A/N: Oh my goodness. I don't know what to say. The results for the Greg Awards are in and Features won 1st place for Best Overall Fic! Thank you, thank you so much to everyone who voted for me! I'm still getting my head around the fact people are reading and enjoying my story, so to win an award is incredible.

There are some worries, I know, that this fic will be abandoned, especially because this chapter has been a long time in coming. Let me reiterate that it won't! I'm very grateful to those of you who've stuck around for the journey, even though it's been a long one. The reality is that I'm just very busy right now, and I'm trying to work out a routine so that writing doesn't get put on the backburner. Never fear, I'll find a routine.

This is a short one I'm afraid, for two main reasons: one, because I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer for an update (it's been a scandalous amount of time since the last) and second, because it just seemed a natural place to end, so I decided to just work with it. To make it up to you, the next chapter will be longer.

"And did Girne say anything else?"

"No. Just that they were building a castle, and some men were hitting them. Whatever that means."

A frown. "There are no castles being built around here, that I'm aware of. Lots of buildings, certainly, but no castles."

Elphaba settled down on the cold, hard floor on her knees, thinking. "What new buildings are there?"

Dr Dillamond's eyes focused somewhere in the corner as he considered the question. "Several new buildings have been erected in recent months. There's a factory in the Lower District that isn't far from being completed. Numerous public buildings have also just been finished. And on the outskirts of Munchkin City, there's a grand hall that's just been started. I've heard of many others, but those are the ones I can tell you about specifically."

Elphaba chewed her lip. "But my Father is exceptionally tight on money. Everyone knows that. How exactly can he be affording work of this scale?"

Dr Dillamond heaved a weary sigh. "That, I cannot say, Miss Elphaba. I rather think you might be the best person to explain that. But why do you ask?"

Elphaba absently drew her finger across the dusty ground, her teeth beginning to draw blood from their gnawing on her lips. "It's just strange. Girne said the Tigers seemed afraid. What if they're being mistreated?"

Dr Dillamond sighed again. "I'm very sorry, Miss Elphaba, but the truth is it's very likely that they're being mistreated. I can't say this surprises me." His face was grim.

"But we must do something about it!" Elphaba ejaculated.

"I agree, of course. But until we have more information..."

"Must it have been a castle? Girne is just a child. Couldn't he have seen a grand building and assumed it to be a castle?"

"It's possible," Dr Dillamond nodded. "But that doesn't bring us any closer to the kind of answers we need."

"It might," Elphaba muttered with energy. She straightened, removing her legs from underneath her to shift into a squat. "You said there are many new buildings in Munchkinland. But how many of them could be mistaken for a castle?"

Dr Dillamond leaned forward in his chair, pressing his hooves together. "A castle, to a child, would mean turrets, yes? A building of no mean size, perhaps."

"Do you know any that meet that description?"

The Goat's eyes dimmed. "There are many that could, I suppose. You would need to ask the child for a better description."

Elphaba huffed impatiently. "Well, what about the Tigers? Have any Tigers been seen around the sites?"

A shake of the head. "No. Most Animals have been lying low. Those that haven't already disappeared, that is. Or been captured, if Khanija's story carries weight."

Elphaba felt like tearing her hair out. This was impossible. She'd hoped that by sharing this with Dr Dillamond, they might be able to come to more clarity. "I'll ask Girne," she said. But still, it didn't seem like nearly enough.

Dr Dillamond seemed to pity her suddenly, sitting beside her to place a hoof comfortingly on her shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Elphaba. I promise you."

She pinched her nose, then looked over at him with a weary smile. "Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate all your help, you know."

"Say nothing of it. You're one of us now."

Elphaba's smile widened a little in incredulity. She'd never belonged anywhere before. Even at Colwen Grounds where she was raised, she'd never belonged. Maybe especially there.

"I did want to discuss your visions with you again, though, if you don't mind my bringing it up?" the Goat asked her.

