A/N: Well, ladies and gents, I've decided to take a short break from my current story. For those of you who are enjoying it, don't worry- it won't be extraordinarily long. In the meantime though, I've decided to take a look at how Boq's transformation could have been so much worse. It'll be a comparatively short story, but I'll be doing my best to pile on the horror. So, without further ado, here's my modest attempt at an AU!

Disclaimer: Wicked does not belong to me, and it never will.

Not for the first time that day, Elphaba wondered exactly what she'd been thinking when she'd returned home. Hours ago, while on the run from every single active guardsman in the country and running out of places to hide, it had seemed like a good idea; now, with Boq's convulsing body slumped in Nessa's discarded wheelchair and with less than a few minutes to find a spell that could save him before he died, she found herself wondering if she'd have been better off taking her chances with the guardsmen.

But at least there might be a chance to at least mitigate the damage done, if not erase it altogether; the question was, what spell out of the many hundreds within the Grimmerie could allow Boq to survive without a heart?

"What's happening to him, Elphaba?"

Elphaba only just stopped herself from flinching at the sound of Nessa's voice. "He's dying, Nessarose," she said, irritably. "It's a well-known consequence of having your heart shrunken out of existence. Now please, I need to concentrate: if I can't find a spell that can save him, he really will die."

As if in agreement, Boq let out a strangled gasp as another lungful of air escaped his failing body. Nessarose immediately hurried to his side, clutching his hand and sobbing apologies, begging him not to die and professing her love again and again.

Elphaba scarcely heard anything her sister was saying, having finally reached a chapter that might actually be useful: though her ability to translate the arcane language of the Grimmerie lacked fine tuning, she could tell that the spells in front of her were undoubtedly those of a very specific form of transformation. A second or two of examination revealed that they were instructions on how to convert a human body into elaborate constructs of wood, stone, or even metal. As none of the resultant constructs possessed blood, hearts, or any other internal organs for that matter, the spells sounded ideal for her purposes; the fact that the remade Boq would retain his capacity for thought and emotion just about guaranteed their use. With metal (specifically tin) appearing the most durable choice for the material composition of Boq's new body, Elphaba had found exactly what she needed.

Perhaps today hasn't been a total disaster after all, she thought wryly. "Nessa," she said urgently, "I'm going to need you to get out of the way, now- I think I've found our solution."

Nessarose almost leapt to her feet, her face alight with sudden hope. "What is it?" she hissed. "How soon can you cast it? What's going to-"

"Hush now for just a minute, please." She took a deep breath, and tried to speak firmly without sounding angry. "I've found a spell that can save Boq, yes, but it's going to involve a lot of complicated magic and a particularly drastic transformation. While I'm casting this, I have to keep my concentration at all times, which means that you need to keep quiet until I'm finished."

To Elphaba's mingled horror and exasperation, Nessa shook her head: "I should be the one casting the spell," she said softly. "This is my fault, after all; I'm the one who destroyed his heart in the first place-"

"And that happened because you read from the Grimmerie with no idea of how to properly pronounce the words of the spell, let alone cast them!" Elphaba burst out. "This is one of the most powerful books of magic ever written; you can't just read the words of an incantation without training and expect them to work: I've got a formal education in magic, and even I have to be careful with this book!" Nessa opened her mouth to protest, but Elphaba beat her to it: "This is no time for arguing: Boq has minutes to live, and that's being optimistic, so would you please stand aside and let me work?"

"And it wasn't entirely your fault," she added, as Nessa shuffled contritely out of the way. "I was the one who left the damn book open."

Then, she began to chant, the words of the spell flowing gracefully through the air, weaving patterns of intricate and subtle magic around Boq as it slowly descended upon him; a gentle glow surrounded his slumped form, and he stirred briefly as-

Much later, Elphaba found herself able to explain Nessa's actions with relative ease: she was frightened, upset, clearly not thinking straight and eager to try and make up for her previous error. At the time, however, she hadn't the slightest clue why Nessarose had done something so patently insane- or the time to think about it, for that matter: the first thing Elphaba knew of her sister's decision was a sudden pain in the back of her head, and then darkness.

