Fic: There Are Two Sides...

[WicKayed]

Okay.. *deep breath* Here goes. My first Wicked fanfiction. Part One. There's definately a lot more to come, but I figured I'd put something up for people to read/give me feedback on. If you haven't seen the show yet, this fic will of course have massive Act II spoilers, so turn back now, those who haven't seen the show (uhm.. though I don't think anyone on this board fits into that category! Hehe. It was worth saying, though. )

Basically, my fanfiction tells Fiyero's story after "No Good Deed" and how he deals with Dorothy/Boq/The Lion... all with the end goal of finding Elphaba again and getting out of Oz! I'm more or less synching up stuff in "The Wizard of Oz" with "Wicked" I guess. ;D

Enjoy!

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There Are Always Two Sides
by Kelonzi (my fanfiction SN)

Sometimes a guy did stupid things for true love.

And for someone who had spent most of his life believing there was no such thing as “true love”, this was one heck of a thing to discover. Fiyero loved Elphaba- not just some idle fancy or a passionate lust after her body. He loved her. Loved her mysterious mind, her indominable spirit and, yes, even her phosphorous-colored skin.

He even found that he loved her enough to blindly charge in and face death for her.

But it had all happened so fast. It wasn’t something he had really planned out at all. When the time came, he just… knew what was right and what was wrong. Somehow, watching her being manhandled by troops formerly under his command had caused his rational brain to snap. The gun was in his hand before he rightly knew what he’d do with it. Was he willing to kill?

Yes.

“Let the green girl go!”

Aiming at Glinda. Forcing that horrible Morrible to let Elphaba go. Watching his love mount her broom and take off. His relief was beyond description, but that relief didn’t last long. With their prey freed, the guards had turned their full attention on punishing him, as part of him had figured they would.

And from there… the memories got kinda fuzzy…..

* * * * * *


As Fiyero’s eyes opened ever so slowly, he could see the sun was well above the eastern horizon. It was mid-morning, if not nearly noon. So, yes, he had somehow slept through the night. And, ha! Even better! He had managed to oversleep. If only old Dillamond could see me now. “The famous Prince Fiyero of the Winkies, once more late to class! What’s wrong, your highness? Has a previous appointment with the wild Pillow People detained you from your studies?!” He’d have me on report to the Dean of Shiz before I could say, “Detentionation.”

Though what Fiyero had gone through in the last 12 hours could hardly qualify as sleeping. Being hung in midair from a pole as punishment for associating with “The Wicked Witch of the West” didn’t quite translate to a restful night. Anyone with half a brain could figure that out.

The worst part of all, though were the dreams. Nightmares, more like it. Horrible, gut-wrenching swirls of images. He relived feeling the blows of each soldier, in turn, ripping his flesh open with relish… the warm blood running down his limbs, itching maddeningly… it was like being set on a spit to roast over an open fire, basting in his own juices.

But just when he knew he couldn’t take it any longer, it had all stopped. No pain. As if he was suddenly filled with cotton-- or the very air itself. And, though the dream ended there, in his mind’s eye he could still see the frustrated looks on the faces of the soldiers as their brutal attacks landed harmlessly. He chuckled happily at the memory. Though Fiyero felt no pain, he did feel the satisfaction of seeing his enemies’ weapons rendered useless. If this was what it felt like to die, he didn’t mind death nearly as much as he had always feared he would. Not as easy as you thought it would be, eh? Come on. Who wants another shot?! You thought your little trap would succeed and kill both me and the “Wicked Witch”—

Elphaba. He stopped laughing as quickly as he had started. He had no time to dwell on these dream images. Basking in their merry glow was only eating up his precious time- time which he couldn’t afford to loose. Blinking repeatedly to clear his vision, he began taking in his surroundings. If he was going to be of any use to Elphie, he had to get his bearings and then get the Oz out of here.

