Once again, I would like to enthusiastically thank everyone for their wonderfully nice reviews! Though it is making it really difficult for me to remain consistent with posting chapters because all I want to do after reading the reviews is post the next one so you don't have to wait! lol. Anywho, let's get Elphie ready for another trip to the Emerald City, shall we?

"Hold still," Levin ordered as she removed the thread from the witch's sensitive forehead. Despite the strange conversation that she held audience to only a of couple hours before, Levin was still very wary of the witch, which was quiet clear to Elphaba as the woman yanked the stitches unreasonably sharp from her skin. As she sat there, she very much wished Glinda hadn't needed to leave earlier to return to Oz to spread the word of the Wicked Witch's – well, her – death, leaving her to receive the brunt of the nurse's frustrations, which grew due to being left alone with Elphaba once again.

"Ouch! What's the point of removing the stitches if I'm still going to have a big, ugly, bloody gash on my head?" Elphaba muttered, grimacing at the pain.

"You have no further need for the stitches. After I found you, I put an exceptionally special and rare potion on your cut; a potion that was given to me when I was a child by a traveling witch. It's made with a root that only grows in a particular forest in Oz and it helps wounds heal more rapidly," Levin explained, pulling out the last of the thread and handing Elphaba a mirror.

Elphaba was taken aback: the long gash in her face was closed. While not fully mended, the skin no longer required the thread to hold it together. It seemed that in the few hours since her forehead ripped itself open as a result of her roughly conjured spell, it healed as though at least a couple weeks had passed.

"That's amazing," Elphaba commented, before handing back the mirror.

"A little goes a long way. I put a few drops extra in this for you; I have a feeling you're going to need it more than I will. Don't lose it."

"I wish I knew how to thank you," Elphaba muttered, pocketing the small glass vile, and watched as the woman washed her hands in a basin of water near her and picked up a cloth she had set aside.

"Just don't come back ever again," Levin instructed seriously before dabbing the scarring with the cloth, cleaning away the congealed blood that had collected under the thread. Still, the way her brown eyes avoided her hazel ones and the subtle but easily recognizable expression that quickly flashed across her face gave away the real meaning of her harsh order, and Elphaba grimaced weakly.

"You don't need to feel so guilty for saying that, really."

Levin looked up emotionlessly, as if to prove she was unaffected by the events occurring around her, but Elphaba knew better and it wasn't in her nature to not say so.

"I have seen enough of you to know of your good heartedness, and I know it must be hard to act so hateful even if you feel it is deserved," the witch said, and her sudden assertions made the nurse shy. "The fact that you continue to help me, despite the fact that my mere presence terrifies you, is more kindness than I've been given in years. No, I take that back— possibly in my whole life. So, I mean it, thank you. Never the less, I can't help but wonder: how would you treat me if I were still green-skinned?"

Elphaba watched as the woman unwillingly considered her question. Levin dropped her hand from Elphaba's forehead and squirmed slightly, shamefully, as though she realized the same thing the young woman in front of her did: she wouldn't still be sitting here, dabbing a wound she wouldn't have bothered to mend if her patient were mal-colored. It intrigued Elphaba to no end how one simple characteristic could change her fate so drastically while nothing else had changed about her.

Although earlier in the day she had been quiet and fearful, that had passed on quickly and Elphaba could feel her old-self returning in its entire stubborn, sarcastic, and bitter brilliance. It became apparent in her voice as she continued.

"I've had plenty of time to think today," Elphaba said, never taking her eyes from Levin, who was avoiding the stare. "And I don't regret being born green – living through childhood being teased daily, though my young adulthood constantly prejudged and discriminated against, and my adulthood feared – I'm grateful for every minute of it, because I'm not blissfully unaware of the world's evil as so many others are and I'm not blind to what truly makes someone beautiful. And I'll tell you, it isn't their skin, or their clothing, or their titles and fortunes. And Glinda and Fiyero are the kind of people that are truly beautiful in every way, and that's why I'm more than willing to give up everything I have for them. Hell, that's why I'm only a sunset away from leaving here and obliging your request."

"You say that this captain of the Guard, this…this prince, that he loved you?" Levin asked quietly, finally giving in and returning Elphaba's strong gaze.

