Greetings everyone! Early morning Sunday update for you. Aren't you lucky? Well, you only kind of are, because I'm running out of written story so this is the last time I'm doing the Sunday update. :( Trust me, that bums me out too, I look forward to doing it all week long. But on a brighter note, I'm updating from my hotel room in California and soon I'll be off to see Idina Menzel in concert! I'm super excited for that!

Speaking of super excited, who missed Fiyero? :D

Fiyero wondered what he looked like as he sat nearly entirely submerged in Glinda's enormous bathtub, with his face being the only thing visible above the filthy, soap-bubble filled water. Somewhat silly, he imagined, but the warmth of the bath was altogether addicting to someone who had been beaten to a pulp then forced to sleep on a stone floor within the last few days. He felt his muscles loosening up under the surface, so it was with great reluctance that he fished around underneath him for the plug that would release the glorious bath water from around him. But he certainly wasn't brave enough at the moment to stand up and face the cool breeze wafting in from the open window, so instead he sat hiding against the steep wall of the tub until the water drained out completely and the porcelain once again became cold to the touch.

Silently cursing whoever was cruel enough to invent such a wonderful thing such as a bathtub out of such a terribly uncomfortable material, Fiyero finally decided to sit up and climb out of his sanctuary. Elphaba left a couple of towels on a chair nearby, which was considerate because when he dove into the long-overdue bath he hadn't thought so far ahead to when he needed to get out. First things first, he grabbed the smaller of the two towels and hurled it at the open window. But instead of knocking it shut and halting the frigid wind, it hit the wall next to it and slumped sadly to the floor.

So, short one fluffy, warm towel and in a growing huff, Fiyero hastily rubbed dry his hair. His feeling of stupidity grew when he roughly forced the cloth over the painful knot hidden somewhere in his hairline, and he bit his lip to keep from swearing out loud, which of course caused more agony for him as his lip stung. Moaning slightly, he spun in place to distract himself, only to find that Elphaba had slid into bathroom sometime while he was whimpering and doing his injury jig and was standing quietly in the doorway.

"Oh, hello," Fiyero said coolly, suddenly self-conscious of his nakedness and feeling completely unmanly due to the big soap bubbles and suds sticking to his skin. He decided to have the decency to cover himself with the towel, securing it around his waist; it wasn't quite as fun being the only one undressed, and he didn't think he'd manage to talk her out of her bathrobe.

"Hi," she responded quietly.

It only took him a moment to stop thinking about himself and review the woman in front of him. He couldn't possibly know for sure, but this unusual skin color she was wearing (why was that, anyway?) seemed unhealthily pale. Her brow was contorted, but was it fatigue, stress, contemplation, worry? Knowing Elphaba, she carried all of these emotions inside of her as if keeping them from those around her by accepting the burden alone. But she wasn't alone anymore. He would do anything to help her realize this.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Of course, I'm fine," Elphaba responded, with a smile that didn't meet her eyes.

"You don't have to lie to me."

Her gaze dropped from his immediately as though she was ashamed.

He didn't want to appear angry with her, so he dropped his hands down as though to slide them into his pockets until he realized he had none; he was wrapped in a towel. Instead, his arms hung limply and gawkily at his side for a moment, so he moved them so he could rest his hands on his hips. Then, he realized that he looked strict, and he was halfway to cross his arms in front of his chest until he understood that was a bad idea too. Why couldn't they have had a class at Shiz for Body Language in a Towel? No doubt he would have signed up for that the moment he heard about it.

But as he stared at the magnificent woman in front of him, so lost in her thoughts, he knew exactly where he wanted his arms to be. He stepped forward and enveloped her in an embrace, and she gasped softly in surprise at the unexpected contact, but other than adjust slightly so she could also hold him too he didn't let go. He stared down at her ebony hair as her face was buried against his shoulder and leaned his head down slightly so he could whisper to her, as warmly and lovingly as he could muster, "You don't ever have to lie to me, my beautiful Fae."

"Nor do you, my prince," she said to him, pulling away from him.