Fiyero’s “prison” was one of the dozens of cornfields spread throughout Oz. If he were to be any judge, he would guess his location to be somewhere outside of Munchkinland. He knew the yellow brick road, which arched off to either side of him, to be far less busy in the suburbs. If he wanted to get back to his family’s castle, Kiamo Ko, (which he had loaned to Elphaba for her protection) he’d have to go west- the branch of the road which lay off to his right. To his left was the route to the Emerald City- and that was the last place he wanted to go right now. He was as much a fugitive as Elphaba now.

So, to the right it was. But how to get down? That pole the guards had pinned him against was still there, rammed roughly up his back.

“Wonderful.” Lips cracked and dry, he attempted to moisten them again with his tongue. “What--?” He repeated the motion, but found the gesture had no effect. Again. Nothing. Dry as sand… or a burlap sack… What exactly had those soldiers done to him? The last time he had been this dry in the mouth had been after a rather eventful night at the Ozdust Ballroom involving some pretty freshman girls and a keg of Wizard’s Own Brew.

Turning his head to either side, Fiyero observed his arms laying prone on the crossbeam, in a classic crucifixion pose. He looked down to his feet, catching sight of the pants to his old Palace Guard uniform which he still wore. They were very worn- moreso than he remembered them being- not to mention patched and torn in several places. Out of the tears sprouted bits of—what was that? Dried grass? Great. He really did look a sight, then. The wild man/escaped prisoner look certainly wasn’t tops in Ozmo magazine- unless you were reading the fashion Faux Pas column.

Bending his right wrist around at an entirely unnatural angle, he wiggled it free of the rope that had bound him to the pole. A second quick manuver and he had his left wrist freed as well. Though it registered briefly in Fiyero’s mind that his bones shouldn’t have been able to bend like that, his newfound freedom pleased him beyond caring. Raising a leg to hand level, he began trying to brush away the mess. But no matter how hard he tried, it simply wouldn’t—

N-no way. He reached up anxiously to pat his hair down, but was met with more of that dried grass and a hat that he didn’t have any recollection of putting on.

“Oh for the love of Oz…” It hit him instantly as he surveyed the rest of his body and touched his face. He closed his eyes and shook his head in a strange mix of horror and resigned frustration. She’d certainly saved him from a messy death, but now he was… he was…

“Let his flesh not be torn… let his blood leave no stain… though they beat him, let him feel no pain…”

You’ve really gotta learn how to use that blasted book, Fae.

* * * * * *


The incompetency of some people was truly astonishing, Boq thought to himself as he moved jerkily through the woods. He’d seize up long before he got to his cabin at this rate. And all thanks to those overzealous witch hunters. One little demonstration with buckets of water and a manequin designed to look like that green menace Elphaba shouldn’t have been such a hazard to his health… and up until a few days ago it wouldn’t have been.

Accidentally splashed water rolled pleasantly off human skin. However, to a man made of tin, water posed a much larger problem.

The offending water-tosser had appologised profusely and offered to locate some joint lubriant for Boq, but he had refused her. He still had something resembling pride left. It was hard enough already to show himself in public without also revealing his new achilles’ heel to the crowd. Boq knew he had an oil can laying around the woods somewhere. He just had to find it before his joints rusted up for good.

But fate seemed to be conspiring against him as he trekked homeward. Not only was his forest cabin along a rather remote part of Oz’s famed yellow brick road, but it looked like a storm was brewing. If he didn’t get to his oil in time it would be days, if not weeks, until another living soul passed by. Which was a staggeringly long time to go without moving.

No, he wasn’t going to let this happen to him. He had things to do. Wicked witches to witness getting their just deserts. But where in the name of Oz is my—

There! It was on a stump just off the road, near the tree he had stuck his axe in before leaving for the witching rally at the Emerald City. With one last great effort, he yanked the axe free and turned to grab the oil can—

Almost… almost there…

[WicKayed]

* * * * * *


Well, I’ll just have to ask someone for help, that’s all. Fiyero sighed. Though his arms were free and he could kick his legs to his heart’s content, he hadn’t been able to loosen the nails which held his midsection.

