Hey everyone. Sorry about the wait. Truth be told, I ended up taking out a detour in the story that I had been planning on writing for two years and it took me quite some time to figure out what I wanted to do instead then I had to get up the nerve to pick up writing this story again, which I hadn't worked on in a long time. I'm really glad I managed to find the motivation because I seriously missed you guys! I hope you like this. Enjoy.

Elphaba Thropp had not slept so well in a very, very, very long time. Or, at any rate, she couldn't recall a time in the recent months she had been more fully unconscious, at least while she was in that state between sleep and wakefulness when mental competence left something to be desired. It was that state, when dreams were vivid beyond words and the body felt every ramification of the subconscious's wanderings, which the witch had experienced much more in her years in solitude.

So she laid still, her eyes still sealed shut against the world outside, and attempted to compel herself back to that rejuvenating slumber she was beginning to leave. After all, that condition had been dreamless up until the point she was at, which meant she had none of those agonizing visions of Fiyero's death. That alone was worth the sacrifice of the perplexing comfort she was experiencing in her partially awake phase.

It was no use, however. The pull farther from the delirium made her more and more aware of the soft pillows her face was buried in, the sensation under her fingertips, and the feeling of warmth she was enveloped in. It reminded her of days long ago that she would hide in her parents' bed just so she could smell their scents and make believe they were holding her. Eventually, she would be found, pulled by her arm and thrown from the bedroom onto the cold, wood floors of the family estate where she was then struck and scolded. But that flash of love and warmth she would imagine within those sheets had been worth all of the fear and pain.

Elphaba knew better than to believe that she was back at Colwen Grounds twenty years in the past, yet the feel of the fabric bunched in her clenching hands was so similar. Her father had told her once that Melena preferred luxurious sheets such as these, for no fewer thread count would have sufficed; Elphaba never forgot that, though it was such a silly thing to remember. The likeness of the bedding wasn't enough to convince her that she would wake to Frexspar's angry face or his raised hand, no— more likely, it would be to a Gale Forcer's bayonet. She felt her blood pressure intensify at the thought and she began to stir uncomfortably.

But if only, if only, this fantasy was true, and she was two years old: perhaps this would be the time her mother would finally express love to her eldest. After all, the more pregnant she became the more affectionate she was, even slightly more so to the outlandish green girl she birthed. Even a kiss from her mother would suffice, but Melena kept her distance due to some fear or hatred of the girl and her skin that Elphaba's childhood innocence never quite understood. It was only a color, there was nothing she could do about it and it would never go away, so why couldn't people – why couldn't her own mother – look past it?

She felt fingers graze gently over her face and she turned into the hand, desperate for physical contact. How she yearned for it! How her heart leapt each time someone touched her in her life, from every hug she remembered so vividly through the years, for how few there were, and every time someone held her hand.

But this warmth on her face was unlike any other; the touch was so intimate and so rare that it could only belong to one person. Her eyelids fluttered open and she first saw a glint of gold. A cufflink. Her brow creased as she stared at it, realizing she hadn't seen one in years. No, that wasn't true, she realized: Fiyero wore one just like this before he escaped from the Emerald Palace with her. A smile graced her face and she allowed her hazel orbs to travel up the striking military uniform to her handsome lover. The swell of gratification was so intense she could barely contain the sob that accompanied it, but she bit her lip and took him in.

The pale light coming into the room made his features soft and flawless, his hair gleam golden, and his smile so mild. It was too majestic, was Elphaba's first thought; too idyllic. The bubble of emotion inside of her quickly transformed into one of anguish as she recollected the last times she was immersed in such a fanciful vision with him.

Brutally struck with the fear that the same fate would befall this moment with Fiyero as had happened before, she reached up and clutched him frantically, one hand gripping his wrist and the other crushing the shoulder of his jacket. Pulling herself off the bed slightly, she met his worried gaze with her own. While she was slightly soothed by the notion that she was feeling him under her tight fingers, Elphaba refused to be manipulated by some false impression. If he weren't really there, she wasn't sure if she could handle losing him another time.

"Don't leave me," she pleaded, her voice shockingly physically and emotionally weak. She readjusted her hand on his jacket so it wrapped around his strong neck and into his soft hair. "Please stay with me…"

"Elphaba, I'm not going anywhere," he answered, his tone confused. The hand she held so firmly turned so their fingers were folded together and he brought them to his lips to kiss her skin.

