A/N: Another brief interlude from a major Wicked fanfic, ladies and gents. And like One Mistake Too Many before it, there's a focus on Boq. I hate to say it, but this might well be One Mistake Too Many done by an older, wiser author; as much as I loved working on it, I freely acknowledge that the story was rushed and not entirely thought out. Hopefully, this'll be a bit less slapdash - but you'll have to be the judge. Anyway, feel free to review and critique in detail: read, review and above all, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Wicked doesn't belong to me, nor does Oz. Trust me.

How had it all gone so horribly wrong?

Elphaba replayed the events of the day in her head, trying to determine the exact moment where things had spiralled out of control. It was futile, of course: everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, and no amount of navel-gazing was going to change that. She needed to think clearly and focus on solving the problem at hand… but every time she tried to focus her thoughts in the right direction, she kept drifting back to thoughts of what had gone wrong.

It should have been good day, a day of reunions and reparations. If nothing else, it should have been a day without blood on her hands and the smell of gunpowder in the air; a day without the Wizard, without being hunted, without her failed rebellion, without any of the many things that had defined her life over the last couple of years.

And the hell of it was, it had started off so positively. She'd helped Nessa, hadn't she? Elphaba had given her the power to walk at long last – as she should have done years ago. She'd seen Nessarose take her first tentative steps out of the wheelchair, seen the hope in her eyes give way to joy, and watched her celebrate finally achieving her dream… and maybe, just maybe, she'd made some headway to forgiving Elphaba for neglecting her. And then she'd called for Boq, eager to share the news with her favourite manservant.

But Boq was nowhere to be found.

While Elphaba had been enchanting Nessa's slippers, Boq had been making good on his latest escape attempt. This in itself was nothing new, as Nessa herself later admitted: with her reputation having sunken to abyssopelagic depths, servants had been fleeing the governor's manor in droves over the last few months. True, the new restrictions on travel and employment for Munchkins meant that most didn't get far before being arrested, but apparently they thought spending a few months in prison was better than spending them employed by "The Wicked Witch of the East." Boq was the major exception to this: he'd tried to escape at least three times and had been caught on every single occasion – but under Nessa's strict instructions, he was to be spared the usual round of fines and incarcerations, and sent right back to the manor.

This time, though, things were different: with almost no servants left in the manor, nobody saw the Munchkin butler sprinting down the road and nobody raised the alarm… and because the Wizard had declared this day a time of celebration throughout Oz, guard patrols had relaxed for the day – the very reason Elphaba had picked this moment to pay Nessa a visit – meaning that there was nobody to recapture Boq.

Doubly unfortunately, it also meant there was nobody to save him until it was almost too late. By the time Elphaba had taken to the air, the lynch mob had already caught him. She wasn't sure if the crowd had been intending to lure Nessa out, or if they just wanted to take out their frustrations on the hated governor's "favourite," but whatever the case, they'd had their fun with him.

It had been the smoke that had caught Elphaba's attention – a thin column of billowing grey vapour rising from the depths of the forest, accompanied by the smell of roasting meat. Having already beaten the defenceless manservant to a bloody pulp, the mob had decided to go the extra mile by tying him to a tree and setting it alight. Elphaba had descended as quickly as possible, scattering the crowd in all directions with blinding coronas of emerald-green light and ear-splitting thunderclaps; not expecting anything close to resistance, the mob had quickly fled, leaving her to smother the flames and carry the badly-burned Munchkin back to the manor.

Now, Boq was sprawled across the dining room table, unconscious and struggling to breathe. As far as she could tell, he was suffering from smoke inhalation, along with second and third-degree burns across his legs, hands and back, and what hadn't been burned was bruised purple. For good measure, the mob had also left him with a compound fracture on his left arm, a three-inch shard of bone tearing his forearm open.

Now, it was a race to see what would kill Boq first: smoke inhalation, blood loss, or shock.

"What are we going to do, Elphaba?"