And he was losing travel time rapidly. I’ll just… I’ll… ask the next passer by to climb up here, bend that nail down in the back… and then what? He couldn’t very well tell the truth. If he said who he was, and who he was off to save, he’d be ripped apart. Literally. Some kind of clever excuse was in order. Clever, however, was never something he’d been accused of being. Not even close. The nearest he had ever come to inventive was a handful of, “the dog ate my homework” excuses for late- or completely missing- homework. How would he do this?

Look, I’m just an ordinary guy made of… straw… He rolled his eyes. Who just so happens to talk?! An exasperated sigh. Can I come with you? I won’t be any trouble because, heck, I don’t think I eat much of anything anymore. And I won’t try to manage things because I can’t think. See, the farmer guy forgot my… brain…? This was ludicrous. No grown man or woman would buy his story. But since this was all he could come up with, he’d have to try. He closed his eyes and imagined he was addressing an old schoolmate along the road- just for practice. The story had to be just right or he would never get out of this blasted corn field. “Pardon me, but that seems a very nice way.”

He paused suddenly; certain he’d heard a small voice respond to him. Though Fiyero strained, whatever it was had stopped. Switching gesturing arms, he resumed the conversation with imaginary friend number two. “It’s pleasant down that way too.”

This time he knew he heard a dog yapping. Someone was here. He dared to open his eyes… and that was when he saw her. A little thing- couldn’t be older than 12, if she was that- with tightly braided black pigtails and a blue and white checked dress. No more than a child, in truth. What was such a little girl doing out here all alone? “O-of course, people do go both ways.” He tried his best to make a joke out of the whole thing. Maybe she’d just giggle and run off with that little yappy puppy. Leave him to think of a way out.

“You did say something, didn’t you?!” The girl sounded quite pleased with herself as she approached him.

No. Yes. Argh! Which one did she want to hear? Sweet Oz, what I wouldn’t give to rewind this day…

“Are you doing that on purpose, or can’t you make up your mind?”

The faintest trace of a plan began to form. This girl wasn’t exactly what he’d prayed for, but his old gram had once told him that the best blessings came in teeny packages. At the time, he’d figured that was just her lame excuse for an unusually small pile of Lurlinemas gifts. But now that he thought about it… She could be just what he needed. Okay, so how was that story going to go again?

“That’s the trouble. I can’t make up my mind. I haven’t got a brain. Only straw…”

[Cate]

OMUG! This fic is amazing. Please post more soon. Ahhh...*goes crazy with the ozsomeness*


Wonderful characterizations and ties with the movie. Just...perfect.

[ChancetoFly]

I agree with Cate on this. The way you're tying it all together; book, musical, and movie, is fantabulous and you absolutely MUST continue soon!

[gypsy]

Holy wow, this was awesome. Yay for Fiyero and Boq. I really liked this, keep it up. You're an awesome writer!
-gyps

[SugarTherapy]

This is ozsome! Definitely keep it up

[WicKayed]

Here we go! Thanks for all the great feedback thus far, guys! I'll probably post part III next week and use this weekend for more writing..


* * * * * *

“Are we there yet?”

“Not even close.”

“Does all that straw make you itchy?”

“No. It’s a part of me.”

“Not all Scarecrows in Oz are like you, are they?”

“Of course not.”

“… are we there yet?”

“No!!” Fiyero answered sharply. It had been nothing but questions since they had started off down the yellow brick road- and that was a good hour ago. “Now no more questions, got it?!” You’re lucky I’m here with you at all, kid. Why was he was heading to the Emerald City anyway when he’d sworn up and down it was the last place he wanted to go? I’ll tell you why. Because you’ve gone soft in the head- literally. He chastised himself for being so concerned about the welfare of someone he knew nothing about while the life of his lover hung in the balance. Talk about priorities being out of order.

Still… Dorothy had no idea what she was getting in to by going to see the Wizard. She talked about the man like he was some divine being, which Fiyero knew in reality to be far from true.

