A/N: And here we are, ladies and gentlemen- the second chapter. I hope it hasn't taken too long and I hope you enjoy my progress in developing the story; I'm trying to be a little quicker in updating than I was with my last story from hereon, but we'll see how I do as the chapters go on. So, without further ado, our first glimpse at the making of a parallel universe- read, review, and above all, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Wicked 'tis not mine.

Elphaba was in flight.

Below her, the forest she'd just emerged from seemed to unfold before her eyes as she accelerated towards the clouds; it was as if the land beneath her had become a map, every natural landmark, every forest, every lake, every mountain suddenly reduced to a drawing on a sheet of paper.

And it wasn't just the world that seemed to change: as she soared across the sky, every single doubt and concern in Elphaba's mind was swept away in a great tide of euphoria, just as they had been when she'd first defied gravity. When she was in flight, nothing could dent her confidence: she was invincible and unstoppable, beyond the reach of the Wizard and his flailing lackeys; nothing could touch her- and more importantly, nothing could bring her down. And no matter how hard the day had been, how many close calls she'd experienced, whatever failures and defeats she'd been subjected to, it all vanished the moment she left the ground.

How long had it been since the day she'd first ascended? Two weeks? Two months? Two years? For all she knew, it could have been two centuries since she'd left the palace and entered the life of an outlaw and a rebel. Two months, probably- two months worth of triumph, of rescued animals, broken cages, silenced voices suddenly speaking again, and even the adoring cheers of those she'd saved from the "treatments" that had awaited them.

But, as she'd expected, there'd also been hardships: sleepless nights on the run, humiliating retreats, brushes with death, the battles when she'd stopped just short of killing someone... worst of all, the spirit-crushing moments when she'd tried again and again to explain to the people of Oz that they were living a lie, that the Wizard was nothing but a fraud and the Animals of the country were being systematically eradicated- only to be met with deaf ears, wilful ignorance, and angry mobs.

But she soldiered on: after all, she had a mission to accomplish... and even if a day's work came to nothing, she still had the skies. True, it wasn't exactly a substitute for any of the friends she'd left behind, but Elphaba had long since decided that it was best to take comfort in what little she could find.

So, off she flew, slower than usual in the hope that the euphoria would last a little longer. She wasn't entirely sure if she had a tangible plan for what to do next once she went on the offensive again, but at present, she'd just be happy to find a safe haven before nightfall- or before she passed out from sleep deprivation. After almost two whole days awake, she was pretty much at the end of her tether.

So, what could be classified as a safe haven? An abandoned farmhouse? A chicken coop? Some tall grass that hadn't been trampled down?

Just as Elphaba was starting to wonder if she'd have to enjoy another rainy night under the sky, something in the forest canopy below her shifted and moved. Something was hauling its way up a tree- something worryingly human-shaped. And, as it swung itself over the upper branches, Elphaba realized that the figure had a rifle slung over its shoulder.

Muttering a swearword, she put her head down and accelerated. She didn't know if this was one of the Wizard's men, or some kind of vigilante; quite frankly, she didn't care. So long as she wasn't anywhere near him when he opened fire, she'd be perfectly content wi-

Somewhere directly in front of her, there was a loud bang.

Elphaba skidded to a halt and spun around in midair, trying to find the source of the gunshot: every instinct still running after forty hours awake told her to get the hell away as soon as possible, to fly away as fast as the broom could carry her before any of these people shot at her again; other parts of her brain slightly out of touch with reality ordered her to stay put and look out for more snipers – after all, there might be dozens more, just waiting to riddle her with bullets if she flew the wrong way.

And then the first jolt of pain shivered along her right leg. Slowly, Elphaba looked down and saw that the first shot hadn't missed her at all: even with the black dress and stockings she wore, it was impossible for her not to realize that her left thigh was now sporting a fresh bullet wound.

Run! Her mind ordered. You've just been shot, you idiot! Run before they hit you again! This is no time to go into shock!

No sooner had she thought these words, when another gunshot sounded, this one whistling by her face. This time, Elphaba finally took her own advice and flew off at high speed, trying to ignore the searing pain in her leg. As she flew, more gunshots split the air around her: clearly she'd been right about there being more snipers hiding in the trees below.

But how many of them w-

This time, there was no delay in reaction: when the bullet sliced through her right shoulder, Elphaba felt the pain immediately- white-hot and searing like molten metal. Instinctively, she swerved hard to the left in an attempt to throw the sniper off, but with the muscles in her arm no longer responding correctly, this manoeuvre sent her crashing through the upper branches of a tree and into the canopy- neatly dislodging her from the broom in the process.