He frowned at her response; why couldn't she understand how gorgeous she was? He had always been so taken by her and it was a reason far beyond her stunning and exotic skin. Though she attempted to step away, Fiyero refused to remove his hands from around her, thus forcing her to look back up at him and keeping her body at a place he greatly approved of. He tried to read her as best he could, but her deep, dark eyes continued to be a mystery. He eagerly anticipated one day unraveling it.

Fiyero took in the wet tears that glistened at the corners of her eyes with sadness. He hadn't felt them against the skin of his chest, and even though he was still wet from his bath he felt shame for it; Fiyero wanted so badly to just be the lover who could sense and understand her distress without words. There was so much he wanted to learn.

If she too noticed the tears, she didn't acknowledge them or wipe them away. It was though she pretended they weren't there, but strange as it were, for the first time in his life Fiyero wanted a woman to cry. He had a feeling she needed it more than anyone else in Oz.

He didn't break eye contact with her, watching as the shining tears at each corner disappeared. She wasn't going to cry in front of him; maybe it was some desire to appear strong in his presence. For a moment, Fiyero contemplated this was a good thing, for not but two hours ago he sat next to a weeping girl and had no idea what to do. But then he realized he knew exactly what to do for Elphaba: he would pull her close and never let go. And with that particular method with this particular woman, there would never be a greater comforter than he in all the Land of Oz.

Elphaba's hair naturally dried wavy, he thought out of the blue, as a breeze came through the open window. He regretted any of his previous attempts to throw objects at the glass to make it close and made a silent vow to never again shut the pane as long as her beautiful hair continued to flutter around her like it was. And when her dark eyes went up to his hairline, he pondered how his hair behaved when he didn't comb it either; it must be a curly mess.

But all she said, as a loose lock blew over those eyes and as a hand came up to brush across his cheek to his bangs, was, "You're bleeding..."

And he felt himself melt. He loved the gentle yet purposeful touch she possessed. It currently was teasing the skin at his forehead, and for the shortest moment he began thinking to himself that he didn't care if he bled forever just as long as she looked at him like that, touched him that way, spoke in that incredible sexy voice…

Oh, the wound on his head was bleeding? That was a bad thing.

He was quite sure he mumbled something mostly incoherent and extremely unintelligent, but she just smiled at him and pulled out of his arms to tread across the room. He felt miserable with her no longer there, but as he watched her push around her filthy clothing and bloody bandages on the floor looking for something, he felt dense and insensitive.

Why was he so occupied with how their hair looked when she went through what he could deduct was a horrible and exhausting ordeal? She walked back towards him with a clean hand towel and something small and glass, and this time he paid attention to her tight and uneven pace. He recalled how she favored one leg during their furious flee from the guards and wanted to slap himself for forgetting.

"You're hurt," he said to her as she gently pushed him to a sitting position on the cold tile floor.

"So are you, so be quiet for a minute so I can take care of this for you," Elphaba told him. She kneeled gracelessly next to him and placed the cloth against the knot on his head. Had it been hurting this whole time since he hastily towel dried his head prior to her walking in?

"I don't remember seeing you get hit in the head," she remarked.

"It was after I was captured. I don't think the guards anticipated on me waking up after being impaled repeatedly, so one knocked me out again. Next thing I knew I was in that cell where you found me."

She nodded at this, focused on her tending. When she seemed satisfied with how she mopped up the lesion, she held up the small glass vile he noticed only moments before and they both stared at the liquid inside. There was barely anything in there, not even two drops worth, but it seemed to be enough for Elphaba as she pulled open the lid.

"What's that?"

"It's a healing potion. It will be a little painful," she warned. As she dripped it in to his wound, he didn't care how it stung as he stared into her exhausted eyes.

"This isn't fair," he said, and her gaze shifted down to his. "I wanted to be the one to take care of you for once."

He understood as the empty vile slipped from her hand to the hard floor that something he said struck a chord in her. Had anyone ever said that before in her life? Her eyes welled up again and he doubted if he had said the right thing.

Apparently he had. She leaned forward and clumsily caught his mouth with hers. It was a chaste kiss, but he was determined to use it to express how he felt for her nonetheless. A tear slid between their noses and he could taste it on his lips; he slid them away from hers and gently kissed the tearstain left down her cheek.