“…I’m going all the way to the Emerald City to get the Wizard of Oz to help me…”

Gulp. “You’re going to see a Wizard?!” Fiyero could just see where this was heading and he had to stop it. Surely he could escort her at least… part of the way. Tell her the reality of the situation. “Do you think if I went with you, the Wizard would give me some brains?!”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. It would be his own damn fault if Elphaba was being burned at the stake right now. That was what they did to witches nowadays, right? Oh, wait. No, they’d probably be drenching her with buckets of water thanks to Madame Morrible and her band of PR cronies. At least that wouldn’t kill her. Of course… they could try drowning her and that would work just as well as burning her alive... He really had to learn to make his brain shut up. Fiyero began to wish that he really had lost his brain in spell transit.

“Uhm. Erm. Uhhhm…?”

“What now?”

“… how about now? How much closer are we?”

“Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet?!!”

If she kept this up, he wouldn’t be escorting her to the Emerald City much longer. No, no. She’d be back to a solo act, danger or no danger. Shoes or no shoes, he’d-- Fiyero broke off his train of thought as he noticed that Dorothy had gone quiet. He glanced over to see her staring straight ahead, lip set firmly and fighting back a whimper.

Nice going. You made her cry. Though he had extremely limited past experience with the very youngest people of Oz, he knew that a weeping child was a bad situation. Belatedly, Fiyero realized he would have to change his usual behavior when he was around Dorothy. It’s not like talking to Avarick or that annoying little Boq boy from Shiz. You’ve got to treat children gently. She was a nice enough kid. In fact, he had to admit that the first leg of their journey had been almost enjoyable, given the circumstances. The only major fault Dorothy had, really, was extreme curiousity. Though it was a trait all children shared, given the situation she was in here in Oz and the man she somehow or other had an appointment to see, asking the wrong questions could prove deadly. Fiyero absolutely had to make her understand that.

“Look, I’m sorry.” His voice softened a bit. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, sweetie.” Though the thoughtless party boy he had once been wouldn’t have cared a whit about the feelings of a little girl like Dorothy, his new situtation made him a good deal more… sympathetic. They were both very vulnerable now. I mean, one book of matches and I’m history. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he gently turned her pouting face towards him. “It’s been a very long day for me. Maybe I’m just ready for some rest…”

Dorothy stopped wiping her teary eyes on her sleeve long enough to give the scarecrow before her a strange look. “You need sleep?”

Though he wanted to slap her for yet another question, he restrained himself. Afterall, it was a valid inquiry. His act as a regular old scarecrow didn’t jibe with mood swings and nap times. Most Scarecrows did little more than dangle in their respective cornfields and stare out across Oz all day- a truly terrifying proposition for Fiyero.

“Our scarecrows back in Kansas don’t sleep.”

“Well, now. Can you be so certain of that?” Fiyero smiled at her- partially to dry up her tears, and partially to shake off the mental image of laying prone in the sun for the rest of his days. An occasional tanning bed was fine, but lifelong sunbathing was another thing entirely. “Have you ever sat out in a corn field and watched a scarecrow all night long?”

“N-no I can’t say that I have.”

“Then how can you say we don’t sleep if you haven’t checked for yourself?” He asked her as gently as he could manage. She seemed to take criticism better when delivered with a smile and a wink, so he added both for good measure and prayed his frustration didn’t come through simultaneously.

Dorothy took a long moment to consider this. At least, he hoped consideration was causing her sudden silence, and not another onslaught of tears. “Of course. Y-You’re right.” A slow smile spread across her face. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way before.”

Relieved at pacifying her questions on at least that topic, Fiyero indicated the road underfoot. The unspoken statement was clearly: we can keep walking if you really want.

“Oh! No. We can sleep here tonight. I don’t mind.” Walking over to a grassy knoll just off the road, Dorothy plopped herself down and patted the ground beside her. “My day’s been pretty long too. And confusing.”

