A/N: Sorry I haven't written anything in so long. Evil school took over my life. And we have a seven-week, gigundo, evil, horrific, demoniac project of epic proportions. On the Odyssey. I hate hate hate this project…

Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked. But if Gregory Maguire can make tons of money off what is basically a gigantic fanfiction, I can write one for fun!

I come back to myself slowly, awareness returning in small pieces. Something soft is underneath me…a blanket is covering me…slowly, I open my eyes. Ouch. Bad plan. I flip over and groan. No going back to sleep for me. I turn back over and sit up as quickly as possible. Again, bad plan. My head pounds. What the hell was in that stuff the Wizard threw at us?

Us.

Fiyero…where is he? I look around the room. Ah, there he is. He's in a bed, too, across the room. The walls are white, the floor is tiled. It doesn't look like a prison cell. Where are we? Fiyero is awake, sitting on the bed. He smiles at me.

"I feel like someone ran over me with a house," I moan.

"Welcome to the world of the hangover," he tells me.

"It's not a hangover. It's from the Wizard knocking us out with those herbs, or whatever," I contradict.

"Same difference."

"Not really. This was in no way our fault."

"Point taken." He looks at me with interest. "Have you really never been hungover before?"

"I've never even had a drink," I tell him, honestly.

"Whoa."

"What? Not all of us are constantly at wild parties, you know," I say. Some of us aren't invited, I think. And he knows, I can tell.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I have full possession of each and every brain cell."

"Good one."

"Why, thank you."

We look at each other and laugh, and I feel the stress and tension in the air dissipate, as if by magic.

"So, Miss Witch, can you tell me where we are?"

"At this moment, Fiyero, I couldn't tell you what year it is."

"Yet you have full possession of your sarcasm faculties, I see."

"Oh, of course. When don't I?"

"Good question." His face softens. "You don't need to use that armor with me, you know."

I flush a deeper green. I can feel my cheeks burning. I pretend misunderstanding.

"What armor?"

"Elphaba, you know exactly what I'm talking about. That sarcasm."

"I know."

"You don't need it with me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Of course you aren't. I'll turn you into a toad."

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry…it's just…all my life, whenever my father would demonstrate just how little he loved me in comparison to Nessa, it was all I had to keep my heart from breaking." I look up at him. My face is on fire. "When- when nobody loves you- you have to-to pretend you don't care…and maybe you can fool yourself…then it doesn't hurt so much…" I start to cry, involuntarily. Even through my blurred eyes, I can see Fiyero breathe a sigh…of relief?

"What was that for?"

"What?"

"That sigh!"

"Oh…" he looks guilty.

"What?"

"Well, you see…some people were talking, you know, the way people do, and I didn't believe them…but it's nice to see proof…"

"What did they say?" He looks down. "Fiyero?"

"That…your soul was so unclean…water could melt you."

"People are idiots…" But even still…"Never underestimate your enemy."

"What?"

I'm smiling. "We can use that, Fiyero, to get out of here."

"But how?" he asks, and I am about to tell him when the door creaks open slowly.