Written after the first time I watched the 1939 Wizard of Oz because I could not get over the romantic tension between Dorothy and the Scarecrow. And - surprise, surprise - imagine my shock when I went on I believe it was Wikipedia and read that there was indeed supposed to be a romantic subplot between Dorothy and the Scarecrow! Heehee - I'm awesome! :D I do not own the Wizard of Oz: the book, the film, or anyone involved with it then and now.

The Scarecrow sighed, and shoved himself out of his desk chair. He wandered over to the window, and stared out at the radiance of the Emerald City. Had his life really come to this? He had feelings that even his massive amount of brains couldn't unravel. He could sense the main emotion: pain. Loss. Deprived desperation. He just couldn't place his finger on the source of the unhappy feelings. Then a name flashed in his mind.


Sweet Oz, he thought. Now he remembered why he felt so blue. It was the pain of missing Dorothy. He missed her delightful voice, her blue checked dress, her beautiful curled pigtails…what he missed most was just her, and her jubilant smile upon seeing him unharmed from the Wicked Witch of the West. The Scarecrow didn't care. If he got burnt to a crisp, and it would save Dorothy's life, then he would gladly embrace the burn.

Dorothy did get to go home to Can-zizz, however, and when she was about to leave, she clutched the Scarecrow for dear life.

"I'll miss you the most," she whispered as she embraced him. With a sadness dulling her sparkling eyes, she clicked her heels three times and was transported home, where ever that was.

The Scarecrow thought to ask Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, if Dorothy would ever return to Oz.

"I'm afraid not, my dear Scarecrow. Dorothy belongs in Kansas, where she lives."

"Well, could I go visit her?" The Scarecrow asked eagerly.

Glinda shook her magnificent blond head, her curls bobbing.

"Sorry, dear, but she ended up here by a complete accident. There is no way I could send you to Kansas. You wouldn't be able to talk there, my dear fellow."

So the Scarecrow filled his days with useless tasks as the token ruler of Oz. His mind drifted to Dorothy constantly, and he could always hear her singing in the long, empty hallways in the Wizard's palace. He was always filled with loneliness. Not even his companions in the time of Dorothy, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion, could even begin to fathom the depth of his hurt over losing her.

The Scarecrow waited anxiously for her return. But months passed, and soon a year passed, and soon five years passed, and there was no indication that Dorothy would ever return to Oz, the place she had once referred to as "a dream". The Scarecrow prayed every day that she would come back to him, but she never did.

One day, Glinda brought a rather strange gift.

"It was the crystal ball that belonged to the Wicked Witch," she said. "I brought it so you can see once and for all how Dorothy is doing, so you can move on.

The Scarecrow's heart fluttered, and his straw hands clumsily caressed the ball as he whispered, "Show me where Dorothy Lynn Gale is."

The ball began to glow, and a hazy figure came from the glow.

"Dorothy!" hissed the Scarecrow delightedly, but Glinda shushed him.

Dorothy was in a hospital bed, cuddling a bundle of blankets and being kissed by a very handsome man. Dorothy grinned at the man and kissed him hungrily.

The Scarecrow could feel his heart break in two, and he turned away from the ball.

"No more, please, Glinda," he requested, and she answered his wish by removing the offending gift.

"Who…what was that?" he asked, dumbstruck.

"'That' was Dorothy delivering her second baby."

"Second?" choked out the Scarecrow.

"Yes, I'm afraid," answered Glinda. "She got married three years ago to a Solomon Diggs, this is their second child, and they now have a brood of two girls."

The Scarecrow's mind was still freshly seasoned with terrible images of Dorothy and that man, who was not him, the Scarecrow, who had pledged to love her forever.

"Tell me that she still thinks about me, Glinda," the Scarecrow begged, his eyes looking so pitiful that Glinda was forced to tell him the truth.

"She hasn't thought about you since the moment she left Oz," Glinda said, watching the crestfallen man in front of her deteriorate.

"No, no, no, no," stammered the Scarecrow helplessly.

Glinda leaned over and gave him an awkward one-armed hug.

"I am so sorry you had to see that," she said gently, and she departed, taking the horrendous crystal ball and the bad memories with her. But yet, they still remained etched in the mind of the Scarecrow.

Well, if Dorothy didn't need him, and didn't care about him, then obviously nobody did.

The Scarecrow locked his door carefully. There was no room for interruptions. He began to pull out some of his stuffing, the hay that kept him upright, and strew it about the floor. He then made sure a trail led from the floor right to his broken heart. He pulled a matchbook out of his desk drawer, and lit the match in one quick movement.

"Goodbye, Dorothy Lynn Gale; know that I'll never stop loving you," murmured the Scarecrow, and he dropped the lit match over the hay, instantly igniting it. The flame licked its way up his body and eventually settled in his heart. He burned, and he felt the love he always held and always would have held for Dorothy Gale burn within him. Though he died, the love burned on. Love always does.

I kind of cried while writing this ending. Want to cheer me up with some reviews? :)