"How what?" Mary asked.

"How did you ever find this?"

Mary looked a little surprised, "It's quite common, in the parts of Oz I visit. There's a small town, just outside the forest, and the apothecaries sell it. One of them taught me how to mix it, but I did add my own touch of magic to it."

Elphaba stared at the bottle for another long minute, "I just never imagined…I always thought it was so rare…"

"You've seen this?" Mary asked.

Elphaba nodded, and then rubbed at her temples. Seeing her getting worked up again, Fiyero stepped in. Bert watched as he put an arm around Elphaba and said, "Fae…you should eat. You need dinner and rest. I think you've had enough discoveries for today."

Elphaba looked at him and frowned. Bert could see that she wanted to question Mary further. But he could also see how Fiyero influenced her. He could see that Elphaba, for all her fiery strength, melted in his presence. She loved him, thoroughly, and she trusted him. Their connection was almost palpable, and Bert was momentarily jealous. For one of the few times in his life, he wished he'd made more of his life, so that he might have a chance at that type of real, lasting relationship. If he was better educated, or better looking, or more consistently employed, perhaps Mary would consider him. He shook it off, though, knowing that following that line of thinking would only make him melancholy.

Conceding to Fiyero, Elphaba was silent. Mary put away the elixir, and they all went to the table when Mae proclaimed that dinner was ready.

Later that night, when the dishes were cleared and nearly everyone was heading to bed, Bert took a cup of coffee to the kitchen table. Spooning sugar into the hot liquid, he glanced at Elphaba, who had returned to the sofa. Fiyero had gone to check on the children, promising to be back to get Elphaba shortly. She was now staring at the fire, lost in her own thoughts. After another moment, Mary returned from making sure Dorothy was in bed. Dorothy enjoyed the thick, heavy books Mary read to her, which was something Emily and Henry couldn't do.

Now, Bert watched as Mary went quietly to the sitting area and sat in the chair across from Elphaba. She didn't say anything for quite some time. For one of the rare times in their relationship, Bert saw Mary struggle. He saw her try to find words, and hesitate a little with what she wanted to say. It reminded him of all the times they'd had to say goodbye over the years, and it saddened him a little.

Glancing at Mary, Elphaba said, "Yes?"

Mary took a breath, "So you've figured out the spell, have you?"

Elphaba, silently calling a truce between them, answered, "Yes…and more than just one spell, I think. I believe we both have a language…for spells."

"So, you've decided I'm not a liar?" Mary asked sharply.

Elphaba bit her lip, "I suppose. Although I still think you often know more than you're telling anyone."

"Not everyone needs to know everything, Miss Elphaba. It takes the magic out of life."

Elphaba snorted, "I prefer things to be transparent, I suppose. I always want to…know. And there's been very few secrets in my life that haven't ended...badly."

Mary looked at her hands, "I can understand that, perhaps."

"My spell isn't the same as yours," Elphaba went on, "it's entirely different."

"That makes a great deal of sense," Mary offered.

"So," Elphaba started, "we're equals, now. As far as the book is concerned, anyway. It chose both of us. So I'll ask again…will you help me?"

"I don't know that you really need me, Miss Elphaba."

Elphaba met her eyes, "I still think there are things you can teach me."

Mary looked at her for a long time, as though weighing her next move carefully. Finally, she crossed to the kitchen and retrieved her bottle of elixir once again. Coming back to the sofa, she sat down with it in her lap. Then, she began to talk.

"This really is very common, at least in the small part of Oz I've seen. It's sometimes called other things, but the recipe is the same. Most apothecaries can make it. It's essentially Ozian poppy seeds, crushed, with a few other roots and some simple syrup. It's used for pain, or madness, or general irritability. It calms a person, or produces euphoria. The reaction is very individual. My touch of magic, however, gives it the flavors. I intended just to make it more palatable, but somehow, I personalized it. The spell makes it cater to each person, if you will. I never know just what it will taste like, exactly…"

Mary stopped then, as though just explaining that much bothered her.

Elphaba looked at her, feeling a little more of the hostility slipping away, and said, "Have you ever asked yourself…what is it about the person that determines the flavor?"

Mary cocked her head, "I've always thought it was based on your preference."

