I suspect that the last chapter wasn't super thrilling for folks, but I felt it was important to show Fiyero's struggle with his nightmares. He's repressing a great deal of trauma, and that's how his PTSD is manifesting. His lack of sleep is catching up with him, and as I promised before his friends are going to be sticking their noses in. Most importantly, Fiyero is going to make sure he talks to Elphaba, whether she likes it or not.

To give students adequate time to complete their finals, the school calendar had been altered from normal so that every class had extended periods on specific days. This meant that instead of having the organic opportunity to see Elphaba the days following their overwhelming tête-à-tête of sorts, the only way he could see her would have been to stalk her outside of her classes. And he could have done that. He knew her schedule as well as he knew his own sometimes. And he wanted to; there was only a couple of days left before the semester was officially over and she would take her train to the Emerald City. But he didn't.

He was running out of things to say, ways to convince her he was the real deal. It didn't matter anyway. He had done what he had set out to do and that was warn her about what was to come. But his inner turmoil was besting his brain, fueled by sleep deprivation, remnants of nightmares, and multifaceted stress, and though he kept trying to keep himself in check and leave her alone he was losing his mind in increasing amounts the longer he went without seeing her, especially given how they had left things.

So he did what every dimwitted, blasé prince would do in his situation: he studied his ass off for his history test, their very last exam of the semester. And as he did so, all he heard was Elphaba's voice in his head criticizing him for his motivation, for it wasn't because he cared about his grades but it was so he stood a chance at finishing his exam as quickly as she undeniably would. It was the version of things she would hate less, for the other options were that he would either leave the test incomplete the moment she would stand up with her own or skip out on it entirely, and that voice of hers in his head that nagged at him constantly, making him a better man, would hold far too much disappointment. And he couldn't stand the idea of failing her again, even if it was just his imaginary version of her.

He actually finished his exam five minutes before she did, but unlike him Elphaba probably read all of the questions thoroughly before marking her answer. Fiyero sort of neglected that step of the process. And so, he paced outside of Dillamond's old classroom, twitchy and excited, glancing at every sound from behind that closed door, impatient for a face of green.

Perhaps the quad-shot of espresso he had an hour or so earlier wasn't his best idea. He bounced around in place, as if to settle the misplaced energy into some more manageable amount. Even still, his limbs quivered with unspent verve but the latte didn't help his brain, which felt bogged with fatigue and troubles. Espresso wasn't the liquid cure for that ailment – he didn't feel alcohol was appropriate either, at least not before noon – but at least when he felt tick-tocks away from swooning, the excess of caffeine would jolt him upright again.

When she exited, she met his gaze and flushed dark, turning quickly to avoid him, but in the empty hallway there were no obstacles to keep him from blocking her path.

"Please, don't run off."

"What are you doing out here? How did you get done so quickly? Did you cheat?"

"What? No! I've been studying for the last two days straight! I thought if I beat you that maybe…that you and I could…that we…" He was blundering, big time, but he was feeling too frantic to care. "Finals are done now. I waited so you could focus but come on, Elphaba! I just need you to talk to me. A-and I just keep thinking, thinking that-that I should have done something different, you know? Like, maybe I shouldn't have said anything, or maybe you're right and I should have told you right off the bat, and no matter what I think it seems that no matter what I would have done you'd hate me by the end. And if you're getting on that train tomorrow…" And he trailed off, not knowing what he was going to conclude with because there was just too much fighting to be said.

"What do you want from me then?" Elphaba asked him, her dark brows furrowing over her even darker gaze. "Go on, Fiyero, you're the one who has been reciting all these little conversations of ours ahead of time. What do you want me to say?"

"I just…" He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck apprehensively, feeling how feverish it was. His head felt like it was swirling too, as if the top of it wasn't properly fastened above his ears. "I just want you to just talk to me. I want to know how you're feeling, what you're thinking."

"No, Fiyero—you really don't." And she took this shaky breath, her gaze lingering on his for this prolonged, confusing moment, before her frown deepened and she turned away. Unthinkingly – as was his forte – he bounded forward in her way, blocking her escape and startling her.

"I do! Oz, I do! Oz, I wish I didn't! I've been trying to leave you alone, to let you live your life, but I can't settle down at night for the worry! I lay in bed, I pace my room, afraid of the next couple of days, afraid of even having this discussion with you because I know how crazy it is, how crazy I seem. And I wonder if I've ruined everything or if I've affected nothing and I threw away our friendship in vain and all I want to know is what's going on inside of your head because that's the one thing in this world I don't get! The only thing I haven't experienced enough to predict! Whatever is in there, no matter how bad you think it is, can't lead to a future any worse than I've seen. I have to find out. I've got to know if there's anything more I can do because I feel so damn helpless!"

