(AN: New chapter)

(As far as the story, I remind you that it's gone according to the musical-verse from then to now. Pretty much "I'm Not That Girl [reprise]" through "No Good Deed" happened to the musical, and afterwards, we now find ourselves here.)

The Show Must Go On

Three years is a long time indeed. It can change people before their very eyes.

Somewhere in Munchkinland, a green carriage from the Emerald City pulled up outside a lowly, Munchkin farm-house. From out of the house walked a Munchkinlander with red hair. Three years had turned a nobody socialite into an every-day Munchkin farmer's wife. She approached the emerald-clad Gale Force soldiers who awaited her. Into her hands they placed what looked like a summons.

It was an advertisement.

The People of Oz Farewell Tour.

They said nothing more, but told her to gather her things and join them for their first stop on the Farewell Tour: the university town of Shiz.

In the carriage that clattered down the Yellow Brick Road, Milla pondered what had become of herself after that fateful day in the Emerald City. The agents of the Wizard told her what to say and she said it, leaving well enough alone and returning to Shiz to finish her degree. One night later and she suddenly found herself out of school and a house-wife in Rush Margins.

Looking outside the window for a moment, she saw an unfortunate soul tied up on a pole in the middle of a corn-field. All of Munchkinland seemed to be on the verge of chaos, what with the recent death of the Wicked Witch of the East. Though she was a nobody among the People of Oz, a backing member, an accessory, she knew which member had a sister who was called, many times by their father, 'the future governor of Munchkinland'.

That poor soul in the corn-field, the Witch, the People of Oz: it all seemed to be coming to an end.

In Shiz, in an old building that had once been Lakely and Oakes department store, a sad, tortured soul wandered back home. The smell of whiskey and other less-than-legal substances oozed about her person like a hideous miasma. Every so often, a quiet sob would escape her lips. Nobody would believe she was capable of crying, they all thought she melted.

But it was all over now. He was dead, just like Nessa and so many of the Animals of Oz. Her goal, whatever it had been, was failed, the prize just out of reach. As she sulked, the sound of glass breaking snapped her into some semblance of consciousness. She noticed another ragged looking figure, unkempt and unshaven.

"Who's there?" a voice called out. "I'll kill you if you come closer. I mean..." The figure stopped short when the light flooded upon the green-skinned figure before him.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he slurred. "Or is it Cat? I can never tell with you anymore."

"And who are you?" she returned harshly. "Nobody's lived here in three years."

"I was here since the beginning, Fae," the man said. "I have as much of a right to be here as you do."

"Avaric?" she asked with surprise.

"In the flesh!" he proclaimed, waving broadly before collapsing into the filth upon the floor. "What's left of him, that is."

"What in Oz's name happened to you?" she asked.

"Fame happened to me," he laughed. "After you left us, I decided to keep the People of Oz going on just by myself. I spent every last ounce of my father's money and my inheritance to capture what we had back in those days."

"Are you kidding me?" she scoffed. "You hated it, and every one of us. All you did was complain."

"I was the glue that made the People of Oz possible, dammit!" he exclaimed. "I made the band! If not for me, none of this would have-have..." He fell again, shattering another glass bottle and erupting into defeated moans.

"Get lost," she sneered. "I'm done."

"Wait, what?" he asked. "You're done? Just like that?"

"Or haven't you realized?" she returned. "It's finished! The People of Oz are dead."

She turned around and started walking away when something hit her in the back of her head, knocking the hat off her head. She spun around, hands open and ready to lob a deadly fire-ball at the filthy young man lying on the ground.

"Go ahead," he replied. "I've got nothing left to live for!"

She lowered her hands.

"I never admitted it before," he began. "Because I thought I had it all. Hell, I was rich! The world was at my command, I thought I could buy friends and happiness!" He scoffed mirthlessly.

"That was all I wanted," he admitted. "The fame, the money, the attention of the spot-light. I wanted it so badly, I threw my future away by spending all of my money to keep the People of Oz alive with just me. Nobody seemed to care about the People of Oz when I was the only one left, and I wasted my life for nothing.

"It was only after I spent all my money and wound up on the streets like this," he waved to himself. "That I realized the truth. I wanted fame, but I needed friendship. That's what we had, with the People of Oz: five kids doing what we love."

He looked up at her.

"Look at you," he said. "I remember that night when you walked out on-stage clad in only a sign. Something was wrong, I can see it, I have a nose for my own." He held up his bottle. "You're hiding from your pain, I can see it. You don't have to, you don't need to!

"Me? I'm worthless now. I've broken my hands so many times, I can't play anymore. You can't just throw it all away now! As they say in the theater, the show must go on, right? So go on, green thing: don't give up now, because if you give up, if you give up on what we had back then, you're never gonna get it back, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life. I know I do."

There was a moment of silence in Lakely and Oakes, as these two former enemies, who hadn't spoken in years, now spoke openly with each other. Or did they? The black clad woman kept her back to the street urchin, and any one looking at them from the outside would think that she was ignoring him.

"That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard!" Elphaba scoffed at Avaric. She picked up a broken chair and threw it at him, finishing off by spitting in his direction before she left.

(AN: Elphaba's last words have many meanings. One, this chapter felt like that moment in every movie where some washed-up character shows up in Act III to offer the hero life-altering advice [aka. a harsh dose of reality]. Two, writing said advice is very difficult for me, even in a fictitious setting. Three, Elphaba is something of a buzz-kill.)

(Any questions before we reach the climax of our story?)