Wow guys, thanks so much - AOF has passed 300 reviews! I set a secret goal for myself when I started posting here, and I've achieved it and now I've achieved even more, so thanks again, so much! (Though I think a lot of you have ceased reading it... so close to the end, too :S) For those of you reading THIS who don't already know, LostOzian's "Different" is an exquisite and rich piece that I highly recommend. Times a million.

Time ceased passing for Fiyero right around the time Elphaba started to spend less and less time with him. He couldn't believe how immeasurably intolerant of clocks he was becoming with each passing day. Classes were torture, especially classes that she was in with him, though her situtation wasn't much (if any) better.

She'd broken up with Kers, she was too guilty to spend time with Galinda, she was too everything to even look at Fiyero, and that left her with only Nessa (whose extreme morality only magnified Elphaba's own vast reserve of values) and Boq...

No, Elphaba's life must be worse than his.

Except... Except Elphaba got to be with Elphaba, and Fiyero didn't.

Where could she possibly go all the time? He'd tried the dorm, the library, the benches, the woods by the stream... Anytime he couldn't find her, he tried everywhere he could think of. He decided that the best course of action was to hide out of sight, wait for her to leave her dorm, and follow her. Stalk her, as it were.

And so he did.

He'd forgotten all about her master key to the school; it hadn't been mentioned since before Lurlinemas, when he'd found out. Of course she would make her way to the roof of the library building: the view was gorgeous.

"I'd have never thought of this," he murmured, finding her hugging herself while staring out over the grounds. "Are you cold?"

He didn't wait for her answer; he slipped off his jacket and smoothed it around her shoulders. "Thanks," she murmured. She waited a beat. "We shouldn't..."

"I'm not going to... I miss you. I won't do anything to drive you away, I miss you too much. I love you too much." The pained look on Elphaba's face only lasted a moment, but he saw it. "Fae..."

"It's not fair, Fiyero," she said, turning to face him. "It's not fair that I can't be near you, because I miss you, too." She moved closer to him as she spoke, her words falling over each other like stones tumbling down a hill. "But I can't look at you, I can't..." His arms were around her, then his hands were on her face, then in her hair, his body moving her up against the wall next to the door. "I feel so unendingly guilty and also so very much like I don't even care and I want to throw it all away and forget it all and just be with you and I... And I..."

"And you love me," he breathed, loosening his trousers, as if it were the first time again.

She looped her legs around him as he lifted her, pinning her against the wall with his body. "I do."

If he hadn't been on fire with want, Fiyero would have stopped to make her say it again. As it was, he simply kissed her deeply and pulled frantically at her clothes. "I love you," he promised. "I'll always love you."

They gave in again. It was simple, really, the decision to let their hearts override their heads, in that it wasn't a decision at all. Somewhere along the way, Elphaba decided that the trick would be to see each other more regularly, so that their emotions didn't pour over when they did get near each other.

In theory, it might have worked. Maybe. Sort of.

But their meetings turned frantic more often than either wanted to admit, and soon, they were sneaking up to the roof whenever they could. Each time, Elphaba vowed that she would resist Fiyero; she had to be his friend, she couldn't live without his friendship. And in order for that to work, they couldn't touch. That was the only rule.

Fiyero poked at her, tickled her, and generally found ways for their bodies to come in contact whenever possible. It made their few meetings in public extremely awkward; touching had become a habit. It took them a few weeks to come up with a decent solution.

"Fiyero," she laughed, one night, as he nudged at her, an impish grin on his face. "You're trouble." They'd been side by side, staring up at the sky, but now he was braced on one arm, reaching with the other to tickle her.

She caught his left hand in her right, their fingers entwining, and tried to push him off of her, but it was no use. Elphaba could be freakishly strong, but, no, Fiyero was stronger. Millions of times stronger. Pushing her back, his right hand found its way over her eyes, and her laughter died a little. She was pinned and blind, and it took only a split second for her to wonder what was going on, vulnerable as she was.

Fiyero's lips were on hers, softly, and she realized that neither of them were laughing anymore, though the smile on his lips could be felt through his kiss. "Yero," she whispered, hating that her brain still worked even when otherwise intoxicated.

"Mmhmm?"

Oz, that slight chuckle of content in his throat would be her undoing. "We said we wouldn't do this anymore."

"But I love you," he whispered, removing his hand from her eyes.

"It's still wrong."

He looked so sad, she expected him to continue. But he pulled away, sighing softly. 'Stupid,' she thought to herself as she leaned up to kiss him. She really was stupid, she'd decided. Spending time with Fiyero was playing with fire. Very sexy, tender, breathtaking fire.

Her hand moved to his pants of its own accord. "Fae?"

She shook her head. "Let me pretend it's alright," she pleaded.