"Yes, I…I suppose he did. He managed to see past the thick, green shield I had surrounding me, along with all the lies and tales of my wickedness. What's more, he had everything anyone could possibly want in the world: He had respect, power, and money, not to mention an engagement to the endlessly admired Glinda the Good, but he gave it up for a life of full of fear and exile for me. All the while, he never even knew that I felt the same way." Elphaba laughed sourly as she added, "Imagine the disaster that would have occurred if I hadn't been so fond of him all these years. Oh, what am I talking about? This all is a disaster, as usual…"

"If Lady Glinda is correct, and he was sent to be killed in the first place, wouldn't he have been killed again if he magically returned to life?" Levin asked hesitantly, as if afraid of what words would spill out of the ever-surprising mouth of the witch in response. Elphaba just shrugged unenthusiastically; it wasn't the first time she considered the miserable possibility.

"I fear so, but if it worked at all – which I seriously doubt it did – they might have assumed the magic was done by Glinda, that I still believed him to be dead, or, if they received news that I died quickly enough, they might not have done him any more harm. After all, he was the well-known captain of the Gale Force and an Arjiki royal…"

Elphaba knew that she was probably filling herself up with false hopes. When she couldn't stand the woman's now pitying stare any longer (she wished the woman would go back to ignoring her rather than looking at her like that; why did she always have to talk so damn much?), she stood up and grabbed her cloak from the pile near the door, giving herself some kind of distraction from her thoughts. There was a full length mirror against the wall that she hadn't noticed before, so she turned to face it, wrapping the black cape around her shoulders and analyzing her reflection carefully. Even draped in all black, she still didn't look quite the way she used to: bizarre, unsociable, fiendish…

She suddenly became conscious of herself. When before in her life had she been so obsessed with her reflection? Since childhood, she had usually avoided gazing at it if she could, for good reason. There was nothing but green– undesirable, horrid green. She bit her lip. Perhaps she was becoming as shallow as she judged many other people to be. Still, no matter what she thought about herself, she was still standing there in front of the mirror and she was reminded of Glinda and the way she used to behave back at Shiz…

She smiled, in spite of herself. She had asked Glinda as she was walking out of the small home earlier how she had so quickly and effortlessly spotted Elphaba amid the crowd. It took Glinda a couple moments to think over the question, and as she waited Elphaba contemplated possible responses, all of which were very deep and very sentimental. Instead, Glinda angled her head thoughtfully and said, "Your cheekbones. You always had great cheekbones. And your eyebrows. I was always jealous how you never needed to pluck them. And I remembered your good posture, so that was noticeable in a crowd of slumped farmers. But I knew it was you because of your eyes. You've got such pretty eyes." And then she walked out, leaving Elphaba stunned in her wake.

No one else but Glinda could have made such compliments masked as aesthetic frivolity. Her old roommate's obsession with appearances had always irritated her in the past, but in a curious quirk of fate, it ended up being something that Elphaba couldn't help but appreciate at the lowest, loneliest time in her life.

Elphaba stepped away from her position in front of the mirror, not even bothering to give it another glance as she did so. She shuddered involuntarily and wrapped the thick material of her cloak around herself snugly, glad for the fact that she didn't have to look down at her abnormally tinted arms any longer. Whenever she thought about her new appearance, she felt as though she were wearing someone else's skin and that eventually she would wake up from whatever freakish hallucination she was in and be back in her own body once again. She couldn't decide whether she missed the old color or not; after all, she always had thought this was what she wanted, no matter how much she had said that it was never important to her.

Soon the cold air she had trapped under the wool she had securely enveloped herself in had begun to warm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, listening to her accelerated heartbeat in attempt to calm it down. She had no idea how long she stood there, focused on the rapid pounding in her chest and ears, but it never slowed. She concentrated more, clearing her mind until it felt empty and clear of all thoughts and emotions, and that's when she first sensed it. Two heartbeats. Her heart beat once, then a pause, which was filled with what could only be described as an echo until it beat again.

Elphaba's breath caught in her throat as she fought back a moan of longing. Wherever she was in her mind, Fiyero was there with her with his body pressed up so close to hers that she could feel his pulse against her chest and the heat radiate in waves from him. She inhaled deeply, breathed in the intoxicating fragrance of the Vinkus, and smiled in remembrance at the familiar scent.

She hesitated, afraid that if looked at him he would be gone, but as she opened her eyes, she was greeted by his passionate gaze. His lips parted into a handsome smile, and his slightly calloused fingers brushed some of her hair behind her ear and stroked her face lightly. She shivered at the contact, and his arm wrapped around her, pulling her tense body even closer. She could feel his breath against her skin as he asked her in his soothing timbre, "What is it?"

She sobbed softly and buried her face against the warmth of his neck.

"Are you real?" she whispered, moving her thin fingers across his jaw line until they continued, getting lost in his hair.

