Fiyero polished the wood with his thumb. The grit of the sawdust caught in the edges of the poppies, but the comb's detail looked much clearer than his rose had. His obsessive need for distraction probably helped. How else could he keep his mind occupied when all he could think was that she'd been gone for thirty hours now, the longest they'd been apart since his remarkable good fortune had struck?

And like a wish fulfilled, Elphaba strode through his door. He jerked, and the knife scratched his thumb. He stuck the tip in his mouth to find the coppery taste of blood.

"Maybe you should find a new hobby." She dropped a large pack and a broom by his door. "Sorry, I should've knocked."

He crossed to her in less than a breath and crushed her in a kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist while simultaneously trying to pull his shirt off. Lurline, he'd missed her. It felt like years instead of days.

"I missed you, too."

He pulled back, instantly on edge. "What's happened?"

"Why do you assume something happened?"

He cast a sideways eye at her.

She pouted and stroked the side of his neck. "I can't say I missed you?"

"Oh, you can. I even believe you did. But you aren't usually very…forthcoming with your feelings." She plucked at his shirt, and he set her down to oblige. "Beyond one very vocal exception."

Her eyes fluttered, and before she got it locked away, he saw enough truth in his accusations to feel genuinely worried.

"Did you and Glinda fight?"

She pressed her lips together. "Not exactly."

"Where is she? You're back so early, did you not see the Wizard?" Guess after guess flooded his thoughts, but she paled with each word. "Oz, Fae, please tell me."

"It doesn't matter." She hid her eyes in her fingers, tracing their slow drag down his skin. He fought to keep a level head in the face of the electric pull of her touch. "I have to go away for a while. I came to say goodbye."

"No."

She lifted an eyebrow.

"No," he repeated with an arm wrapped around her waist. "Wherever you have to go, I'll go with you."

She softened. "You can't." He waited for an explanation, but she didn't offer one. Of course not. Why give him any ammunition to form an argument?

His jaw tightened. "You can't stop me."

"I can," she murmured with a rueful smile. "It's not safe, and I won't have you getting yourself killed over me."

"If it's not safe, that's all the more reason for me to be there." She stepped forward with face upturned for a kiss, but he slipped back. "Enough riddles. Tell me what's going on."

She huffed. "I'm trying to get you naked. I thought that rather obvious." He tilted his head, unamused, and she stalked to his window. "Fine. I…had a disagreement with the Wizard." She touched her forehead to the pane, aged beyond her years, and closed her eyes. "Call it unreconcilable differences."

His stomach sank. If she was this hesitant to say, she must be in some real trouble, and prince or not, he had very little political capital with the Wizard. She held so still she almost seemed not to breathe. He hovered near her elbow and watched her reflection in the dark glass.

"I left Glinda there." She sniffed, and his arms were around her in a blink. "I just left her with that monster."

He kissed her hair, undiluted by words. It wasn't his forgiveness she sought. She turned into his shoulder and drew a long breath.

"It's not safe to be seen with me."

He slid a hand back and forth in soothing circles over her back. "No one to see us here," he whispered. She peeked up at him, but her eyes flicked back to the windows for her phantom pursuers. He released her to lock the door. "There. No one but us."

"How can I find Mercus?" His forehead knit at the change in topic, and she pursed her lips. "You needn't frown so." She mimicked his face, but it offered none of the levity she'd hoped. "I've no designs on him, you know."

It hurt more than he cared to admit when his ego compelled him to ask, "He can help you, but not me?"

"Yes," she snapped, her sharp elbows angled out as she wrapped her ribs. "Yes, because though it will eat me up inside if I lead your friend to his death, at least it is for a cause he chose on his own."

"I chose it, too." So what if the cause was her? He'd never known a cause more worthy. He pressed up into her personal space. "My life, my choices, right? Or is that only for you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I didn't come to fight."

"Then stop arguing with me and let me help you."

She sighed, and her arms fell away. "He's probably gone anyway. I saw him, you know, on a train in the city."

He blinked at the revelation so carelessly tossed in. "Oh?"

