Title: Dead End

Author: Aerohead

Email: in my profile

Website: In my profile

Pairing: Fiyero/Elphaba, Fiyero/Glinda, Glinda/OC

Rating: T

Disclaimer/Dedication: For L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and Winnie Holtzman who own this idea that I'm extending. Thank you for giving me the first part.

Warning: spoiler for the ending of the musical Wicked, but that's pretty much about it.

Genre: General, romance (book/play amalgamation)

Summary: AU (during One if By Land time-period) what would happen if Glinda's daughter met Elphaba's under very precarious circumstances.

Author's Notes: It might be a harder for me to write soon. Tomorrow and for the rest of the week, I have driver's Ed, next Wednesday I'm going to see Spamalot in New York City, Thursday through Sunday I'll be in P-town to see the Idina Menzel concert, and I have to write my AP papers on top of that, before I go back to school on the second. Thanks in advance for your understanding. Also, Anna Marie Raven – I'll try to write more, but with limited time, it's very hard. Anyway, on with a (very odd) chapter three.

Chapter Three: Steal My Kisses

The room Destin led Fabala into was lavishly designed in pale greens and muted pinks, with full-length windows on the exterior wall. He led her to a high-backed mint-green chair and allowed her to sit down, before he sat next to her at the couch.

He lifted a glass pitcher. "Would you like some water?"

"Oh…no, thank you." Fabala said, waving pitcher away. "We've just eaten; I don't think I could swallow anything else." She smiled pseudo-sincerely.

Destin nodded, pouring a glass for himself. "I find a little water helps cleanse the pallet after a long meal." He explained, before drinking it quickly. He regarded Fabala for a moment as he put down the glass. "Do you mind if I speak frankly, Miss Fae?" he asked.

Fabala resisted the urge to lick her lips. "Of course not, Master Nokomyu." She said.

Destin grimaced at the distant name. "Please; call me Destin. My father is the Lord, but I am no master." She smiled wistfully, before poising himself again. "I would be lying if I didn't say I found you to be intriguing, Miss Fae." He took her hand. She winced away slightly, but he held onto her all that much more. "These markings on arms are Arjiki, but these designs on your hands look recent; and burned on."

She pulled her hand away. "They're the markings of Saint Aelphaba." She retorted.

Destin smirked. "I realize that. I assume you were named after her, indirectly?" he looked up at her. "You're eyes are blue. Isn't that odd for an Arjiki?"

"What of Nissa?" she asked.

"Nissa?" he repeated, looking at her blankly.

"Yes…she has blue eyes."

"What does Nissa…?"

"Why do you find my name amusing?" she asked. She wondered how he knew she was named after Saint Aelphaba, as he only knew her simply as 'Fae'.

Destin muddled over the evasion quickly, before laughing. "Isn't Fae a derivative of the name Aelfaeba?" he picked up the pitcher of water and poured another glass. "Am I sure I can't tempt you?" he asked. When she shook her head, he sighed "It's really a waste…did you know that many of the Unionist names fell out of use after the death of the Wicked Witch of the West."

"I had no idea." Fabala said, rubbing her hand where he had touched her. He smiled and leaned back.

"So, you're an Arjiki. And you're how old? I'd mark a guess at sixteen or so."

She blushed, laughing slightly. "Seventeen." She corrected.

Destin took her in, looking rather uninterested. "And you're unmarried?" he said, only sounding slightly surprised.

Fabala's head shot up. "Excuse me?" she demanded, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Destin laughed outright at the action. "Please, Miss Fae, allow me to explain myself; I'm studying Ozite Culture at Shiz. In one of my books it said that many young women in Winkie tribes – especially ones who are pretty and good workers, as I'm sure you are…don't take that the wrong way, please, Miss – are married by the time they turn sixteen. It just surprised me that you're not." He thought for a moment, leaving Fabala in an uncomfortable silence, before he looked at her again. "Or are you engaged?" he asked.

Fabala smiled. "Oh, yes, I'm engaged to a man twice your size with a vile temper whom Aran has had to protect me against by spiriting me away under the pretense of needing help for my mother." She faltered, and Destin put down his glass.

"I believe you're bluffing."

"I believe you're right, for the most part." She said. She cleared her throat before putting on an airy disposition. "Now, down to business as they say in this City of Emeralds; what has been stolen?" she asked.

