AN: I really love writing this one. I'm not sure why. Maybe because the focus is almost entirely on Fiyeraba now, given that he's the only one who can see her and stuff.

I saw Frozen again last night. It was wonderfulozmazifing :). Like, Let-It-Go-goosebumps and certain-sad-spoiler-thing-happening-tears.


Chapter 4. Scared

"She still hasn't woken up?"

Morrible shook her head. "She has not improved at all, Your Ozness," she said. "She hasn't gotten worse, either, but the longer she stays like this, the smaller the chances are of her ever waking up again."

The Wizard paced up and down the Throne Room. He looked up at his large, mechanical head, hanging down right now. He needed that girl. Smoke and mirrors, that was all his 'magic' really was; and he needed someone with real magic to do certain things for him. To suppress the Animals, to convince the people that his magic was real and strong and dangerous…

He sighed and turned back to Morrible. "What about this Galinda girl?" he asked.

Morrible shook her head. "Bubbly, bouncy and popular," she said. "She would do anything for a chance to work with you, but her powers are far less strong than Miss Elphaba's. I don't think she would be able to read the Grimmerie if she studied it for a lifetime."

The Wizard sighed again. "What are we going to do?" he mumbled, pacing again. "Isn't there a spell that could wake her up? Get her out of her coma?"

Morrible shook her head again. "No such spell exists, Your Ozness," she said.

The Wizard frowned, still pacing, trying to think of a new plan.

Morrible turned around and frowned. "What is that bucket doing there on the floor?"

He waved his hand. "My mechanical head needed a new layer of paint," he said dismissively. "Those annoying servants forgot to clean up again."

Morrible looked into the bucket, which was a shiny golden colour. She shook her head. "Show off," she muttered under her breath. "Why is that head gold, anyway?"

"The colour gold expresses power, Madame Morrible. Surely you know that." The Wizard stopped in front of the head again. The eyes were glowing a bright green colour, staring at him, and he frowned. Hadn't the head been hanging down just moments ago…?

He shook his head, irritated with himself. He must be seeing things now. Mechanical heads didn't move by themselves.

"Madame Morrible," he said, turning around again. "What do you suggest we do about the situation with Miss Elphaba?"

"I'd say we wait it out," she said. "She might still wake up, and then there will be no problem at all – a little delay at most, but her powers are quite impressive. I am sure she will catch up on her Sorcery lessons in no time. If she does not wake up… well, we can see about that once it actually happens, right? Maybe the girl will wake up tonight and then everything will be perfectly fine again."

The Wizard nodded. "I suppose you're right." He sighed and turned.

The mechanical head's eyes were a bright red now.

"Madame Morrible?" he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Have you been using magic lately?"

She looked bewildered. "Why would you ask?"

He pointed at the head. "I would have sworn those eyes were green not moments ago," he said. "And no-one is behind it, right? So why is it not hanging down, the way it always is when I'm not using it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Morrible said irritably, waving her hand. "Maybe you left it in a different position this time. We have more important things to worry about than your head, Your Ozness. It's late now – I suggest we both go to sleep and I will check up on Miss Elphaba again in the morning, yes?"

"A-Alright," the Wizard muttered, looking suspiciously at his mechanical head one more time before shaking it off. Maybe he was working too hard. He should really take a break. Or a vacation, even. He had heard that Gillikin was nice be this time of the year…

The two of them had almost reached the door when a loud, scratchy squeaking sound demanded their attention.

They both turned around slowly.

The Wizard's mechanical head had turned to the side and was staring them down now.

"Madame Morrible?" the Wizard whispered.

"Magic," she whispered in awe. "Who is there?" she called sharply, composing herself. "Show yourself!"

Suddenly, the windows flew open and a harsh wind whipped through the Throne Room. The Wizard started screaming like a girl, while Morrible just gritted her teeth and stepped towards the windows, closing them again. "I'm not going to ask you again!" she shouted. "Who is this?!"

The Wizard pointed a trembling finger at the wall. "L-Look," he whispered fearfully.

A paintbrush had randomly lifted itself, dipping into the bucket with paint that was standing on the floor; only instead of coming out a golden colour, the paintbrush glistened a bloody red. It raised itself to the wall.

I am Ozma, it painted on the smooth green surface.

"Ozma?" the Wizard repeated, seemingly in shock.

Morrible grunted. "The Queen of Oz," she said, annoyed with him for not knowing that important part of Ozian history. "Oz was ruled by an entire line of Ozmas before you came here, Your Ozness. Surely you knew that."

The Wizard's eyes had widened. "Oh my God," he whispered. "The previous Queen's ghost came back to haunt me!"

Morrible snorted.

Do not mock me, Madame Morrible, the paintbrush wrote on the wall.

Morrible froze.

"It's a ghost," the Wizard wailed, cowering in a corner.

"Of course it's not!" Morrible snapped. She moved towards the flying paintbrush, which dropped into the bucket again as Elphaba quickly focused on her powers. When Morrible stuck out a hand, it went right through the green girl without the older woman feeling anything.

Elphaba sneaked around the old hag and towards the Wizard, suddenly grabbing his ankle.

