Chapter 13.

A/N Here we go again :)

Another big fat thank you to those who reviewed! I love you more than words can say :) Also to the ones who favourited and put this story on alert..it's such nice positive feedback :)

I hope you'll keep reading (and reviewing, of course..)..

They hadn't left the forest yet. They hadn't moved at all. Even now, hours later, when they should have been long gone or should have at least gone inside the cabin they'd headed for. Instead, they were on the floor, near the tree that Fiyero was sure was the prettiest tree in the world (and he'd always be able to find it, under whatever circumstance), underneath the starry sky. It was cold and clammy and dark.

It was the best night of his life.

She hadn't run.

There had been a moment, after his head had cleared enough for him to move and lie back onto the mossy ground and she'd pulled away, that he'd feared she'd be angry, or scared or anything else that would cause her to run. Nothing like that had happened though. She'd lain back next to him, her body close to his. They hadn't spoken, and though he told himself they didn't need to talk, he didn't want to talk, the silence unnerved him and he'd turned towards her, to lie on his side, and pulled her into his arms. Again, he'd been afraid she'd run. Again, that fear had been unfounded. She'd buried her head against his chest and he'd felt her breathing slow until she fell asleep.

Now, when they no longer had a valid excuse to still be lying on their backs, side by side, staring up at the sky, they did talk. Just talk. Teasing comments about nothing important. Just sounds to fill the silence and ease the tension that was lurking in the dark. He'd never been one for too much talking but after a screaming, agonizing silence of three years, the sound of her voice made him smile at the stars. So he kept her talking.

"So why didn't you ever say anything?" He didn't need to look at her to see her questioning frown and he kept his eyes trained on the night sky.

"If you felt the same...if you loved me too...why didn't you do anything?"

He meant it in a teasing manner. He didn't expect her to answer the question. Again, she surprised him.

"I'm green. In what world would Prince Fiyero Tiggular ever date the school freak and resident artichoke?"

Again, that matter of fact tone. As it always had before, it annoyed him.

"Don't do that." His voice was stern. "And in this world. And every other plane of existence that has both of us in it."

His tone wasn't lighter at the last part, even if the words were. He meant what he said. He fully believed it. She leaned up and turned her head to stare at him, incredulous. He met her eyes, unflinching and unforgiving.

"Don't give me that look. You know I'm serious."

She wanted to believe him, but years of being ridiculed, teased, bullied, laughed at, avoided, ignored and feared had left their scars. It was hard to believe that a man like this, a man like Fiyero, could love her. Would choose to love her. Would choose her.

"I just don't think..."

He leaned back on his elbows, face turned towards her, eyes searing, and pressed a finger against her lips.

"Don't offend me by finishing that sentence. Don't downplay what I say or what I feel for you. I've searched for you for a long time, because I knew that my only chance at real happiness was with you, so if you say things now, for whatever reason, that diminish that...well...I wouldn't like that."

She fell silent. Her arm was starting to hurt from leaning on it for too long but she couldn't move.

How was she supposed to deal with this...this...man? He had matured, she realized with a shock. He'd become a man. One who had integrity, opinions, morals and authority. He could be a husband, a father. A king. And he'd fantastic at all of it. She wanted to let him know that she didn't mean to doubt him, that it was herself she doubted, her own worth, not his, but she struggled with words again, the way she did in his vicinity.

"I don't...I don't mean to...I...it's quite difficult for me to accept what you are saying."

He nodded. He knew her better than anyone else ever had.

"Well...I'm not going anywhere so I guess I'll just have to prove it to you a bit more."

With one move, she found herself back on the ground, his body hovering over hers, as he looked down with a grin. He'd become a man, but the boy who had danced through life would always be there.

"I'll start now."

The next stop they made was at another deserted camp-like site. Animals traveled from place to place, she'd told him in a clipped tone. It would forever be a touchy subject, even if she really didn't blame him personally for the actions of the Guard. Animals never stayed anywhere for too long and they would go as far away from the Emerald City as they could, never straying too far from the forests, because that's where they were safest. It was the only place they had the advantage on the Gale Force, whose soldiers were young and inexperienced and dreaded going into the woods.

Elphaba had told him they'd have to do the same. For a while, they'd have to lay low, as she always did after she'd been spotted. So they would spend some time hidden away, quietly preparing for whatever was to come, but she wanted to go back to the city. He knew that much, even if she wouldn't tell him exactly what she was planning.