It took what little remained of her composure to keep Elphaba from jumping at the sound of Nessa's voice. She'd been so focussed on assessing Boq's injuries, she'd almost forgotten her sister was still in the room with her, but here she was nonetheless – her face streaked with tears, her skin white as chalk, her expression caught somewhere between horror, dread, and bereavement. If Boq was on the threshold of death, then Nessa looked as though she'd already crossed it: she had skipped the moment where she'd have resembled a corpse, and now looked more like a ghost than anything live and tangible.

Elphaba took a deep breath. Focus. She needed to focus… and somehow reassure Nessa at the same time.

"I know of spells that can heal these injuries," she said at last. "But," she added, as Nessa's face lit up, "I'm going to need to be left alone while I'm casting them: this is a very complicated process and I can't afford interruptions."

"But Elphaba-"

"Nessa, I know how much you care for him-"

"I don't just care for him, I love him!" Nessa shrieked, her voice on the edge of hysteria.

"-but I honestly can't have you standing here panicking! I'm sorry, but this is a job that requires silence and perfect concentration."

"But I can help!"

"Have you been teaching yourself magic behind closed doors, then? Do you know how to translate the Grimmerie?"

"No," Nessa admitted, sheepishly. "But you're going to need at least some assistance if you don't want to waste precious time with turning pages or lifting Boq into position. I mean, I could at least fetch and carry if nothing else."

"Look, you don't-"

"Elphaba, please. I need to help somehow. I can't just sit out in the corridor and do nothing. It's my fault he's in this mess to begin with: those people hurt him because of me, because I couldn't stop him from running away. I have to at least do something to help him, because he – and everything else that's happened to him – is my responsibility." She took a deep breath, and added, "Just like I was your responsibility. You understand, don't you?"

Elphaba knew exactly how to respond to this: yes, she'd say, I do understand. But because he's your responsibility, you're going to do the responsible thing and stand aside to let a qualified expert help him. You can make amends later, when he's recovering from all this. Right now, he needs my help and my help alone. He can't afford hesitations, distractions or breakdowns in the middle of the treatment, and that is why you need to leave this to me. Clear? And everything would go smoothly from there.

But the words never left her mouth. She couldn't bring herself to say them out loud. Nessa's conclusion had struck a nerve already rasped raw by guilt: she was Elphaba's responsibility – she should have been her responsibility... but Elphaba hadn't been there for her. The moment she'd embarked on her rebellion against the Wizard, she'd abandoned Nessa and left her to suffer through the death of her father, the miserable ascent to governorship, and all the negative press Elphaba's reign of terror had generated. Oh, that hadn't been the start of it, though: she'd been pushing Nessa out of her mind ever since she'd been enrolled at Shiz. From the moment she'd allowed Morrible to separate the two of them, the very instant she'd started entertaining thoughts of becoming the Wizard's grand vizier, she'd been neglecting Nessarose. And for what? A selfish dream that she'd abandoned in favour of a rebellion that had gone nowhere.

This was all her fault.

Even Boq's maiming could be laid at her feet – after all, he wouldn't have faced a lynch mob if it hadn't been for all the bad press Elphaba had left the two of them to deal with.

She should have been there for her; she could have helped Nessa a long time ago, and the only reason she hadn't bothered was because she'd been too wrapped up in her own affairs. She couldn't afford to be so dispassionate – or so neglectful – not anymore. She had to think about the consequences. She had to make amends. She had to…

"You can stay," she said at last.

"Oh, Elphaba, thank you-"

"As long as you keep quiet and follow instructions promptly. Remember, you'll only be helping out with the mundane procedures, but Boq's life depends on them being enacted promptly. So, no panicking, no hesitation, no dramas."

"I understand," said Nessa, smiling through her tears.

"Right then… let's get to work."

It took just under an hour to save Boq's life.

