A/N: Finally, an update! I struggled with this chapter, and am still not sure how happy I am with it. Please review and let me know your thoughts! (It also helps to know that folks are still reading...it encourages me to become more disciplined about updating on a regular basis! :))

Note: After posting this, I edited the end...hopefully it's a little better now. :P

Not mine.

He hesitated, suddenly realizing how horribly this could backfire. But he was desperate to disprove Dalik's lie, and he didn't know any other way to do it.

He took a deep breath. "Your mother died giving birth to Nessa. And your father blamed you for her death."

He regretted his words the moment they left him. He wished Glinda's spell had some sort of "rewind" function, to account for his uncanny ability to mess things up, to fail to think things through.

Yet…what could he have done differently, really? What else could he have said to make her believe him? What else did he know of Elphaba's childhood? It wasn't as though there were many happy memories to choose from. He had to work with what she'd told him that night in the forest…the one night he 'd had with her before all of this.

"You shouldn't be here." Her words had been soft, tentative, nearly carried away by the wind.

She wouldn't look at him. Her eyes had always given her away, no matter how stalwart she strove to be…no matter how desperately she tried to steel herself against the world and all of its inhabitants, all hell-bent on her destruction.

"Look at me," he'd asked, and she had. He had been afraid that, by the time he found her, her eyes would be hardened, that she would have shuttered even that window to her soul. But they weren't. They were tortured. She was afraid--terrified--and he knew it wasn't for herself.

"Elphaba," he'd said softly. "I want to be here. With you. That's all I've wanted for the past three years."

She had been silent for a moment. "What about what I want?"

He was taken aback by the question, and by the anger in her voice. "What…what do you want?"

She sighed, protectively wrapping her arms around herself. "I want…I want you to be okay. To be safe, and happy with Glinda."

"But I'm not in love with Glinda," he'd interjected.

"Fine, not with Glinda then," she'd snapped dismissively. "But happy with someone. Or happy by yourself. Whatever you want."

He looked at her incredulously. "You'd rather I be alone than with you?"

"I'd rather you be safe!" She burst out raggedly, her voice laden with unshed tears. "I'd rather you be alive! For once in my life, I'd rather not be the cause of unhappiness, or pain, or…worse, in someone I care about." She sighed shakily, studying her hands. "It seems like I've never had a choice before. Even when I've tried to do something good, it's backfired. Simply being around me, no matter what I'm doing, is dangerous."

She paused, and when she next spoke, her heartbreaking vulnerability tore at him. "For Oz sake, Fiyero, I killed my mother just by being alive."

Coming back to himself, Fiyero watched her closely for a response. But there was none. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, so tightly that the white of her knuckles was visible.

"Elphaba?" he ventured tentatively.

"How could you know that?" she finally asked, choking on the question.

"I told you, Elphaba I—"

But she wouldn't wait for a response. More hysterically, more frantically, she repeated her question. "How could you know that? Did she tell you that? How do you know her?" Her questions came at him rapid-fire, her eyes wild.

Fiyero's heart sank. What he had said in an attempt to reassure her had only succeeded in making her more terrified. He had expected that his words might have upset her, but he'd never realized they would somehow frighten her.

"You told me, Elphaba," he responded gently. "No one else...I don't even know who you mean."

But even as he spoke, he knew she wasn't hearing him. She was so far away. Her fear, her panic had built a wall around her, and his efforts to tear it down had only fortified it. She stared at nothing, worrying her bottom lip and shivering.

"Father!"

"No, Fabala, don't wake him up! We'll get in trouble!"

Elphaba acknowledged that truth, but ignored her sister all the same. "Father—please!"

"Wha--? What's going on? What are you doing, Elphaba?" His words slurred and his breath reeking of alcohol, Frex peered around her and noticed Nessarose in the background. "Nessie?" He looked back at his eldest, frowning. "What is this?"

Elphaba took a deep breath, and her words came out in a rush. "There's a Lioness at the fair. She spoke to me. And the man's keeping her in a cage!"

Frex's frown deepened. "The fair?" His voice was quiet, even…dangerously so.

She nodded, frustrated that he didn't seem to comprehend the import of what she was telling him. "She's in a cage, Father! And the man whipped her! We have to do something!"

"Am I to understand that you went to the fair after I expressly forbade you from doing so?"

Elphaba's eyes widened. "But father, you told me to take Nessa, remem--"

Suddenly, he drew his hand back and slapped her, hard, across the face. She fell to the floor and looked up at him in shock, gingerly touching her cheek.

He glowered down at her. "How dare you take your sister to that pit of sin! You may not have a soul, but hers is good and pure. How dare you put it in jeopardy!"

Tears pricked at the little girl's eyes. "I…I'm sorry." His words made her feel sick and dulled the pain in her cheek.

"I can't even trust you to take care of your sister. You're worthless, you know. No, worse than that—you're a curse. A pox on this house since the day you were born."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. She'd always known her father disliked her. But for the first time, she realized the full extent of his hatred.

"You should be. Go to bed." He turned to his younger daughter, his voice softening. "Nessie, I'll be up in a moment to tuck you in."

Late that night, Elphaba, who had laid in bed restlessly, was startled by a knock at the door. She frowned, listening. She heard Frex's rumbling, irritated voice, but couldn't hear the voice of the person to whom he was speaking. Suddenly, she heard Frex say her name. An inexplicable shiver made its way up her spine. Frightened, she crept out of bed and made her way to the top of the staircase. Hidden in the shadows, she peered down at Frex and the mysterious visitor.

Now she could hear them more clearly. Frex was speaking to an older woman, a person she'd never seen before.

"Let me take this burden from you," the woman had said. Her voice had made Elphaba feel inexplicably hot and ice cold all at once. "After all, you must look out for the well being of your youngest. With your wife gone, you need the time to devote to her, yes? After all, one man can only do so much."

Frex had hesitated. "But…Elphaba…what do you mean to do with her?"

Elphaba, from her perch on the stairs, suddenly couldn't breathe, as both she and Frex waited for the old woman's response.

"Ah, my dear man," she had responded. "As sayeth the Unnamed God, 'what we do not know cannot hurt us.'"

"Elphaba? We…" Fiyero faltered. "We should go back, okay? You're soaking wet."

She finally looked at him, her eyes hard, her countenance removed.

She shrugged and stood. "Fine." She paused, staring at the ground, and clenching her small hands into fists. When she spoke again, it was with effort, as though she were trying to reign in a number of emotions. As though she were trying to dull herself to everything around her…to make herself impervious to the scorn, derision, fear, and pain she was so certain were once again coming her way.

"I don't know how you knew that--about my mother," she said quietly. "And I don't care. Just, stop…doing what you're doing. Telling me the things you're telling me. I don't want to—I can't hear anymore." She drew a deep breath, and let it out in a resigned sigh. "Just do that, and…I promise I won't run away again. Okay?"

"Elphaba—" he tried once more.

"Okay?" she interrupted emphatically, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were wide and deep and full of tears threatening at any moment to spill over. The way her lip trembled and her voice shook suddenly reminded him of how young and vulnerable this Elphaba was, less able to hide her emotions than was her older counterpart.

Her inability to hope that he might be trying to help her drove home to him how hurt she had been by others in her past. Of course, he'd known this from the time they were at Shiz, but occasionally the reality of it, the severity, crashed into him, taking his breath away. And finally, Fiyero could think of nothing to counter her distrust. He only hoped he could reach her, somewhere along the way.

After all, assuming Galinda's spell would continue to work, they had nothing but time.

"Okay," he said.