"Fine, you want to know what I'm feeling? I'm furious with you. Assuming you are actually telling the truth, then what are you even doing here? You should be out there using everything you know in the world, protecting it, creating change, making good! Not sitting in cramped desk chairs waiting for the professor to dismiss you!"

"But that's what I am doing! You can accomplish far more good in this world than I ever could. I wouldn't even know where to start."

"You could have been establishing yourself in the Emerald City, using your clout as heir to the Vinkun throne to manipulate whatever you had to in order to protect thousands of innocent lives from the Animal Banns!"

"Who would listen to a spoiled, rich brat? Maybe in the future I could have done something— I proved there that I wasn't just some playboy but took me years to graduate then earn captaincy, and even still people assumed it was handed to me or paid for. What could I possible do now? The Fiyero whose body I have had just been booted out of another school. He was leisurely heading down a self-destructive path because that one was devoid of high royal expectations and responsibilities that I had always dreaded. I showed up at Shiz still sweating out alcohol, for crying out loud!"

"Am I supposed to pity you?"

"No! Just to understand that just because I knew I was a changed man doesn't mean anyone else would! Proving it had to be the first step, and that's a slow process."

"What of Dr. Dillamond? If this is all redundant for you then you knew he'd be fired, didn't you?"

"Yes, but—"

Her tolerance dissolved in indignation and she exclaimed, "You just let them take him!"

"Of course I didn't!"

"You stood by and, I don't know, flirted with me as Dr. Dillamond was forcibly dragged from campus by strange men with cages! As all his research – everything we had worked so hard on, that we were so close to completing – was confiscated and undoubtedly destroyed by whomever it was that took him away! Your reputation be damned! How could you have done such a thing?"

"No, Elphaba, you don't understand!"

Without thinking – why wasn't he thinking? – he grabbed the hand that wasn't clenched whitish green over her shoulder-bag strap and pulled it up to his chest, squeezing it, feeling the softness of the skin and the delicacy of the fingers, the coolness of it between his too-warm hands… But he also felt her jerk reactively, as if wanting to pull away, and looked up to see the flash of disorientation across her face. He could practically hear the incomprehensible commotion she was so, so good at inside of her head as he stared at her.

And then she did pull from him and turn her head away blatantly; he wondered if she was nervous of him, or perhaps she was just as scared as he was of the intensity between them, the rush of sensation under and over and around their touching skin…

He wouldn't let himself be scared. As she slipped away, he sought her out again, wrapping his fingers around her slender arms to keep her from disappearing.

"Please, just listen to me," he begged, wishing her eyes would appear from behind her clenched lids, that her face would soften back from this pained expression he didn't entirely understand. But then she shuddered a breath, her rich irises and expanded pupils reemerging to him unfocused but at least available. "Let me explain. I—"

"What are you two doing?" a diminutive but clear voice called from somewhere beyond his comprehension. He shook away the cloud in his mind, remembering a world beyond her, and saw over her shoulder his friend Boq watching the situation with uneasiness. "We could hear some sort of muffled row all the way from inside of the classroom. Was that you? Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," he answered tersely, feeling both embarrassed and annoyed. "We're just…talking."

"Talking loudly."

"Sorry," Fiyero said, not really caring. "Can you give us some privacy, please?"

"Elphie?" he asked, unconvinced, and it was then Fiyero really understood what this looked like, how he stood gripping Elphaba in front of him and how vulnerable she seemed, and he felt horror at himself. And as if he didn't hate himself enough, the doors, which must have opened two or three more times since Boq exited given the spattering of students giving them strange looks as they passed by, opened once more to Nessarose and to Galinda at the helm of her chair.

"What's going on out here?" was Nessarose's soft-spoken question.

"Elphie, are you all right?" Galinda asked, her attention darting between Elphaba's hunched shoulders and whatever anxious expression Fiyero was wearing. Fiyero dropped his hands from her elbows, his eyes fluttering back slightly at the lightheadedness this misunderstanding was giving him.

Elphaba's own green hands came to find the spots he just vacated and she hugged herself. "I'm fine."

"We were just having a conversation."

"Well, your conversation was audible in the middle of our exam," Galinda said sternly to him.