Amen to that. Fiyero eased himself into a sitting position next to her, half thankful for his new straw body, as it didn’t have bones that creaked or muscles that ached. In fact, he was physically quite comfortable. Mental comfort was another story entirely, but he would have time to sort out all of that baggage later when he was once more with Elphaba and this nightmare was behind them both. The plan, in his mind, was very straightforward. He would help her locate a reversal spell, she’d change him back, and they would leave Oz together. Forever.

Slumping backwards, he caught himself on bent elbows and stared straight up at the sky. If only Elphaba would fly over head right now. That would simplify everything. An unexpected visit from his lover would save him from the long, arduous trek to the Emerald City to drop Dorothy off.

He couldn’t tell how long he had been laying there when a low moan from Dorothy brought him back to reality.

Dorothy.

What would happen if he couldn’t get her to turn around? What if they actually got to the city? You can’t just leave someone this young and impressionable in the hands of the Wizard and Morrible. In many ways, agreeing to come along made him responsible for her. By rights, he now had to be the one to personally oversee the arrangements for her return to… oh, what was it she called that place? Karnas?

Of course, that was bound to delay his locating Elphaba even further. And if he waited too long to meet up with her, she would either be dead herself or dismiss him as dead and go do something foolish in the name of lost love.

So that was it. The choice was Elphaba or Dorothy.

Fiyero dropped his head into his hands and felt the warmth of hot tears slipping down on to his cloth cheeks. This wasn’t a fair choice at all.

“Scarecrow?” Dorothy’s small voice called to him from somewhere to his left. “You’re crying.”

He turned his head to find her curled up on the grass in a tight, fetal ball. The night had grown cold while he had been wrestling with his thoughts… and you didn’t even notice did you, fool? Fiyero grimaced. In the moonlight she looked small, frightened and pathetic. She’s completely alone here. No friends, no family. He sighed deeply.

Elphaba… could take care of herself for a while longer.

“I’m here. It’s alright.” Fiyero slid over closer to Dorothy’s side.

“What’s the matter?” She mumbled, half asleep.

“Nothing.”

She seemed to sense his lie, but had decided to ignore it for the time being. “It’s so cold.”

“Well, that’s something I can fix.” Fiyero, thankful for the topic change, picked her up and set her in his lap with one quick, gentle motion. “It should be warm enough right here.”

“What about you?” She cracked one eye open to look at his frame in silhouette, outlined by the moon.

“Plenty warm enough. I’m made of straw, remember? Built-in insulation.” He patted at his chest before placing her head against it.

“You promise you’ll be alright?”

“I promise.”

“Scarecrow?”

Fiyero fought the urge to supply her with his name. Having her merely call him ‘Scarecrow’ was an uncomfortable reminder of how much his life had changed in such a short amount of time. How he... looked… now. Whoa. Shallow alert. Guess there’s some of that old vanity left afterall. “Yes?”

She was clearly almost asleep, but a few last words slipped out before she nodded off. “You’re such a caring… wonderful… friend…”

He gently set his chin down on the top of her head and closed his eyes guiltily. “You have no idea, kid.”

Fiyero let his eyes wander west. Though he was holding Dorothy, in his mind, he was clutching Elphaba tightly to his smooth, muscular chest. Far away in another place and another time.

[WicKayed]

okay, so it didn't all fit in the last post... here's the rest of part two.

* * * * * *


Chistery swooped in through the open window, perched on the sill for a moment, and glanced around for his mistress. Strapped to his back was a small parcel wrapped in black velvet: a gift from the Scrow Princess Nastoya.

Spying her sitting by the great glass orb in the corner, he hopped down and waddled across the floor to her side. He tugged at her skirt to get her attention and looked up expectantly.

“Well, you were certainly gone a long time.” Elphaba, head bent down so her chin was resting on her chest, spoke from under the brim of her hat. “What kept you?”

