Greetings! I apologize for the long delay. I was finishing up my last semester in college then this summer has been crazy. Still, I hadn't forgotten about this story and it kills me that I became one of those writers who just seems to up and leave a popular story most of the way through it. It's not the case; the writing is simply becoming more challenging as I get closer to the end. But because you've all been so wonderful and patient, I didn't break up this chapter at all so you have a nice, long, drama-filled update. I hope it's worth the wait.

Ever since the moment Fiyero met Elphaba under the sparkling lights at the Ozdust, he found himself fascinated by her eyes. Sure, her skin caught his attention first and he found it exotic and unique and beautiful, but it was her intense and mysterious gaze that kept his attention.

It wasn't until later that week that first he saw her outside in the daylight, and as the warm sun engulfed her and reflected off her emerald skin he first saw the green within her irises. When they ran off into the woods near Shiz together that one fateful afternoon, he became captivated with the shades of brown he saw within them. Years beyond that time of innocence and ignorance, when he lay with Elphaba by the light of the moon and stars and woke the next morning to her beautiful face soaked in sunlight, he was convinced he finally knew her gaze, despite its complexity. It was ever changing and ever deepening, something he had never seen in Glinda's shallow sapphire-blue stare or in any other Ozian before her, and it made him even more hopelessly in love with her.

He remembered how her enchanting lips curled up at him confidently and wily before he had surprised her with her first kiss back in that forest clearing all those days ago; he had gently caressed that mouth with his own before pulling away to see her reaction. Those eyes had widened and she had reached up to touch her slightly parted lips with her fingertips, tragically unused to the feeling of even the simplest of kisses. Then she smiled – a sweet, shy smile – and replicated his action onto him, and thus began an evening of teaching and learning.

It would have been impossible for him to separate the thoughts of Elphaba from the Wicked Witch of the West that night. He wondered if anyone else in Oz could have imagined that the woman they feared above all others possessed insecurity or hesitancy, which was something he noticed when he unhooked her cloak and lowered her to lie upon it. She was trembling and her fingers had dug into his shoulders nervously, but despite this it was she who continued their urgent kissing and encouraged him further. When the moment of truth finally arrived, her dark eyes – the ones that perhaps haunted so many people's nightmares – were black with desire and her body was flushed with heat, and to know that he was the one who ignited these reactions in her made him feel more powerful than anyone else in Oz.

It wasn't until he blocked her path as she prepared to escape Glinda's tower that he realized that there was still so much that even he hadn't been fortunate enough to learn about her yet. The dreary sunlight poured over his shoulders, no longer obstructed by glass, and lit up Elphaba's face; it was then that Fiyero saw the misty blue color in his lover's eyes that probably never existed next to her old pigmentation. It was like the Vinkus River on a cloudy summer day, when the glimmer of green and other aspects of life just glimmered under the surface and the rippling of the water reflected the dreariness of the world overhead.

In that moment more than any other, Elphaba become truly exposed to him because he saw in her eyes all of her frailty and vulnerability. It made his heart ache to see this woman who was stronger and braver than any other in Oz look so beaten. Glinda had told him when Elphaba first escaped that she had sworn that no one would ever bring her down, but clearly that hadn't been true. Years of solitude and tragedy, of scrounging food from the refuse of others or ripping up roots just to stay nourished, and of relentless vilification had slowly weakened her and the trauma of the last few days had finally begun to make her fall into herself, a place he did not want her to retreat.

On the surface, with her pale eyes under her thin glasses and her fair skin contrasted against her plain dress, she would seem to others like such a regular person, but just as he never thought her to be wicked he wasn't foolish enough to underestimate her because of this discouraging veneer. She was still Elphaba—stubborn, brilliant, lonely Elphaba. Nevertheless, it suddenly became difficult for him to believe that this woman, with her slumped shoulders and weary expression, used to be the Wicked Witch of Oz. He would have reached out his hand to her had he not feared the Witch returning and her unnatural, wrathful gaze condemning him for the gesture. But she didn't know how easily he could see the turmoil within her, or how much it hurt him to stand within arm's reach of her and not be allowed to touch her.