Together, the two of them cut away the bloodstreaked of his already-scorched clothes, pressed broken bones back into place and reknit them with magic, cleansed the effects of smoke inhalation from his lungs, healed the very worst of the bruises, and erased the burns. Elphaba drew upon everything she could possibly draw upon to ensure that the operation went according to plan: she made use of her raw magical talents, she whispered the potent but dangerous incantations of the Grimmerie, she even brought out the few tattered scraps of lesser spellbooks she'd collected during her travels and put their middling but practical enchantments to work.

Eventually, the last spell was cast, and Boq was stable again: he was still unconscious, and he'd probably be in considerable pain when he finally awoke, but at least he wouldn't be in any danger for the time being.

"What happens now?" Nessa asked.

Elphaba sighed. This was the part she'd secretly been dreading from the moment she'd arrived at the manor. "Well," she began, "I'll stick around to make sure he properly recovers, and then…"

"You're leaving again, aren't you?"

"Nessa, I'm on the run from the authorities. I'm sorry, but the moment people start asking questions about that burnt patch of woodland and the lynch mob start confessing, Munchkinland will be crawling with guardsmen; I can't afford to stay." Something in Nessa's sorrowful gaze pressed an override switch, and Elphaba added, "I really am sorry, Nessa, I never meant to abandon you like I did, I… I lost sight of what I should have been doing, and I-"

"You don't have to apologise."

"I… I'm sorry, what?"

Nessa sighed. "You don't have to apologise to me, Elphaba," she said wearily. "Apologies have pretty much lost all meaning by now: you're sorry you weren't there for me, Boq's sorry whenever he tries to run away, my secretaries are sorry that they have to abandon their posts, Glinda's sorry she doesn't have the time to spare for meetings, my citizens are sorry for Father dying, the rest of Oz is sorry that I've spent most of my life a cripple – everyone's sorry, but nobody feels like doing anything other than spouting the usual hollow platitudes. I just… I just wish somebody would stay… but everyone keeps leaving me. Even Boq tried to leave once or twice before today – and he loves me."

There was an awkward pause.

"I-"

"He loves me," Nessa repeated, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Then why does he keep trying to leave?"

"I don't know!" she exploded. "Whenever I ask, he mumbles something about wanting to catch up with some friends from Shiz; mainly, he wants to talk with Glinda, but he never explains why."

Elphaba took the deepest breath she could possibly take, counted slowly to ten, and vowed to remain in the manor until Boq regained consciousness, ideally so she could give him a thorough lecture on honesty, realistic expectations, and how to amicably dissolve his "relationship" without someone tying his legs around his head. Glinda had told her of how she'd set the two of them up in the first place, and the results had already been cringeworthy by the time Elphaba had left Shiz; now, though…

She'd known the lovesick Munchkin had never been able to admit the truth to Nessa, but if he'd let the lie build up to such a degree without confessing, then there had to be something seriously wrong with him… unless he had, in which case, there was something seriously wrong with Nessa. Either way, this had to be confronted, and soon.

"Nessa, have you considered the fact that Glinda might have just-"

"No."

"I'm just saying that Boq might be in-"

"NO."

Even Elphaba couldn't help but flinch at the volume of Nessa's voice. Evidently, Boq had tried to explain. Still no excuse for lying in the first place, but at least he wasn't as much of a coward as she'd believed. All the same, this was a serious problem: he couldn't afford to hang on to his delusions of wooing Glinda any more than Nessa could hang on to her delusions of wooing him. These two needed to be separated – and soon.

"You can't hang on to him forever, Nessa. You can't stay his employer for the rest of his natural life; I mean, he's got family somewhere, and –"

"No, he doesn't! Why do you think I keep having him brought back here after all the laws he's broken? He wouldn't last half an hour outside these walls, let alone in prison. Out there, he has no-one. His family have disowned him, none of the other Munchkins want anything to do with him, and he hasn't been able to job anywhere but here! I mean, you were there when the lynch mob tried to kill him – do you think it's safe for him out there? Do you think I'd have kept him in the manor if it was safe out there? He understands! It's just that he gets lonely from time to time and he wants to meet some of his old friends from Shiz."