"I think so," he laughed softly into her ear, pulling away from her just enough so he could look at her. As though he were testing to see how real she was, he ran his one hand that wasn't holding her down her neck, ever so teasingly, across her shoulder and the length of her arm until he hand her hand clasped in his. "Dance with me, Fae."

"Fiyero…" she began, but the look in his crystalline blue eyes left her weak to do anything else but indulge him. She was completely unable to take her eyes away from his as they turned in place, swaying ever so slightly with only the beating of their hearts to keep rhythm. Their movements were slow and lazy and she felt herself relaxing despite herself.

"I don't really dance," she said, glancing away, but he caught her chin with his hand and turned her gently to look at him again.

"I just want to feel you near me," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as his eyes surveyed her carefully.

She grinned shyly and was embarrassed that he could affect her so, even in this confusing, strange place. He leaned in, brushed his mouth gently against hers, and she could feel his smile against her lips. He pulled away before she could respond and she opened her eyes to gaze at him contentedly until she realized he was slowly drifting away…

She tried to step forward and grab him, but she her feet wouldn't move. She glanced down, only for a moment, trying to find whatever hindrance was prohibiting her movement, and as she looked back up, she saw Fiyero being held upward by two Ozian soldiers. He was completely limp in their arms, and dark, crimson blood covered his face and stained his shirt. The cold chill of death emanated from his body, and they dragged him as blood dripped off of him past Morrible and the Wizard, who stood watching him enter through an elaborate green and gold door and into a contrasting dark and dreary hallway until they looked back at her with matching triumphant grins…

"No…" she whimpered, and tried reaching out for him once more, only to realized that she was soaked as well in his cold blood; it was all over her hands… "NO!"

Elphaba jerked awake suddenly, coated in perspiration and breathing as though she had she had run for miles. She was back standing in the middle of Levin's warm cottage, and the heat against her clammy skin only made her colder. She looked down at her hands, which were completely void of the blood but shaking uncontrollably, and she ran her quivering fingers through her sweat-dampened hair, trying to gain some understanding of what just happened.

A small noise somewhere near her made her head snap up, and a few feet away Levin was standing frozen in place staring at her. She was more than an arm's length away and unmoving, but the look she had in her eyes and the way her hand was held halfway out in front of her gave Elphaba the impression that she was torn between instinctual worry and conscious fear.

Not that it really was anything unusual in her life, but currently she was beginning to tire of the woman's continual mistrust. Surely it cost her so much more energy to be this afraid all the time! Nonetheless, her loss of tolerance and her own trepidation at whatever occurred caused her to demand rather icily, "What happened?"

"I-I don't know! You just went stiff, like you were in some sort of trance, I couldn't wake you…"

She wished she hadn't asked. She held a hand up, saving Levin the trouble of continuing to explain, and thought back to whatever vision she had– for it surely wasn't a dream, it was far too vivid. She could still feel where Fiyero touched her before he was stolen, before those fiends so cruelly ripped him away from her embrace…

Morrible and the Wizard. Her heart was hammering against her chest as fury came over her. She wanted them dead. No, she didn't want them dead: She wanted them to be tortured until the point of death, so they would know exactly the kind of suffering she felt in having to mourn the losses of her lover and only sister. And then she wanted them tortured again to symbolize her inner-torment in having to watch his body being dragged away by palace guards behind the massive door and beyond…

The door, with its bold, emerald hue and elaborate gold designs, would be forever etched into her mind. She knew it wasn't just a manifestation of her imagination but rather it was a specific place, somewhere inside of the Emerald Palace, and that was where they took him; of this she was certain. That was where she'd find him. And she was going to get him back, even if she had to carry his cold, heavy corpse in the city's shadows and through the its grand gates to do it. He deserved better than to rot in their evil clutches.

Without another moment's hesitation, she reached down and shoveled her belongings into her bag, threw it over her shoulder, grabbed her broom and made for the door.

"What are you doing?" Levin asked anxiously. "Lady Glinda told you to wait 'til nightfall…"

"I'm not waiting any longer," Elphaba replied darkly, before adding scathingly, "Surely you won't miss me too much?"

Without another word to the woman, she turned and left the cottage, heading in the direction of the dark field of crops ahead of her. She only took a moment to look longingly at the roped off memorial of her death, where her old dress and crushed pointed hat lay sadly among the green. As soon as she was well within the shelter of the tall cornstalks, she leapt onto her broomstick and shot into the sky in the direction of the setting sun and the awaiting Emerald City.