"Yero…" she whispered, and he felt her shudder slightly as he placed his arms around her once more, keeping her so close to him. He brushed his lips up and placed them softly against the damp corner of her eye; he was willing to kiss every one of her tears away for the rest of their lives, and he saw no reason to not start now.

She shifted and repositioned herself so she sat on his lap facing him, her legs on either side of him. It was such an innocent movement he couldn't even start to get excited over it – him in his towel, her straddling him in just a bathrobe – because he knew she just wanted to be close to him as much as was possible, and he held her against him and planned on never letting go.

"I love you so much, Fiyero, you just don't understand…"

His brow furrowed to why she would say it like that. She sounded so concerned too, as though the slight mention of it would scare him to the opposite side of Oz. Surely she knew how he felt by now? While at the time she was pissed at him (and it caused her what he could only assume was a load of trouble later), he stepped in near of the governor's mansion in Munchkinland because he was ready to die for her. She had to realize he wouldn't make a decision like that rashly; he was quite fond of living. But it was so easy, and he had no regrets because of how he loved her.

But never before that moment had either of them said the three important words, for their limited period together had been focused on physically portraying their feelings and on making up for lost time. Why hadn't he just said it before now? To reassure her, when she remarked on her disbelief that he wanted her, that it was for more than just her body?

"Oh, Elphaba, can't you feel my heart beating for you?"

Fiyero felt her snort against his shoulder and he smiled goofily, despite the seriousness of the topic.

"I can't believe I keep falling for these cheesy lines of yours."

"It's the truth. Sweet Oz, woman, I've been in love with you for years." Now that he said it, he promised himself he would never again make the same mistake; he would never forget to declare the words again.

Elphaba turned quickly to look at him and they nearly bumped heads. The way she stared at him was so adorable that Fiyero was proud of himself for being composed enough not to kiss her crazy at that moment. He smiled at her.

"You saved my life, I know it," he said, running a hand through her long hair. "Something shocked me back to life, quite literally. Feeling my blood begin pumping again was the most painful, most indescribable feeling…"

"Was it like taking a bolt of lightning to the chest?" she said, her voice low. He nodded slowly; he wasn't sure how she understood so well.

Her eyes didn't leave his as she grabbed his hand and pulled it downward. She guided it to her breast and allowed it to slide beneath the bathrobe, and he, though slightly confused and stunned at her action, eagerly pushed the material aside. He looked down, ready to attack the skin with his mouth when he froze.

There, next to his hand, was a deep purple blemish seared into her skin that he knew hadn't been there the last time he looked because he remembered paying a lot of attention to that spot. He swallowed heavily.

"What…what happened?"

"What happened was," she started slowly, her voice suddenly more tired than ever, "I watched you die. You allowed yourself to be taken and killed, like an idiot I'd like to mention." He grinned at her fond tone. "And I don't know. I was so distraught. I just yanked open that stupid spell book and read one of the first spells I saw. Next thing I know, there was a splitting pain in my head, my skin melts off like some bad Ozian rumor, and I saw a flash of light. Then everything went black. That's all."

Fiyero had the distinct feeling that wasn't all, but didn't force her to elaborate. His thoughts and his eyes returned to the soft, fair skin of her breast, where his hand lingered innocently. It didn't feel any different under his fingertips, but he had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that this was indeed his Elphaba, his green goddess.

"So this isn't some illusion?" he asked, disorientated. "This is forever?"

"I believe so," she whispered, and he tentatively met her scrutinizing gaze. "What are you thinking?"

He opened up his mouth to make a smart comment about how thinking was below him or something of the like, but couldn't. He didn't understand what he was thinking or how he felt. He would love this woman even if she was bright orange with blue spots, but his heart still ached for the loss. How silly, it was just a color. But it was Elphaba's color.

"It'll take some getting used to," he settled on, smiling tensely.

"I always thought I wanted this," she said weakly, putting a hand to her pale, frowning face. "To be normal."

"You'll never be normal," Fiyero teased, "and all the better for it."

She smiled faintly but genuinely, and joined their lips in a silent 'thank you.' She sat back, expressionless and clearly deep in thought, and he rested his hands on her waist patiently.