Just before she had fallen asleep the day earlier she had been so affectionate with him and when she had woken up she had virtually thrown herself at him, pleading for him desperately. But since then she had been all but snarling at his every move and sound, and was continually pushing him away both physically as well as figuratively. He understood very well the stress she was under, yet her cold behavior towards him and him alone was confusing and exhausting.

For years whenever Glinda was aggravated with him he never pushed the issue, for it hardly mattered to him. But he was finally where he wanted to be and yet something was terribly wrong, and that willful woman he had fallen in love with was avoiding him like the plague. Who would ever have thought that the mindless and carefree prince would ever be beset with troubles like this, that a woman's denial of attention or affection would leave him woeful and eager to pursue a confrontation? He was impatient to challenge her about her wishy-washy behavior but the arrival of someone at the door curbed any chance he had.

At that point, Fiyero almost had no choice but to ignore Elphaba in return. Glinda had begun to throw a fit about the incompetence of her security as the young man at the door announced the arrival of unexpected company, which was a big no-no in Glinda's book. She always needed to be prepared.

"Who are these people?" he called over Glinda's melodramatic tantrum to the tense young guard at the door.

He was surprised he was even able to hear what the young man replied, considering the loud voices that echoed into the wide room from the stone stairway and Glinda's worried squealing: "May I present Sir and Lady Upland, of the Upper Uplands."

In case they didn't have enough problems, whatever higher power was out there seemed to feel the need to send them another and it entered in the form of Glinda's high-maintenance parents. He had met them a small handful of times since he began dating their daughter and he knew that Highmuster and Larena Upland were not the sort of people who made life easy on anyone. He blamed their sense of superiority and their high standards, which were common characteristics in those so wealthy. It was only due to his lackadaisical nature and his humbling experiences in the Gale Force and with Elphaba that he felt completely exempt from being the same way.

Fiyero was always taken aback to see Larena Upland, especially when she was in the company of her pretty daughter, for it was as though he was seeing what Glinda would be like if she were only twenty years older. Larena was just as petite and dazzling (especially considering her dress, hands and throat sparkled with various glittering beads and jewels). The woman's long, luxurious blonde locks were pinned up classily but some loose strands fell from the pins, creating an odd sense of imperfection that no Upland woman would allow should she know about it. Her bright eyes and perfect smile seemed to catch every lay of light in a room, and just like Glinda would she often giggled stridently when excited; this he knew because she had quickly taken a liking to him upon their first meeting and shared her daughter's infatuation. Fortunately for him, Larena's concentration and eager embrace was settled solely upon Glinda at this time.

Highmuster, on the other hand, never let himself overlook the opportunity to intimidate the young prince, and judging by the dark-blue stare that was already fixated on him, this day was going to be no different. No such behavior was necessary however as the man had the ideal advantage: He was at least two heads taller than his wife and daughter and was as wide as they were both together. His completely bald head seemed to be filled with veins that popped out at the mere sight of Fiyero, and his bushy mustache had always managed to twitch grumpily whenever his small eyes focused on the alleged playboy.

Fiyero was never sure what he had done to fall into disfavor with the giant of a man or if Highmuster's disapproval was an instinctive reaction in defense of his daughter, whom he absolutely adored. Nevertheless, Highmuster's intense scrutiny always put Fiyero in a mood. For this reason, he was grateful when Glinda voiced the question he was seconds from rudely asking himself: "Momsie, Pops! What are you doing here?"

By this time the guard that had previously been the source of Glinda's ire was completely forgotten about, as her wide eyes were now staring at her father over her mother's shoulder. Fiyero walked over and took over for the wiry young man, who had been trying to move the suitcases that were nearly half of his size and weight. The poor lad smiled gratefully to his former captain and gladly took his leave. As Fiyero moved the bags aside, he could sense Highmuster's beady gaze finally leave him.

"We came to surprise you, darling!" the man boomed, pulling tiny Glinda against his lapel into what Fiyero imagined must have been a painful hug.

"And you have!" she squeaked.

Larena clicked disapprovingly as she looked over the small woman who, to Fiyero, seemed to be turning the color of a Quadling in her father's tight embrace. "Oh sweetheart, I appreciate that you tried to make the place presentable for us, but that broom you're holding is just hideodeous! Please, please put that tacky thing away."