"So we were told," Elphaba snapped.

"Elphie, are you—"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, getting tetchy, holding up a hand as if to discourage any more attempts to gauge her feelings.

"You're not hurt?"

"What? No, of course not," she said irritably. "I'm fine."

"I'm not sure if we should believe you. You seem upset."

"Now I'm upset! People keep asking for my attitude then they disregard it! Next time I tell you I'm fine, take me at my word and stop pestering me about it!"

"You're clearly in an emotional state so I'll refrain from taking your tone of voice personally," Galinda said with a haughty point and wiggle of her finger. "Look, perhaps you should resume whatever we interrupted at a point more appropriate—"

"And give her the opportunity to shirk me again? No, we've put off this conversation long enough. What I have to say is important and needs to be said!" Fiyero exclaimed, his eyes seeking out Galinda as he knew she would understand him most. "Please, Galinda, just give us a moment!"

And the look she returned did indeed resemble sympathy, but her voice was laced with obvious pity. "Maybe it's best you leave her alone. You've more than expressed yourself, Fiyero, but now I think it is best that you let her be."

"But—"

"No 'buts', Fiyero. If shirking you is what she wants, then respect that."

"You always saw better than anyone when feelings are unwanted," Nessarose interposed, sadly.

Boq nodded vigorously at her side. "You were the one who helped me realize that being in love is like tending a garden. You can't rush it or force it, and sometimes the things you grow you don't keep, but you can still care for it and know that it's going to be good for someone else one day."

"You can't be serious," Fiyero growled dourly, his brow gathered in his annoyance.

Galinda smiled over to the Munchkin agriculturalist, who was blushing hard in his declaration. "Well put, Boq," she said sweetly, and no one missed that she had gotten his name right for once, not even Fiyero, who frankly just didn't give a damn right then.

A hand stuck wildly through his hair, barely containing an overwrought, frustrated grunt at this maddening interruption. They didn't know anything! They figured he was simply a love-struck boy, obsessed with the girl who had yet to return his sentiments with any equitable ones of her own, and while that was all so true the truth itself was far more complex than that.

Fiyero tilted his head down again, inspecting the emerald face in front of him, for she was the only other one who knew that this wasn't only about expressions of fancy and romance. It was about life and death and it was so ironic that it was these people who misjudged it, for all of their lives hinged on his success, for better or worse.

Nessarose cleared her throat gently. "Galinda is right about respecting Fabala's space. If Elphaba doesn't want to be engaged in this, then you should consider your own advice. You told me once that even the best of intentions can't change what isn't meant to be. You cannot change the heart, Fiyero, only the Unnamed God has such power. You mustn't attempt what is beyond us as people; you oughtn't anticipate something like romance when the person in question is not fit for it."

Nessarose had said this with such calmness, with such certainty, in that way of hers, that Fiyero knew not if she even meant any ill-will in her statement at Elphaba's expense. He looked at the green girl in question, wanting to gauge her reaction before he formed one of his own, but she remained expressionless save for the unfocused sheen to her eyes as Nessarose's comment took her thoughts far away from them.

"The only heart I can control is my own and yes, I've chosen to put it on my sleeve, let all Shiz know of it!" He gestured crankily out at the ogling passersby. "But don't presume you can possibly comprehend what intentions I have or the changes I long for! Don't presume that any of you know anything about me!"

"Can't agree more," Elphaba muttered, but it wasn't mean enough and her expression was crumpling in confliction.

And, because he was already mad and not just at her, he resumed his attention to Nessarose, "And you certainly don't know a damned thing about Elphaba if your views of her are so shallow-minded."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me! These backhanded comments of yours grate on me – the way you blame her for things that are beyond her control or the way you imply that she is 'not fit' to love as you so wastefully do – and I have no intention of letting them slide anymore, not when she is so obliging to you."

"Mind your words, Fiyero. She is my sister and as such I think I hold better bearing on her than you—"

"Oh please, declaring her unfit—"

"Fiyero," Elphaba interrupted, her voice timid in a way that distracted him momentarily. And so he turned to her, hoping for some reaction aside from a lack of one, but that's what he got.

"You have nothing to say about this? How is that possible?"

"Leave her alone, Fiyero," said Boq firmly, and Fiyero felt defeated, for this boy was one he had devoted more kindness and friendship to than Elphaba ever would and yet he stood behind her. His head spun so badly and he wilted, almost too much, and caught his balance in time hide it from all but Elphaba, who twitched reactively as if to steady him. He played it off as if it was only to take a step back, to relinquish that one inch of space as a sacrifice. All the same, he wasn't able to abstain from looking down at her then.