He wanted to explain it all to her. He wanted to tell her about his great adventure. How the Scrow people, who generally tried to have as little to do with the rest of Oz and the Wicked Wizard as possible, had bestowed a “help gift” upon him to take back to Kiamo Ko. But he found his words failed him… as of late, no one had really wanted to hear him speak, so like all the other Animals of Oz, he had fallen into silence over the past few months. Instead, he untied the ropes that held his surprise package in place and offered the precious prize to Elphaba.

“You can do better than that, Chistery.” Elphaba wouldn’t let him off so easilly. She simply wasn’t about to let him forget how to speak. Tipping her hat back so he could see her face and leaning forward in her chair, she formed the words slowly with her lips. “Tell me what this is.”

The little snow monkey shook his head and lept up into her lap where he deposited the gift and then scampered away again.

Elphaba cursed loudly. So close… so close… But she wasn’t going to give up on Chistery and the other Animals yet. They had freely spoken once, and they would do so again. With a resigned sigh, she took the velvet bag in hand, loosened the draw string and dumped the contents into her lap. A copper and silver canister plus red ball-tipped mashing pestle tumbled out, along with a folded paper. She unscrewed the lid of the canister and fingered some of the powder inside before unfolding the parchment note paper.

“ ‘To see beyond sight. To know beyond now.’ ” She read with a raised eyebrow. “There are lots of things I want to see now that I can’t.” Elphaba muttered as she stood up, the open canister still in one hand. “That Dorothy girl with Nessa’s shoes would be a start. Or,” she laughed and set the canister and pestle down, still rubbing some of the powder between her fingers, “maybe if this stuff is so special, it could show me Fiyero!”

The laugh continued, reaching a high, cynical crescendo and shaking her whole body straight down to its core. What a joke. What a completely idiotic thing to wish for. Fiyero was certainly dead by now- her biggest and most fabulous failure to date. She had already vowed she was through with good deeds and useless wishes…

… but then, why, when faced with something that promised her new knowledge, had she immediately gone back to that wish for Fiyero?

“I’m the biggest fool in all of Oz. That’s why.”

She shook her head, about to cross the room to chase after Chistery when she slipped on a patch of melted snow he had knocked off his wings and nearly fell flat on her face. Only the abnormally large glass globe that sat beside her chair saved her from punctuating self-redicule with a delightful pratfall. She imagined the monstronsity had once been a model of the world- it still bore very faint etchings of what appeared to be land masses. But years of storage had worn off the textured surface until it was almost completely smooth. Frankly, ever since moving to Kiamo Ko, she had only used it for a monkey perch. Chistery and his friends seemed to quite enjoy the feel of the cool glass under their feet- slippery and cold as ice. It was perfect for playing Monkey King of the Mountain on.

Green fingers still splayed on the globe to balance herself, she yelped in surprise as the glass surface under her hands began to undulate and gain color. What in Oz was this? She pulled her hands away, fearful of damaging them if she remained in contact with the globe.

As Elphaba watched, the cloudy masses under the surface of the glass began to solidify and take on definite shapes. Almost unconciously, she placed her hands back on the glass. A countryside scene began to form with two figures huddled together against the night air. Was she looking at the past? The present? An image of something yet to come? Whoever the two people were, they were clearly friends… or maybe even more. For the briefest moment, she felt jealousy start to gnaw at her, queasifying her stomach. It hadn’t been so long ago that Fiyero had held her like that- staring into her dark green eyes as if she were the only woman alive.

Further clearing of the image dispelled her queasy feeling, however… and replaced it with confusion. The larger of the two was a man, but unlike any she’d ever seen before. She squinted uncertainly. No, not a man. A scarecrow? But scarecrows certainly didn’t breathe and move about of their own free will. No, no, this one was a very different kind of scarecrow. Or perhaps even some minion of the Wizard’s in disguise.

Whatever the case, he seemed to care a great deal for the small child in his arms. And Elphaba didn’t have to think very hard to guess who that little girl was.

