AN: Sorry for the delay. I'm not sure why it wouldn't upload.

Fiyero woke with a stiff neck and a sore hip. He rolled onto his back, and smacked his head into the side of the bed. "Perfect," he groaned and flung a hand to his injured forehead. "You better not have puked in my bed, Av, or I'm punching you in the face."

He wallowed in his exhaustion another thirty seconds before he forced himself to sit up. An arm flopped over the side of the bed, nailing him in the face. He stood before his impromptu guest took out an eye.

"Time to get up and stumble home." He jostled the sleeping oaf's arm. "Either change into a naked girl or get out of my bed."

"Mmfft," Avaric mumbled face-first into his pillow.

"Come on, up. I've got to get dressed."

He let a long groan. "Shhh. Too loud."

Fiyero leaned close to his friend's ear. "Up!"

Avaric flipped the pillow up with a vicious scowl and slapped it over his head. "G'away."

"Up, or I'll get all Galinda's friends here and offer a fashion makeover in the Emerald City. That's as shrill as it gets."

"You're evil," filtered through the stuffing.

Fiyero crossed to the closet and rummaged for clothing. "Yeah, well, after last night, you deserve it. Up and at 'em. You're going to make me late."

Avaric let the pillow fall with a heavy plop. "Sorry. Thanks for letting me crash here."

"You alright to go, or do you need the witness protection program?"

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Nah, I'm fine. Hungover, but fine." Fiyero gave his shoulder a tap on the way to the bathroom.

"If you're sure. I'd rather not have to bail you out of a fight."

"As if you'd be any help." Avaric had to raise his voice to be heard over the running water, and Fiyero smirked at the punishment that wrought him.

"Right. Guess I was powdering my nose last month."

"I could've taken them."

Fiyero didn't bother to answer until he finished his shower and dressed. "Well, out of my bed."

Avaric framed a pout and fluttered his lashes. "I bet you said that to all the girls."

"Yep. Now shoo."

"Careful, Fifi," he stretched and climbed out of bed. "You'll make me think what we share isn't special anymore."

Fiyero clapped a hand on his friend's back, guiding him toward the door. "You know you're the only nuisance for me."

"Aww." The tall boy flopped his head back against the prince's shoulder. "Snookems! You'll make me blush."

He shrugged him off to lock the door behind them. "I've got to meet Elphaba."

"Of course you do. It's a day that ends in y after all. What are you doing today?"

"Golf."

"Don't let her get too far away or you might lose her on the green." Fiyero smacked him in the shoulder, and Avaric held up his hands. "Sorry, forgot. She's your sort-of-almost-maybe-someday girlfriend."

He didn't bother to argue, as that would only take more time. A last punch to his friend's arm, and Fiyero hurtled down the stairs and out into the fresh air. The day matched his enthusiasm, bright and sunny. The long night had convinced him that any time spent with Elphaba, friend or otherwise, was worth more than anything else.

He climbed up the stairs to her dorm a full five minutes early. Oh, well. He could wait for her while she changed, if she wasn't already set to go. He tapped on the door with a grin. "It's me, Phaba. Ready to golf?"

Then he heard a low curse from a voice too deep to belong to either of the roommates. He took a step back. The door jerked open, and a disheveled Galinda glared at him. "She's not here. Go away."

The redness of her cheeks could only mean that Tavon was inside. His good mood vanished. "Where is she?"

A hand found her hip. "This again? I don't even want to know what you did. Leave her alone."

Indignant, he sniped back, "I didn't do anything. I'm just early."

"Then come back later." She stepped back to close the door, but he grabbed the edge. "Fiyero-" she warned, but he refused to back down.

"I know you've got Tavon in there, and honestly, I don't give a damn." The twist in his stomach called him a liar. "Either I'm going to wait right here for her to get back, however long that takes, or you're going to tell me where she is. So if you want to get back to," he waved a hand toward her twisted robe, "whatever you two were doing, you'll tell me where to find her."

For a tense moment he thought she might punch him. Her blue eyes flashed with anger, but she ground out, "Nessa's. Not go away."

He released the door with hands held up, and she slammed it shut so hard it echoed in the still hallway.

Before the voices could continue, he spun on his heel and vaulted down the stairs. The image of Galinda and Tavon clearly spending the night swam behind his eyelids, but he shoved it away. No sense dwelling on those thoughts. The sooner he found Elphaba, the sooner he could reclaim his good mood.

He banged on Nessa's door with a little more force than necessary, but even so, there was no answer. Then he heard the yelling.

"I don't care what you say!"

"Oz, Nessa, why do you have to be so stubborn?"

He knocked again with more gusto, and the door hurtled back. The wild set to Elphaba's eyes knocked enough surprise into him to calm the frustration Galinda had left. "Not now, Fiyero."

He stepped forward anyway, and she shifted to allow him in. "Everything okay?"

"No, everything's not okay," she ground out, eyes burning into the flushed face of her little sister. "Nessa here refuses to believe me that she should stay away from Liam."

The diminutive girl swung her head forward, as wild as he'd ever seen her. "He loves me!"

