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: This chapter will be a little short (aren't they all). But this time I have an excuse; I dropped a chair on my foot, and I'm nursing it at the moment. But thank you to Sinfulpurgatory, Anna Marie Raven, and Miss Elphie for their reviews. Don't worry, the old woman is so not Yackle; actually, I kind of forgot about Yackle…'tis a book character, though. So is the man, but he's not Boq. Nope. And this is probably the last update until at least next Tuesday.

Chapter Five: Expect Only the Expected

"Hey, it's morning." Aran said. He picked up his boots as he prodded the lump on the other side of the bed. Fabala pulled herself into a tighter ball, mumbling incoherently about sleep. Aran sighed and sat down on his side of the bed. He pulled a boot on, crossed his leg, and started to lace it up. "You know, if you didn't sneak out last night, you wouldn't be this tired."

Fabala's dark head popped out from under the bed clothes. "Excuse me?" she said, blue eyes dark with fatigue. "I think I remember waking you up, but you didn't want to come with me; there is no sneaking around here. Well…if you don't count Miss Nissa."

"Nissa?" Aran asked. He turned around, only to be hit with the duvet. Fabala went over to her small batch of items, and took out a clean skirt and a blouse. Undoing her tangled braid, she changed, ignoring Aran's question for a moment.

When she was done dressing, she grabbed a brush, and sat down next to him. He finished lacing up his second boot, and positioned himself behind her, taking the brush. "She followed me. Last night, I mean."

"I figured you meant last night, Fae." He said, hugging her momentarily. "Did she find out anything?" Fabala tried to move her head, but Aran tapped her lightly. "Miss Fabala; posture!" he said in a low voice. She huffed and rolled her eyes, but she straightened and held her head up.

"No; I only know she followed me because she was wandering around in the derelict section of the City, and she had become rather friendly with a rather ugly Munchkin." She made a face, before closing her eyes and allowing herself to just enjoy being with Aran. They hadn't been close lately, and it bothered her slightly. He stopped brushing her hair after a few moments, and handed her the brush back. She took it rather unenthusiastically. He hugged her from behind, and she smiled. "I do love you, you know." She said, looking up at him.

Dark brown eyes stared down at her. "I know." He said, slightly confused. He smiled, however. "I never doubted for a second…what are we doing today?" he kissed her carefully, and she pulled away from him, slightly scalded. She started to braid her hair again, thinking.

"I was thinking we could walk through the merchant section and see if we could talk to any of the dealers who have lost goods." She said.

"You didn't talk to any last night?" Aran asked. Fabala shook her head. She pulled her already-tied boots on, before turning to Aran. He walked over to her, and they left the room.

"There were none out, and by the time I got the princess away from the big, bad derelict, I had no time to go searching any out." She explained as they walked to the dining room.

Fabala felt a slight twinge of rather sadistic joy when she saw that Destin wasn't there. It was quickly dissipated as she saw the man from the night before sitting in Destin's place, talking animatedly with Glinda.

He smiled at her, and winked, and for a moment, Fabala's chest tightened with anxiety. Glinda didn't seem to notice. In fact, she noticeably brightened when she saw Fabala and Aran come into the room. "Ah! This is the brave young girl I've been telling you about!" she said.

"Glinda, really, she's Nissa's age, aren't you?" Dorothy asked. Fabala nodded mutely, watching the woman aloofly. "Than she's clearly a young woman." She went back to her breakfast, and Fabala was eternally grateful.

Glinda merely smiled at Dorothy. "Very true, dear, very true." She turned back to her guest, all the while motioning Aran and Fabala closer. Nissa looked up at them, seemingly worried, but Fabala brushed the look off as her imagination. "Miss Fae, this is man has heard of your crusade to help your mother,"

"Of course he has; I told him." Fabala muttered to Aran, who smirked slightly.

"…and has come to meet you. We went to school together; this is Miss Fae. Fae, dear, this is Master Crope, a set designer and painter; he's very popular with the local merchants, with his paintings and his ranking within the theatre society."

Fabala curtsied. She caught Dorothy, Nissa, and Glinda all eyeing her, rather surprised that she could orchestrate such a curtsey; Ozma merely went on eating. "How do you do, sir?"

Crope stood, bowing. He seemed genuinely amused by the situation. "Miss Fae, how wonderful to meet you; I've heard much already about you." He said, carefully kissing your hand. "Aren't politics wonderful?" he teased quietly. Fabala frowned at him.

"Please, dear, come join in breakfast." Glinda said.

Aran held a chair out for Fabala, who sat down. As he sat down, he looked at the space Crope was occupying. "Where's Young Lord Nokmyu?" he asked.

Lord Bromley looked distinctly unnerved. "Until he learns exactly how to act in social situations, Master Destin has been quarantined to the kitchens for meals."

Fabala sighed, thankful, before taking a bite of the food in front of her. She still caught glances from Nissa.

"Do you know who I saw at the Ice Garden, while I was doing sets?" Crope asked Glinda. Her eyes widened with wonder.

"Whom?"

"Miss Greyling." He said. Glinda blinked, slightly confused, before her eyes went wide.

"My old Sorcery teacher? How is she? Is she still at Shiz? Oh, Nissie, you should have seen this woman; she was twice the witch Madame Morrible was, but she could never conduct our classes. We were always split up, you know – I would go with Miss Greyling and…well…my classmate would go with Madame Morrible." She gulped, and Fabala held her breath for a moment, looking at Crope. He smiled.

"She's still at Shiz; she's taken over all of Morrible's duties, including Headmistress." Glinda gasped happily.

"That's wonderful news." She said. Fabala glared at Crope for a moment longer, before tucking into her breakfast; she wasn't sure she could stand eating in any of the Emerald City parlors while going out to search for the missing articles.

She finished eating and stood up. She walked over to where Nissa was sitting. She had to get something out of the way, quickly, before it got to her. "Miss Nissa?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Fae?" she asked courteously.

Fabala swallowed. "Do you mind talking to me in the hallway when you're done?" she asked. Nissa blinked. "Of…of course, Miss Fae." She said, smiling nervously. Fabala nodded, before sweeping out of the dining room, and into the hallway in a flurry of dark hair and pale fabric.