She didn't believe him and couldn't bring herself to let go and allow him to fall away from her in this perfect setting. The thudding of her heart was agonizing, and it suddenly occurred to her that never before in her visions had the pulsing ever been so painful before.

Nor had there ever been a petite blonde springing towards her.

"Elphie! Wake up, you're dreaming!" Glinda shrilled, landing next to her on the large mattress and somehow managing to agitate the stillness of the two larger adults with her light weight.

She shifted in shock at her best friend's appearance, sitting up so quickly that she collided heads with Fiyero and strained the sensitive muscles of her weak body simultaneously. Fiyero hardly flinched beyond the expression of surprise, but Elphaba had banged the healing scar on her forehead and soon her entire form was in pain again like it had been before she fell into her blissful slumber.

"I'm sorry, Elphie, I didn't mean to scare you. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Elphaba grumbled, pulling her hand from Fiyero's shoulder and putting it to her throbbing bruise over her brow. "And I'm quite certain I'm not dreaming, for I'm pretty sure that wouldn't have hurt so much."

Glinda and Fiyero grinned, and Elphaba couldn't help but laugh a little at herself as well. She cringed slightly as she moved her injured leg, but before long she was sitting up against the pillows and was properly able to take in her surroundings.

She wasn't in Glinda's bedroom as she would have initially have thought. In fact, she had never before in her life seen the room she had been sleeping in before now: it was enormous and familiar in that it reminded her of the vastness and shape of Glinda's apartment, but instead of the creamy white furniture and pale pink walls, a half dozen different shades of earthy brown surrounded her. The furniture was a dark oak, including the magnificent four-poster bed they were all seated upon, the dark green curtains of which were neatly drawn to the hand-carved pillar. Elphaba's eyes traveled over the other handsome oak furnishings around the room, appreciating their beauty, until they fell upon the far brick wall where bookshelves as tall as the ceiling stretched a hundred feet or more along the rounded wall, framing what Elphaba could see was a grand, old desk.

"Where are we?"

"This is my guest bedroom," Glinda said, smiling, and she pointed upwards. "My quarters are just above."

"How long have I been out?"

"Nearly a whole day," Fiyero answered, and his voice – so real and rich – sent shivers down her spine. She avoided his powerful gaze.

"Fiyero carried you down here after you fell asleep yesterday on my sofa, and I'm surprised you didn't awaken. I had never seen you sleep so heavily."

True, she normally was a very fitful sleeper, but clearly she had needed the rest. A part of her took relief knowing that she had only slept a day; she felt as though she had been dead to the world far longer than that.

She turned back, taking in Glinda's exceptional beauty with a slight twinge of envy. The feeling quickly passed, and she remembered with amusement that the blonde's appearance wasn't wholly natural. An image (one she regretted to admit she had seen one too many times) came to mind of young Galinda waking up in their shared compartment at Shiz, her eyes puffy and her hair wild, a rather unpleasant look that took a long, hot bath and a few minutes at the vanity to fix.

Given that the Northern Witch appeared nearly perfect as she smiled at her friend, Elphaba concluded the woman had been awake for a long while. No doubt she was an extremely busy woman (with the Wizard needing someone with actual power to do everything for him and all, she thought cynically), but what new responsibilities was Glinda forced to have taken up due to the previous days' events? How much of a burden had Elphaba been, both in the public domain with her notorious ending as well as privately, where Glinda clearly went through much trouble to keep her safe and comfortable? She felt guilty.

In addition, despite their increased physical and emotional intimacy, she was still embarrassed by how much Fiyero had attended to her. He made it clear the day before in the bathroom that he intended to take care of her, but it wasn't something she was comfortable with yet (she wondered if she ever would be). After all, she had taken care of herself her entire life without any assistance.

He was insistent, however, especially when she nearly collapsed from fatigue upon leaving the bathroom. Following their heated and thrillifying…conversation…on the tile floor, she felt completely worn out, as though her time spent alone with Fiyero had drained her of energy she hadn't had in the first place. He caught her the second she began swaying and helped her to Glinda's plush couch, where she eventually conceded and allowed him to dress her in an old set of Glinda's sleepwear.