"He's psychotic!" Elphaba flung a hand out to punctuate her frustration. "He's obviously using you to get to me."

"Right, because that's likely," Nessa's sarcasm held a bitter poison. "I might be in a wheelchair, but even I'm not that pathetic to be second choice to you."

"Pathetic?" Elphaba screeched back, and Fiyero took a step forward before she launched toward her.

"Ladies, let's not say things we'll regret."

"He's been stalking me, you idiot," she sneered. "Now all of sudden he's interested in my little sister? Yes, that sounds completely genuine."

"So you think he'd prefer you?" Her sister barked a cold laugh. "No one would."

Proof of the opposite, Fiyero took a step forward with a calming, "Hey. That's enough." But they both ignored him.

Elphaba rolled her eyes. "Because you're the expert on relationships now."

"More than you."

"Right. I forgot. Four whole weeks with a munchkin plainly in love with someone else."

Fiyero shot her a censuring look. "El, come on."

Nessa's face was crimson, now. She flashed a snarl and hissed, "Better than you. You think Liam would pick you? Look at you, you're a freak. Even Father can't stand the sight of you. He thinks Momma died to get away from you."

Fiyero let out a curse and stepped between them. "What's the matter with you? She's your sister. She's trying to protect you."

"I don't need her protection."

But he could see the thinnest edge of regret pass through Nessa's face, and he knew in a day or two she would give anything to take her words back. But the pain that creased Elphaba's face said despite forgiveness, those words would haunt her to the end of her days.

"Fine," she snapped. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

She spun on her heel, and he followed her out into the hallway. Her spine stiff, she stalked toward the main doors. "Are you alright?" He reached a hand toward her, but she shook him off.

"Fine. Whatever. She wants to make her mistakes, who am I to stop her?"

"About what she said-"

"Don't." She shook her head, words rigid with controlled emotion. "Please, don't say anything."

He nodded and forced himself to stay back. She needed space. "We don't have to golf today if you're not up for it." Her eyes met his, grateful for the out. "Just, um, I went to your room earlier and Galinda seemed a little," he swallowed, "busy. But there's always the library. Or hell, you can use my room, and I'll go get a coffee if you want to study by yourself."

"No, let's go golf. I wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway."

"Then by all means, let's get you a projectile and something to hit it with." That earned him a small smile.

They headed toward the course, uncomfortable silence between them at the intimacy of his witness. His heart broke for her at the pain flickering below the surface of her face, and he knew his presence had made it worse for her. But she would never have confided in him, and armed with the knowledge of her sister's barbs, he could hope to soothe the wounds, or at the very least avoid further injury.

"Have you ever been golfing before? Mini-golf or the like?" She shook her head. "Alright, we'll start slow."

He located clubs, balls and a tee. She trailed behind him, an unnatural quiet absorbing them.

"It's similar stance to baseball, in a way. Legs apart, grip stacked." He demonstrated, but though her eyes rested on him, she didn't seem to see anything. "Here, you try."

She took the club and adopted a wooden stance not at all like what he'd demonstrated. He tried to adjust her, but her corrections caused more careless mistakes. Still her eyes felt a thousand miles away, and he tapped her on the nose.

"Hey, you here?"

"Huh? Oh yeah." She shook her hair back and tried again to mimic his swing. Her distraction felt palpable, and he took a frustrated step toward her.

"Elphaba, come on. Try a little here."

She blinked up at him and reset her hands too close again. "Sorry. Like this?"

"No, that's the-" He drew a breath and moved behind her, his arms wrapping around to adjust her hands at the correct width. She stiffened, but for the first time, she seemed present. His lips grazed the shell of her ear, "Concentrate."

She didn't so much as breathe. He should step back, should give her the space she wanted, needed. But he stayed too close, too indulgent to that desperate part of him. He guided the club in a smooth swing. Her body twisted with his, and her sharp breath in brought her back flat against his chest.

"Make more sense?"

She nodded, slow and tense, but she didn't pull away.

"Want to try?"

Her lip found its way between her teeth. "You could…show me again?"

He let out a tense breath, ruffling the hair by his lips. "Yeah, sure." He guided the swing, once, twice, and a third time. She shifted her weight a millimeter back against him. He let his hands release the club in favor of her hips. "Now, pivot toward the ball and let your right leg come forward."

"Show me?"

He started to let go, but she leaned into him. His hands stayed flat against her hips, rotating her along with him. The pressure of her hips against his drove him crazy. His eyes fluttered shut as he struggled to retain his dignity. This was a bad idea. He could feel that frantic need she inspired in him spiraling out of control.

She arched her back a fraction of an inch, and he drew a shaky breath. "Fiyero…"

No, this wasn't right. She was upset, and he didn't want her to run again when she thought about it. He didn't think he'd survive. "So picking the right club is important."

He retreated to the bag and rummaged for a five iron. She spun to face him, but he put the bag between them. If he kissed her, it would be over, and the temptation to kiss her was so overwhelming, he had to dig his fingernails into his palm to hold back.

"You'd use a driver for distance, or a putter for close. But most of the time, you'll want to find a good iron. If you get into a jam, you can use one of the wedges, which are like specialized irons."