Elphaba pushed a limp piece of hair out of her face. "Yes, of course." She didn't really wish to discuss it, truth be told.

"I've been thinking about what you said. You believe you saw your sister passing on information to your father that may threaten you, correct?"

Elphaba shuddered. "Yes."

"And this has only happened once before, yes? Seconds before the explosion?"

She nodded.

Dr Dillamond seemed to find this information supremely interesting. "Are there any other times you're magic has... taken over, shall we say?"

Elphaba thought about that, then scoffed. "Do you want a list? We might be here a long time."

Dr Dillamond smiled comfortingly, increasing the pressure of his hoof on her shoulder. "Can you give an example?"

She picked at her dress sleeve. "Usually it happens when I'm... emotional. I can never predict what I'll do. I've hurt Nessa before."

"I see."

Silence lapsed for several minutes as Elphaba sat with her arms wrapped around her knees and Dr Dillamond looked deep in thought. "So," Dr Dillamond began, "could we broadly categorise your magical outbursts as the result of threat, which you may or may not be aware of?"

Elphaba looked up at that, in interest. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when you get "emotional," as you put it, your magic tends to run away with you. By "emotional," would you mean episodes of fear or upset?"

"I guess so."

He hummed again. "But then, in the cases of both your premonitions, you were unaware of any specific threat until your magic made you aware of it." His eyes were alight by now with fascination. "I have visions myself you know."

Elphaba nodded, sitting up. "Yes, I remember. You saw that there would be a famine, didn't you? That was why you set up the mill."

"That's right. You could call that a form of threat too. I suppose, then, our abilities are quite similar Miss Elphaba," he smiled.

At that, Elphaba beamed. "Do you really think so?"

"I can't be positive, of course. Magic is a fickle thing, as I'm sure you're well aware. But yes," his eyes crinkled. "I should say we are very similar."

A warmth birthed in Elphaba's chest and spread through her arms to the tips of her fingers. Tentatively, she leaned forward and placed her arms around Dr Dillamond. He seemed surprised at first, but then he hugged her back kindly. When she withdrew from the embrace, she was almost afraid to ask the next question on her mind, but knew she'd go mad if she didn't. "Can you control your magic, Doctor?"

"A little. Like you, I often find myself at its mercy, rather than the other way around. But I have learned to have a degree of control over it."

Her next words came in a rush. "Can you look into the future deliberately?"

Dr Dillamond's eyebrows rose abruptly. "I must say, I've never attempted it. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Elphaba lowered her gaze. "I was just curious." When she looked up again, however, she found Dr Dillamond looking at her pointedly.

"I mean... I just wondered... if Fiyero is okay."

Dr Dillamond smiled. "You care about the boy a great deal, don't you?"

Elphaba wrapped her arms around her chest. "He's my friend. I'm just worried. My father... you don't cross him."

A nod. "I can try to look ahead for him, if you'd like. I can't promise anything though."

Elphaba nodded frantically. "Thank you."

Dr Dillamond closed his eyes and Elphaba watched him in interest. She'd never seen another person work magic before. The Goat frowned, then sighed and reopened his eyes.

Elphaba stared keenly. "Did you see anything?"

"No," he spoke heavily. "I'm sorry. There are new realms of magic, even for me."

Elphaba's shoulders sank.

"But..." he continued slowly, "would you ever consider trying yourself?"

Elphaba's eyes bugged. "Me? I couldn't do that."

"I don't know. I think you could. You underestimate your power."

But-"

"Will you try it? For the sake of argument."

She stalled. "Okay."

Dr Dillamond smiled in an unsettling way, as though he hoped for something marvellous to happen.

Taking a deep breath, Elphaba closed her eyes as she'd seen Dr Dillamond do. What did she do now? Maybe if she just thought hard enough about what she wanted to do, something would happen. Should she think about Fiyero? There was no difficulty there. She was always thinking of him.

"Come on," she muttered. "Work with me, please." It was a fruitless endeavour. As if her magic had ever done anything she told it to do.