In order to make it less embarrassing as he removed her damp robe and carefully pulled on the soft pajamas, he quietly spoke to her. He reminded her seriously of how in love he was, which was becoming easier and easier for her to believe. The way he took her in with such awe as he disrobed her seemed to express much more than a physical desire for her, as though he couldn't believe she was here with him. All the same, he couldn't seem to control himself, since he allowed his fingertips to trail across her skin as he moved the fabric around, making her shiver with pleasure, and when he finally began fastening up the front of the nightshirt, his lips tenderly preceded every button. Her had eyes fluttered shut, all of her tension dissipated with each affectionate touch, and when his wonderful lips reached the delicate burn above her heart, he whispered against her skin a soft, "Thank you."

Even though by this time he had nearly lulled her to sleep, Elphaba comprehended that his murmur had so many meanings. He genuinely wanted to take care of her, and he seemed to realize the amount of trust she was placing in him to let him tend to her. She hated feeling vulnerable, but Elphaba was always safe in his arms. (Perhaps she was being naïve in that idea, but she didn't care.) She also could tell that Fiyero did not anticipate that she would allow him to touch her as he had been, especially because they were so exposed in the middle of Glinda's residence. Elphaba didn't understand why he was thanking her for that, however, as it was her whose feelings of bliss and security increased with every brush of his fingertips and smooth lips. Ultimately, he clearly felt indebted by the sacrifice that the lightning's disfigurement represented, though she would have done it again for nothing more than the opportunity to spend another minute with him.

Unable to resist him any longer, she had reached up and laced her fingers through his curls, keeping him from pulling away from her weary body. He complied easily, turning his face so her shoulder became his pillow, and taking her hint he carefully maneuvered from his kneeling position on the floor to lie next to her on Glinda's enormous couch. She had sighed in contentment when he wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her close to his bare torso, and fell from consciousness only moments later.

Elphaba stared over at her old roommate with sudden, uncontrollable guilt: Glinda would have come home to that intimate display. She, whether it was from fatigue or Fiyero's ability to limit her inhibitions, had forgotten about her friend and allowed the very thing she insisted on avoiding to happen. How wretched of a friend she was to do that to poor Glinda! Elphaba suddenly comprehended the undertone of Glinda's last utterance, of how she had seen Fiyero carry her to where she currently lay, and her heart pounded as she tried to imagine how her friend must feel. At Shiz, when she had to watch the university's most popular and perfect couple together, she felt the pangs of envy and sadness but it was controlled by her self-deprecation. After everything that occurred, how was it possible for Glinda to watch her ex-fiancé cuddle with her best friend on her very own living-room furniture?

Elphaba glanced harshly at Fiyero, vowing that the thoughtless romantic display would be her last around her friend. Now that she was more awake, she blamed Fiyero for having allowed such behavior to take place after she explicitly asked him not to.

A sudden, crucial realization struck her in that moment: any demonstrations of affection with Fiyero, whether with around Glinda or not, needed to be brought to a close. He was an Ozian royal, a former high-ranking military officer, and respected political representative that had, just days ago, been involved with Lady Glinda of the North, only to suddenly run off with Oz's most wanted fugitive. If he suddenly expressed interest in her, the nameless raven-haired woman staying with Lady Glinda, that could put everything they had accomplished in jeopardy.

A million questions filled her mind.

"Has Fiyero been pardoned? What have Morrible and the Wizard done about all of this? What did you say about the spectacle in the palace lobby yesterday? Do people believe you?"

"Of course they believe me," Glinda responded with a dismissive laugh and wave of her hand. "I held a last-minute press conference yesterday evening – without the approval or assistance of Morrible, of course – and told the people of Oz what you and I had discussed: that the attack on the palace yesterday was an obsessive Wicked Witch wannabe intent on abducting Fiyero."

"And they readily accepted that?" Elphaba asked, her disbelief lacing her voice. Even though she helped concoct the story, she had spent so long trying to get people to see her side of things that she had marked it as an impossible endeavor.

"Mostly. Fiyero's testimony, explaining the spell the Wicked Witch placed over him and the horrible things she put him through—" Fiyero's hand slid into hers, as if to show that whatever the two of them had experienced, he didn't believe any of it was horrible. She avoided his strong gaze and pulled her hand away from his, focusing on Glinda as she continued, "—was essential. He marvelously gained even more sympathy when he revealed what he had suffered at the hands of the Gale Forcers, even though the spell on him had already been broken. No doubt the people of Oz are looking at their Wizard and his press secretary with a little more uncertainty after what they did to their beloved captain."