She drifted back to the window and stared out. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here." She traced a finger down his reflection in the dark glass. "You'll have to put up with all the things they're going to say. Promise me."

"I won't."

She spun on him, her eyes glittering with a dangerous intensity. "Yero, you must." She advanced on him, her pointer stabbed into his chest. "You want to help me? Keep safe. Keep Glinda safe." Then she sagged like a marionette with her strings cut. "Please. If she doesn't come back…"

He braced her shoulders. "She will." He sighed, heavy and long. "I will."

"You will?" The wide-eyed hope there broke his heart. He couldn't disappoint her now, but Oz, did she have to ask so much from him? His stomach already felt twisted in worry, and she hadn't even left yet.

He nodded and hung his head. "But I won't let you go."

She spun around and kissed him in a whirlwind of hands and need. Her desperation infected him with his own, but he wouldn't let this be goodbye. He'd swayed her before. Lurline, he'd been convincing her it wasn't goodbye nearly every step of the way. "Don't be gone long," he begged as he scooped her up in his arms. She molded around him like the missing half of his soul. In two steps, they had reached his bed. "Your turn to promise."

She kissed him deeply. He knew she couldn't – wouldn't answer him, but he longed for the pretty lies. He pulled back to demand them, consequences be damned when she turned those anguished eyes on him.

"Please."

He nodded, contrite. She twisted her arms around his neck, clinging tightly. He set her down and pulled back to memorize how she looked, her hair fanned out over his pillow and lips slack where they waited for him.

She reached up for him, but he brought her hands back to the bed. He'd always let her take the lead, too afraid of scaring her off, but now, he felt the opposite, like he had to earn every minute with her. He poured himself into convincing her to stay.

She pouted. She hated slow, had told him so over and again, but he hoped she'd humor him this time. Slow meant longer he got to hold her, longer before she disappeared, longer before the aching crush he felt coming would overwhelm him. So he went achingly slow. He brushed light kisses over her as he said a silent goodbye to each finger.

She twisted up for him, but he twined their fingers before they could land. "Please," he whispered against her shoulder. He watched her face, compelled to ask, "Unless you want to stop?"

Her hand clenched his, and she shook her head. His shoulders dipped.

"Trust me." He set her hands back against the bed and ran a palm flat down her front. "It'll be worth it."

Her head tipped back as she bit back a swallowed, "Mm." The other hand followed along her side until they framed her hips. Then he tugged her against him in a sharp motion that made her gasp. He caught one foot and with slow deliberation removed her stocking. He ran the back of his fingernails over the sole of her feet, and she shivered as he said goodbye to each toe. Then he repeated his ministrations to the other side, and she clutched the sheets tightly.

He pressed a steady kiss to her ankle, up her calf, over her knee. Her breath came fast as he scooped her skirt up ahead of his soft kisses. He nipped and kissed his way up her inner thighs, mirrored on the outside by his hands spread wide over the soft skin. It brought his fingers to her panties and his lips right to the juncture between her legs. He toyed with the fabric, and her feet pawed at the sheets with unresolved tension.

He caught one ankle and set it still. Then the other. Then with a final teasing kiss just above her hipbone, slid the offending fabric down to her knees.

She lifted her legs, and he whipped it free. It sailed near the broom with a whisk of impact. He settled between her legs and pressed her knees up and out. She held her breath, but still, he took his time. His nose traced the line of kisses up her inner thighs. His breath puffed over her with teasing coolness. His lips made promises in their soft glide over her that he had absolutely every intention of fulfilling.

Then he let himself taste her where she wanted, and she jerked up.

"Yes, Yero, please. Yes."

He drove her to the brink with his mouth and fingers until she twitched with desire. He unleashed every trick he knew (and he knew a lot), every ounce of creativity, every iota of his spirit into filling her with pleasure. He would have no regrets with this, wondering if he might have done more to convince her to stay. He felt her tighten around the fingers he had buried within her, and he redoubled his efforts faster and harder. Her hips bucked, and he pressed it in place with his other hand.