"Aaah!" he screamed, jumping up and starting to run circles around the room. "Take it away! Make it go away! Madame, make it go!"

"I can't!" Morrible shouted. "There's no-one here, you imbecile!"

Then who is this? Elphaba wrote on the wall, smirking slightly.

"You're nothing!" Morrible yelled, pointing at her. "You're just a stupid enchanted paintbrush!"

Don't make me angry, Morrible.

"Why are you here?" the Wizard whispered, terrified. "Did you come to punish me for what I did to the Animals? I swear, I didn't really want to hurt anyone, I just had to – I wanted to keep my power and we needed a scapegoat and…"

Elphaba had frozen in place.

what I did to the Animals…

He was responsible for what was happening to the Animals.

No. He couldn't be.

But he was.

Not only was he a fraud; he was a murderer, too.

She could feel rage building up inside of her, her entire body tingling. Lightning shot through the Throne Room and the Wizard's mechanical head burst into flames. The Wizard himself screamed again, trying to hide behind Morrible, but Elphaba dragged him from behind her and started painting words on his back.

You will pay for what you did.

"Your Ozness!" Morrible shouted, just as the curtains caught fire. The flames quickly spread through the room and as Morrible helped the Wizard to his feet and towards the door, Elphaba decided that this was probably a good time to go.

Before she did so, however, she painted some final words on the door Morrible and the Wizard were headed to.

I will be back.

Then she dropped the paintbrush and disappeared.


"Elphaba." Fiyero looked utterly relieved when he saw her. "Where have you been? I was afraid something had happened to you!"

She grimaced. "Um… long story."

He eyed her up and down suspiciously. Then his eyes widened. "Is that blood on your dress?"

"Paint," she corrected him. "I don't bleed, Fiyero. I'm not real, remember?"

"Paint…" He looked confused. "What in Oz did you do? You didn't do anything stupid, did you?"

"Maybe," she muttered.

He sat down across from her, taking her hands in his. "Fae, what happened?"

She sighed, shoulders slumping. "I went back to the Emerald City today," she confessed reluctantly.

Upon seeing his questioning look, she explained what had happened that morning near Suicide Canal, her losing control of her powers, and how it had given her the idea of haunting the Wizard and Morrible.

Fiyero stared at her. "You actually went into the Emerald Palace to haunt the Wizard of Oz?!"

She looked down. "Yeah."

He let out an incredulous laugh. "You are just… unbelievable."

She bit her lip. "Yes, I know. My father's been telling me that my entire life," she muttered.

He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head back so that he could look at her. "I meant that in a good way."

Her eyes were sparking with uncertainty, but she didn't say anything.

"So what did you do?" he asked her, letting go of her, and she shrugged.

"I controlled his mechanical head," she said. "Used an easy spell I've managed to finally master a few weeks ago to change the colour of a bucket of paint that was standing there to blood red. Painted some threats on the wall and on the Wizard himself. Found out that the Wizard and Morrible are responsible for the oppression of the Animals and kind of lost control of my powers. I may or may not have set the Wizard's mechanical head on fire. That's all, really."

Fiyero was grinning broadly. "I should probably tell you that this was a bad idea, that it's never good to threaten people, blah blah blah…"

"But?" she prodded, sensing there was a 'but' coming.

His grin widened. "But I think it's pretty awesome."

She smirked and curtsied. "Why, thank you."

He laughed. "Come on, let's go to bed." He went for the couch again, but her voice stopped him. "Fiyero?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

She bit her lip. "I think you should sleep in the bed," she said. "Galinda came in twice now, and even though she didn't notice the blanket and pillows on the couch this morning, you still shouldn't take the risk. If someone finds out that you sleep on your couch every night, they're going to be asking questions."

He shrugged. "I'll make something up."

She shook her head. "No," she said. "I don't want to make this harder for you than it already is, Fiyero. I owe you so much, for letting me stay here and trying to help me, and all I do is cause you trouble. You constantly have to make up excuses because of me, about you sleeping on the couch, about you talking to yourself –"

"Hey," he cut her off, striding across the room and grabbing her arms, forcing her to look at him. "You don't cause me trouble," he told her sternly. "I'm glad I'm able to help you with anything at all. And you have no idea how grateful I am that I can talk to you, even if that is in public. I don't care if other people think I'm crazy. Especially not when the alternative is not being able to talk to you at all."

She had no idea, he realised. No idea about his feelings for her. She didn't have the faintest clue how much it would kill him if she weren't here.

"Still," was all she said, moving over to the couch. "I want you to sleep in the bed."

"But –"

"Sleep in the bed or I'm leaving," she threatened, and he sighed, giving in.

"Fine," he grumbled.

She smirked and settled down on the couch.

He watched her for a long time before finally falling asleep himself.


The next afternoon, he found himself in detention.

It really hadn't been his intention. Hey, that rhymes, he thought as he lifted his pencil from the paper for a moment, chewing on the back of it. Detention – intention. It was not my intention to end up in detention…

But he had. And as he had feared, he was sitting in an empty classroom now – save for four other students that had to undergo the same unfortunate fate and the professor that was supposed to supervise them – and he had to stay there for three hours to work on an essay about 'why violence is not the answer to anyone's problems'.