"We think that I may be forgiven," Fiyero added with a shrug. "And the Wizard got himself into a pickle with my 'death,' so Glinda blackmailed him into officially absolving me of my treason. Look, it's all in the paper. Well, not the blackmail part…"

"You've missed a whole lot, Elphie," Glinda said matter-of-factly as Fiyero pulled away the morning's newspaper on the bedside table, revealing a bowl of fruit and a plate of bread and cheese that interested Elphaba much more than any newsprint could at that moment. No doubt, some of the things she had missed were a few meals, for she greedily reached for the bread and ripped a chunk from it with her teeth, not caring about manners as she satisfied her intense hunger. It took her a few more seconds and a couple more massive bites of the loaf before she paid attention to the story on the newspaper Fiyero held out in front of her, and she swallowed one of the bites with difficulty as she tried to process it.

Elphaba reached for an apple from the bowl of fruit and munched quietly on it while attentively examining the article. It explained how the Wicked Witch cast a spell the moment Fiyero arrived to arrest her, coercing him to threaten the Wizard of Oz and enabling an escape route from the palace. She had continued to overpower him with her black magic for days, making him a slave to her will, trapping his mind in a rebellious body. The Witch had barely managed to escape from the Gale Force's grip using him one last time, leaving him for dead in their angry hands. When the Witch's aspirant broke into the palace prison to finish her idol's work on the Vinkun prince, she fell into the midst of the Good Witch of the North, who banished the potentially murderous criminal and saved the innocent young captain from further torment…

"Elphie, trust me when I say I did not want to talk about you like that. If I had it my way I would have told that reporter every truth I contain about us, including that nothing about the Witch of the West was wicked except for that hideodious hat."

"A dastardly gift given by one who would prove herself a truest friend; how irony continues to mock us."

"I knew all along how great that hat would look on you," Glinda asserted with a wink.

It was with a roll of her eyes and a gentle smile that Elphaba looked on her friend, but the longer she stared at her and the handsome prince next to her the more the smile fell from her face and a swell of guilt replaced it. The years that the three of them had spent apart had affected them all greatly, and even through her weary eyes Elphaba could see it: the worry lines creased into Fiyero's handsome forehead, the crow's feet already beginning to form at the corner of Glinda's eyes. It wasn't that long ago Fiyero sloughed off any woes and cares that came to pass and Glinda participated in immature pranks in order to torment others. Now, so few years later, the prince was scarred from the persistent anxiety that had plagued him and Glinda's childlike eyes were framed with maturity beyond her years, caused by a responsibility for everyone else's emotional wellbeing.

Elphaba was aware that her wellbeing was included in that generalization, much to her agitation. She didn't want to be one more stress in Glinda's life, but at least the blonde was socially proficient enough that she was able to pretend that wasn't the case. She slid off the bed with an easy smile and her small body disappeared behind the footboard of the large bed, and Elphaba frowned as she listened to the curious rustling that took place beyond her vision. She glanced at Fiyero, who was craning his tall form to see over the edge of the bed, and wondered what Glinda was doing that had him grinning so.

After a few moments, Glinda popped back up and held up a small box with a soft, sad smile. "I just wish I had realized at the time that these had looked good on you too," she said, handing the box to Fiyero so he could give it to Elphaba. She took it carefully, not recognizing the case, but when she opened the lid she was dazed by the object within: her old glasses. She hadn't thought about them in a very, very long time.

"Where did you get these?" Elphaba asked quietly, handing Fiyero back the small wooden box as she looked over the eyeglasses in her hands. She had always just assumed they were lost; an aspect of Elphaba Thropp's past that disintegrated the moment her right to still be considered a Thropp ended. She used the soft material of the pajamas she was wearing to clean the lenses and she looked upon Glinda, awaiting the answer.

"We were roomies, remember?" Glinda said, her blue eyes practically sparkling as she watched her ex-green friend place the thin frames on her face. After spending her time in exile relying so heavily on her senses, she was surprised to remember how bad her eyesight was. It was with fascination that she took in the details around her she wouldn't have otherwise have noticed. "After you left it was up to your family to pick up your things. Your father never came; Nessa had said he had no desire for any of it. So I kept it all, unable to throw it away. I guess I had always known that one day I'd be able to return it to you."