She awoke to find herself lying in the corridor outside; the study door was closed, and from behind it, she could hear the sound of Nessarose repeating the words of the spell as best as she could. Scrambling upright, Elphaba hurried to open the door- only to find it locked and presumably bolted as well.

"NESSA!" shouted Elphaba. "If you really love Boq, you need to stop chanting, NOW!"

The chanting continued, this time at a slightly higher volume.

"DON'T YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED A FEW MINUTES AGO? HE'LL BE LUCKY IF YOU ONLY MANAGE TO KILL HIM THIS TIME!"

If her sister had heard a word she'd said, she didn't seem interested in responding. Muttering obscenities, Elphaba stood back, and prepared to blast the door open...

Nessarose had, in fact, heard Elphaba's warning shouts. Unfortunately, she'd also been listening when Elphaba had told her that the spell required concentration, and was currently blocking out just about every single noise save for her own chanting: she wasn't prepared to fail when Boq's salvation was almost in reach. From the moment she'd peered behind the folding screen and witnessed her lover in the midst of his death throes, she'd known that the task of saving his life would fall to her.

Yes, she would save him, and once he'd recovered, there'd be apologies for all the hurt and all the arguments and they'd forgive each other, and then Boq would finally see that they were truly meant for each other- no, more than that: they deserved each other.

She'd taken about thirty seconds to knock Elphaba out with a tea tray, drag her outside, then lock, bolt, and barricade the door; then, scarcely daring to think in a different direction, she'd scooped up the Grimmerie from where it had fallen, found the page, and began to chant.

This time, the casting wasn't so haphazard; this time, she at least had some idea of how to properly pronounce the words of the spell, having been careful enough to listen to Elphaba read them before knocking her out. And this time, the intoxicating rush of magic pouring into the air was much more potent and far more prolonged; she could feel it coursing towards Boq, sliding under his clothes and permeating his flesh, slowly transforming him.

Yes, she could see the changes taking place even now! In places, his skin was already starting to take on a slightly metallic sheen; his right hand, sprawled across one wheel of her wheelchair, was beginning to slowly reshape itself into a jointed tin replica- somewhat stylized, but judging by the twitching fingers, perfectly functional. Even the basic shape of his body was distorting under his uniform, growing and shifting and warping...

And then, without warning, Boq stirred, and opened his eyes.

Nessarose expected him to start asking questions, to want to know what had just happened to him; she expected him to ask why his body was beginning to appear so mechanical; she expected that he would at least thank her for saving his life, once she had finished chanting the spell, of course. She was expecting a coherent statement.

She didn't expect Boq to let out a bloodcurdling scream of pain. There were no words in this particular scream, no cry for help; it was just a wail of agony- one that seemed to go on forever.

Startled by the noise and unable to stop herself, Nessarose dropped the Grimmerie, her chanting abruptly ending as it fell to the floor; instantly, she felt the magic flowing into Boq change. Though only an amateur in the use of magic, she could tell, just by the feel of the energies curling their way around Boq's writhing body in new and unnatural configurations, that the spell hadn't just gone wrong: it was actively worsening before her eyes.

One hand clamped over her mouth, she backed away as the botched transformation continued, unable to look away no matter how much she desperately wanted to: besides, she knew that even if she could shut her eyes and cover her ears, the sight of Boq's contorting body would be lurking behind her eyelids along with the wet crunching sound of metal tearing through flesh, drowning out even the loudest of the unfortunate Munchkin's screams.

Behind her, the door (already half-ruined in a barrage of magical explosions) finally exploded inwards, sending the cabinet that barricaded it skidding across the carpet. "Alright," Elphaba panted, "Let's just-" She stopped and stared at the malformed figure in the wheelchair. "Oh no," she said quietly. "Too late."

Boq was now at least half-transformed by now, and still screaming; his right arm had become a stylized metal duplicate, while his left was... well, his sleeve had torn open, allowing the two of them an unhindered glimpse of an arm completely stripped of its skin. The muscles beneath were slowly becoming metal, one strand at a time. His face was no better: soaked with blood, punctured through the cheeks by a dozen misbegotten metal bones, and missing huge patches of skin- all of which exposed a gleaming metal skull. Thankfully, the rest of the transformation was hidden by Boq's ragged uniform... which, Nessarose blearily remembered, had once been grey.