"When my cut was opened, that must have been when yours closed," she muttered aloud, her fingertips stroking his abdomen, appraising his stab wounds gently. His eyes rolled back at her tormenting touch, but he tried to pretend as though it didn't affect him and to keep his expression as neutral as possible as Elphaba finally placed her palms placidly against his chest. "And when I was electrocuted and my heart stopped…"

"That's when mine started," Fiyero finished for her. He narrowed her eyes at her in realization and disapproval. "You said your heart stopped. But why? Why did you do that to yourself?"

She sighed, hesitating. Finally she said, "Because for the first time in my life, I was truly alone. Without Nessarose, without Glinda, and…especially without you…nothing seemed important anymore. My dreams – no, delusions – and my life…didn't seem worth it. No one else would want me in the world."

"Then they don't realize what they would be missing," Fiyero told her seriously, reaching up and stroking his thumb across her jaw and to her chin, lifting it up so she could look at him. "Your strength of mind and your conviction are both reasons I fell in love with you in the first place; please don't ever let them go."

She appeared so uncertain that it broke his heart. He had no idea how to convince her of how amazing he thought she was. At least when she had her green skin, she could keep her head high in defiance to everyone, but she had no green to hide behind anymore. No, he reasoned as he saw deep in her arresting eyes the glitter of jade, that wasn't completely true. But if no attribute of her own could let her feel like herself anymore, then he could step in its place and be the one to remind her how special she was.

His first tactic was to eliminate the small distance between them and kiss her tenderly, which he executed impeccably. The slow, soft gesture no doubt expressed the devotion he had, and he was willing to forever purely caress her lips with his if only to represent his overwhelming desire for her heart and soul—

Elphaba opened her mouth on his and deepened the kiss, and his ingenious full-fledged plan went out the window, completely forgotten. Goodness, she knew exactly what to do to him to make his brain shut down the limited activity it used. But once it did, his carnal instincts took over and he was able to respond with fervor.

The moment he heard the low moan he elicited from her, Fiyero knew he needed her right then. He grasped onto her tighter and pressed his body into hers, but he found as he shifted, his injured torso did not want to move as aggressively as he did. With a loud groan, he fell backwards at a funny angle and landed on his back roughly, and the thud he heard informed him his head slammed against the tile.

Elphaba had managed to catch herself from falling fully with her hands on either side of him. She looked down at him calmly, and said through heavy breaths and slightly swollen lips, "Are you okay?"

Fiyero was still for a moment, realized the pounding sensation in the back of his head was no where significant enough to distract him from the woman on top of him, and grinned. Her robe was loose on her body now (how it clung to her just enough to tease him he could not understand), and her hair was falling down around her face, tickling his bare chest, waving lightly at the breeze wafting into the room.

That was the best open window ever.

"Never been better," he said, and as she chuckled at him, he felt his heart skip a beat and a sudden surge of daring fill him. Leaving one hand wrapped around her hip and securing the other behind her back, he rolled them over skillfully. She squealed and laughed at the unexpected movement and gripped the back of his neck and his bare shoulder reactively, pulling him even closer. Even with her delicious mouth and skin so ridiculously near his own, he stopped himself from immediately devouring her the second he had her beneath him. Her adorable near-giggles were sounding in his ears, and to him it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He wanted nothing more than to listen to her forever. The swelling of love he felt in response overpowered his lust and he just wanted a moment to be able to look at her, to really look at her.

She was no longer pale like she had been, but rather had a delightful pink flush to her face that only glowed more lovely as she laughed. It wasn't the dark green blush that he had once been so enchanted by, nor were her lips the unique grayish green that had only added to his fascination, but the light hue in her cheeks – so different from any he had known on her or anyone else before – and the reddish tint of her irrepressible mouth had very quickly become his new favorite colors.

Her smile slowly faded, much to his dismay, as she came to comprehend that he was examining her. He allowed her a moment of uneasiness and watched as she pursed her lips anxiously, knowing that he was about to kiss it all away.

"I love you," he reminded her, smirking contentedly down at the prize he had trapped beneath him. "You're so beautiful."