"Stop thinking so hard," Dr Dillamond suggested. "Maybe you just need to feel and allow it to happen."

Elphaba opened one eye, nodded in acknowledgement, then closed it again. But what should it feel like?

As if the Goat had heard her thoughts, he spoke again. "What does it normally feel like?" he prompted.

Elphaba thought about that. She thought of the eery feeling of magic coursing through her veins, reaching her very fingertips. She thought of how it pushed against her skin like rubber, seeking a way out. Of how she had absolutely no control over it whatsoever without a spell.

"This is impossible!" she burst, ending on a cry. "I can't do it, Doctor."

"You can," his voice was firm. "You may not have much faith in yourself, but we do. Try thinking outside the box. Don't think about what you're familiar with. Think of the times you're most out of control, and work with it."

Elphaba almost laughed. What did that mean?

Then suddenly, as if it had been planted in her mind, a memory came to mind. It was a seemingly trivial memory, but this time it glowed softly as if aching for her attention. She remembered when she'd been looking through her spell books, and she'd felt the magic as she trailed her fingers over the strange words she couldn't understand. The sensation that Fiyero couldn't feel, but somehow she could.

Her fingers tickled as she remembered.

Then she thought of each dreadful moment when she'd lost control. Of the abject fear when she saw that look in her father's eyes, and her magic...

Elphaba's breath caught in her throat. Had she felt something? Was it working? "Doctor..." she rasped with a peculiar mix of anticipation and fear. But then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. She wanted to cry with anger. "Dr Dillamond..." her voice came harsher this time.

"Elphaba, calm down," he spoke soothingly. "You felt something, didn't you?"

She turned her eyes up to him, gritting her teeth. "I think so. But it's gone now. Why can't I do it? This is useless!" If there had been any object within reach, she probably would have thrown it petulantly.

"No, it's not," Dr Dillamond looked excited now. "Do you know what just happened, Elphaba?"

"I know perfectly well what happened," she spat.

"No, I don't think you do. You didn't fail. But you did just limit yourself."

"Pardon?" All the fight left her in her bewilderment.

"Don't you see? It's so clear to me now!" His eyes illuminated. "You had it there. You just had it, but then you stopped. You were afraid and you pulled back. You stopped your magic from taking its course."

"I did not!"

"That wasn't a criticism," he was almost laughing now. "Just an observation. The long and short of it is – you're in control! You've always been in control. But you've convinced yourself that you aren't, and so you've allowed yourself to become lost in chaos."

"Excuse me... I've allowed myself?"

"Okay, maybe that was poorly phrased," the Goat conceded. "But I don't take back the sentiment. The point is, your own fear is holding you back. Not any lack of control in and of itself. Now, I'm not saying you can unlock the extent of your power overnight. It will take practice. But as far as your outbursts are concerned, well, that can be remedied right now."

Elphaba was doubtful, but Dr Dillamond looked so earnest in that moment, she didn't know what to say.

"I know you don't believe me, Elphaba, but please try. How badly do you want to be able to do this?"

Elphaba almost couldn't believe the insipidity of the question. "More than anything."

"Well, then," he looked satisfied. "That's all we need."

She stared at him for an indefinite amount of time. There seemed to be passing between them a kind of energy, an argument that was unspoken, communicated only through their eyes. Elphaba had the unsettling feeling that she was engaging in combat with Mareem – an event which hadn't been entirely uncommon while they resided under the same roof. Thus far, Mareem was possibly the only person who would dare to take up arms against her. It seemed that she needed to add Dr Dillamond to the list.

Eventually, she expelled a breath and closed her eyes once more. Maybe it was her agitation, but the tingling feeling seemed to return to her fingers a little quicker this time. With chagrin, she noticed how her heartbeat sped up until it was pounding uncomfortably against her chest, as if someone inside of her – someone she couldn't see – was pushing her to the edge of a cliff. She began to sweat and her hands trembled as she wrestled with the fight or flight impulse taking over her body. Suddenly she was enveloped with the startling certainty that this – what she was doing – wasn't safe. Or at least, it didn't feel safe. It would be so easy to retreat into the burrow of self-doubt and security she'd spent eighteen years building for herself. Inside the burrow, it was dark. But it was also familiar and oh, so safe.