He took her passionately, wasting no time. They clung to each other when they were finished, refusing to separate. "It's never been this good," he murmured softly. "I've never had better, I never want another." He took a calming breath, his heart breaking at the idea that he might never marry Elphaba and be with her like this as his leisure. "Let's go away somewhere," he said, the idea striking him.

"Fiyero, we can't," she said, sitting up and adjusting her clothing.

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong."

"It's all wrong," he reminded her. "At least if we went somewhere, we could be inside, and... It might be nice."

Elphaba came around to the idea of "going away together" much faster than she was comfortable with, but told herself that if she left all the planning up to Fiyero, it wasn't her fault if she just happened to go along.

She would later wonder if she'd gone insane.

They left separately, but met at the train station, she having perfected and performed a small glamour on herself to de-greenify. It didn't last long, and putting it on and taking it off could be tiring, but it made them much less conspicuous.

On the outskirts of Gillikan, north of Shiz, they found, requested and obtained a room without incident, being far from the land Fiyero was known in, and Elphaba being normal-fied. It was always funny to Elphaba how people stared at them; he for his title and reputation, and she for her skin. Now, she found it funny not to be stared at. Fiyero was dressed so casually, he might have been a miner or a bricklayer, and her skin was fair and even. They appeared to be a normal couple on a journey, not a prince and his mistress only here because it was far from anyone they knew.

When they arrived in the room, Elphaba dropped her things and stood near the bed, and Fiyero stood next to her, following her gaze, then, content to stare at her every possible moment, did just so. She kicked off her shoes, still warily eyeing that bed, the one in which he was going to cheat on her best friend. With her.

The linens on the bed were entirely white - sheets, pillows, comforter, everything. Elphaba wasn't sure if the seeming purity of the bed taunted her because of her guilty conscience, or if she wouuld have felt the same way even if she and Fiyero were married.

They were most definitely not married.

"You must be tired," he said, softly. "I know I am."

"Oh, do you not want -"

"No," he smiled, moving to slide his arms around her waist. "I always want. Even half-dead I'd still want you, Fabala-Fae." He kissed her softly. "But I'm so happy just to be near you, I'll gladly hold you while you sleep."

She whimpered softly when his mouth gently brushed her neck. "Yero..."

"I could wake you up with my mouth," he suggested, kissing a trail down her body.

She moaned with satisfaction. "Every time?"

"I can't get enough," he admitted, already down on his knees. Resting his cheek against her stomach, he reached toward her ankles to slide his hands up her legs and pull her underwear down, but paused when he leaned back and took in her face. Frowning, he stood. "Are you going to stay like that all night?"

"Like what?"

"You're... not green."

"Pardon?"

"The glamour. You..."

"Oh," she said, confused. "I can lift it, but I'll just have to put it on again anytime we leave... It gets exhausting."

"Oh, well if you don't want to," Fiyero said, trying to be accomodating.

"No, I can, I just... don't know why you'd want me to."

He looked at her with such tenderness, she thought she must be dreaming. "I love your skin, Fae. Not for the pain it causes you," he added. "But I love it, I love that you have it. You are unique in so many ways, it's just one of them... But I love everything about you. I love you just the way you are."

Suddenly, Elphaba wasn't so tired anymore. She murmured the incantation quickly, and knew she was green at the way Fiyero's eyes lit up. "There you are," he murmured, kissing her.

She returned his kiss passionately, hating herself for the time she spent constantly spurning him when he was clearly so perfect. She wished there was another way.

They found themselves entangled in the clean white sheets, gasping and panting, moving rhythmically. Fiyero always delighted in exploring her in different ways, while still managing to keep them close, and maintain eye contact. He teased every inch of her until she was ready to scream, and then sank into her, throwing her legs over his shoulders, or rolling her so that she was on top. And he never ceased to stimulate her, making her weak, leaving her quivering and unable to bear it, until he drove her off the edge and let her complete undoing carry him with her, which, more often than not, it did. When it did not, he would simply pull her flush up against him, kiss her fiercely, and focus on the fact that he was making love to the woman of his dreams.

That he pleased her, caused her to writhe with the agony of immeasurable pleasure, breathe his name in his ear, all these were things that caused him to release inside her, which made him feel as though he had found a place to call home.

She was his home, his heart, his world, his life. He knew that, he knew it when they were together and when they were apart. He didn't care that they had to lie to be together, he didn't care who he might hurt, just so long as he could hold her. He wished there was a way to completely take over her body and set her insides thrumming with how much love he felt for her, wished there was a way for her to really feel the magnitude of his love for her, and know it was real. But there wasn't, not to the degree he wanted, and so he tried to prove it with the way he looked at her, the things he said, the effort he put into listening to and considering her revelations and secrets. He tried to prove it by connecting himself to her and gasping his love for her as he moved within her, building a pleasure that would never be matched by any other two people in the entire future of the world. And he stayed joined with her until he could no longer, and then pulled her close to dream of her until he woke.

He wished it were enough. He wished they were only each other's.