Her stomach twisted upon mention of her father, no doubt fueled by the recent memories of longing she had just experienced in thinking back to her childhood. Even in the end, her father couldn't even pretend to care for his eldest daughter. She wondered if Frexspar even felt any sadness at the loss of his daughter; perhaps he finally felt justified in his hate when she rebelled against the Wizard and disappeared, leaving his precious Nessa all alone to fend for herself.

"You fly around Oz trying rescue Animals that you've never even met and not once have you ever thought to use your powers to rescue me!"

That utterance, in one of the final moments to pass between the estranged siblings, was one of pure resentment. And Elphaba knew it was well-deserved.

In one last attempt at redemption for leaving her sister, she did as Nessa wanted. But it was clear that her efforts were far too late, for her sister needed more than enchanted shoes. She needed her sister, yet Elphaba, in a moment of thoughtless selfishness, left her baby sister alone in a world that she had always been too sheltered and naïve to live in on her own. Elphaba had been responsible for protecting her. That made her responsible for her death.

She distracted herself from her remorseful thoughts by taking another large bite of apple and resuming her attention upon The Emerald Times she held. As she turned over the newsprint and saw what lay below the fold, she began choking on the half-eaten fruit in her mouth– her sister was there, frozen in time and printed in black and white next to a headline that read, "Governess's short and vain career remembered." Elphaba tried to dislodge the stubborn bit of apple in her throat, coughing roughly while Fiyero rubbed her back in an unhelpful and frustrating way. Glinda seemed to take Elphaba's moment of potential death to steal the paper back before she could continue to read it. Little did Glinda know, her friend had a vice grip on the newspaper and no amount of tugging would remove it from her grasp, so the paper tore, shredding Nessarose Thropp's tragically beautiful face in half so only one of her large, begging brown eyes stared up at her older sister.

"Elphie," the blonde begged, placing her hand on top of the article and forcing her recovering friend to meet her gaze. "Don't."

She couldn't place exactly about what Glinda said that upset her so much, or even if Glinda's effort to save her the pain of reading the article was what angered her, but she felt herself flaring up in response. She swallowed the remainder of the bite of apple and pushed Fiyero away; he slid off the bed but regained his balance before he toppled to the floor, and Elphaba took the chance to escape from the smothering atmosphere. Rolling herself to the side of the mattress and climbing off, she cursed aloud the moment her weight shifted to her bad leg and it gave out on her. Fiyero reached out to catch her but she didn't want his help; she knocked his arms away furiously and ignored his caring and concerned expression as she stumbled across the room to where an empty armchair invited her weak body to rest.

"Elphaba?" Fiyero questioned softly, causing her heart further pain. She couldn't bear to look into his wounded gaze. He would be better off realizing that this hurt was infinitesimal compared to what would inevitably befall him the longer he was near her.

"Just stay away from me," she ordered, holding out a hand between them to discourage his approach. With wide eyes, she looked down at the scrap of wrinkled newsprint she held in her grip, the partial photo in her palm a reminder that she was nothing but an earthquake in the lives of those she loved; an uncontrollable, violent force that toppled even the most beautiful, gentle beings of Oz into crushing, dark depths. "She didn't deserve this…"

"However you remember Nessa wasn't how she died," Glinda said, her pretty brow wrinkling as she stared at her friend. She attempted to move forward but Elphaba dissuaded her with a vicious glare. "She made a lot of bad choices that left Munchkinland in a level of shambles that won't be easily fixed. Her self-interests caused her to overlook the needs of an entire nation."

"So you're saying she earned this end?" Elphaba asked, her voice slightly hysterical as she pushed herself to an unsteady stance.

"No!" Glinda said hurriedly, shaking her head and holding up apologetic hands. "No, of course not!"

"Then what?" Elphaba challenged. "You were her friend, or was that an act too, just like everything else in your life?"

"Elphaba, calm down," Fiyero interjected in a strong voice, but neither he nor the tears filling Glinda's eyes were enough to stop the pain and guilt inside of her from washing over, filling her mind with a sickening fog. Elphaba moved out of the chair and in a swift movement pulled out one of the old, plain black dresses from the old truck Glinda had saved for her. Barely doing more than turning so her back was to them, she began undressing out of the too-small night clothes she had been in.

"What are you doing?" Glinda asked, her voice small.