The prince's eyebrow shot up as the woman ignorantly called the Wicked Witch of the West's magical broomstick "tacky". It was too difficult to resist the temptation to glance at Elphaba. She was standing with her arms crossed protectively and timidly in front of her chest, her expression hard and drained as she watched Glinda receive the spoils of familial love and warmth that she herself was unfamiliar with. Fiyero began feel sympathy for her until she noticed his attention and sent him an annoyed look that was becoming all too common this afternoon.

Sulking, he turned back just as Glinda managed to slip out from under her father's large arms and carry the knotty, ruffled broom to a closet, muttering "Of course, Momsie" as she did so.

Larena smiled that beautiful smile of hers and she turned her attractive features on him. "Oh Fiyero, it's so wonderful to see you!"

"Heh," Fiyero coughed uncomfortably, unsure of what to do as she hugged him enthusiastically. He was painfully aware of how inappropriate this was given the context but with no other responses ready he said uncertainly, "And you as well?"

"We were so pleased to hear about the engagement!" Larena said, stepping away to pinch his cheek affectionately. "The moment we saw the headline we knew we had to congratulote you both in person!"

"Engagement?" he said stupidly. Clearly the Uplands hadn't learned about their nearly immediate breakup following their engagement a couple weeks before, and given how Highmuster was currently cracking his huge knuckles, Fiyero would have rather have jumped out of Elphaba's open window without a broom or bubble than be the one to tell them. He sent a flustered look to Glinda. The socialite was experiencing a rare moment of wordlessness, torn between her different personas, and he would have given anything for her to snap out of it and help him. Fiyero opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, swallowing heavily between breaths, unsure of what to say.

Thankfully, Glinda finally came to her senses. "Have you been travelling this whole time?" she asked her parents sweetly. "Just to congratulote us? That's so good of you!"

"We were going to get in a few days ago but all of this rain made travelling via carriage a nightmare," Highmuster complained gruffly.

"You should have taken the train, Popsie, it's much faster."

"The train?" Larena said to her, gesturing her hand towards Glinda as if to brush off the absurd suggestion. "It's so public! Don't be absurd, darling." She swept gracefully over to one of the chairs in the large apartment's lounge area near the door, dropping into it with an exaggerated exhaustion. "As if the carriage ride wasn't bad enough, we were forced to stay in second-rate hotel rooms more than once because the roads were practically impassible! You couldn't imagine a worse traveling experience! And oh, the last three days in particular have been so terrible—"

Elphaba snorted boorishly at the woman's last comment and Fiyero struggled to not snicker in appreciation. He had a feeling that, given the proper perspective – one in which Elphaba would have been glad to provide no doubt – the Uplands would realize that their damp journey south would have seemed like an absolutely lovely vacation.

It seemed as though Larena had only just noticed Elphaba for the first time, and her eyes flashed tetchily over to her. Fiyero didn't miss the subtle sneer on Larena's pretty mouth as she scanned over the stranger. Fiyero followed her gaze and could imagine all of the things that well-bred, high-society mind was noticing and judging, to his aggravation: the tangles Elphaba had in that gorgeous hair, the dark circles under her eyes, the stubborn dirt under her life-worn fingernails, the threads that stuck out from the old seams of the fading black dress that hung loosely from her underfed body, and the feet that were as bare as the day she was born.

He looked back at Larena, glad that he was no longer the recipient of Elphaba's frosty, dark glare, and to his wonder saw that she was sitting up in her seat with an air of fascination.

He was absolutely certain he'd never understand women, he decided.

"I don't believe we have properly met," Larena said to Elphaba. "Who, may I ask, are you?"

"This is Elphie!"

"Elphie? Elphie who?"

He and Elphaba both gave Glinda a fixed stare, knowing that she was about to reveal more than she should. Clearly the pressure of her parents' presence was getting to her, for she said, "Thropp, my old roommate!"

Fiyero let out a breath he was holding, annoyed, and turned his attention over to Elphaba only to see her toss her eyeglasses onto the bed and pinch the bridge of her nose before she returned the look exasperatedly. It was the first time she had met his eyes since her near-breakdown about Nessarose not long before.

