AN: Sorry it took so long for me to update this. Thanks for all the reviews to remind me :-D You guys rock my socks off. Hope you like it...


Elphaba thought personally that this was perhaps the least adventurous overthrow to a dictatorship that was possible. Their nerves were frazzled, but so far the guards back at the gate were the only signs of life in the over-embellished building. The halls were deserted, and though she was suffocating in the heavy fabric of the hood, she kept it on to appease Fiyero despite the obvious lack of a need for it.

She hoped Nessa had found her part of the plan equally easy, and as they passed a large, picturesque window, she couldn't help pausing to see if she could catch a glimpse. "Fiyero!" she hissed, calling them back to see out it. Galinda and Fiyero stood on either side of her, peering through the window at the dismal scene outside. As the last group to go, they had forgotten how much time the others had already had to get themselves in trouble.

Smoke was billowing in the air near the barn, and Elphaba couldn't help worrying that Nessa might somehow be caught in the middle of that. More intimidating were the clouds darkening the sky, lightning flashing that she had a sneaking suspicion was not naturally made. Mercus must have run into trouble with Morrible, not incapacitating her as quickly as they had all hoped. Apparently, they were the only ones not in immediate peril.

"We have to go help them." She turned to look for a nearby exit, only to be pulled around to face Fiyero.

"We have a job to do. You have to trust the others to handle things. What good will it do to have Morrible out of the way and the balloon ready if we don't have the Wizard ready to put on it?" He was right, of course, and though she felt the need to go make sure the others were alright, they continued down the corridor to the throne room.

The only solution was to hurry and get this over with so they could go help their friends. She sped up, racing around the corner recklessly before Fiyero pulled her back with a thud. He motioned for them to be still, flattening with their backs against the wall. Then she heard the footsteps he must have heard, soft voices of guards whispering about an attack on the west side of the perimeter.

They continued past in the connecting hall, headed toward the armory. Fiyero shook his head, indicating that they should not follow to obtain their own weapons with the risk entailed now. They would simply have to make do with what they had. Instead, they carefully continued on to the Wizard. Glinda took the lead as the sight of her in the halls of the palace was not a suspicious one. They rounded the corner, the open doors in sight as voices carried to them.

With a resounding boom, a disembodied voice bellowed, "I am the great and powerful Oz! Who are you?"

Glinda rolled her eyes. "Oh, is he using that again?" At their confused looks, Glinda explained, "He has this gizmo that amplifies his voice for banquets and large gatherings, but it's really sensitive. To use it, he has to go in a little booth, so he projects his image on the wall in the back as if he's there. I always thought it was a little too much myself, but no one asked me."

A little, scared girl's voice replied, "I'm Dorothy…the small and meek."

Elphaba snorted wryly, "And he's using it on a little girl? Oh, yeah, he's really impressive."

They snuck in carefully, disguised by shadows and distance thanks to the large room and Glinda's wisdom in entry choices. She stood in the hallway outside as inconspicuously as possible, maintaining watch against any possible complications.

Elphaba and Fiyero crouched, staying low to the ground as they snuck in noiselessly through the open doors in the back. Keeping carefully under cover, they made their way slowly and silently toward the voices in the front. Dorothy was a complication; that was for sure. Elphaba found herself contemplating options hastily, trying to decide how to adapt. After all, she was just a little girl – defenseless. Morality and practicality at odds, she almost missed the crucial exchange in progress.

"First you must prove yourselves worthy by performing a very small task," the Wizard's voice reverberated in the empty room. "Bring me the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West."

"How do I do that?" Dorothy asked innocently, "I have no money to buy it with."

"You'll have to kill her," the booming voice was remorseless. "Kill her and bring me her broomstick as proof, and I'll send you home."

Appalled, the girl's face drained to pale white. "Kill her?! I can't do that! That's…that's horrible."

"Then you can't go home," was the Wizard's callous reply. "Besides, she's wicked, and as I'm sure you know, wickedness must be punished. You'd be doing Oz a service."

"But…I've never even met her," she said bravely. "How do I know she's wicked?"

"She's a notorious criminal, a fugitive murderess responsible for the mutilation of animals and numerous deaths, even of her old mentor. In fact, she's the most infamous wicked witch ever to have lived. The land of Oz has been tormented by her for years."

"Then how am I supposed to kill her? I'm just a little girl!"

"Exactly," he replied deviously, "She'd never expect you to be a threat." Clearly the girl was hesitant, but the Wizard was now trying to confuse her, billowing fire from his projected image and creating quite a disorienting show. Meanwhile, the booming voice chanted almost hypnotically, "Wickedness must be punished – evil effectively eliminated. Wickedness must be punished. Kill the witch!" It echoed off every surface, surrounding them.