Nothing was hidden in the light.

Could she really allow this to happen? But what if she didn't? Would she ever forgive herself?

No. The answer was loud and clear. No, she couldn't. This had to happen. It had a terrifying taste of inevitability on her tongue. She was afraid to succeed. But she was even more afraid of losing.

It was with that thought that she forced her tongue to move. And then it was dancing around grunts and sounds – or were they words? - that made no sense to her. How could she even be sure they meant anything at all? More to the point, why was she speaking in the first place? This hadn't been part of the deal. She and Dr Dillamond had been talking of feeling, and of controlling. What did talking have to do with that?

With every word she spoke, conviction grew. Elphaba almost couldn't recognise her own voice. When had she ever spoken with such confidence, with such utter belief that what she said contained meaning, and meaning of a kind which must be spoken?

The steady stream of words flowed from her lips until an image seemed to tear open in her mind, like the unrolling of a scroll, and she saw.

It wasn't what she expected to see.

Fiyero was alone in a tiny, dingy room. At one end was a window, though she couldn't see what was through it to determine where in Oz the room was. Fiyero sat on a creaky looking bed and seemed to be deep in thought. But that was all she saw. Fiyero looked up, and just in the moment when she would have looked into his eyes, the vision changed.

She knew where she was now. The image had shifted, and she found herself looking on a room she was very familiar with. Her father's study. Fiyero had gone, but she saw Father, and she saw Nessa. Nessa sat in her chair, with her face burrowed in white, shaking hands. She trembled violently and Elphaba realised she was crying. It would have been natural for Elphaba to be horrified, and she did feel horror to see it, though not in the way she expected. Usually, the sight of Nessa crying awakened in her a kind of maternal distress, and she would feel her stomach expand to consume a poisonous concoction of emotions – love, fear, powerlessness, guilt. Always guilt.

But this time it was different. This was a different kind of guilt. It was the guilt, not merely of knowing that you are responsible for the pain of another, but of knowing that you've broken a law more absolute and far-reaching than sisterly duty. More than that, that you've committed a crime for which you will certainly be punished – by nature, whose law you've broken, and above all by your own kindred, who now have undeniable evidence of your guilt.

Elphaba knew that somehow, in some way, she'd upset the balance of life, and perhaps for the first time, she wasn't afraid on Nessa's behalf, but afraid of her little sister.

Frex approached Nessa. He'd been standing unobtrusively somewhere in the periphery of her vision, and now he knelt beside her, placing his hand on her quaking shoulder. His face was rigid and almost expressionless, while his demeanour conveyed not the comfort of a father, but the dispassionate solidarity of a comrade.

The vision ended, and Elphaba sank to the floor. She felt cold.

"Miss Elphaba?" It was Dr Dillamond's voice, but she didn't respond to it. She heard, but she didn't answer. "For Oz's sake." For the first time, he seemed disturbed. "Say something."

But she didn't say anything. At least, not at first. She blinked, then looked up at him blankly. The Goat looked as if he wanted to shake her. Finally, she did speak.

"I need a dress."

"Pardon?" his brows knotted together.

Elphaba nodded decisively. "A dress. Like the one Mareem wore. I need armour – a battle dress. Can you arrange that?"

Dr Dillamond rather looked on her as if she'd lost her marbles. "You want us to make you a dress like Mareem's?"

"Can you do that?"

"Well, yes."

"Thank you."

"But-"

"Why?" Elphaba seemed to anticipate the question. "Because you were right. I have been holding myself back. It's time, Doctor."

"Time for what?"

Life slowly returned to Elphaba's face, and she cracked an ironic smile. "It's time to fight."