Dear Readers,

I tried to be a little quick about this one - and I suppose I'm ahead of my expected completion time by a few hours. I'll take it. I would like to once again thank Hobbit Babe, Fauna Greywolf, and Tori7 for their reviews. I'm very grateful for your continued support and hope that you, and everyone out there, will enjoy this chapter. Please note that no guarantees are made or implied by this chapter ;). Thank you all once again! Please enjoy!

-H.C. Glennteade

Despite his crown, his kingdom, and all of his power, Scarecrow was the most useless creature in all of Oz, or at least in his mind he was. What else could he consider himself? Beyond the closed door, Glinda and all of her magical knowledge was trying to assist the best apothecaries in Oz in finding a remedy for Dorothy - anything that might save her life.

And there he sat, waiting for the smallest shred of news. The king didn't know how long he had been there for, though it felt like a much longer span of time than he had ever spent in his cornfield. His solitude did not help matters much, either, but Tin Man's ever-sensitive heart could simply not bear being there, and so the Lion, who despite his courageousness could not endure the anguish either, volunteered to go with him to clear their heads.

How desperately he wanted to empty his own mind, but the events of that evening could not escape him and the scarecrow would not dare leave. The night had started off so wonderfully: the Emerald City was so delighted to see her, the air was so jovial and not a thing in the world could dampen the town's spirit. But something did. Everyone's greatest fear came true, the Wicked Witch came back with vengeance. Scarecrow could almost understand why she would do so, even if he couldn't fully comprehend that she was still alive. What he just couldn't fathom, however, was why Dorothy, his sweet and angelic friend, would risk her own life to save him and his advisors. Of course, the king knew that it was the girl's nature to do such a thing, and decided the better question to ponder was why she would do it.

She had just come back from a place so far away, as Scarecrow had always secretly wished she would. He got his wish, and could not have felt any more miserable. He had wanted Dorothy to find safety and happiness in Oz, and companionship with friends that had truly cared about her. And now, the only thing the land had been able to give her was pain, and perhaps even death. Why did she have to risk her life for a man of straw, a man of tin, and a lion? Surely she was worth more than all three of them combined, and yet she was the one lying in bed dying and they were the ones mourning for her.

What he wouldn't give to make her well again. Scarecrow would willingly surrender his happiness, his life, even his kingdom. How could he ever rule his lands again, anyway? From the very beginning, the king found his happiness and strength in the possibility that wherever Dorothy was, she was happy. When she had returned, Scarecrow had grown confident that he could become one of the greatest kings there ever was, with the Good Witch of the West's guidance and inspiration. But if the unthinkable happened - if his dear friend died - what would be left to motivate him? Dorothy was the one who accepted him for what he was, and who was the reason that he became king. Scarecrow owed every good thing that had ever happened to him to the girl. Nothing would be the same without her. For him, there would be nothing without her.

His mind spinning like a wheel, the scarecrow did not notice Glinda come through the once-closed door until she stood before him.

"Is she-?" Scarecrow dared to ask before being cut off.

"No, no," the Good Witch of the West responded hastily after seeing the look of terror on the king's face. "She hasn't woken up yet," she added more somberly, "but we've done everything we can. The only thing left to do is hope."

The king was impacted hard with the reality of it all. "What is it that's hurting her?" He managed to ask.

"Well, you see," Glinda sighed, "the spell that the Wicked Witch used was very powerful. Any harm done to the physical body may have been doom for dear Lion, but would have little effect on yourself or Tin Man, and so she tried something that would be able to work on all of you at once." Glinda put her hand on her heart.

"She tried to go after your souls. And Dorothy seemed to step in just in the nick of time with a spell that would reflect the Wicked Witch's back onto her, even if it meant she absorbed some of it. Honestly, Scarecrow, with Dorothy so new to the craft and for the Wicked Witch being as forcible as she was, I would more expect Dorothy to be the one dead and the Wicked Witch to survive it easily. I suppose she had more skill than she knew - more than even I knew. Though, I imagine the worst place Dorothy could have been struck was the soul, and that is why she is in the condition she is in."

The Good Witch of the North's recitation gave Scarecrow a mix of emotions. He had never felt more guilty or more worried, but he had never felt more hatred towards anything than he did for the Wicked Witch of the West at that moment.

"Are you sure she's dead?" The king inquired, not trusting the obvious evidence.

"Very, do not worry about that. There is no way she can ever cause harm to anyone again. I would swear my life on it."

The assuredness of Glinda's reply comforted Scarecrow a bit, but in an attempt to truly attain relief, he posed another question at her. "Dorothy will be fine, won't she?"

The witch could see the concern in Scarecrow's eyes. He loved her so much, she knew, and he would not be able to bear the truth. "Stay with her," she directed, throwing her head in the direction of the open door, "don't leave her side. If anything happens - if you need me - summon me. Never give up hope for her, or she will have no hope left at all."

Something in Glinda's tone of voice made the scarecrow sense an urgency, and so after a quick yet comprehensive thank-you, the two parted ways. Glinda rushed out of the room and Scarecrow hurried in to see Dorothy.

He found the place empty of everyone previously scurrying about, and then recalled the Good Witch's comment of everything being done that possibly could be. He found a seat beside Dorothy's bed and sat down. The picture before him was the most abominable thing he could ever imagine having to absorb.

Before him was his most revered friend, her small figure seemed even smaller, engulfed by the support of the bed like Tin Man's and Lion's arms had supported her earlier. Her breaths were still labored and shallow. Her skin had gone extremely pale, and seemed to even reflect a sickly, greenish tint. It was when he discovered this that Scarecrow silently wished that the same horrendous color that surrounded him didn't exist at all. Dorothy's beautiful brown eyes were hidden away by her eyelids. The king recalled the last time he had seen them open. She was trying to persuade him that everything would be all right. Her eyes had drunk in his image and Dorothy had tried hard to keep her gaze there, but she couldn't, despite her fighting. Could that moment, which now seemed so distant in history, have been their last together? Could those have been the last words the Good Witch of the East ever spoke to Scarecrow? Could that have been the last time their eyes ever met?

The scarecrow tried to recall what Glinda had insisted he do. He could not give up hope for Dorothy. He would have to fight for her. To aid him in his quest, Scarecrow paused for a moment to think.

'What would Dorothy do if she were sitting in this chair, watching the one she loved so much suffer? She'd do anything to help them.'

It was then that Scarecrow tried to recollect how he helped himself in times of despair. He recalled how not long ago, he had stood at the girl's bronzed figure, encouraging himself to continue on when pain had weighed him down so badly.

Leaning closer to the bed he began in much the same way, "Success is failure turned inside out, the silver tint of clouds of doubt. You can never tell how close you are, it may be near when it seems so far."

For a moment, he stopped, wondering if it was any help to tell Dorothy something she couldn't hear. Something inside of him, however, told him it was.

"So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit," he continued, "it's when things seem worse that you must not quit."