Unexpectedly, he found that his frustration grew when he felt his heart leap from even the scrap of attention she was giving him. Grinding his teeth together, he turned away, tired of whatever game she had been playing with his feelings and mind since she had awoken that morning, and if not for his anger being so strong he might have felt some shame when he noticed Elphaba's posture wilt slightly in his peripheral. As it were, he only felt pleasure that she might receive a taste of the apathy she was inflicting upon him.

He pulled his focus completely away from the woman who could make him feel both so wonderful and so lousy when Glinda's father began muttering her name, saying, "Thropp… Where have I heard that before?" and her mother started gushing, "Oh, you mentioned her in your first letter home! I was so thrillified to hear about your schooling that I framed it!"

"You framed her letter?" Fiyero deadpanned. He figured it out a second after Glinda glared at him that he sounded very disrespectful, but frankly he didn't care anymore. Even if the Uplands were listening to someone other than themselves at that moment, he neither needed their approval anymore nor wanted them here.

Highmuster was running a finger over his full mustache in deep thought. "Thropp…Thropp…"

"If I think for a moment I'm sure that I'll be able to remember what you wrote in that darling letter…"

"Thropp…I know I've heard that name recently…" Was anyone else but Fiyero concerned that the very large man was nearing very bad conclusions?

"Oh yes, now I remember what you said about Miss Thropp! 'Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and all together quite impossible to describe'! That just tickled me!"

"Don't be silly, I don't recall saying that," Glinda said with an uneasy chuckle.

"'Exceedingly peculiar'?" Elphaba repeated angrily. "What a kind description, thank you Glinda."

"It was before I knew you well!" she said defensively.

"I'm sure it was."

"It's not like it was particularly unkind…or untrue," was the hasty retort, to which Elphaba rolled her eyes.

"Ladies! Please!" Fiyero interjected, his head beginning to pound painfully from the ridiculousness of this entire situation.

"Thropp! Now I remember!" Highmuster announced suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. "That's that crazy governing family in Munchkinland! I only just overheard two days ago from that one gossipy fellow with the hat about how that negligent Thropp girl was flattened in some freak accident! She had a house dropped on her, if you can believe that!"

Fiyero groaned, putting a hand to his aching head. He heard Elphaba suck in a sharp breath through clenched teeth and he was sure that they were all about to be obliterated in some sort of impending supernatural conniption, but then Glinda stepped over to Elphaba, placing one of her dainty hands on the taller woman's shoulder calmingly. She faced her parents, her arm sliding down to the crook of Elphaba's elbow.

"I suppose this is as good of time as any to mention to you that you are in the presence of Elphaba Thropp, the Eminent Thropp of Munchkinland."

A horrible silence filled the room. Afraid to look up, Fiyero began playing with the cuff of his pressed sleeve as if he found it fascinating.

"Surely this isn't right," Highmuster said, and Fiyero peeked up to see him holding out one of his hands that were nearly the size of a dinner plate. "There were only two Thropp children, and the other one was a criminal."

"Not just any criminal," Elphaba pressed nastily, daring him to say it. She looked so frightening then, half-cast in silhouette: The light from outside was refracting through the open emerald window panes, sharpening her features in a green glow, and her scarred brow was pulled low over her nearly black eyes. Her thin hands were clenched angrily at her sides and the soft breeze from outside was causing her dark waves around her shoulders eerily.

Larena sucked in a painfully noisy gasp, pulling him from his entrancement, and sprung up from that sofa faster than Fiyero would have anticipated her dress would have permitted. "No, it can't be!"

"It can," Elphaba confirmed sinisterly.

As much as he loved Glinda, her parents were as small-minded and brainwashed as most of Oz, sensitive to even the most absurd rumors but stubborn against the truth. And unlike himself and his ex-fiancée, Elphaba did not seem to find these people intimidating by any means. From the moment they walked in she seemed utterly irritated (well, more so). And he could see Elphaba's frustration with them rising up and a glint of something too complicated for him to understand in her eyes. Something triggered within her and – perhaps with the intention of scaring them like they expected – she swept around a chair in the direction of Larena and Highmuster.