Elphaba thought for a moment, and then asked, "What does it taste like, to you?"

"It used to taste like candied cherries…extra sweet. But now, it's always rum punch," Mary said quietly.

Ever the analyst, Elphaba thought about it. Then, having a sudden realization, she looked to Bert, "Come here," she called, "and bring a spoon."

Without asking, Elphaba took the bottle from Mary. When Bert joined them in the sitting area, she poured a bit into his spoon and ordered, "Taste this."

Bert complied, having tried it before. Elphaba and Mary looked at him expectantly, and he said, "It's ginger tea, but a bit weak for my liking."

Elphaba sat back and looked thoughtful. Mary capped the bottle and returned it the kitchen, and Bert looked uncertain.

Eventually, Elphaba said, "Perhaps the spell isn't just picking up on our preferences. Maybe…it's more personal than that. Maybe, it's like your tape measure, Mary. Was it the same spell?"

"Similar, yes," Mary whispered.

Elphaba smiled, "After all, Bert, you do tend to be a bit timid…and ginger tends to waffle between strength and sweetness…it's not sure what it wants to be…"

He looked a little wounded, but couldn't argue.

"And whiskey is strong, bitter, and hard to take," Mary offered to Elphaba, somewhat in Bert's defense, "not many people can stomach it."

Elphaba met Mary's eyes, "Rum punch is sweet and light, at first..."

"Blackberries and honey are sweet, but wild and hard to get at…" Mary countered.

"Rum is strong, and cuts the sweet with bitterness," Elphaba threw back.

They were all quiet for a moment then, considering the implications.

Eventually, Bert got up to wash the spoon and clean his coffee cup. Mary cleared the tea cup from in front of Elphaba. She crossed to the kitchen, where Bert took it from her to wash it. When he reached for the cup, he bumped her arm, and she flinched. Stepping into the shadows of the darkened kitchen, Mary fiddled with the sleeve of her shirtwaist for a moment.

As he was about to cross back to the sofa, Mary's hesitation caught Bert's attention. Glancing over at just the right moment, he could see that she had pulled her sleeve up to reveal her right forearm. It was discolored with several dark, ugly bruises.

Unable to temper his reaction, Bert said, "What on earth, Mary?"

Whipping around, she stepped just far enough into the light so that Elphaba could see her arm as well. Embarrassed, Mary quickly buttoned her cuff and crossed the room stoically. Without another word, she headed for the stairs, as though to go to bed, but Elphaba stopped her.

"Wait," she said carefully.

Mary stopped with her back to Elphaba.

"I did that to you, didn't I?" Elphaba asked.

"It's no matter, Miss Elphaba. It was unintentional."

"Still, I didn't think I grabbed you that tightly…"

Mary sighed and turned for a moment, her hand on the banister. After a long, quiet moment, she spoke, and there was something very different in her voice, "People were not meant to be born of two worlds, Miss Elphaba. You and young Dorothy think it such a fanciful thing to be, but we are not normal. You are green. And I…I am more fragile than I'd like to admit. And I'd appreciate you keeping this to yourself."

Elphaba, caught off guard by the sincere honesty and the sadness in the statement, just nodded. Then, Mary hurried up the stairs without looking back.

After a long time, Elphaba mused aloud, "Considering my mother…and the Wizard…I always thought it was the elixir that made me…but maybe it's just the result of being what we are…"

Bert wasn't exactly sure what she meant, and he didn't have time to ask. Fiyero returned then to take Elphaba home. Refusing to let her walk such a long way, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out the door. It was sweet and, once again, he felt a twinge of jealousy. Bert watched them go, and then looked up the stairs, where Mary had disappeared.

He, more than Elphaba, was struck by what Mary had said. Whereas Elphaba might've learned something about herself, Bert had learned something about Mary. Never before had he heard her be so brutally, openly honest. No one else had ever been able to get her to speak so personally, or to admit weakness. Bert was glad to see her humanity, because he'd always longed to really know her. However, he was troubled as well. He began to wonder what Elphaba had planned for them. He wondered if he really wanted to see Mary without the veil of sugar and light. He wondered what waited for them, in Oz, and how it might change them. There was excitement and uncertainty, anticipation and fear, as he climbed the steps to bed.