Are any amount of apologies enough? Because I'm really sorry for my absence the last couple of months. I can't even tell you how busy my life got for a while: I was working two jobs (one of which the schedule changed and the other of which doubled my workload without consulting me), I moved unexpectedly, my sister got married and I was the maid of honor, family came in and out of town, multiple birthdays, the holidays, a couple family members in and out of the hospital, and the list goes on. All the while I was pulled away from the world of fan fiction and when I had the time to return I couldn't seem to fall back into it.

In sick irony, most of this story is actually written, the exception of which was this next chapter, which I kept skipping because it was a new idea that kept changing and changing in my head. So if you'll forgive me, I'll reward you with a couple quick updates following this. Just don't forget to hit that little review button to tell me what you think :)

And thanks to those who nominated me and voted for me in the Greg Awards this year! And thanks for RavenCurls for the nice news that I came in second place in Best General Story, tied with fermataoso, whom I adore as a writer so I'm beyond flattered.

On a sunny, clear Sunday afternoon, Fiyero and his discus buddies found themselves ankle deep in mud and they were having a ball. It seemed that the grounds crew at Shiz had decided to divert canal water onto campus in order to irrigate a couple of the yellowing grass fields, for it was still quite hot and dry despite the autumn leaves changing around them. The dozen or so boys that regularly met all stood in different states of amusement on their flooded turf and after having a serious discussion that pretty much went, "Should we go home?" "Nah," Fiyero and his friends spent two hours chasing after thrown discs, diving and rolling around in the soggy grass until their clothes were unrecognizable and they were breathless laughing.

It was nice to feel as young as his body sometimes.

After someone tripped Fiyero and he went chin-first into the muck, the scrimmage dissolved into chaos as a faux battle followed as a couple guys on Fiyero's team riled up with juvenile indignation on his behalf and lead the charge seeking revenge. Not feeling bothered enough to get up and participate, Fiyero rolled over and began moving his limbs around making and angel-like shape in the sludge while feet and bodies splashed about him, feeling cheery as mature men of generally high social standing in a prestigious university managed to regress to the state of children.

"Tiggular!" came a voice above him, and Fiyero opened his eyes to see a strapping Gillikinese lad named Avaric Tenmeadows towering over him. He was an unusually good-looking fellow – his straight teeth were oddly bright against the mud on his face and his square jaw dripped with irrigation water – and a wealthy asshole; with Avaric's cocksure manner and Fiyero's natural charisma, it came as no surprise that men flocked to each of them as much as women did.

Fiyero grinned, bringing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs casually. "Avaric, you've got a little something on your everything."

"I plan on asking one of these girls to help me clean off, if you know what I mean," Avaric said with a laugh, gesturing to the small crowd of students that came to watch the shenanigans. Fiyero resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead clenching his smile in place. "Listen Tiggular, we're going out tonight and you're not ditching again."

"I'm not?"

Fiyero usually found some excuse to avoid the obligatory post-discus party at the local dive bar: procrastinated homework, fictitious sinus infection, a mysterious hot date… (It was almost always the latter.)

"Nope. First round is on me if someone gets the Winkie to go!"

And that was all it took to get everyone in earshot to begin chanting his name. Oh boy.

"If you're buying," Fiyero acquiesced, but not without flinging a ball of mud square at Avaric's chest. "That's for calling me a Winkie."

"I didn't realize you and your girl parts were so sensitive," Avaric said, laughing heartily. "Speaking of lady parts, your girl is here."

Elphaba came? Fiyero sat up eagerly, his heart feeling like a hundred horses gaining speed as he looked for her. She never came to watch!

But it was Galinda Avaric was referring to, and rather than his favorite green girl, Galinda's sycophantic devotees were in toe, giggling and pointing and squealing amongst the small crowd that always gathered as the mucky discus players meandered that way to flirt and tease.

He tried not to let his disappointment show.

"Invite her out with us tonight," Avaric demanded.

"I fear whatever debauchery will take place tonight would not make a fitting atmosphere for the likes of Galinda Upland," Fiyero chuckled, throwing his hands up in time to block the splash Avaric's foot sent his way.

"Good afternoon ladies," Avaric called out with his sharp, bright grin pulling at his messy face, leaving Fiyero dripping behind him. "Like what you see? I can't promise that what's underneath isn't dirty as well!"

