DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters mentioned. This is just for fun. Please don't sue.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My very first Wicked fanfic! It is finished, I'm glad to say, and I will be posting a new chapter every Saturday. This is mostly musical inspired, with a little of Maguire's book thrown in. Fiyeraba warning to those, are there any?, who don't agree. Please review... thoughts, ideas, comments and (polite) criticism are all welcome!

Here is a link to a trailer I made for this story. My very first!! Also, tell me what you think...

www (dot) youtube (dot) com (slash) watch?vRF3rGVoZsi0


A hand held hers.

There was strength in the long fingers, but they lacked a certain consistency to them, the sort that real flesh and bones tended to impose on a hand. Straw wasn't enough. There was an immeasurable comfort derived from that simple contact, though, and she held it firmly, almost afraid she might loose that simple connection. It was all she had left.

In the distance, like a roar carried by the wind, she could hear the shouts of celebration. Oz was celebrating her death, unaware that the dangers that threatened them in the recent past continued to live. Not because she, herself, was alive, but because she no longer fought against such peril. The blissfully ignorant people celebrated it seemed, their own impending demise.

It hurt.

All that she had lost, all that had been willingly and unwillingly sacrificed... All for nothing.





Her dear friend Glinda, left behind to carry the burden of Oz's problems, the grief of her best friend's death and the manipulation of Morrible's ambitions.

She squeezed the hand that held hers, seeking reassurance. The other hand, she placed upon her flat stomach, cradling the child that was still too small to be properly noticed. A vision overtook her senses then, as it often did when she performed such action.

A face.

Deep blue eyes against pale peach skin, framed by black straight locks, adorned with a gentle smile.

Chubby fingers reaching out for her.

A scream, agonizing, calling out to her.



She already knew his name, already knew of the sorrow that awaited her beautiful son in the future. Another thing she could not change, another loved one condemned to suffer because of his connection to her.

"Fae?" his voice, still the same, called out to her with certain urgency. Elphaba, having almost forgotten her name on another's lips, took a second to register his call. She turned to him.

Fiyero merely pointed his finger up.

Thunder echoed loudly and lightening danced freely around the skies. Clouds were rapidly multiplying, a strong wind circling around them. The odd couple seemed to be the center of the strange weather activity. Elphaba grew confused, not understanding the phenomenon.

Was it Morrible?

Weather is one of my specialties.

How could she have known their location? Or that they were even alive in the first place?

Instead of panic over the possibility of being discovered, the powerful witch grew angry. Too much had been lost; too much pain had been borne... Suddenly, she couldn't find the strength within her soul to do it anymore.

The scarecrow watched his beloved fall to her knees. He had witnessed the confusion and the anger that had quickly replaced it, simmer on her dark brown eyes. At the same time, he saw the clouds getting thicker and the lightening growing fiercer. Desperate to control this unexpected outburst, lest they be discovered, Fiyero dropped unceremoniously to the ground and grabbed Elphaba by the shoulders.

She was crying.

Defeat and sorrow showed clearly upon her striking features and he felt his chest constrict. Forget not having a heart, he could still feel it breaking for her.

"Oh, Fae..."

"Why couldn't have things worked out? Just..." her voice faltered until it was merely a whisper. "... just once."

Fiyero guided her gaze to his, hand lovingly holding her chin in place.

"We're okay, Elphaba. Things will get better from here on." Though his voice carried conviction, the sad woman refused to allow herself to believe them. She knew better.

"No... it won't."

He embraced her fiercely, then, afraid and with reason, to loose his lover to despair.

"I wanted to be able to do it all over." Again, a low whisper the straw man had to strain to hear, even with his head buried amid her long tresses as it was.

"What would you change?"

She hugged him back, finally, crushing his light-weight body so closely to hers that, had air been essential for his continued existence, he wouldn't have been able to breathe.


Deep breath.

Elphaba forced herself to calm down, finally realizing that the odd storm had been her own doing after all, and no one else's. With the once Winkie Prince still held tightly against her shivering body, she watched the clouds dissipate and the lightening calm.

She expected that they would eventually rise, when both pair of legs were able to carry them, and, with her lover's hand once more in hers, they would continue their journey out of Oz

She didn't expect to feel dizzy.

Didn't foresee the absolute darkness that covered her wholly.

Couldn't have imagined the sudden void of Fiyero's absence.

Nothingness overtook her and Elphaba Thropp, the infamous Wicked Witch of the West, was no more.

Elphie's feeling a little anguished at the moment. Please press that lovely blueish bottom in the far left bottom corner to make her feel better. REVIEW!