Grabbing the canister of powder again, Elphaba rubbed a little more over her fingers. She gingerly pressed the tips back on the glassy surface, (prepared to yank them away at a moment’s notice) and fixed her eyes on the scene before her. Closer. She had to be certain.

Like pressing the zoom on a child’s Wiz-O-Viewer, the image sharpened and grew larger.

Dorothy Gale. She felt a cold lump settle in her stomach. There was no doubt about it, for Elphaba could see the glint of moonlight as it reflected off Nessa’s jeweled shoes. Her initial confusion boiled into rage. The comfort of love and the guaranteed protection of enchanted shoes… none of those luxuries were meant for that farm girl. It should be mine. MINE! Elphaba swallowed hard, trying to dispell her nausea and keep herself calm. You think you found protection for yourself, do you? Well, I’ll show you just how shielded your straw man makes you. A tremor began to take hold of Elphaba’s hands and the image faltered. Just one box of matches, my pretty. That’s all it would take! One box of matches and you’ll be just as MISERABLE and LONELY as I—

The tears broke over her cheeks fast and hot. Elphaba’s hands flew away from the globe, dispelling the image and she crumpled to the floor in despair. The universe must have been designed for her to suffer eternally. Not only had she endured loosing her beloved sister and Fiyero; now, when she needed encouragement the most, this gift from a supposed ally was doing quite the opposite. This was for me. My gift. And yet again that little brat is the center of attention.

Strangled cries and gasps for breath brought Chistery charging into the room, concern written across his face. There his mistress sat on the floor, a tear stained mess. Cocking his head to one side, he padded soundlessly across the room and nosed himself under her arm gently.

“Effa?” He turned two large, brown imploring eyes up at her face.

Elphaba found herself stopped in mid-sob. “Wh- What did you say?”

“Eff-ba.. cree?” Chistery tried once more, brow knitting in concentration.

She dared not breathe as the little fuzzy head nodded and bobbed about with obvious effort. Finally, when she thought he would certainly explode from the painful endeavor, it happened.

“E-elpha-ba n-not cry.”

A tiny squeak was all Elphaba could manage to choke out. In shock, she took Chistery into her arms and squeezed him thankfully. It wasn’t much, but... it was something. She hesitated to call it a miracle and rejoice in the “good” she had finally created- she knew where that line of thinking had a tendency to end up.

But maybe, just maybe, it was a step in the right direction.

[Cate]

Chistery! He spoke, yay! *ish very pleased*

Kay, I love this fic. I can hardly wait for the next chapter. Seriously, Wic Fic ia my MC. *nods*

[ChancetoFly]

And this is why Cate, get along so well....our mutual addictions to MC AND this fic! Absolutely fabulous

Please write more soon

*looks at her own fic* I probably should too....but this isn't monkey see, monkey do over here (no pun itended....riiiiiiiiiiight )....so update again SOON!

[Cate]

ChancetoFly said:

And this is why Cate, get along so well....our mutual addictions to MC AND this fic!

I said I was addicted to Wic Fic cause it was like MC, not that I was addicted to MC...like you.

But yes, Kay, please give us more of this fic soon.

[TurtleHeart]

Awesome Beautiful

I can't wait to read more!

Hey Chance, Cate -- I can figure out what Wic Fic means, but what's MC stand for?

[Cate]

TurtleHeart said:

Hey Chance, Cate -- I can figure out what Wic Fic means, but what's MC stand for?

Munchkin Crack...

It came from a joke a few weeks back. LLAM means "laugh like a munchkin" so we needed something for situations where LLAM was just to weak. Hence, LLAMOC or laugh like a munchkin on crack.


Back on topic: Awesome awesome fic!! *begs for more*

[WicKayed]

Alright, well... I'll probably post the next part of my fanfiction later tonight or tomorrow, (grrrr. Stupid writer's block..).

In the meantime, I was bored and had a photo editor at my disposal and was procrastinating from doing my homework, ( ;D) and this was the product of my work:

[ElphieatShiz]

That would be a perfect book cover!