To him, she could have been moving in honey for how slow and muted her movements seemed, and he could feel the rush of a hundred thoughts in his mind despite the fact that time did not actually slow down. Despite their numbers, the thoughts were so lucid and uncharacteristic he was hyperaware of their existence: Without her green skin, he wondered, would the Uplands – who had already begun to recoil at her movements – still imagine strangeness in her features? What empty-headed rumors were they clinging to as they avoided looking into her attractive eyes? Did they even see that she was just a girl their daughter's age; that she never asked for this life? Would they even wonder why she was standing in the North Tower in the first place, or why she was safe in Glinda the Good and the Captain of the Guard's presences?

Were they even capable of critical thinking or had that ability been inhibited by society?

It was if he could hear Elphaba's voice in his head, encouraging his thoughts. It was startling and affecting. And given that her strides toward the Uplands were foolhardy, it was as if imagining her voice in his mind was like a cry out for him to act as her conscience. He would not let her ruin her future any more than the Wizard already had. So he stepped in her path and waited for her wrath.

"Get out of my way Fiyero," she said to him, his hands stinging as she slapped them away. He considered taking her attack as he had been doing since she awoke that morning, but despite his strong sympathy he was tired of how she kept fighting him. As she made to shove him away again he caught her thin wrists in a strong grip that no doubt must have been painful. Apparently that action was unexpected enough that it shocked some clarity back into her angry face and, to his surprise, she stopped struggling. He immediately released his tight grip and her hands fell forward on his chest and she grimaced as if she was fighting nausea, or, more likely, that magic he had seen her cast in fits of uncontrollable anger.

As her heavy breaths hit his shirt, he began to realize that all she had meant to do was stand eye-to-eye to the Uplands, to give them the chance to see her without her skin and without her conical hat—as a person. But her reputation was far stronger than her outward appearance ever had been and Fiyero knew she was wasting her time. And just as he expected, the Uplands staggered back as if she were clawing at him to get to them.

"Keep that terror away from me!" Glinda's mother cried and Fiyero turned his head to see her stumble back behind her large husband, pointing a quavering finger at Elphaba as she did so. He turned his gaze back as Elphaba frowned despairingly, her cheeks flushed with heat. He wilted a little at the hate as well. How did Elphaba stand the constant and unearned hatred like she did? He could barely stomach it. "I will not be some new victim she can hurt!"

"Galinda, what is the meaning of this menace in your home? This evil should be effectively eliminated!"

"You fools!" Elphaba snarled over Fiyero's shoulder, and he countered her surprising strength as she thrust forward towards the Uplands, no doubt triggered by Highmuster's use of "evil". Elphaba had told him in the forest how much she despised the word and being called it, for now it reminded her of the Wizard and "his perpetuation of the segregation of moral identities despite his admitted understanding of its ambiguity", as she had put it. He understood, for each lie he put up with since her rebellion so long ago felt like a shard of glass in his back. "You don't know anything!"

"She's mad, I say!"

But then the loud sound of hollow metal rapping on the door broke the intensity, and it was clearly more than the tension-filled Glinda could stand. "What NOW?" her penetrating voice shrieked so loud that Fiyero cringed. The tiny witch stomped over to the front door and her wide-eyed parents must followed her movements, for he felt the rigidity in Elphaba's body dissipate and she sagged further into his uniformed chest, surreptitiously allowing him to support her as she caught her breath. He was so moved by the unexpected display of weakness and trust that his hands slid behind her and held her against him until the moment she pushed herself away to watch Glinda yank open the front door.

The same guard from before was standing on the threshold and Glinda started to turn her favorite color pink in her agitation. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, milady! There was a request to see you immediately!"

"Now really isn't a good time."

"There certainly couldn't be a worse time," Fiyero muttered and Glinda turned her head only enough to glare at the prince.

"They're already here—"

"They're what? Young man, did I not just tell you no more guests without my permission? Oooh! You…you…! Ooh, I can't even think of a fitting punishment for you!"

"I'm sorry! It's just she started crying and I didn't know what to do—"

"Glinda!" a familiar voice cried, and unexpectedly a form about as small as the Gillikinese woman burst forth from behind the soldier and wrapped itself around Glinda's glamorous dress. "Oh Glinda!"

