Author's Note: It's a bit weak (especially the ending), but it's the best I can come up with at the moment.

I also do not own Wicked, the Wizard of Oz, or anything to do with the two except a movie poster.

Boss, finally accepting the fact that Toto was not there, was very nice to Elphaba. Though Abby had called him to her several times, he always ended up circling her as she walked, his tail tickling the back of her knees.

And though the cat was not particularly cuddly or endearing in any way (much like his owner herself, Elphaba thought), its attention put her slightly at ease. Either I smell really good, she thought, or it likes me. As a confirmation of her suspicions, the cat purred.

After walking just a few steps, she could see that Abby was right – the house was only just out of sight. It was a rickety, one-story hovel of a farmhouse, much like the ones built in Munchkinland in the time of her sister Nessarose. Elphaba still felt a pang of guilt and grief whenever the name popped into her head. Whatever the world had thought of Nessa – whatever Elphaba herself thought of her – her demise had been cruel and heartless. And though Fiyero had told her many times that it wasn't her fault, it was obvious that it had been because of her, to lure her into a trap that ultimately resulted in her leaving her homeland . . .

She shook her head, as if to eject the painful thoughts, and decided that the only way to maintain her sanity (which she had only recently regained) was to focus on the moment and nothing else. This, she realized after clearing her head, would either greatly improve her skills of observation, or transform her into a mindless shell of a woman.

The girl, Abby, always stayed several feet in front of Elphaba and Fiyero. She would glance back every few seconds, her expression alternating between bewilderment and deep distrust. Every so often she beckoned towards Boss, but (as established before) he did not come.

About halfway between the tree and the house, the tense silence, broken only by the breeze and Boss's purr, became too much for Abby (Elphaba, who was used to these kinds of quiets, which were the sort that occurred whenever she entered a room, barely noticed it). "Where did you come from?" she asked incredulously.

Elphaba thought about telling the truth, just like she had with the geezer farmer, but decided that Abby would be less understanding. Still, what else was there to tell her? She thought for a few seconds, but the most plausible answer was quite feeble. Still, it might be worth a try. "The next town over," she replied, wincing.

Elphaba had expected Abby to give her an expression that said, do I look stupid? Instead, she vocalized it. "People seem to think," she said slowly, "that I am a bumbling idiot. I'd appreciate being told the truth once in awhile."

From the moment she had opened her mouth, Abby's voice had seemed flat and dead. Now, she suddenly got angry. "But I guess you're adults, and adult's can't do anything but lie to me!" she shrieked. "And-"

Fiyero, who had been hanging on to Elphaba for support for the last couple of minutes, raised an arm. "Hold on!" he shouted over her. And Elphaba knew exactly what he would do.

He spoke again, in the way that always amazed her: shifting the blame from himself, but not bestowing it upon anybody or anything else. "Yeah. We lied, and we're sorry. But the thing is, if we had told you the truth, you would have had the exact same reaction. You just wouldn't believe us."

Abby stood, arms crossed, murderous-looking. "Okay. Tell me where you come from."

"A land," Fiyero told her, "called Oz."

Abby shrugged. "Never heard of it."

"You wouldn't have," Fiyero replied wisely.

The vein in Abby's forehead became visible again, but her voice remained calm. "Is that because I'm a stupid little farm girl?"

"No . . ." Fiyero held his palms out at his sides, the typical gesture of peace. "Nobody's heard of it." And with a sideways glance at Elphaba he finished, "We'll tell you about it later."

Abby didn't object. She just turned on her heel and continued to walk.

They reached the house in a few minutes. Elphaba's initial impression was right; it was rickety. The wood, though quite nicely painted, seemed old and warped, and the chimney looked as if it had been bent by a giant croquet club. There was a porch and it had a swing, but Elphaba wouldn't sit on that swing if someone paid her.

The woman sitting in it, however, didn't seem to have the same opinion. She didn't seem to notice that the ropes holding it up were dangerously close to snapping; she simply carried on with her sewing.

"MA!" Abby suddenly called, her voice changing entirely. Now it was rough, less intelligent. The woman looked up, and Elphaba saw that she had the same less-than-pretty face that Abby did.

The woman appraised them – it was impossible to pretend she was doing anything else. Her eyes narrowed as she set down her sewing, and her lips became thin and white.

"NEW FRIENDS, AB?" she called back.

"Yes, Ma," Abby answered as they reached the porch steps. Abby climbed them and sat down next to her mother; Elphaba and Fiyero stayed at the bottom, afraid to approach the woman. Fiyero reached over and put a nearly-limp arm around Elphaba's side.

The woman leaned forward, getting a better look at Abby's find. Abby said nothing for or against them, only: "They come from a place nobody's heard of." Then: "Oh, and their names are Elphaba and . . . Bob."

Fiyero shot Elphaba a look of deepest loathing, which almost instantly melted into a smile.

"Hmm," the mother said, stroking her chin. Then, Elphaba and Fiyero got a piece of the best luck they could ever hope to find:

"Well, Abby? I think I did hear the circus was in the area."