They spent the next few days like that. On the run, hungry and tired. Nearly freezing half the time, hot and sweaty the other half. He marveled at how she seemed able to go without food for hours at a time. Unfortunately, it also reminded him of how many times she must have actually gone without food, or shelter. She wasn't picky about anything, ate what she could find and didn't if there was nothing within reach. She didn't have many clothes. She washed her dress in the river and hung it to dry in the night. She'd steal, if she had no other choice, what she absolutely needed, but went without if she could. She didn't really sleep. She twitched and tossed and turned. She'd wake, gasping, before turning away from him, unwilling to tell him of her nightmares. He'd pull her back against him, protecting her body with his and he'd kiss the top of her head, her neck, her shoulders and he wouldn't say a word.

Yet, even now, even like this, he couldn't be happier.

He knows it's weird. He knows exactly the situation they're in. He's aware of everything that can, could, probably would, go wrong. And he cares. He does. It's in the back of his head all the time, and he worries and he's afraid. He wakes up in the middle of the night and doesn't breathe for just a second, because he can see all the blood, all the hurt, all the pain, all the terrible things that could happen to them, to her. All the suffering and the danger that is for now stored away but surely awaits them in their future.

Still he's happy. Happier than he's ever been.

The carelessness that he'd possessed in school, even if fake most of the time, had been gone for so long, had left when she had, that he'd forgotten how it felt. What it felt like to enjoy the small things life had to offer, in the face of the bigger things it threw your way.

He's rediscovering that now. And he wants so badly to teach her that.

His love for her, what he feels for this woman, who sits across from him now, in an old and worn and faded arm chair, reading something that he's sure would bore him to tears...what he feels for her is deep and intense and terrifying and it goes beyond anything he's ever felt for anyone and he hadn't thought it possible, but it is even more than he'd anticipated, greater than what had driven him to search for her so relentlessly all those years.

But at the same time, it's also light. Light and lovely and wonderful.

Because he is in love with this woman, whom he admires and respects and is in awe of. He's actually crazy about her. And he's pretty sure she loves him back. She hasn't actually said the words yet. He whispers them to her, as often as he can without running the risk of scaring her off. She hasn't said them back, but he can see the desperate and painful battle rage in her eyes every time he says it to her, and even though he knows it might be arrogant to presume, even though he knows he should probably consider the option that maybe she isn't saying it back because she just doesn't feel that way about him, he ignores that.

He doesn't believe it. Even if she doesn't love him the way he loves her, at least she feels something for him. Enough to want him to stay, enough to hold onto him, enough to trust him and let him into her life.

Even if she didn't love him right now, maybe she would eventually.

That thought, that hint of a promise, is enough for now.

Fiyero Tiggular was gone.

The Captain of the Gale Force.

Gone.

Kidnapped by the Witch, they say.

Tortured by the Wicked Witch of the West.

He fought her, they all believe. They are all so sure. He tried to fight her, he must have. Another young soldier was there. The Witch tried to hurt him but the Captain saved his life and paid for it with his own. Will pay for it with his own, because, surely, the Witch will not let the Captain live.

Oz is in mourning already. What to do without their brave Captain?

What to do, now that Glinda the Good has lost the man she loves?

Glinda the Good stood at the entrance to the stage, where she was expected to comfort the people of Oz. To encourage them to have faith, to believe, to not fear and not worry. To tell them everything was under control.

She stood at the entrance to the stage and tried to move one foot in front of the other.

The cabin they were in now consisted of thin walls, a leaky roof, a faded chair and a bed. An actual bed. She stayed here often, she'd told him, when they'd landed on soft ground after an hours-long flight. It was one of her few recurring stops because it had a bed, something resembling a bathroom and it was far enough away from civilization to be safe.

She'd gone to take a bath, leaving him to lie back on the bed, with the intention of closing his eyes for just a minute, thinking about how travel by broomstick would never be a favorite pastime but also thinking that with such means of transportation it was no wonder they'd never managed to catch her. He'd woken up now, what must be hours later, because she was folded in the chair, book in her lap, her hair already dry and pinned back up.

As he watched without moving, for some reason not wanting to alert her to his waking up, she took the pins out of her hair, distracted and without really noticing. Her eyes on the pages in front of her, legs tucked up, straining to stay comfortable in the confining space of the chair. One arm went up and pulled a pin away, letting the strands twirl and flop, over her shoulder, her arm, down to her waist. One after the other, until all the pins were on the raggedy table next to the chair and her hair was….everywhere.

Masses of straight, straight, black hair, bunched up against the back of the chair, where it got stuck trying to make its way down, tucked behind her ears, where it sat until she moved her head a little, and it would fall forward, onto the pages of her book, where she smacked it away impatiently and tucked it back again, with an irritated sigh.

The muscles in her slim legs tensed as she moved a little, her lower legs supporting her weight as she tried to get comfortable, without letting go of her book.