She murmured his name over and over, and then fell into nonsensical half-formed sounds and sighs. "I…ohhhh…Yer…Oz!"

He heard his sheets rip, but she kept her hands where he'd put them even as she arched toward him with everything she might. He sped her up and over, driving her still toward another. She fell back boneless as she came a second time, twitching and sensitive to his every touch. His kiss made her jerk. He made his way to her belly, but the fabric would go no further.

"Take off your dress."

She complied with boneless motions and wordless murmurs, and then she lay before him, perfect and beautiful and still lost in a sea of pleasure.

He stripped off his clothing to match and moved over her with a predatory grace. He let his hunger show in his eyes as he continued his path over her flushed skin. She reached for him, but he returned her fingers to the rent sheets. He hadn't finished convincing her of his worth. Of her need. Of what they could have if she weren't so stubborn as to make him stay.

She groused, but held still, and he made his way up her ribcage. As he moved, he covered her like a blanket, and her legs wrapped around him to pull him nearer. Her obvious desire and the near relentless motion against his already very aroused skin made it hard to keep his pace, but he was determined. Steadily, slowly he kissed his way to one breast. He teased a nipple lightly, and her legs tightened on his hips. "How're," she sighed, and abandoned the thought. "You're so…"

He closed his lips on the sensitive peak and let his hand caress the other. Thorough he worked her back up with teases, flicks, kisses, caresses, endlessly and relentlessly. He rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she moaned loud enough it vibrated in the lips he had pressed to her throat.

He set himself at her opening, and she shook off the hazy dullness. "Yes, yes. Now, please, Yero."

He picked up one hand and kissed his way over her palm. She hissed with frustration, but as he kissed his way down, he draped her arm on him. She seized the opening without a moment's hesitation. Her hand ran over him, trying to touch him everywhere at once. He repeated his goodbye to her other arm, and she clutched at him.

Then he slid home.

She shouted his name, and he pressed the moment to his memory. She grabbed at his arms, his back, his hair, desperate clutches that made it hard to keep the rhythm he'd planned. She felt so incredible. She rushed up to meet him with every thrust, drove him from his plans to stay in control. He'd never felt so out of control, so full of love and fear all at once. So alive and yet terrified that when this moment ended, it would be the death of him.

She rocked him, and he rolled under her. She led them at a blinding pace, her hands everywhere, her tight body stroking him relentlessly. He struggled to breath through the crush of desire. His hands found her breasts again, and her head fell back. Her long neck tantalized him, and he reached for a kiss. He needed her. He needed her to breathe. He needed her to exist. She couldn't leave him; she just couldn't.

She started to twitch, and he knew he wasn't far behind her. He fought the bliss to draw this moment out, this last moment when they were together, and he was complete. He rode wave after wave of pleasure clinging to the shred of his control as it nearly ripped away from him. She gasped, and he watched her come undone. All those barriers she threw up between melted away, and he was awash in the intimacy of the moment. Her eyes shone with such care that his tenuous control shattered, and he exploded in a long, heart-stopping wave of warmth.

He could barely breathe. He shivered, and she pressed her forehead to his. They shared a long, intimate kiss that made him blink hard. He couldn't describe the extent of his feelings. Love fell short, devotion, awe…none of it captured how reverently he touched her, how thoroughly she owned him, how desperately complete she made him feel. His life without her meant nothing. No one else saw him, understood.

"I-"

She stopped him with a kiss. "Me, too." She pulled him to her in a soft embrace as he gathered himself. "Always."

He clutched her to him, needy and weak. "Stay tonight. Please."

She kissed the top of his head, and she rubbed soothing patterns over his back. But she didn't say yes.

He came back to himself. He kissed her, and she returned it eagerly. He pulled her into his lap. His hands ran over her back, the wild tangle of her hair, her tight firm body molded against him. He let her set the pace, too devastated still from his own attempts, and she sped them up with wild abandon.

"Don't."

He flung his hands off her at once, eyes wide.

She blinked. Then she rolled her eyes and put his hands back. "Not that. Oz, when have I ever meant stop touching me?"

"Is that a trick question?"

