A/N: School's almost done!! Sorry I haven't updated…much of anything. But I will!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Dorothy had a tremendous headache. She had never been exactly sure of anyone's true role in Oz. She hadn't been sure of anything- she had only been twelve the last time she was here, after all. But now this- Dorothy had, to her credit, always suspected that the frightening exterior wasn't all there was to the Witch. And now here was Glinda, Glinda the Good, telling her it was all true. Well, she owed it to both of them, good witch and wicked, to believe them now. And although apparently the Witch was a magnificent actress- Dorothy had nearly wet herself on several occasions in that castle…but the children hadn't been acting. They weren't in the least afraid of the Witch. The fury that flashed into softness in the Witch's eyes when she turned to the girls was not an act. The fierce, proud vulnerability in her face now was nothing if not sincere.

"Yes," Dorothy said finally, turning to the witches and the former Scarecrow, "I do believe you."

Glinda squealed and nearly crushed Dorothy in a hug. Elphaba smiled slightly and murmured something to the effect of, "At least somebody listens," and Fiyero gave the young girl a wide grin.

"I'd hope you would, Dorothy," he said.

"Now I know how you knew where everything was in that castle!" exclaimed Dorothy. "And why you weren't more frightened when you caught fire."

"It wasn't real fire!" Elphaba cried indignantly.

"If you'd hadn't picked up the bucket of water, she'd have 'put it out' by magic, which would've given me a reason to persuade you all not to hurt her. That was our back-up plan, though Boq was so frenzied by then that it might not have worked."

Elphaba shuddered. "Poor Boq," she said quietly.

"'Poor Boq?' Elphie, he wanted to kill you! If he knew you weren't dead, he still would! And not a nice death, either," Glinda burst out. Elphaba laughed.

"Execution without trial is never nice, Glin," she said. Glinda's face took on a miffed, pouting look. "And it is 'poor Boq,'" Elphaba added. "Think of it. He can't feel, he can't have empathy for anyone- he can't love. Glinda, once I thought I never would either, and I didn't know what it was to love or be loved- and he does. Imagine that capacity taken away, Glinda- the only feeling that of loss, because you'd know what you were missing."

Fiyero wrapped his arms around Elphaba and pulled her into his chair.

"You didn't do that," he said, stroking her hair. Dorothy and Glinda tried to look away from the pair, but could not. Their eyes were drawn irrevocably to the center of the loving intensity that had suddenly filled the room. It was as if the burning sun that can't be looked at directly had been transported into the kitchen in front of them.

"Yes," Elphaba murmured, "But- but maybe I should have- have let him die rather than – go on- like that…"

"Oh, no, Miss Elphaba, no!" Dorothy cried, unable to help herself. "He seemed- happy- at least, he was all right when he was with us, wasn't he?" She gave Fiyero a plaintive look.

"Yes, Fae, he did."

"Well-" She sat up and moved back to her own chair, wiping her eyes briskly and composing her features. "There's nothing to be done about it now."

"What about how you changed him back?" asked Glinda, pointing at Fiyero. Elphaba shook her head.

"He'd die. There were two spells on him- the one Nessa did to take away his heart, and the one I did, to save him. I could change him back to a man, maybe even work something up so that he wouldn't die, but he'd still be heartless."

Dorothy listened with wide eyes, absorbing the story.

"So that's what happened," she said quietly. "All you ever did was try to save people- and Animals- and then they blamed you!"

"Neglecting the fact that without her, they'd be dead," Fiyero said. He smiled at Dorothy. "Exactly. And it doesn't help matters that she believes it, too." He gave his wife a look and she stood, annoyed, and began to fuss uselessly about the kitchen, looking for something to occupy her shaking hands. Dorothy watched, still fascinated. This alteration in who the Witch was had shifted Dorothy's world, as well, and she wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. But there was a more pressing problem that demanded her attention: how on Earth to get back to- well, Earth? She hadn't any magical shoes this time. Perhaps her imagination would work again, but Dorothy wasn't so keen to try it just yet. She was still utterly confused.

Now that she was older, Oz was opening before her in all its layered shades of grey. The girl watched Elphaba as she turned to the window and called Pygmalius inside, and determined that she owed something to this woman who gave of herself and got nothing but exile and hatred in return.

She, after all, was a heroine here, beloved of all Oz.

Surely, she could do something.