The girls surrounding Galinda all giggled, while she waved sweetly to the prince, which he returned as he hopped to his feet.

Before he could even decide if he wanted to go over and talk with her, Avaric bellowed, "I know what you girls want—hugs! Come to Papa!"

It was worth all of the stress of time travel just to see Galinda and her friends shriek and scurry away from the grimy, slimy Gillikinese.

After long showers, the team all met at Blackhole's, a place appropriately named, for it was a dark, ugly hole-in-the-wall kind of place. Avaric ordered an inordinate amount of fried potatoes, meats, and pickled vegetables and pitchers of beer and a couple rounds of jiggers. Regardless of the night, there was always a healthy crowd consuming cheap liquor that consisted of every type that existed in the college-town of Shiz, from the seedy men of questionable reputations to the young scholars of Shiz who ranged from the boorish and bored to those of high-breeding and society who felt the same way. Fiyero had been very confident in his assumption that Galinda would have stuck out like a sore thumb in such an environment, for surely the ugly and attractive women alike shooting down shots of spirits and the come-ons of rowdy men would have little to converse about with Galinda Upland and her bubbly bunch. He was also fairly certain the future Witch of the North wouldn't dare risk staining her skirts on the dirty wood benches.

For a man who had been trapped in the life of decorum and propriety in the Emerald City as long as he was, Fiyero appreciated the shadows and indifference of Blackhole's (though not enough to make a habit of frequenting it). After many mugfuls of beer he couldn't deny himself the desire to socialize as he was once so prone to do, flippantly and insubstantially, the charisma rolling out of him more and more with every glass of gin pushed into his hands. Every conversation he had was one he felt like he must have had before a hundred times in his old life, whether it was of cliché politics or in speaking with every striking female in the bar, including the two he was certain were lesbians until they asked if he wanted to go home with them both for the night.

At long last, flush with drunkenness, he fell back to the table where Avaric was relaxing with a whiskey on ice, his form splayed across the booth and his arm wrapped around a cute little Emerald City sprite who was gossiping expressively with a girlfriend.

"Seems like you've got your pick of the litter," Avaric said, his pointer finger coming off of his glass to indicate the room full of women who kept shooting him hopeful glances. "Who's it going to be?"

"No one tonight," Fiyero stated, his inebriated body melting into the seat while he grabbed someone's half-finished mug of draft and took a gulp.

"Oh come on brother, you can't be serious. There were like six different girls who were literally drooling over the resident prince in their midst, and you're planning on leaving unaccompanied?"

"I'm not feeling like any girl," Fiyero said wistfully, his head falling backwards as he thought about Elphaba. "I want the girl, you know?"

"'The girl'?" Avaric repeated with a scoff.

"Yeah. The perfect girl. Haven't you ever been hung up on something and you couldn't get it out of your head?"

"Lemme guess, small and blonde with an ample bosom."

"Tall and dark," Fiyero amended distractedly. "Small bust; just enough. Long legs, silky hair, piercing eyes. Pretty, but not too pretty. The kind of girl you don't see coming until she knocks you off your feet."

"You lost me at 'not too pretty'," Avaric said like the asshole he was. "I thought Galinda Upland was your thing."

"She's a perfect girl," Fiyero acquiesced, "but not the perfect girl."

"You're an idiot Tiggular," Avaric said. Fiyero pulled his head up to look at his friend to see the girl he was entertaining had begun nibbling at his neck at some point. The future Margrave of Tenmeadows just sipped at his glass unfazed. "You need to get over yourself and go hit up Galinda's room. Get all of your dumb little fancies out of your system."

He imagined pounding on Galinda's dorm room door and being greeted by the grumpy, sleepy face of her roommate, her thick hair mussed from slumber. Oh, to rouse those lips sluggish with grogginess, to grip her cool body against his until she was as heated as he was as he pushed her towards her bed…

Suddenly it was all he wanted.

"For once, Avaric, you're right," Fiyero agreed, draining the last of bad beer from his cup and tottering out of the booth.

"Atta boy," Avaric encouraged.

And for about a half a minute as he left Blackhole's, he intended on following Avaric's advice and finding Elphaba to express himself through physicality, until the night air hit his face, sobering him up just enough to recognize if Elphaba didn't kill him for moving on her, Galinda's earsplitting shrieks at him in their room necking her roomie probably would do him in.

So he went home, alone.