"Dorothy?" Glinda asked questioningly, placing a hand on back of the braided head in front of her face. "Aren't you supposed to be with the Wizard?"

"W-we just came from there and now—" The teenager burst into sobs on Glinda's frilly shoulder and she patted her on the back uneasily.

Fiyero was amazed that Elphaba resisted calling for a show of hands of who was surprised by the girl's disappointment.

"Dorothy dear, what happened?"

"The Wizard..." Dorothy sniffled as she stepped away and looked up at the Good Witch with glassy brown eyes. "The Wizard…!" She then began sobbing into her hands and Glinda led her inside by the elbow.

"Oh, come in, come in!"

"Don't let them inside!" Elphaba demanded forcefully, pointing to tinny and furry creatures in Dorothy's wake. The former had that stupid lovesick expression as he stared at Glinda that gave Fiyero déjà vu and the latter was practically chewing on the end of his tail in nervousness.

"I'm sorry gentlemen, but this is a private meeting," Glinda said pleasantly to them, holding out a hand to keep them from finishing their steps forward into the space. The girl's small black dog managed to sneak in underneath them all and to Fiyero's amusement made a beeline straight for Larena, who had to pull up the hem of her dress to keep the dog from ruining it. The Tin Man only had a chance to loosen his metal jaw to speak before Glinda smiled and snapped the door shut.

She guided their newest guest further in the room. "Dorothy, tell us what happened with the Wizard."

Dorothy's lip quivered and to Fiyero's dismay she seemed to barely contain loud sobs. "He-he insulted us a-and told us he wouldn't help us unless we found a book that the Wicked Witch of the West stole from him! Oh Glinda, what am I supposed to do? I don't know how we could find something like that! What if he doesn't even help us? He was so horrible—"

After a particularly loud sniffle, Dorothy's tear-stained face turned and lit up at the sight of the younger couple in the room. "Fae! Fiyero!" she exclaimed brightly. "Oh, I never thought I'd see you again!"

"'Fae'?" Fiyero repeated out of the corner of his mouth to Elphaba. She only rolled her eyes and elbowed him, as if telling him to drop it. But he was confused; how did the little girl who was fresh to Oz ever meet Elphaba and how did she know her as Fae, the resistance nickname that she allowed him to use intimately with her?

Before he realized what happened, Dorothy crossed the room and enveloped them both in a hug. Fiyero was barely able to contain a grunt as Dorothy collided with his healing abdomen and held his breath to resist groaning, first in pain and second when Dorothy began to weep noisily into their clothing.

To his surprise, Elphaba did not shun the girl away as he expected but rather reached up and rubbed her hand gently and consolingly on the girl's back, showing an innate gentleness that he first experienced in the forest outside Shiz. At her touch, Dorothy slid away from him and wrapped herself fully around Elphaba's midsection, and it seemed everyone in the room watched as Elphaba held the girl more tightly to her, a focused expression on her otherwise unreadable face.

Elphaba wanted to tell her that it was okay to be afraid. Fear was natural, acceptable, expected; in her opinion, it was even something valuable, for there comes a point of desolation in a person when they leave fear behind and live solely on nerves and cold calculations. Perhaps some would desire that condition, but Elphaba knew from experience that it left a void inside, like part of her humanity was gone forever.

She never got the chance to tell Dorothy that, however. While Elphaba had done her best to ignore Larena since Dorothy's arrival, it wasn't easy considering she was obviously nearing the brink of a hysterical tantrum judging by her deepening shades of pink. The only things that seemed to have restrained her were propriety and the distraction that was Toto at her feet. Apparently, even those things weren't enough: "Child, don't you know who that is you're holding? That's the Wicked Witch of the West!"

Elphaba cringed, her insides boiling reactively. For just a moment in her miserable life she had an admirer without conditions, which was something all of the Uplands seemed to take for granted, and yet Glinda's parents took that away from her without even a hint of regret. The anger swelling up once again in her gut was wrenching and stimulating, but if there was one thing Elphaba had to learn to suppress over the years it was her endless hatred. Clearly Larena took that for granted as well, for if Elphaba were in her shoes, she would not have pissed off the infamous and dangerous sorceress in the room.