"I'm going to say goodbye to my sister. Thanks to you, I never got the chance," Elphaba snapped. She felt guilty but she was also angry; no matter what generous things Glinda had done for her, it didn't change the past. Her sister was murdered, and when she had knelt by the crushed body and tried to express her sorrow, Glinda interrupted her and before she knew it they were having their petty fight. All along, Nessarose had been forgotten about, and no matter what Glinda thought of her Nessa deserved more than that.

"You can't leave," the Good Witch said as Elphaba continued to shamelessly dress in front of them. "It's not safe for you."

"I don't care."

"But I do!" Elphaba heard her own words returned to her but despite their attempt to discourage recklessness as they had in Glinda's and her previous conversation, it did nothing to restrain her ire. Her life in the past couple of years, the life that Glinda fearfully turned away from because of her own selfishness, was never safe from their last moment together in that Emerald Palace attic. She was tired of trying to be careful. After everything she had been subjected to because of frightened political leaders, couldn't she have the opportunity to deserve to be in danger? Her precious sister's funeral was a reasonable excuse for such unruliness.

She attempted to button up the back of the dress so she could sooner leave, but she couldn't reach the stubborn clasps. It was then that she noticed Fiyero behind her and his gentle, strong fingers finish the task, and she felt herself soften a bit at his presence; that is, until he gently and sensually stroked the sensitive skin of her neck under her loose hair, sending shivers down her spine that reignited her irritation. She spun in place and slapped his hands away, shooting him a fiery glare to remind him of the boundaries which she required, especially around Glinda, and once again he pouted in confusion and disappointment. He just didn't understand. Neither of them did.

"You cannot leave," Glinda said more forcefully this time, to which Elphaba couldn't help but laugh contemptuously.

"I cannot leave?"

"As it is right now, you have no identity and people are only just accepting the Wicked Witch's death. If you leave this tower and people discoverate the actual truth, I cannot protect you anymore."

"I don't need your protection! I never have! My sister needed your protection from Morrible but instead of helping her you simply used her death as a means to deceive and finally capture me!"

Glinda's eyes welled up with tears as though Elphaba's words struck a painful chord. Good, thought Elphaba. She raised her head up in stubborn defiance and allowed Glinda to see she was impervious to the display of emotions. That only seemed to upset the smaller woman more. "I know you don't want to hear this but someone has to say it," Glinda said angrily, her tiny hands balling into fists. "You are out of control! Elphaba, you can't go on like this!"

"I can do anything I want! I am the Wicked Witch of the West!" she yelled, punctuating each word of the alliteration with a dramatic gesture. Glinda could argue outdated names all she wanted, but the despicable title and the reputation that went with it still revolved around one indisputably powerful person and regardless of Elphaba's skin color or reported condition that didn't change. Glinda would do well to remember that.

"Do you plan on so boldly admitting that to the Munchkinlanders who are bound to notice the only distraught and barefoot person at Nessa's funeral?" Glinda called after her as she spun towards the large window behind her, which magically burst open before her. Elphaba chose to ignore her old friend and instead thought about the thin cloud cover that hung over the Emerald City that she could punch a hole through in hopes of finding an eastbound jet stream farther above. She summoned her broomstick to her as she stormed towards the fresh air just over the window ledge, and just as she caught it in her hand she heard Glinda shriek, "Fiyero, don't let her leave!"

Elphaba couldn't help but simper as Fiyero stepped in her way, even when he held his hands up cautiously between them. "Fiyero dear, I love you, but do you truly think you could stop me?"

"I don't want to," he said to her, but considering he would move neither his body nor his relentlessly beautiful gaze away from her, she knew he would try if he needed to. And it was only then, as he blocked her path and nonverbally pleaded with her, that she realized that her grasp on reality was faltering. The point Glinda made next only made her feel worse.

"Elphaba, you say you love him, so realize that his fate is now tied to yours! He would be implicated the moment you reveal yourself. Not to mention my loyalty to Oz would be in question…"

Elphaba stopped listening and instead contemplated the undeniable logic Glinda presented, all the while never removing her eyes from Fiyero. Their deceptions were weak at this point in time, precariously balanced upon the trust and naivety of the citizens of Oz, and her arrogance and impulsiveness could be the catalyst to make it all topple. Once that happened, neither witch would be able to protect Fiyero from the charges of treason that would befall him. The idea of him back in that cell or worse, murdered at the hands of the Wizard's army, was not something she would risk happening just so she could mourn over her sister's empty, broken shell of a body.