There was so much tension about her: in her rigid shoulders, her clenched jaw, her drawn brow. He wondered if it compared to what he felt, an unrelenting tautness up and down the entirety of his spine, his temples, down his muscular arms to the very ends of his fingers. Yet Elphaba's regard for him was not so strained but somehow tender and damn, how he must be losing it to be seeing that.

Perhaps their friends were right— perhaps he wasn't noticing how abhorrent she was truly finding him; maybe he was placing too much pressure on something between them that only ever existed in some alternate reality, and he tried to let go. He did. But he couldn't, not when the complicated conversation that was interrupted was still suspended unfinished in the air. Their friends weren't leaving and neither could he, so he exhaled heavily and stared down at the beautiful green girl in front of him, allowing the world and their friends to disappear for just a moment more.

"Fine, you know what?" he hissed, so that only they would hear. "Screw discretion. Dillamond is safe, Elphaba. We started preparing for his dismissal weeks ago. I have him set up in a residence about two miles from here with a fully operational lab and unredacted copies of all of his research. I can give you the address and the key if you want—"

"You're the financier?" Her ire had him feeling as though he was cooking and freezing cold simultaneously, and her quiet words were harsh, like something ripping. She didn't wait for him to confirm it. She grabbed him by the arm, suddenly realizing as he did how inappropriate this conversation was for the middle of the corridor, and of course the others followed. Nosy bastards. Elphaba stared down the last couple of dawdling spectators, giving him a reprieve from that frightening stare if only for a moment before it was back on him full force. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He gave her a look then, one of incredulity and cantankerousness, as if to remind her that he keeps his secrets for a reason. Her nostrils flared and she spun away, pacing in a tight circle as she processed his news, her penetrating stare still boring into him each time she turned. He sighed, his shoulders tightening as their friends began to register what Elphaba already did.

"So wait, you're the one that's been helping Dr. Dillamond all this time?"

"Fiyero, is that true?" Galinda said, tilting her head inquisitively. "That's so good of you!"

"From what Elphaba and Boq have told me, that was a substantial amount of money you donated! I had no idea you were so generous of spirit."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Tibbett and Crope had suggested it might be you and I laughed it off! Oh, the grief they'll give me when they find out!"

"It was an anonymous donation for a reason!" Fiyero snapped at Boq. "If you begin chinwagging about it I'll make sure that jaw of yours stays shut!"

Boq pouted, crossing his arms petulantly.

"This is it, then?" Galinda asked, smiling at the still-agitated Elphaba, who was at least ceasing her exasperating pacing even though it meant he was at the receiving end of her uninterrupted glare again. "This is your grand secret? I mean, aside from your crush on Elphie; that one wasn't really a secret. Except, uh, from you Elphie, wasn't it? Don't look at me like that, it's not my fault you were the only one who didn't see him pining after you all this time! Well, it's good to finally be in on the full truth after all this time wondering."

"Yep, this is it, you got me," he said with far more sarcasm than he intended. Elphaba's expression fell into something he didn't comprehend, but then again he was having trouble focusing at this point for all the fuss enveloping them.

"You know, there's no shame in being noble, Fiyero," Galinda added. "I can't imagine why you've been all enigmatic all of these months just because you have a soft spot for the old Goat!"

"He's probably just worried other people will seek him out for his money as well," Boq pondered aloud.

"That's a valid point—"

Fiyero crammed his eyes shut, wishing he could shut them all out, make everything quiet, make it all stop spinning so fast under his feet and around his body and in his head…

"Fiyero?" Elphaba questioned quietly. "Are you all right?"

"I'll tell you everything," he breathed feebly as the rush of vertigo hit him heavily once more, this time more fully so that his thoughts were swept away in a rush of fog and confusion. "I will, I just…"

It seemed that all that stimulation he felt at the start of all this was spent, and he felt cheated out of the money he spent on that quad latte.

"Fiyero?" she called again in that soft undertone she possessed, but he couldn't see her for the back of his eyelids, but he could feel her fingertips brushing against his stomach, as if unsure to truly touch.

"What's wrong with him?" Glinda asked, stepping forward. Galinda, he corrected. What was wrong with him indeed?

"Nothing," he lied, trying to blink away the haze.

"Maybe I should take him home," said Boq.

