Her eyes were drawn to the Clock as a scene began to play out. She stopped resisting and found her attention riveted. A minute passed and she raised her free hand to her mouth. "No! No! It can't be!" She fought wildly against his grip but he held her fast.

She knew what was coming before it even began...

She recognized it from her childhood. The Clock had brought untold grief to her life as well as her mother's and father's lives. A light switched on inside of it, illuminating the backdrop. A small figure appeared, it's synthetic body peppered with blue, painted like a jester but the effect was sensual rather than comical. She glanced up at Fiyero and touched a finger to one of the diamonds on his face. But he was intent on what the Clock was showing.

His puppet-likeness could be seen stoking a fire before turning towards the bed. Shadows danced in the tiny setting. Like story-book demons some of the shadows broke free and converging on him. There was a very real looking spray of blood. Elphaba tore her eyes away. "That's not what happened! No!" She felt him holding her against himself, restraining her still. "You're here," she cried, more to herself than him. She began to fight again.

"Elphie, it's okay. Whatever you see, whatever it shows you, has already happened," he said, softly.

"It's not what happened," she protested, feebly.

"Just watch, it'll be okay. I promise," he told her. His hold on her became tender, now more comforting than restraining. She relaxed a little herself.

The Clock carried on, indifferent to her pain. The scene shifted. And it was a tiny caricature of her. Facing a diminutive Dorothy, thrusting a burning broomstick at the girl. That gave way to panic as the Witch's own dress went up in flames. In a misguided rescue attempt, the girl threw a bucket of rainwater.

Elphaba hid her face on Fiyero's shoulder. "No," she whimpered.

"Shh...," he told her. He stroked her hair. "Come on. One more thing. We have to go through."

"No," she repeated, digging in her heels and becoming defiant again.

But he only smiled at her and said, "Trust me."

She did. She sighed and struggled with herself once more. But she allowed him to lead her through the Clock which had become as insubstantial as mist.

Nessarose was hardly prepared for what transpired. Poor Elphaba was so stricken with shock and terror. And probably self-pity, Nessa thought, loftily. It was a typical reaction to this situation, she supposed. Though she had only experienced rapture.

"You lied to me," Elphaba cried, pushing him back with both hands. Her voice was full of hurt betrayal.

"Elphie, listen to me," he said gently, stepping towards her again. "I had to. Oh, Elphie, you don't understand."

She turned her back, still overwhelmed with the shock of all this. It couldn't be real, it just couldn't.

"It hurt you so. I couldn't stand it. I had to do something."

"But you were never the Scarecrow." It was almost an accusation.

"No," he admitted. He looked away as if ashamed. "It-," he began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He looked skyward and attempted at speech again. "I did it for you. You wished I were the Scarecrow. That I would becoming back to you...You wanted it so badly. I just- I wanted to give it to you."

"Yero...I wanted so to save you..."

"I know," he said quietly. "I know. You told me not to follow you and I did anyway. You told me to stay away and I couldn't. I went back to your loft."

"Don't," she protested. "Don't say it." She could not bear for him to apologize for the circumstances of his death.

Nessa watched with an intense curiosity. She felt a trifle out of bounds for eavesdropping thus. But surely she was in plain sight. She reasoned with herself that that would make it alright.

"And I walked those stairs to your flat a million times over. They came for me again and again. Beating me and then hiding me away. I repeated the incident over and over in an endless loop, as so many shades are rumored to do. You can ask me of hell, I can speak of madness because I have known both. I couldn't break free. And then I heard you cry my name. So you see...Elphie, you did save me."

"But I would have spared you the pain," she whimpered.

"And I would have you. But none of that matters now. It's over. It's in the past. We got through the hard part and now it's just us. And we have all the time in the world."

"So this whole thing never happened?"

"Oh it happened. Parts of it at least. The demons, Yackle included," he chuckled at this but she didn't share in it, so he went on, "Candle was real, I think...but Liir and the Mauntery...I'm pretty sure that was part of your fantasy. And Nor...," but he didn't finish his thought.

"But why?"

He never answered her because at that point, Nessa walked toward her sister, spreading her arms (now that she had them) in a welcoming gesture. She smiled, magnanimously. Elphaba seemed to notice her for the first time and broke away from Fiyero.

And then he seemed on the verge of coming apart himself. He collapsed to his knees and grabbed hold of Elphie's hand.

Nessa stopped and gave him a disdainful look. She sighed and looked away. Oh these two, with their superfluous hysterics. Why must they try my patience, she thought.

"Fifteen years. I couldn't break free. I thought it would never stop. And then it was so hard. The Other Land kept pulling at me. But I couldn't leave yet. I had to finish things. The strain was eating away at me and now it's finally over."

Elphie knelt in front of him. She touched her forehead to his. He sobbed unashamed as his burden dissolved.

A flash of intuition. Nessa came forward and put her hand on his head. "Yes it's over," she gushed. "Here there is only peace and beauty and joy. Out there you have struggled." She looked at her sister but kept her hand where it was, and spoke to them both. "And you have suffered. The Unnamed God knows. He has seen your troubles." Tears welled in her eyes as the religious fervor swelled in her bosom.

Elphaba literally bit her tongue to restrain herself against the blatant zealotry.

"He knows," Nessa asserted. "You are weary and here you can lay those troubles down."

Fiyero sobered up and gave Elphaba a look, as to say, She's your sister. And she held her breath in order not to laugh.

But Nessa was on a roll. "For here there is naught but bliss."

"Oh dear, I think we have gone to hell," Elphaba murmured.

"What," Nessa asked, shaking out of her litany.

"Oh I was just saying that you look well."

Nessa blushed. "Thank you, Elphie."