Destin seemed surprised by her quick change of topic, but allowed it. "There were five items stolen." He started.

Fabala let out that odd cackle-laugh. "How very Unionist." She said. Destin suppressed a surprised retort.

"The first item was a transcript from the time the Wizard was in office. The second was a copy of arrest papers for Madame Morrible. The third and fourth items – the bows of the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger – both belong to the same woman, a Miss Jellia Jam, whom is Ozma's personal assistant. Now…the fifth is a bit…well, I wouldn't go after it." He smiled at her unnervingly. "It's the witch's broom, which was given to a young shopkeeper who used to work within the Emerald Palace."

Fabala's eyebrows knitted together in concentration. "So…all these items can go back to the times of the Wizard of OZ?" she asked.

Destin moved closer to her. She stood up as she started to pace, deep in thought. "Yes, with exception to the Hungry Tiger's bow."

"Yes, but it was with the Cowardly Lion's, and if a thief didn't know which bow was which, than, logically, they'd steal both, just to be on the safe side." She said, mostly to herself. As she rounded on the door for a third time, Destin stood up and grabbed her.

"Please; I'd rather not have a hole burnt into this rug, as it is rather new, and I don't want to be blamed for the hole if you put it there." They stared at each other for a moment, before Fabala pulled away with a mutter of supposed apology.

"Still, this means that there is a way to find out who took these things." She smiled impishly.

Destin seemed perplexed. "How so?" he asked.

"How many people deal with items from the Age of Wonder?" she asked. "In the City." She corrected herself quickly.

Destin thought. "About a dozen do, why?"

Fabala's smile became broader. "Look in their logs and see if they have any of the same regular costumers."

Destin worked his mouth for a few moments before any sound came out. "That's brilliant! You said you were seventeen? You should come to Shiz with Nissa." He said.

Fabala shook her head. "I can't leave my parents…and what of Aran?" she asked.

Destin huffed. "Oh, what of him, he's just a manservant."

Fabala frowned. "He's not my manservant; he's my friend."

Destin started moving closer to her, backing her against the wall. "A friend, and nothing more?" he asked, almost mockingly.

Fabala's eyes narrowed again. "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Destin cocked his head. "Isn't it quite obvious, Miss Fae?" He asked. He grabbed her wrist and looked at the design on the palm. "You don't seem the religious type to me." He pointed out, his tone slightly accusatory.

Fabala's back hit the door, and she let out a grunt. Destin let go of her wrist only to move his hand towards her face. Fabala grabbed his arm and twisted it, until he let out a strangled cry of pain.

"Do not touch my hair." Fabala said, in warning. Destin lunged at her, pushing her off the wall onto the couch. He tried to grab at her, but she punched him. "And don't touch me, either." She spat as she tried to pull herself up. She tried to stop shaking, but she couldn't.

The door opened, and Ozma popped her head in. "Is everything…okay…in…here. Need I ask?" She asked. Fabala's breathing caught in her throat as she looked at the princess of OZ. She gulped, trying to get past the knot that had lodged itself there, but she wasn't able to. Ozma smiled at her kindly. "Don't worry dear."

"You little…" Before Destin could finish seething properly, he caught sight of Ozma, and he stopped. Aran looked into the room and looked confused.

"I heard a noise; what's going on?" he asked.

"Aran!" cried Fabala as she ran to him. She threw her arms around him. He stood there for a minute, unsure about her actions, before he hugged her back.

"Are you alright?" he asked. She said something into his chest, and he hoped it meant that she was alright.

Once Destin slipped by them, only sustaining a mild glare from Aran, Ozma turned to Fabala. "Are you okay, Miss Fae?"

"Yes." She said, still holding onto Aran.

"Did Destin tell you what you needed?"

"Yes."

"Then would you like to retire to your room for the evening?" she asked kindly.

"Yes." Fabala said, her grip on Aran tightening as if he were a stuffed toy.

"I'll tell her Goodness, then." The older woman said, before slipping out of the room, leaving Fabala and Aran together. He pet her hair lightly, not changing it in any way. She looked up at him.

"Can we go now?" she asked, looking around the room with disgust. Laughing, Aran led her away, back to their room.