"Is that looking at things another way?" she asked quietly, timidly.

"No. That's just looking at you."

She didn't respond as her gaze moved back and forth between his eyes, and he felt like a piece of art being analyzed for its authenticity. He was being truthful, however, and he hoped the expression held on his face portrayed that to her and that she understood precisely what he meant. He didn't want her to believe that without that atypical skin color she lost that suddenly she held the beauty she had not possessed earlier; instead, he meant that now every man in the would be able to take one look at her and see that she exactly how gorgeous she was, whether that man be a bigot or nearly blind.

Just the idea of another man's eyes taking in the woman in front of him was enough for him to want to claim her right then and there. Though she was momentarily stunned by his sudden assertiveness, it didn't last long and her actions were overwhelming him. Her hands danced across the skin of his chest, shoulders, and back, igniting his nerves as well as further inflaming his passion.

As he laid a trail of kisses along her long neck and she purred his name, he deemed that his second brilliant plan, which included making passionate love to Elphaba until neither of them could move, was well on its way to being a success.

How they both (especially he) had managed to restrain themselves enough not to fully strip one another of the limited material between them was a mystery to him; he immediately set out to remedy that problem. As his hand snuck smoothly beneath the fluffy material of the small bathrobe and wrapped around her thigh, his excitement continued to grow in anticipation of the ecstasy that seemed only a breath away, and he reveled in the heat of her smooth skin just as her robe fell away…

Elphaba cried out suddenly and squirmed away from his touch; he pulled his body from hers in fear. He had no idea what he did but whatever it was, judging by the tension that filled her whole body and the grimace she wore, it clearly hurt her.

"Wh-what's wrong? What did I do?"

She didn't respond, but simply opened her watering eyes and stared somewhere above him, shaking her head slightly as though mad at herself. His brow knitted and he looked down at her leg where he had been touching her and took a sharp intake of breath at the mutilated flesh that the bathrobe had previously covered.

"Oh, Elphaba…" he whispered, placing his hands on either side of the wound and looking at it, feeling sick. There were three thick, deep slashes, dark red in color, but strangely didn't look as if to be fresh. But it had to have happened in the last couple days, since he knew the lesions weren't there before that, and the only conclusion he could come up with is that whatever potion she applied to the bloody knot on his head had been used on this (and probably on that new scar on her forehead as well, he realized smartly). It was far more than he could completely fathom, especially at that particular moment, and he felt his head spin.

He swept his hand on the inside of her leg away from the injury, barely touching the skin there, but just as he did Elphaba grabbed it and pulled it away quickly. He turned to face her worriedly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"It's not that," she said breathlessly, her expression hard as she laid flat again. "It's just…if you continue moving that way, I didn't think I would have been capable of stopping you."

He blushed and smiled slightly, feeling playful. "And what's wrong with that?" he asked, moving over her again, more-so to look into her eyes than anything. "I can be gentle."

"I'm quite aware of that," she said, her lips upturning slightly.

"Or we can make a rule: I won't touch you below the waist."

"Lurline knows you won't follow that rule more than any other."

He gaped at her, insulted, but after a moment he nodded in agreement, "True…"

"But we shouldn't start to get carried away again. This was probably a good interruption. What if Glinda returns? We can't do this to her; behave like this a room over. It's not fair, not after how we hurt her."

"I've talked to Glinda. She says she's happy for us," he said, brushing some hair from her brow as he tried to follow her rationalization.

"Oh, Fiyero, that doesn't change how she feels. It wasn't two weeks ago that you were betrothed to her. She must have expected to be with you for the rest of her life, and then barely any time later you run off with me, leaving her shocked and alone. And anything I've said to her about it has only rubbed salt in the wound. No, Fiyero, I can't do this to her."

He felt empty and confused, but didn't say anything as he pushed himself to his feet and pulled her up after. While they both readjusted and covered themselves, Fiyero became aware, once again, of how cold the bathroom was.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, avoiding his eyes. He just stared at her, his teeth clenching slightly in his disappointment. He didn't blame her at all; more than anything he was impressed by her respectable consideration for others. And her self-control. "Could you shut that window?"

And, with regret, he did.