Tumbling helplessly through the air, she fell, first through the boughs of the nearest tree, then the remaining ten feet of emptiness all the way to the forest floor. She landed heavily on one leg with a loud crunch of breaking bones, a fresh thrill of agony rippling through her as she toppled to the ground in a heap.

Groaning in pain, she sat up, and- once she'd managed to catch her breath- inspected her injuries. All things considered, they were as bad as she'd expected: on top of the gash torn in her shoulder and the bullet lodged in her left thigh, her right leg was indeed broken. On the upside, the fractured bone hadn't torn through her flesh; unfortunately, the leg was now bent at an odd angle, making it entirely useless for walking. This, combined with the wound in her other leg and the loss of her broom, made escape highly unlikely.

For thirty seconds, she lay there, flickering in and out of consciousness as she tried to imagine how the day could possibly get any worse.

And then she heard the footsteps.

Under the camouflaging nets of branches and leaves draped across them, all eight snipers wore the crisp green uniforms of the Wizard's guards; and while they were still armed with long-barrelled rifles, at least two of them had drawn knives from their belts. Worse still, none of them were holding anything that could be used as a set of restraints.

"We got her!" one of them whispered breathlessly. "We actually got her!"

"Shut up and grab her arms," snapped another. "I want this done cleanly."

"The hell with that," another hissed. "She doesn't deserve quick and clean. Let's have a bit of justice for what happened in the Vinkus- gut her like a fish and strangle her with her intestines."

"Would you shut up and grab her arms so I can-"

Elphaba had heard enough: forcing herself into a sitting position with her one good arm, she swept a hand through the air and sent a ball of fire hurtling towards the advancing guardsmen. The five of them immediately scattered, each of them flinging themselves away from the oncoming missile; one man moved too slow, and rose to find that net of camouflage leaves upon his back was now aflame, and spent a good thirty seconds attempting to put himself out.

Meanwhile, the other men were already scrambling to their feet; almost none of them bothered firing their rifles- after the last unpleasant surprise, few were stupid enough to risk a fireball to the face- they just charged as fast as their legs could carry them. Elphaba let her magic sweep across the guardsmen once again: a blast of kinetic energy sent two cartwheeling back across the forest, the roots of a tree snatched another off his feet, a cloud of dust and leaves blinded and disoriented the few who'd decided to use their rifles, and everyone scurried for cover as a hail of fireballs descended upon them.

But the defence couldn't last: by now, the guards had learned their lesson- they weren't clumping together anymore, and instead of trying to tackle Elphaba head-on, they attacked from all sides. And with Elphaba herself unable to move and growing steadily exhausted from sleep deprivation, blood loss and magical overexertion, it was only a matter of time before one of them got lucky.

Seconds later, one of them did: sprinting in from the left, the guard crashed into her, tackling her to the ground. With only one arm still functional and both her legs useless, the struggle was over in a matter of seconds; then, with the guardsmen holding her by the arms, the others proceeded to beat the living daylights out of her.

There were no preliminaries: nobody was interested in passing any kind of official sentence, none of them asked questions, and scarcely any of them bothered even threatening her. They just started hitting her with whatever was in reach- fists, feet, rifle-butts, even tree branches; they didn't even give her a chance to scream in case she managed to cast a spell: the moment she opened her mouth, even if it was only to cry out in pain, one of them would lunge forward and punch her in the mouth or knee her in the stomach. For the next three and a half minutes, they pummelled every last inch of her, pausing only to break her fingers and tenderize her kneecaps with the butt of a rifle.

Eventually, though, after the first seventy-five seconds, Elphaba was so dizzy from blood loss and blows to the head that she honestly couldn't feel much anymore; so, barely conscious, she let the assault carry on while her mind drifted elsewhere.

And then, just as she was beginning to wonder if the guards were actually planning on killing her, a voice rang out: "STOP!"

With some difficulty and a distant echo of pain from her neck, Elphaba turned towards the source of the noise: there, panting from exhaustion and uncharacteristically ruffled, stood none other than Fiyero Tiggular.

For a moment, Elphaba thought that she was hallucinating from blood loss. After all, what were the odds that Fiyero would turn up here of all places? And wearing a captain's uniform as well? No, any minute, her vision would clear and she'd find herself staring up at a stranger. But it didn't: the apparition stubbornly refused to vanish. Indeed, it actually stepped closer to her, now joined by a gaggle of other figures- all of them guardsmen, and most of them still shrugging off the camouflage nets they'd been wearing up until then.