She covered his hands with her own. "Don't look so sad."

"Definitely a trick."

She slid a hand between them and stroked over him. He sucked in a breath. "I hate that I'm hurting you," she confessed. She tipped forward and hid in his shoulder. "I wish…I want…"

"I know." He kissed the top of her head. She shared his heartbreak, and much as he wanted her to reconsider, he didn't blame her for her choices. He just wanted to be with her.

She climbed on top of him, and he held her tightly as she rained kisses on him from above. She dragged her fingers through his hair as they moved together. If the last time broke him, this one healed the pieces. He'd shatter again when she left, but for now, her affection made a balm that soothed them both. When they finally surrendered, spent and weary from so much exertion, she fell tangled with him against the torn sheets.

He kissed her gently and fought the sharp pull of exhaustion. He traced soothing circles over her back, trying to stay awake. "Oh, here." He stretched for his bedside table and withdrew the comb he'd made.

She laughed. "I suppose I do look quite a mess."

He threaded his fingers through her hair, the wild strands twisted in a tangle that must have started as a braid. "You look beautiful." Her lips twitched a frown, but she didn't argue. He set to work with gentle, delicate strokes, clearing away the snarls. By the time her hair lay smooth, her breath fell in the even rhythm of sleep.

Still, he worried as soon as he closed his eyes, she'd slip away, so he forced his eyes open. He memorized the shape of her arm, the curve of her cheek, the smell of her hair. He sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes fluttered and tried to remember every word she'd said. But no matter how he fought it, sleep stalked him at every turn. He tucked a kiss to her scalp and whispered prayers to every deity he could think of for her safety.

He opened his eyes to sunlight and empty sheets.

The comb was gone.

A knock came some hours later, and he rose from the bed. He wiped his puffy eyes and opened the door. Glinda tumbled through, disheveled and with eyes that matched his. "I know," he murmured, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

They stood like that for some time. His arms stayed around her as she sobbed, but he felt numb. Fae must have taken his heart with her, and only the gaping emptiness remained. He saw Glinda home and through the fresh hell that was, Elphaba's books and clothes in neat line, also left behind. He slept in her bed that night, coveting the way the pillows still held her scent.

Finally, the fog lifted, and he rose the next morning with purpose. He sat at the Primrose sipping his coffee and watching the bustle of students without interest.

"You wanted to meet?"

He took another sip, regretful of the level of sugar. "Sarima." He gestured to the other cup half-cooled across from him. "Vanilla, not cinnamon."

Her lips quirked up, and she sat. "A large request, I see."

"Your father has contacts in Ev, yes?"

"And no preamble." She folded her hands in front of the cup. "Desperate, too."

"I'll take that as a yes," he sighed. The headache she always brought loomed behind his temples. Much as he loathed to expose his plans, he might as well lay his cards on the table lest they play cat and mouse all day. "I need you to get Elphaba there."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Secretly if possible."

She snorted. "Easy, she's so inconspicuous."

He drew a steadying breath through his nose. "And guarantee her safety once there."

"For how long?"

"Indefinitely." He sipped his coffee and waited. Nothing left but to see how deep she'd plunge the knife he'd given her.

She licked her lips. He hid from her calculating eyes by stirring his too-sweet coffee. "And why should I do that?"

He searched for another choice, but he could think of none. He couldn't risk Elphaba's safety with Mercus's meager resources even if they could find him, and he couldn't convince his parents into a losing war with the Wizard to save a girl no matter how much he loved her. No one would think to look for her in Ev. No one would be risking war, and with who her father was, no one would risk defying him for such a trivial matter as a single girl. She'd be safe there.

He drained his cup and sighed. "I'll marry you. The next day if you'd like."

"Marry me first."

He narrowed his eyes. "No." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Do as I ask, and you'll have your leverage."

"Done." Sarima took a sip of the coffee at last. "How do I find her?"

What an excellent question.

AN: Intermission next week. I've got a virtual performance which is just a beast to edit, so it'll be a couple weeks till the next update. Please let me know what you thought, and as always, thank you for reading.