A/N: I have often wondered what an outsider must think of all the chaos that goes on in this scene. Those who have been fed the lies and grow confident in their false convictions, only to be suddenly confronted by a reality that doesn't seem to fit the narrative. Would they try to justify it to themselves, or would they disregard what they're seeing entirely? I don't believe that the Ozians were stupid, I think they were complacent. Which makes the story simultaneously more realistic, and much, much more sinister.


It all passed in a blur of green and gold. That should be no cause for concern for a Gale Force soldier and resident of the Emerald City, but this was by no means a usual situation.

They had caught the Wicked Witch of the West at last. The joyous occasion was dampened only slightly by the knowledge that it had not been their own doing - the instructions had come straight from the Wizard's press secretary, who would most likely take their credit - but it felt momentous nonetheless.

That feeling did not last long.

To say that she was not what he expected would be a gross understatement. She had been fighting with the Good Witch. She struggled when they caught her and spat fire at her enemy - none of this was surprising. It was something in her demeanour which he only noticed once the subject of their tipping off was breached. Beneath the venom that laced her tongue there seemed to be a world of disbelief and even - dare he think it - hurt.

But soon her smouldering eyes relaxed, only to contract back in fear at their newest arrival.

The former Captain of the Gale Force leapt haphazardly into place before them, looking much the same and yet nothing like the man who had ordered him about just yesterday. His eyes were cold and unblinking, yet widened in a similar way to the Witch's. His mouth was drawn in a straight line, nothing out of the ordinary save for a dark smudge towards the right corner. Which, he noticed with a start, matched the strange colour tinting the Witch's own lips.

She, for her part, had seemed to have progressed beyond fear and landed on disbelief. She spoke his name - his first name, which he had only ever heard uttered by the Good Witch on those awkward moments he had found himself too close to the couple.

Stranger yet, somewhere in her haste the first syllable got lost, so that it sounded more like "-yero."

To him it had always been Tigelaar. Captain Tigelaar, who was in charge of their hunt for the Wicked Witch. Their enemy. As a semi-high ranking official, he had considered his relationship with the captain, although strictly professional, to be relatively close. But it was always Captain Tigelaar. And here said enemy stood, speaking to his superior with a casual - verging on affectionate - form of address. As if they had known each other for years. As if all along, the captain had known their target more personally than he had known his colleagues.

The Witch's disbelief only heightened in intensity once the gun was turned on the Good Witch. Her gasp was unexpected, and completely out of character. Surely she would want her enemy dead - or was she just so twisted that she would regret not being able to finish the job herself? Somehow he could not bring himself to believe it.

Either way, the time for musings was running out, as the urgency of the situation dawned on him. At the Good Witch's pleadings, the soldiers all seemed to reach a simultaneous and unanimous decision to release the Witch, no matter how much it pained them.

The second she left their custody, they all prepared for the imminent attack. They drew back and held their hands out - those with weapons brandished them in her direction. He closed his eyes and braced himself for whatever she would launch at them.

But nothing came.

A second later, he cracked open one eye to observe the scene once again. She had rushed forwards and was standing with her back to them. Her focus was not on them at all, in fact it seemed that the moment they were no longer restraining her, she had forgotten about them entirely. Her eyes were trained solely on the former captain, as he momentarily lowered his gun to retrieve the broomstick, which she took without a word.

She pleaded with him when he urged her to run. She seemed almost desperate, almost fearful. Almost selfless.

This was the Wicked Witch of the West. The terror and menace who lived to bring chaos and destruction upon the good citizens of Oz. She had no such empathetic bone in her body.

Though in that split second, he could not help but wonder…

More surprising was the Good Witch's sudden change of heart. Had she not but a moment ago been trying to rip out the Witch's hair? Quite a futile endeavour it had proven, too, as all she had managed to obtain was the pointed hat - which she was suddenly giving back?

This was all wrong.

And the worst part was, he could not work out where the miscalculation had been made.

So when she fled, he did what was expected of him and chased after her. When the new captain gave the order to seize his predecessor, he did what was expected of him.

He knew he would do it again.

Orders are made to be followed. And sometimes the best way to live a safe and successful life is to sit quietly and do what you are told.


Thoughts? I could do this much better and I could do it from an endless number of perspectives, but this is what came out. Maybe one day I'll try again (and end up with a hundred catfight scene fics on my profile lol). Thanks for reading :)