She always had that volatile spark in her, temperamental to say the least. He couldn't fool himself that she had changed in all of those turbulent years without him. He couldn't change her and he had fallen in love with that person, against all the odds. But every time he thought he could get that little closer, she locked him out. It had taken a lot of coaxing to find out her code name and he didn't use it now, in front of this unwitting bunch of spies.

'Elphaba. Please come back.'

She stopped at the end of the hall and considered how much it was worth, this book of spells she had sworn to protect. She had never thought it was possible that she would want to give it up for the comfort of another's arms. There had never been anyone other than Fiyero and she wouldn't give anything up even for him. But a strange feeling was stealing over her, quite unlike anything she had felt. Was it yearning for the touch of his fingers on her skin? She had gone so long without it she could barely remember. Elphaba didn't romanticise about anything, could never see the point of the rosy side but now a feeling of longing swept over her and she had to lean against the wall to steady herself. Taking the easy way out had never been Elphaba's style but for a second or two, she let everything go blank. In the dark his voice seemed stronger, ensnaring velvet rope around her mind. She closed her eyes for a second and opened them to an oppressive darkness.

'I'm not here for the book. It means nothing to me. But I suspect you'll consider it far more of worth to fight against the wizard with than be involved with me again.'

'Only this time you don't have Sarima and the children to deal with.' He expected anger, certain bitterness. He only heard quiet resignation. He had to ask.

'You were disappointed that she came first?'

'Not at all. You had to marry her. How could you do your duty without having agreed to this arrangement?'

This was true as he well knew. Neither he nor Samira were destined to choose their future. But he wanted to let her know that she was the one he had loved, not Sarima. He could feel Sarima's benign presence around and for the first time, he was getting irate about it. He knew he should feel ashamed that he was carrying on with his mistress in his former marital home when his wife had been so cruelly indisposed of but the mild mannered scarecrow was experiencing the peculiar range of emotions that hadn't occurred when he was a flesh and blood man. Guilt he knew from the last months of his former life as he continued the affair but he never had any reason to feel angry at his wife. He tried to push it away and act otherwise. His words sounded hollow, without meaning.

'I won't pretend that I loved Sarima like the way I love you. But she was my wife and I've got to respect her memory.'

Elphaba moved back into the moonlight.

'And your children? What about them?'

For a moment, he couldn't speak. His children, his two sons and his daughter. What had become of them? Certain death, he knew no details. It had been a long time now, he knew. He hadn't known for a long time, not till the news of their imprisonment had reached him. It didn't mean that he didn't care.

Hesitant footsteps came to a halt behind him and he turned around to see Dorothy tug at one of her plaits worriedly whilst requesting a return to the kitchen table. The lion it transpired, needed something to help stop him hyperventilate and would the witch show them where the paper bags were kept, please and thank you?

'In the top drawer of the cabinet on the left of the stove' snapped Elphaba.

The girl disappeared fast as quicksilver. Elphaba swivelled him around to look at her and asked him again.

'Your children?'

Fiyero hesitated.

'I hadn't had much contact with them' he admitted. 'Sarima was here to look after them and they had their aunts...' He trailed off to an impassive Elphaba, who had known his children longer than he had.

'I've lived here for years, Fiyero. Your children each had distinct personalities and I won't lie and tell you they were perfect. But they were your children.' She didn't mention the other child lurking around the castle, Liir, who had also laid a claim on his father.

'I had to travel' he stammered, feeling the guilt overwhelm him.

'They didn't know any better. There's no need to feel guilty for it.'

He stood there rubbing his straw face with his straw hands and looking wretched. 'I wish I could cry over this, but I can't' he explained. 'I have no way of doing so.' Elphaba empathised. She laid a hand over his and reassured him. 'I have much the same problem.'

For a minute Fiyero wondered what she meant. Then he remembered that she avoided water of any kind. It didn't occur to him until then that it could include tears.