She rolled her shoulders and straightened her back, closed her eyes, firmly, for a moment and opened them again, refocused on the words before her.

She wasn't comfortable, her body hurt and she was tired.

But she didn't notice. She was too caught up. She was always too caught up.

Too much so to remember herself, to remember that her body needed food, needed sleep, that her mind needed rest.

He watched it all without saying a word. He would have smiled if he hadn't been so enthralled.

Elphaba Thropp.

"I'm so in love with you." The words escaped and it surprised even him.

She looked up, startled, as if she'd forgotten he was there, blushing, which was probably the most adorable thing he'd ever seen, and looked down at her book, up at his face and then at the wall behind him.

"I….erm…"

He doesn't even try to fight the grin, he lets in turn into full blown laughter.

"You really don't know what to do with that, do you? It's extremely cute."

And he means it. For woman so smart, so clever, so capable, so remarkable at everything, she has no idea what to do with him, who loves her without question. He finds it hilarious. He can afford to because he thinks she loves him too. Or she will.

Her awkwardness turns into a huff. She's annoyed, which she always is when she feels outnumbered.

"If you're just going to laugh..."

"I'm not."

For some reason, the fact that she's so intense about everything, makes him look for the brighter side, the lighter side and appreciate it, and he wants to share that with her. To show her that life can be easy and light too sometimes.

He gets up from the bed and walks over to her chair, stops in front of it and extends his hand.

She eyes him warily, suspiciously and looks back at him. Trying to figure out what he wants, what he has planned.

He doesn't say anything, just lifts an eyebrow and leaves his hand out, waiting for her to take it.

She does, because she can't refuse him. Won't refuse him and her curiosity always wins out.

He pulls her up from her chair and lets his free hand move to her waist, her body is pressed up close to his and a shiver runs through him at that and he wonders if that will ever go away, as he twirls her, both of them, across the room in an improvised waltz.

"What are you doing?"

"We are dancing, my love. It's called a waltz. It's a ballroom dance usually performed in…"

She sighs again, impatiently. He could be so trying sometimes.

"I know what a waltz is, thank you. I just didn't think this was the time to dance it."

"Well, it's a good thing you have me then, isn't it? As a Prince, I happen to be very well educated in the area of dancing" She huffed again at that, but he ignored it, "and it just so happens this is the perfect time for a waltz."

She wants to make another comment, but doesn't, because he's humming a tune now that she doesn't recognize and he leads her across the room in a dance she's never danced before and for a moment, she feels like…..like a woman, dancing with a man, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

And she realizes that, for him, it was. He did this all the time. Would he miss it? Did he miss Glinda? Would he regret what he did? Did he already?

Her anxiety must shine on her face because he tightens his hold on her and lowers his head to make eye contact, but he doesn't stop dancing, so neither does she.

"Elphaba?"

When she dares to look up at him, she thinks that maybe, for this once, she should ignore her fears, because he looks at her with nothing but concern and love and there doesn't seem to be anything else on his mind. Only this. And again, she is astonished at the presence of this man in her life, who left his whole life and fortune behind to come here and waltz through a run-down cabin with her and seem perfectly content.

He can tell she's thinking again. Thinking about things that turn her mood sour and dark and he doesn't know what it is, but he wants her out of it as soon as possible. He loves her but she broods way too much. He dips his head to catch her eyes and speaks her name. He doesn't ask what she's thinking about because, honestly, he doesn't want to hear the answer. She looks back at him, anguish in her eyes, but then, slowly, the anguish is replaced by something else and she cocks her head and stares at him in wonder.

"You love me."

His eyebrows go up at that, he wasn't expecting that. That tone of surprise and unadulterated awe. He just nods. It's not a surprise to him, after all.

"Kind of." He smiles widely at her exasperated frown and comes to a stop. He lets his arms fall around her completely, in an embrace, but he doesn't break the eye contact. He's loving this moment and cherishing it.

"Okay, a lot. As I've been telling you. You trying to tell me you've only just figured it out?"

She blushed again, though he's not sure why this time, but he swoops in to save her from too much embarrassment.

"It's my dancing skills, isn't it? They are too die for, I know."

She makes a face at that, so painfully familiar from all those days gone by, that he can't help but bring his hand up to her face to tuck wayward strands of hair back behind her ear.

"Yes, Miss Thropp. I love you. A ridiculous amount."

Her eyes widen at that, because she doesn't know how to deal with compliments, with adoration, with love. She doesn't know because she's not used to being on the receiving end of any of those.

He starts moving again, a slightly different dance, but still a waltz and it's better now because she moves with him.

La la la la la. Review?

I might be inclined to send Fiyero over to your house for a little Waltz :P