Scenes of brutality, of Fiyero dead or bleeding, flashed uninhibited in her mind and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to feel him under her trembling hands so she could be convinced of his wholeness, but she had given up on the gratification of selfishness years before. And so she removed her darkened, unreadable gaze from her lover and acted as hard as she could, lest her desire be as obvious as she imagined it was. Could he see how strongly she was fighting the draw to him, staying just out of arms reach so she wouldn't fall into his comforting arms and forget their troubles?

She wondered if he knew how much it pained her to act so cold towards him. It was practically a bodily pain and it wasn't the first time in the last few hours she wondered if the lightening strike that briefly connected their physical hearts affected her physiology in more intense ways. The farther she tried to stay away from him the more miserable she was, as though she was a solitary electron needing its counterpart, and if she would only give into the pull and close the distance his touch would be like a spark, pleasurable and addicting, leaving her enlivened with renewed energy and yearning.

She wasn't sure how normal these experiences were. Before Fiyero she had not kissed a man, let alone made love to one. She had never needed anyone before. Now she needed someone more than she could withstand, and it terrified her.

Glinda's heels were muffled in the expensive carpeting, so Elphaba hadn't noticed her approach from behind until her manicured fingers wrapped over the thin, roughened ones she had clenched around her broom shaft. She turned her head to look down at the pleading blue eyes so close to her own that she could see the details within them. "Just give me some more time," Glinda asked her, her voice soft and desperate. "Please."

Breathing heavily through her nose, Elphaba raised her head stubbornly for she hated conceding defeat. "Fine," she said anyway. Her heart felt heavy and guilt-ridden for she was unable to release Nessa's memory from her mind, but it seemed as though she had no other choice. Weeks ago she would have limitless choices for she was responsible for nothing and no one but herself, but now she had obligations to Fiyero. And despite the negative implication, she couldn't help but feel a small swell of affection as she took him in, knowing the prince could hardly be considered a burden. If he was, he was certainly a lovely one.

Her heightened senses picked up the sound of footfalls on the stone stairway outside the deceptively accessible quarters and it was with a raised eyebrow that she looked down at Glinda. "Someone's coming."

"Oh please Elphie, that's such a terrible trick. I won't fall for it."

Elphaba's other eyebrow rose to meet its mate and could have laughed at Glinda if the situation had not just been so solemn, even as the Gilikinese woman gripped her hand and the wooden broomstick tighter. "It's no trick. Go see for yourself."

Glinda narrowed her eyes distrustfully and clearly realized she couldn't walk away while Elphaba still had her means of escape In hand. She used both arms to tug at the broom, but just to make things difficult Elphaba refused to release her hold, and so they had a childish contest of tug-of-war until the taller woman meanly released the broom, thus effectively causing tiny, glamorous Glinda to stumble ungracefully backward. Even though Glinda won their previous argument and now held her cherished flying broom, Elphaba had the satisfaction of watching Glinda stomp away with grumpiness.

When Glinda yanked open the front door, everyone but Elphaba seemed to be surprised at what lay on the other side of it. This included the young palace guard who stood just outside, nearly fumbled the keys he was clutching, and seemed to shrink in the Good Witch's sudden presence.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to prepare the room for your guests," the young soldier said nervously.

"But my guests are here," Glinda said. The young man barely spared Elphaba a glance, even when Glinda gestured to where she and Fiyero stood, and she would wonder if she would ever get used to not being obnoxiously conspicuous.

"Your other guests, madam. The ones that are on their way up now."

"I don't care if the Wizard of Oz himself wanted entrance! You know I do not allow anyone up here without my expressed permission!"

"They demanded this room made ready for them immediately and wouldn't take no for an answer."

"And so you just let them up?"

"They were quite scary, madam," the guard admitted sheepishly.

Glinda looked ready to stomp her feet from agitation and just as she shrilled, "I don't know why I don't have you transferred to the stables!" Fiyero pleasantly inquired over her, "Who are these people?"

The teenager was about to answer when he was interrupted by a booming voice reverberating around the stone behind him. "Get back down here boy! Are you going to make us carry these bags all the way up this ridiculous staircase?"

"Did I just hear my baby! Oh let me through!"

"Oh no," Glinda whimpered, sending a frantic look to her two mystified best friends and dancing around fretfully on her toes. Then, the guard cleared his throat and announced solemnly, "May I present Sir and Lady Upland…of the Upper Uplands."