It was true what he had told Elphaba – he hated detention. Absolutely loathed it. He would do anything to avoid it.

But some things were more important than detention, and he hadn't even known that until now.

It had happened late that morning, after his Politics class. He had been walking through the hallway and caught sight of Avaric and his friends again.

"How much?" Avaric had asked one of the other boys. "Twenty dollars on suicide? Okay, I'll write that down. You want to bet on her waking up, too? Twenty more? I know you can miss it, Alro, don't be such a miser. Two days? My, we're optimistic, aren't we? Alright, fine, I'll put it down. Hey, Fiyero, buddy! Want to bet some money, too?"

Fiyero had been gaping at the display for a short amount of time before it finally really got through to him what Avaric was doing. "You're… you're organising a pool?" he had choked out.

Avaric had nodded, smirking. "Yeah. Wanna join in, too? You can bet on the cause of the Artichoke's coma or on how long you think she's going to stay that way. Almost everyone is joining in, really. Most guys are betting suicide, but personally I'm going to stick with my own theory about the degreenifying spell. Hey, Pfannee!" he called at the girl. "Wanna play?"

She laughed. "Girls don't bet, Avaric." She pushed her current boyfriend towards Avaric. "Dearest, why don't you play, hm? If you win, you could use the money to take me out to that fancy new restaurant in town." She batted her eyelashes and the boy succumbed.

"So how do you think she ended up in that coma?" he asked Pfannee, who rolled her eyes.

"Suicide," she declared. "Definitely."

Avaric pretended to groan. "Oh, work with me here, sweetie pie! What's wrong with the degreenifying spell?"

Pfannee rolled her eyes again. "No way," she declared. "It was suicide."

Avaric sighed. "Fair enough. More money for me." He wrote it down. "And how long before she wakes up? A day? Two? A week?"

The boy looked back at Pfannee again, who inspected her nails and didn't even look up as she said, "Never. She'll probably die soon."

All this time, Fiyero had been standing there, frozen in place, completely in shock; but when he heard that, followed by Avaric's booming laugh and a smirking, "Well, I certainly hope you're right," Fiyero had snapped.

Quite frankly, the entire thing was a blur now. He didn't really remember what he had done. All he knew was that Pfannee and her boyfriend were in detention with him, sporting a black eye and a broken nose, respectively; and that Avaric was at the nursery and would not be released for at least another two days. Apparently Fiyero had hit the other boy hard, and he didn't feel the slightest hint of regret.

He had had to pay for it with a bruised jaw, some stitches in his forehead and a sprained wrist, not to mention the three hours of detention; but it was all worth it.

And right then, when he was sitting there pouring over an essay about the uselessness of violence, it suddenly, finally struck him.

He did everything to avoid detention, but he hadn't even thought twice about defending Elphaba. Even when she wasn't even there and didn't know about the pool. Even when he knew that he would be punished for it. He had risked getting detention for her, he had risked broken bones for her, and, he realised now, he was willing to risk so, so much more for her. Because she was worth it.

He would do anything for her.

And as certain as he suddenly knew that, as certain did he know something else. A conclusion that followed from this new train of thought.

He needed to break up with Galinda.


"Oh, Yero…" Elphaba grimaced when she placed a wet piece of cloth on his jaw, causing him to hiss in pain. "I'm sorry, but it will ease the swelling a little bit."

He nodded with a pained face. "It's okay."

She dipped another piece of cloth in the bowl with water that was resting in her lap and wrung it out, staring down at it. "I can't believe you did that for me."

"Of course I did." He winced when she started dabbing at the cut in his forehead. It was stitched up, but it still hurt. "I would do anything for you, Fae."

He froze – had he really said that out loud? – but she didn't seem to have heard it, or if she had, she hadn't realised the truth behind his words. She just continued to care for his injuries, being more gentle than he had ever seen her.

"Thank you," she said softly after a while, and he smiled – slightly crooked, because his jaw was swollen and painful on one side.

"You're welcome."

When she was finished, she gave him a few aspirins and fetched him a glass of water. "You're bound to have a headache," she said. "These will help. You should try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Don't go anywhere," he muttered.

She laughed softly, taking the empty glass back from him and setting it down on his nightstand. "I stayed so far, didn't I? Why would I leave now?"

"No…" He shook his head. "I mean… Would you stay here? Please?"

Now her laugh was a bit nervous. "What? In the bed with you?"

"I won't do anything weird, I promise," he said quickly. "I just… please? I feel better with you there. I've been having these nightmares lately, about you… dying, and…"

She softened, hesitated for another short moment, then nodded.

"Alright," she said. "I'll stay with you."

She went to turn off the lights, then crawled into the bed beside him – close enough for him to smell her hair and feel her body heat, but far enough away so that their bodies didn't touch. "Goodnight, Fiyero."

"Night," he muttered. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her close, but he knew that she would most definitely not appreciate that; and so he settled for just knowing that she was nearby and inhaling the woody scent of her hair.

He fell asleep with a small smile on his face.


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