Despite her fury, it was with dismay that Elphaba turned her eyes downward onto the girl who had been so abruptly informed of the disheartening and alarming truth. She had no idea what reaction would come from the child, who Elphaba knew had heard rumors of the Wicked Witch but only experienced her as the mysterious but protective Fae. She was one of only a couple of people in all of Oz who had accepted her and appreciated her as something else but a witch and yet she stepped away cautiously, staring at the woman with new eyes.

"Is…is that true?"

Everyone's focus was on Elphaba at that moment and she stiffened at the silence and apprehension in the room. Her eyes moved from Dorothy in front of her, whose naivety made her the perfect target for Morrible's propaganda but whose affection made her question it, to Fiyero, who would suffer more than she would with every new person who knew the truth about them, and finally to Glinda, whose face gave her no indication of what she should do next.

"Yes, it's true," she said reluctantly, directing her words only to Dorothy despite everyone's intense attention. She felt her heart breaking, having not realized until this moment how much she cared about the young farm girl who inadvertently killed her sister or how much she needed her faith. Why must the most important insights come at the most inopportune times?

"No," Dorothy said, shaking her head in disbelief. "That can't be." She spun to face Glinda, a pout firmly in place. "You told me that bad witches are ugly!"

Elphaba scowled darkly at Glinda at this latest insult, who decided to handle pulling her foot out of her mouth this time as diplomatically as she could: "Now Elphie, I only said that because you just stole my fiancé and I was upset—"

"WHAT?" Highmuster boomed from where he stood practically forgotten, and Elphaba's eyes rolled up to the plastered ceilings with absolute despair at the added dimension to their overly complicated situation. "Galinda, explain this!"

Glinda seemed to ignore her reactive parents in favor of the more pressing matter of Dorothy Gale, who had picked up her dog and clutched him securely to her chest, her face filled with hurt and betrayal. "You did that to the Tin Man…"

"And you killed my sister," Elphaba rejoined coldly, successfully stalling Dorothy's aggrieved stance and distracting her with the feelings of guilt she struggled with every day. "We have both been the cause of bad things, but that didn't mean we wanted them to happen like that." Elphaba remembered in the forest when Dorothy listened to her every word as if it was the sanity Oz lacked; she would give anything just to have the girl believe her once again. "I just wanted to help him, but maybe he would have been happier with the alternative of death."

"What a wicked thing to say!"

"I don't have the luxury of being able to say pleasant things anymore! People like you have taken that away from me, so I'm left only with the truth!" Elphaba said back to Larena, her voice trembling with annoyance. She looked back down at poor, confused Dorothy and knew she was only about to befuddle the child more. "There is a lot of truth I have not told you Dorothy, but I never lied."

"You said the Wizard would help me."

"I said I hoped he could help you. The Wizard is not from Oz, just like you aren't, and because of that I thought you stood a chance with him. But despite his impressive façade, he is just a man; clever, yes, but powerless."

"What is that book he wants— the one he said you took from him? Do you have it? Will he be able to send me home if I give it to him?"

"The Grimmerie is here. The Wizard cannot read it and he cannot use it. He is nothing more than a charming charlatan hiding behind his guards and his stupid mechanical head."

"How dare you talk about His Ozness that way!" Highmuster boomed. "That is sacrilege!"

"Will you just shut up about what you don't know?" Elphaba snapped. "Sweet Oz!"

"Galinda, are you just going to stand there and allow this freak to treat us like this? I demand you have them leave our suite immediately!"

"My name is Glinda now, Popsie!" Glinda corrected sternly, her voice startlingly strong. "And that 'freak' is my friend! I'll have you know that she is welcome here in my guest quarters, where you have shown up unannounced! You really should have written ahead."

"So you are going to kick us out on the street to make room for this criminal and your adulterous fiancé?"

"I will find a room for you in the palace!" she shrilled, a lock of her perfect hair falling from under her tiara as she stamped her foot crossly. "But you can't leave until I can be sure you will keep Elphaba's secret!"

"Glinda, this is outrageous! Oz's Most Wanted is in the Emerald Palace and you want us to play dumb?"