"I don't need to go home—"

"Perhaps he would be best in the infirmary?" Nessarose suggested.

"I'm not sick," he griped, his voice getting louder as if the volume might make them listen finally, "it's just a headache!"

"Your eye is twitching."

"And it has been ever since you hit me!" Fiyero retorted to Elphaba's pointless observation, to which Galinda trilled, "Oh you did? Good for you, Elphie!" which everyone ignored.

"That was days ago!"

"Strange, isn't it?" he bit back caustically at the green girl. "Can't say why for sure, but I bet we can ask the kids still talking about the quake that hit Briscoe Hall last week! Maybe they have an opinion."

"What are you on about? What does the rumble have to do with anything?" Galinda interjected as Elphaba scowled darkly at his accusation. Good, he thought at her reaction, Elphaba had heard about the aftereffects of her temper tantrum. "What does that even mean? Why did she hit you?"

"Why can't you all just mind your business?" he said, just as his eyelid ticked more violently as a result of the pressure. He growled, fisting his hair in his frustration and cried out, "Why won't you all just go away?"

"All right, Fiyero, it's time to leave. Your mind is clearly misplaced. Get away from her, let's go," said Boq firmly, and he approached them to disengage Fiyero from Elphaba – he wasn't even touching her anymore – but Fiyero swatted him away angrily.

"Don't," Fiyero snapped, and tiny little Boq recoiled and his bravado vanishing with the prince's intensity. He immediately sobered, watching as his friend staggered backwards. "Buddy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"You'll have to forgive him," Galinda said soothingly to Boq. "I believe I see what's going on—he hasn't been sleeping very well. Isn't that right, Fiyero?"

"I've admitted no such thing to you."

"Please, dearest, you haven't needed to," the blonde told him with a flippant wave of her hand. "Just look at you! Did you run out of that moisturizer I gave you for those awful bags under your eyes or have you just given up? Besides," she said as if an afterthought, "we've been worried about you."

"'We'?" he asked, confused, and he assumed she meant the fidgety Nessa but it was Elphaba who glared warningly over her shoulder. Galinda gave her a pushy expression – why, Fiyero couldn't even muster the energy to fathom – and after a moment of their nonverbal exchange Elphaba sighed heavily.

"Yes, we. Look at me," Elphaba demanded, and he did as she asked, feeling pathetic in so many ways. "Oz, you're a mess. Did you sleep at all last night? Or the night before?"

"W-what?" he stammered, feeling self-conscious.

The nightmare from that morning still lingering in his mind: the images of her half-dead body in the grips of brutal men, the way her length of her thick dress acting like the bristles of a brush as they painted a streak of beet red blood across the emerald floor, almost made him retch right there. At this point he didn't even know if he had dreamed such a detail, for in the hours and hours since his imagination was enriching the hazy nuances each and every time the nightmare tumbled about…

He never went back to sleep after that, for being fixated on one horrible image wasn't worse than the possibility of a newer, even worse one. And there were so many: the bubbling pot of smoky emerald spirals, green body parts bobbing up at the surface; a body of a woman, the flesh revealed by her shredded dress more glossy red than green in the moonlight, her head hung limp with her hair the only movement about her as her broken form hung dripping from a pole in a cornfield; or even a simpler but still disturbing dream, in which she was just gone without any explanation at all.

He swallowed the rising knot of anxiety back down his throat. "Well…yeah, I mean…that is…it's just…there's been so much…" Left unsaid, he thought unwillingly, stifling the nausea and the new surge of fatigue with more forced words: "…there's been schoolwork, and there's stuff…." About you. About us. "…you know, a-about Dillamond, that I've, uh, been thinking about…"

"You know, Fiyero, there's such thing as studying too much."

"And to think, that's coming from Boq."

"Oh be quiet Galinda," Elphaba said with a hasty roll of her eyes. "Fiyero, where is Dr. Dillamond?"

"I have the address and key in my desk at Briscoe Hall."

Elphaba nodded, grabbing him by the elbow unexpectedly. "I'm walking him home."

"Are you sure?" Boq said guardedly. "We could go with you."

"Thank you but I don't need an escort, Boq. Fiyero's an idiot but he's a harmless one. It turns out he has some things to answer for and, in all of your imposing gallantry, you've all forgotten once more to care about my opinion in all this. As annoying as it was, at least that was something Fiyero sought when this all began. Fiyero, let's go."

Let me know if you liked it. It would mean a lot.