She vaguely discerned Elphaba hurrying over to retrieve the Grimmerie from where it lay, and heard her saying, in as calm a voice she could manage, "Boq, you need to hold still; the more you struggle, the more painful the transformation will be!"

"Ihhhcaaahhhh!" Boq wailed. "Ihhhhuuuuurssss!"

There was a loud ripping sound, and Elphaba jerked backwards as a line of sharp, curving spines abruptly shot out of Boq's chest. "AAAAAAAAHHH!" he screamed. "Ooooffffuuuuuuuuuh! Ihhhhuuursss!"

"What are those?" Nessarose whispered, pointing at the dagger-like spines.

"Those used to be his ribs," hissed Elphaba.

"Elphaba, can't you do something?"

"OH NOW YOU NEED MY HELP! Look, never mind all that- I'll yell at you once he's stable; no, I can't stop the spell. All I can do is stop it from killing him... but at least we probably don't have to worry about him going into shock. Boq, don't worry- I've got spells that can numb the pain, too!"

If Boq had even heard her, neither of them would never know, because at that point, the mangled creature that he had become lurched out of the wheelchair, and began staggering towards the open door. Elphaba didn't have time to cast a spell before Boq shoved her violently out of the way, sending her tumbling across the room. As for Nessarose, he didn't even spare her a second glance; he simply limped away, moaning piteously and leaving a thick trail of blood and (horror of horrors) chunks of steaming flesh.

Eventually, the sounds of his exit ended with a loud bang that could only be the front door being broken open.

Time passed, as Nessarose's racing heartbeat gradually slowed to a fast but manageable patter; to her surprise, she wasn't crying. She wasn't even slightly sad that Boq had gone. All she could feel was shock, accompanied by a deep, chilling numbness.

Elphaba gradually clambered to her feet, looking shaken and angered but otherwise unharmed. "You idiot," she said wearily. "You incompetent, empty-headed bureaucratic know-nothing! What in the name of sanity could have possessed you to do such a thing? Why couldn't you have waited?" She sighed, and her shoulders slumped in despair. "Why couldn't you have listened to me?" she asked quietly.

"Elphaba, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't apologise. Don't apologise, just... what are we supposed to do now?"

"Well, we can follow him, right? I mean, we've got a trail, haven't we?"

Unfortunately, both of them found that in the minutes that Boq had been out of the house, he had evidently covered a lot of ground: he was nowhere in sight. Worse still, the trail of blood and other debris ended less than a hundred feet beyond the grounds. "Well, that makes sense," said Elphaba. "He's been bleeding from a lot of wounds for a long time by now, so he's probably bled dry."

"Then why hasn't he died?"

"I would presume it's because the spell worked at least partially as intended: blood-loss probably won't kill him, though I don't think it'll do him any favours, either. One way or another, though, we've lost him."

"No we haven't! You've got your broom, haven't you? Why can't you just try to find him while flying?"

"That won't work if he's found shelter indoors or in the underbrush... and besides, even if he hasn't found cover, I'm still a fugitive, remember? There'll be people watching the sky today, and I stand a very good chance of being shot and killed!"

"You've managed to avoid that every other time you've flown!"

"Of course not- I fly fast and as far away from any snipers as I can manage. But to find Boq, I'd have to fly slow and close to the ground, and risk getting hit!"

"Elphaba, please!"

She sighed. "I'll try my best," she said exasperatedly. "But no promises."

Half an hour later, Elphaba returned, soaring back into a hurried but graceful landing on the front lawn. "I'm sorry, Nessa," she said sadly. "I covered as much ground as I could, and I examined just about every single piece of shelter I could without being seen- with and without magic- but there's no sign of him."

Nessarose massaged her temples; the worry, the guilt and the panic were beginning to override her once again. "He can't have gotten too far, though! Couldn't he have collapsed somewhere?"

"Possibly..." Elphaba thought for a moment, then pointed at the road that led away from the house, and up towards a crossroads. "Does that see much traffic?"