"Shouldn't be too hard for you," Elphaba said dryly, and Highmuster had to restrain the tiny Larena from leaping at the witch sparkling-claws first. It was so absurd and reminiscent of Glinda that Elphaba actually cackled as she watched the older woman struggle toward her. Glinda wrinkled her perfect skin with a glower at this, and Elphaba let her smile fall with a roll of her eyes and attempted to redirect the conversation back to where it was most needed. "Glinda, where is the Grimmerie now?"

"I put it with your things over here." She spared her mom and dad one last look before she shuffled across to the trunk at the foot of the four-poster bed, against which Elphaba's shoulder bag was placed out of sight. She bent over and dug through the bag, asking as she did so, "But Elphie, what do you think we should d—"

She stopped then and when she didn't stand up right away with the book in hand Elphaba became concerned. Did something happen to the Grimmerie? That was the bag that she carried any material possession she felt was worth keeping close to her in the past few years, which meant it held very little. She couldn't fathom what Glinda could have found in there that would render her speechless. She slowly walked around so the trunk no longer blocked her view and asked down to the crouched blonde, "Glinda, what is it?"

Elphaba's proximity seemed to have startled her and sprung to her feet. The Grimmerie, whole and seemingly unmarred, was held tight to her jeweled, corseted chest by one petite arm while the other whipped behind her back. Elphaba could only get Glinda's wide eyes to connect with her own for only a moment before the blue darted away and her brow pulled down low over them, her mind drifting far away in thought.

"Glinda, what—"

"My Oz," Glinda muttered, and Elphaba tried peeking around her to see what she was hiding. Despite her distraction, Glinda managed to step away and keep Elphaba's probing eyes from whatever it was she had – which was probably something of Elphaba's, but what the witch couldn't fathom. At a loss, Elphaba watched as the lean muscles in her arm tensed as she moved whatever she found around in her lithe fingers behind her dress. "Everything makes sense now…"

"What does?" Elphaba asked. "Tell me!"

She opened her perfectly stained lips then as though she would, but then Glinda's expression hardened and she looked right at her friend, her gaze unusually strong and unwavering. "Elphie, do you trust me?"

"Why—"

"Do you trust me?"

"I…"

Even Dorothy and the Uplands were staring at her with an intense, unwavering attention, causing an unyielding pressure. She wished she understood the context, for she had no idea how to respond. Did she trust Glinda? The moment she first saw young Galinda so long ago she felt instantaneous contempt, and it would turn out that contempt was well-deserved. It wasn't until the popular girl displayed the most public act of juvenile cruelty that they were first exposed to one another, despite their close proximity as roommates. In the Emerald City the first time around, Glinda let her disappear into the wind and took advantage of her friend's downfall to finally receive the attention she always wanted, then for years was a figurehead for a people hell-bent on capturing and killing her. Glinda then led the Wizard and Morrible to her sister, who was now dead, and from there Fiyero died and, as strange as it was, so did Elphaba. So how could she possibly answer this question rationally?

Without a good answer, she spoke from her heart, as she often foolhardily did: "Yes, I trust you. Completely."

"Then you must never ask me about what I'm about to do. I'm off to see the Wizard."

"Right now?" Elphaba asked, bewildered. "You can't leave now!"

Glinda handed Elphaba the book, her pretty eyes meeting her friend's apologetically. Dorothy stepped forward meekly. "Are you going to take me with you?"

"No Dorothy, you need to stay here with Elphaba and Fiyero. You'll be safe with them."

"Safe?" Larena screeched. "What about us? Are we supposed to be safe with this terrorist?"

Once again the Uplands were ignored. Elphaba shifted the large hardcover under an arm and grabbed Glinda's thin elbow in a tight grip to keep her still. "You won't let them leave and you won't let me, but I really suggest you change your mind on at least one of those decisions."

Glinda slipped out of the taller girl's grasp, shook her head and made for the door, moving the hand she had been hiding around her body as she walked so it stayed out of sight even with Elphaba right on her heels. "I'm sorry Elphie," she said over her shoulder. "I'll be back soon."

And with a snap of the door in her face, Elphaba was left alone in one of the Emerald City's tallest towers with a lover she was forsaking and three individuals who recently learned she was the most hated person in Oz. It was like the abuse at Shiz all over again.