He peeked up at her when she didn't comment, and the sadness in her expression tore at him. Her eyes flicked to meet his. He swallowed, trying hard not to reach for her. "Good club, got it."

He handed her the lofted iron, and she took it with slumped shoulders. "The right club for you." He was an idiot. He reached a hand out to cup her chin. "A patient club that wants you to be happy."

She shot him a look. "Oh? They make those clubs?"

"Yeah. One that doesn't want to rush the swing again and screw everything up."

A blush stole over her face. "So not an…uninterested club?"

His eyebrows shot up. "No, not at all." He took a step toward her, his other hand coming to her elbow. "A very, very interested club."

"I'm fairly certain they're just metal." But he knew she'd gotten the message. He let her retreat this time, an enigmatic smile not quite hidden on her face. "So, how do I beat you at this?"

He laughed. "Starting small, I see."

She shrugged, and a tension he hadn't realized slipped from his shoulders. He explained scoring, and led her to the first hole. "So, wager?"

"Who are you, and what have you done with Elphaba Thropp?" A wickedly arched eyebrow made him grin. "Alright, winner gets…what would you want?"

Her eyes dipped to his lips, but she said, "Loser buys dinner, fair?" He dipped a nod, and she pushed herself to her full height. "I think I'm in the mood for lobster. How's your wallet?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. It's my giant steak that's going to cost you."

She started wide, and he corrected her automatically. "Hey, no cheating."

"You don't want help? What's the purpose of this again?"

"How do I know you're not trying to get my lobster?"

He leaned close, "Oh, I am. But I've got to even the odds somehow." She laughed, and he adjusted her swing before he set down the ball. "Alright, mulligan."

She accomplished a fair drive to the green, and he knocked his ball after hers. They headed that direction trading trash talk. He let himself correct her more physically than necessary, but though she noticed, she didn't seem to mind. Perhaps because, as he was basically playing himself, the score never varied more than a couple strokes.

"Alright, last hole. You're on your own."

She cocked a hip forward, "Good. About time you stop holding me back."

"Oh, is that what I'm doing?" He tossed an arm around her waist. She wiggled free, laughing. "Here I thought I was keeping the score tied."

She shushed him and narrowed her eyes in concentration. He could tell she'd learned enough to pass her retest. A swell of pride sunned through him. Her drive landed on the green, and she stuck out her tongue.

He pinched her nose and moved to take that position. She leaned close, and he spun to face her. "Can I get some room?"

"Oh, too shy?"

"Shy, hmm? Doesn't sound like me." He looped a hand around her again. "But if you're wanting to stay close…"

She stretched against him, her body soft against his side. "Maybe I am."

He tipped his head down toward her, relishing the new freedom to flirt. "Promises, promises." For a second, the temptation to kiss felt so right that he almost gave in.

Before he could, she stepped back, cheeks dark. "I guess I'll have to watch the master work."

He flashed a cocky grin, and sent the ball across to the green. They hurried to see which had gone farther, and Fiyero groaned. "Unacceptable!"

Elphaba sauntered to her ball a full six feet closer. She moved to swing, but at the top of the arc, he nudged an elbow in her ribs. She jumped, knocking the ball way off-course.

She blinked at him a moment before following with an affronted harrumph. "Just couldn't handle me beating you, could you?"

"Course not. You'll wound my delicate male pride."

She snorted. "Mustn't have that."

Three more strokes, each with a suspicious glare to him, and she'd gotten her ball in. "My turn." He selected a putter, and she flashed him a wicked grin. "You're up to no good, aren't you?"

"Me?" She assumed an innocent expression. "Never."

He mimed watching her and took his swing. She edged up to him, but before she could wreak vengeance, he swung around to snatch her against him. "Well, hello, there, said the spider to the fly."

"Not sure that's how it goes."

"Sentiment's fair enough."

She stretched up, lips parted, and he let her go before he could act on his worser instincts. "Not sure that's true."

"You try to interfere again, and you'll find out."

She flashed a mischievous grin. Newfound confidence not withstanding, he knew she wasn't ready for the next step. The fact that she openly flirted back felt like a miracle, and one he wasn't ready to jinx.

He waved her back, three feet, four, and more until her eyes widened in skeptical disbelief. "Come on, I won't bother your precious game."

But he shook his head in his best Morrible imitation and pointed for her to retreat another three feet. Then he turned back to the ball and wiggled a dramatic preparation. He swung, and the ball whirred over the grass to tink in the hole. He grinned. "Steak it is."

"Not fair! You cheated!" She crossed her arms. "You should be buying me lobster."

"You cheated, too. You're just mad I cheat better."

"Well, you do have more practice."

He sent her a lopsided grin. "True. Fine, I'll get you lobster, and you get me steak. We both win."

"We both lose," she countered, retrieving the ball from the cup inside.

He took them from her with a somber, "We both eat."

"Good plan, Tiggular. Good plan."

AN: For those of you who don't read Shot in the Dark, just a thanks again for all the well wishes on my interview and for all your PMs/review. I always appreciate hearing what you think of my work.