"Not too much. I sometimes see the odd cart driving up and down it, but- oh no, you don't think-"

"That's the only explanation I can think of: Boq saw a cart approaching, waited until the driver had his back turned and climbed into the cart. He could be miles away by now."

Nessarose sagged. "So we've lost him," she said quietly. And then, as if to compound her misery, she realised that Elphaba was getting back on her broom. "Where are you going?" she asked.

Elphaba offered a reassuring smile- or her best equivalent. "I think I might have a solution," she said, a note of optimism in her voice. "The flying monkeys: with their numbers, they'll be able to search a lot more effectively and cover more ground than I can alone. Besides, I've been meaning to free them for months, and it's time I stopped dodging my responsibility."

"Aren't they being held in the Emerald City for rehabilitation?"

A disgusted sneer crossed Elphaba's face. "Rehabilitation for the effects of a spell I cast at the Wizard's personal request, yes; they'll be in the Emerald City- specifically, in the Wizard's throne room."

"But Elphaba, that'd be suicide! You know the power the Wizard has- I mean, you barely escaped that place alive the last time you were there-"

"Nessa, I've said this a thousand times, and if I haven't, I'm going to: the Wizard is a fraud. The palace is dangerous because of the guards, and with this being a day of celebration, I should think they'll have relaxed their patrols. Have a little faith in your big sister." She adjusted her position on the broom, and kicked off, rising quickly into the air. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she called, as she began picking up speed. "Try relaxing some of those laws while I'm gone- you might just need political support soon!"

And then she was gone, rocketing away into the sky and vanishing behind the clouds.

Nessarose stood alone on the lawn for a while, wondering what to do next. Eventually, she decided to move indoors, awkwardly shutting the door behind her and hoping that nobody would notice the broken latch.

Against her own better judgement, she found herself wandering back along the repulsive trail that Boq had left, towards the study. The room was the stuff of nightmares, of course: the broken door, the bloodstained carpet, and her wheelchair caked with all manner of bodily fluids. Drawing one of the chairs from the desk, she sat down and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she found herself staring down at her feet; the slippers still glowed a comforting shade of red, but even without that, Nessarose would have found their presence undeniably reassuring: after all, these had been enchanted to let her walk for the first time in her life.

And I didn't even thank Elphaba for it, she thought wretchedly. And now she's on a suicide mission to rescue a pack of monkeys from the Wizard and a few hundred well-trained guards-

Guards!

Nessarose jumped to her feet in sudden excitement: her guards could find Boq! Yes, she still had a guardhouse at her disposal, and though they might not be able to find Boq as quickly or efficiently as the flying monkeys, they might at least be able to make some headway. She hurried over to the line of bellpulls beside the door, and pulled down on the red cord.

There was a distant toll of a bell; four minutes passed, but no guards appeared. Nessarose tried again; still nothing.

Biting her lip in concern, she strode through the house towards the semidetached guardhouse. However, she found the door left hanging ominously open and the building itself empty of guards: nothing had been taken from the armoury, the records had been left undisturbed- indeed, the only sign left of the guards was a scrap of paper nailed to the back of the door.

Today is a day of celebration and defiance, it read, the day the people of Oz show the Wicked Witch of the West that they are not afraid of her. We have decided that today should be one in which we show you that we do not fear you either: you can follow us, you can try and use what foul magic you have inherited from your sister against us, but know that we will never be afraid of you again, and that you are forever branded the Wicked Witch of the East.

Signed beneath it were the names of the guards that, up until today, had patrolled the manor.

Nessarose felt a deep sense of futility descend on her like a shroud: in the last few years, she'd been growing steadily more isolated as people in her life left her- voluntarily or otherwise.

Father had left her, had died of shame.

One by one, the servants had left her.

The guards had left her.

Elphaba had left her- as if she'd ever return alive from her mission!

And now, after all her efforts, after all the tears, the pleading, the screamed arguments, the legal trickery, and the vain attempts at magic, Boq had left her.

She was all alone, now. And it was all her fault.

Nessarose Thropp, Governor of Munchkinland and Wicked Witch of the East, put her head in her hands and started to cry.