Author's Notes: Ok, you've convinced me. I'm putting up another chapter. I've got to say, I'm not entirely thrilled with this one. I've read it over and over, trying to fix it but…anyway, here goes. I'm not going to point out my issues just yet; I'm interested to hear what you all pick out. Also, I'm sorry. I hadn't really thought about it as a cliffhanger, and I'm not sure this chapter helps. I would now like to specifically address the comments of blufair (thanks for reading and reviewing, all of you). It does in fact tie in. Eventually. I appreciate you bringing the, um, incongruity to my attention. I'm not going fix it. I just ask you to bear (bare?) with me. Very loosely related, I'm thinking of changing the title. This fic is turning into something rather different than I first imagined, but title change doesn't seem all that important. Alright-y then, that's all for today. Eventually I will start writing my author's notes with actual separate paragraphs. But not now.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?"

Elphaba looked up at her companion holding a pile of sticks he had gathered for a fire. For her. He had no need of heat now. She sighed. Again she fleetingly regretted giving up the Grimmerie. Morrible had said you couldn't reverse a spell, but it wasn't as if her old teacher never lied or had never been wrong.

"And now you're regretting about me. Stop it, Green Girl. I don't and you shouldn't."

She smiled at the pet name Fiyero had coined in the heat of rescue and seemed to like. He dropped the wood in a pile and moved to sit next to her. They'd traveled farther West that first day but their pace was slow and they stopped early that night. It wasn't as though they had somewhere to be.

"Like you said, I'm not nearly as shallow as I pretend to be. It's not that important to me." He paused, gazing at her from the corner of his eye. "Is it important to you?"

She laughed out loud at that. Turning to hug him around the neck she said, "Of course not! It's enough just to be with you." She smiled wide as he planted a kiss on her lips.

"We should start that fire. It's getting chilly," he said, standing.

"I'll do it," she said and with a single wave of her hand moved the branches into a bier and set it alight.

"Well. I guess we should try and get some rest, then. Get an early start tomorrow," he said returning to his seat.

"Right."

But she couldn't sleep. She kept thinking, worrying, remembering.

I just wish…

She knew well what she had asked of her friend, and it pained her to think of this abandonment.

I should be helping her.

She didn't help you. And your help was just so beneficial before.

She sighed and stood, careful not to wake her sleeping companion. She walked a ways, keeping the fire in sight. She was trying to sort out the right thing to do. Not just what would make her feel better, put her conscience to rest, but that would give comfort to her only friend in the world.

Glinda.

Would it do any harm, really? It was one more secret for her to keep and perhaps this one would allay whatever grief she had been feeling. The last thing she wanted was to cause Glinda more pain, or any pain at all. Could it do any harm? Would knowing this truth be too much for her to bear? Or could it give her comfort, peace? Was the risk worth the reward?

Yes. Or at least if she didn't act she would go mad thinking about it.

She crept back to their little camp, quietly kneeling next to their small sac of supplies. With furtive glances toward the sleeping scarecrow, she retrieved a small piece of paper and a pen. Then, she softly made her way back out to the wood.

She knelt at the foot of a tree. Raising her hand just above her head she clenched a fist and when she unfolded her hand there was a small, bright ball of green light. Now she turned to the parchment, lifting her pen to it. And stopped.

What should she say? This could not be done carelessly. It could be intercepted or stolen or any number of mistakes could lead to another seeing the words she wrote. She needed to be clear, but careful. Given current events a simple "I live" may be as telling as "The Wicked Witch of the West is alive and well." She sighed and lowered her pen. And thought.

Many minutes later, a seed of an idea graced her mind. It was from long ago. Glinda might not even remember. But…somehow it seemed right. True. And certainly cryptic. With that, she scratched a few short words and folded the parchment once, twice, three times into a perfect square.

She stood and walked a bit further, deftly extinguishing her light. Closing her eyes she softly cast one of the few spells she had used enough times to remember it clearly. It simply directed her toward the nearest speaking Animal. A few moments and she felt a familiar tug beneath her breastbone. Opening her eyes she made her way to the source and found herself looking up from the base of the tree.

"Ahem. Excuse me!" she called sharply but not too loudly. "Excuse me! Is there someone there I could speak to?"

Finally, a small black head peeked out through the branches, cocking it to one side and staring intently.

"Ah," Elphaba said, allowing herself a slight smile. "I was hoping I could ask a favor. It may take a few days, and may be a bit dangerous I suppose, but if you refuse I would most appreciate it if you could direct me to a friend who might oblige."

There was no answer. Not surprising, most Animals were keeping a low profile these days, even way out here. She continued anyway. She was certain the bird understood her.

"It is very important that this message be put into the hand of Glinda the Good at the Emerald City Palace."

Still nothing, no indication the creature was anything but a dumb animal.

Elphaba let out a sigh of frustration. "Please."

She waited. Nothing. Hanging her head as she clenched her eyes tight, she turned to walk back to camp. She'd try again tomorrow night.

Suddenly, she heard the squawk of a bird at her shoulder. Turning she found the owner of the voice perched on a lower branch. It still didn't speak, but leaned downward and opened it's beak invitingly. Elphaba smiled and gently placed the precious message inside.

"You know the way?"

The blackbird blinked, then nodded.

"Thank you."

But the messenger had already taken wing, heading east.

Elphaba turned to head back but was stopped at the sight that greeted her.

"You told her."

Elphaba looked down. "Fiyero, I'm sorry. But it's for the best. I know it."

Without a word he turned and walked away. She let out a sigh and followed. When she arrived back he had rolled up their makeshift bed and tucked it back into the sac.

"Are we heading out again? It's still dark," she asked in puzzlement.

This time, it was his turn to sigh. "I'm sorry Elphaba. This isn't going to work."

She blinked. "What?"

Warily, he gazed up at her from his crouch, and then stood, moving to stand before her. The pained look on his face was startling.

"All I ever wanted was to be with somebody who loved me. Not the idea of me, but me. I realized early on that Glinda didn't love me."

"That's not true," Elphaba interrupted earnestly.

"Yes it is. She always wanted someone else. I was convenient."

Elphaba wasn't sure what to say about that. He seemed to believe it and she didn't know how to dissuade him. The truth of it didn't seem to matter now.

"I thought you loved me. I knew you could see me; you were maybe the first person who could. But you don't love me."

Elphaba's mouth opened in shock. Her breath hitched. He smiled sadly.

"Do you? Love me?"

Her eyes lowered. He waited.

"No," she said finally.

He sighed. "I didn't think so. It's ok. I don't love you either."

Her gaze lifted sharply. "Glinda?" she asked simply. He shook his head.

"I don't mind being with someone I don't love," he continued. "But I need to be with someone who loves me."

The simple honesty of those words, and suddenly Elphaba had a vision. A little boy in too fancy clothes. A fawning mother who didn't know his favorite color. A kind, smiling, demanding father who had all the answers, none of them right. Friends he couldn't trust. Ever encouraging and complimenting servants and tutors. A boy who was taught that love was something you showed, not something you felt. A boy who found out on his own that his lessons were lies.

"What are you going to do?" she asked at last.

He paused. "Go back to the Emerald City. I'm a hero there, you know. I think I'll try being the Scarecrow for a while."

He smiled, turned, picked up the pack, and started walking back the way they had come. All at once Elphaba realized the implications of this.

"Wait!" She cried. "What about…" What about me?

"Yes?" he asked, turning but not walking back.

She swallowed. "What…what should I do?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you want."

He resumed his journey again. She watched him until he was out of sight. Just like that, she was alone again.