"What the hell are you people doing?" Fiyero demanded. "You heard the orders- we were told to capture her alive!"

"She fought back," one of the rebellious guardsmen whined. "I mean, look what the bitch did to my nose. We couldn't capture her when she was hurling magic at us, could we?"

"Besides," said another, "It's not as if anyone minds if we bring her in with a few broken bones."

"Fine," snapped Fiyero. "Perfect. I want you to remember those words, Private, because if Elph- if the Witch dies before we can get her back to the Emerald City, you're going to be the one explaining things to the Wizard."

Somewhere to Elphaba's left, one of the guardsmen turned to the man next to him, and whispered, "Oh, as if he'll care. She's dead, and that's all that matters. Who knows, maybe he'll promote us for-"

Without saying another word, Fiyero turned around and slugged the man hard in the jaw. "For what?!" he yelled. "For disobeying orders? For killing an unarmed prisoner? For ignoring your commanding officer?" He took very deep breath; as he visibly tried to steady his temper, Elphaba reflected that in all the time she'd known Fiyero, she had never seen him so angry. "Just... just get out of my sight," he growled at last. "Get back to the convoy and take a good look at the map; we're going to need a hospital very soon."

As the hapless guardsmen sprinted off into the forest, Fiyero knelt down beside Elphaba, and at long last, she got a good look at the expression of mingled concern and horror on his face. "Elphaba," he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

"Y... yes," Elphaba gasped. Trying to speak brought the pain into sharp relief, she realized. Along with the sharp jolts of pain that flickered through her ribcage whenever she breathed in too deeply, her face felt horribly bruised and battered; the guards mightn't have had the time to actually break her jaw, but they'd certainly made a concerted effort in that direction.

"I'm sorry," Fiyero was whispering. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were going to be coming this way, I didn't want this to happen, you have to believe me-"

" 's okay," she muttered. "I'm ac... actually... really... happy to see you again..." And in spite of herself, she smiled.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she felt her consciousness begin to drift again. This time, she couldn't resist the desire to sleep: after everything that had happened in the last few minutes, combined with sleep deprivation, emotional exhaustion and physical shock, she simply couldn't keep her body from shutting down any longer.

A few hundred miles above her, Fiyero's voice turned urgent: "Elphaba? Elphaba, stay awake- you can't afford to black out now. Elphaba? Elphaba!" He looked up at the surrounding guards. "MEDIC! We need a medic down here now! Elphaba, stay with me..."

But Elphaba was flying again, away from her broken, pain-wracked body and into the sky from which she'd fallen scant minutes ago. Once again, she saw the land unfold beneath her, all landmarks becoming perfectly visible even as the voices of those below faded into nothingness: she saw the Emerald City, with its glittering spires and turrets, its monumental buildings and thronging crowds; she saw Shiz, the vine-draped walls that graduates still recalled with drunken nostalgia; and she saw the long winding path of the Yellow Brick Road, leading back into the fields and pastures of Munchkinland, back towards the place she'd once called home.

Finally, the Governor's mansion loomed on the horizon of her mind's eye: her childhood home, in all its weird and sorrowful glory. Her pace finally slowed, and Elphaba began the lugubrious procession across the grounds towards the front door. She didn't know what she was doing here, or even if this was some kind of afterlife, or just the last delusional gasp of her collapsing consciousness; she could only float along the garden path, listening to the sounds of the real world slowly fade into echoes as she drifted up the steps and clambered up to the door.

She was distantly aware that, somewhere in the land she'd just departed from, her body had finally been removed from the forest and was now lying in the back of a cart. She could feel- vaguely at best- Fiyero's hand clasping hers, and the jab of a syringe in her arm; someone was evidently trying to wake her up, but Elphaba knew that it was too late for any of that.

As she reached towards the doorhandle, she felt her heart slowing to a crawl, gently thudding to a stop.

Soon, the people of Oz could celebrate the death of the Wicked Witch of the West.

Slower still.

Soon, Nessarose would be without an older sister.

Slower.

Soon, Glinda would hear the news... and then-

Elphaba's heart pounded feebly, rekindled for a split-second, but dwindling yet again.

Glinda... I'm sorry...

Slower- almost motionless, now.

The door swung open.

Full stop.

Darkness.