Dorothy's eyes were huge, terrified and alone in the midst of this horror show. No one could fault the little girl for being scared, and if anything, it inspired a bit of sympathy for the little thing. "I…can't!" came her futile protests. "I couldn't even find her. I don't even know what she looks like!" She was desperately seeking an excuse to wriggle her way out of what he was asking of her.

The giant head chuckled, "Oh, she's easy enough to find. Just look for a witch flying on a broomstick. Or even better – as proof of her treachery, her skin was so tainted by the evil envy that fills her cruel, icy heart that it bears the mark in its color – an unnatural aberrant green."

"But…what if she's not evil? What if it's a mistake?"

With a cruel, hollow laugh, the voice echoed, "Mistake? Have you ever met a person that's green and not evil?"

"Well," she said reluctantly, "no, but I've never met a green person at all. Or even a witch, except the one that sent me here."

"And was she evil?"

The girl looked down wistfully, clearly wishing Glinda were with her now. "She seemed very nice."

"And was she green?"

"Well, no, but that doesn't mean just because someone is an unusual color that they're evil." Elphaba was starting to like this girl, smiling at the defiant tone that played to her nostalgia. It reminded her of another time she'd spent in this room, another girl standing up to a seemingly immensely-powerful Wizard.

"What do you know of it? You already admitted you've only met one witch, and never a green one. How do you know if it means she's evil or not?" The girl looked uncertain. "Besides, I saw her with my own eyes kill her teacher, Dr. Dillamond, simply to escape."

Elphaba nearly flew at him from her hiding spot at this blatant lie, but Fiyero caught her, muffling her inhuman cry of rage with his hand. He shook his head, indicating it wasn't time. She had to be patient, which had always been one of her biggest flaws. Repressing her white-hot indignant anger and all-consuming hatred, she missed all but the girl's shocked gasp in reply.

"But…but…" Dorothy was looking all around as if waiting for salvation from any direction. "I…can't…kill someone," her voice ended in a fierce hiss, as if even whispering the word was a cardinal sin.

The Wizard had reached the limit of his patience, his voice hard and cruel now, "Then I guess you won't go home. Is some wicked stranger's life really more important to you than your precious Auntie Em?" The girl visibly weakened, near tears at the thought of this loved one. "Oh, well, if you don't care about breaking your Auntie Em's heart…"

"Wait!" Dorothy's voice was desperate as she fell to her knees. "Please. Isn't there any other way?"

"No," he replied simply. "There's no other way. You must kill the witch to save your aunt. It's your only choice." Dorothy was weeping now, distraught, and the Wizard seemed to realize he had won. His voice soothing now, oily in contrast to the earlier harshness, he cooed, "There, there little one. You'll feel better once it's all over. Now, hurry off." He dismissed her carelessly, and still sobbing, the little girl rose and left toward the exit.

Elphaba locked eyes with Fiyero, and in unison they rose from their hiding place, moving toward the booth that held the Wizard. At last, they reached the end of their cover, and with a count to three, they sprang from their concealment to rush toward him. Fiyero reached him first, pulling the man from the booth with force, though not as much as he deserved. Elphaba reached him then, her chin thrust forward as she met his stare with anger.

The Wizard gasped, pulling back, only to find Fiyero binding his arms behind his back. "El…Elphaba? How did you…?"

She sneered viciously, "…get in here? Easy enough for a wicked witch, isn't it?" She looked at his with disgust. "You make me sick – threatening a little girl to do your dirty work for you. How can you sleep at night?"

"Quite well, actually," was his arrogant reply. "And your sleep? Do you find the trees comfortable?"

She pulled her hand back to slap him, but Fiyero caught her arm, shaking his head. The mission. She had to remember the mission. "Yes, well, don't you worry about me. You've got enough to worry about."

He was strangely calm compared to the terror inspired last time he had been unarmed in her presence. "Me? Oh, I wouldn't trouble your pretty little head about me. The guards will be here any minute, and you, my dear, will be just a pile of kindling for my bonfire. You know, you had your chance. You should have joined me when you could have."

"I'd rather die than join you," she spat at him fiercely.

"Suit yourself," and she followed his gaze to a quivering gun in the hands of a tear-streaked Dorothy. Though she was clearly distressed, she was collected enough to aim the gun squarely at Elphaba, both hands managing to hold it evenly enough to not offer her much chance to hope for a miss.

"What are you doing?" Elphaba asked fearlessly, more annoyed than worried.

"I'm sorry." The sympathy she had felt for the girl was quickly evaporating as she realized Dorothy might actually have enough nerve to do it. Great. So much for all their plans. Staring down the barrel of the gun, Elphaba's eyes flicked for a moment to Fiyero, and the look of horror on his face said it all. She sighed. What was it she had been thinking about this being an uneventful deposing again?