It took all of Elphaba's self-control not to groan in exasperation. Boq didn't have friends at Shiz, she wanted to scream. The nearest equivalents he had were you and Glinda: he didn't even speak to you until Glinda told him to, and as far as Glinda was concerned, he might as well have been invisible. He's not trying to meet up with friends, he's trying to recover the mangled wreckage he's made of his life, which he won't do because he'll never admit that Glinda couldn't give a damn about him. The moment you realize that he doesn't love you, Nessa, the happier you'll be for it.

But once again, the words never reached her lips: the expression of hurt and desperation on Nessa's face had silenced any dissent on Elphaba's part.

"You understand, don't you?" said Nessa, almost pathetically. "I have to keep him close, for his own sake. I can't lose him; I've lost so many people in my life – Father, the few friends I had at Shiz… even you. I just… I just want to protect him. And… I think you know how."

"…what?"

"I'm the Wicked Witch of the East, Elphaba. Don't you think it's time I learned a little magic?"

"First of all, don't even think of calling yourself that. I don't care what they say – you're not wicked. Secondly, this isn't something I can teach you overnight: it took months for me to get my magical powers refined to a practical level, and you don't have my innate powers. This could take years for you to master, Nessa-"

"Then so be it! Do I look like I have anything better to do? I mean, it's not as if I have a social life, is it? More than half of my duties are conducted by mail anyway, and all the ceremonial business has been relegated to lesser officials; as far as I'm concerned, the schedule's open and waiting."

"I'm sorry, but I can't stay here forever, as much as I'd like to. I mean, the guardsmen are going to start sniffing around sooner or later-"

"Then don't fall out of contact!" Nessa exploded, almost sparking with nervous energy. "You've got ways of travelling unseen, haven't you? All you have to do is fly back here every now and again – even if you can't manage a meeting with me, you can still leave letters on my desk. You can tutor me by correspondence, we can plan out the details tonight while we're waiting for Boq to recover! Trust me, the guards aren't going to be here for ages: if someone does sound the alarm, the Wizard's going to be sending his handpicked men from the Emerald City's garrison, not the local bully-boys. You'll be safe, I promise."

Once again, Elphaba wanted to take a deep breath and explain all the reasons why this couldn't possibly work: mid-air stealth wasn't as easy as it sounded, unexplained letters might draw adverse attention from the few servants who hadn't left, magic was far too complicated and dangerous to be taught by a correspondence course, and even if she could stay long enough to hammer out the details of Nessa's tuition, they were still skipping over the root cause of her predicament – treating the symptoms instead of the disease, as it were. She had to be rational about this, to think coldly and calmly and without sentiment…

…but once again, Elphaba found her rational mind was no longer making the decisions: guilt was calling the shots that day.

This is your fault, Elphaba, said a nasty little voice at the back of her head. This wouldn't have happened if you'd been there for her. This is your problem, not hers, and it's up to you to solve it. You can do what you want to do and break Nessa's heart all over again… or you can be a sister to her and give her what she wants – what she needs. Don't you think it's time you actually helped someone?

And in the end, Elphaba could only nod helplessly.

For a time, she stood there, barely conscious of Nessa shrieking with joy and hugging her fiercely around the shoulders, almost oblivious to the Governor of Munchkinland skipping down the hall like a little girl at a fairground. She was distinctly aware that the last few hours of raw emotion and thaumaturgical exhaustion had left her footsore and weary, but she didn't feel like sitting down: she didn't feel like she wanted to be anywhere at this point, because no matter where she ended up, those nagging doubts would find her – and then the guilt would gnaw at her again for daring to even think of reneging.

Meanwhile, her sister was bustling around the manor, now more alive than she'd been in years: she was talking about the meal they'd have that evening; she was telling Elphaba how she'd learned to cook ever since the kitchen staff had started running off; she was collecting pens and paper for the planning session; she was mentioning something about making a bed for Elphaba; she was cocooning Boq in blankets and bundling him into her old wheelchair, readying him for a swift journey back to her bedroom. She was alive, she was vibrant, she was so much more than she once was…

And yet, Elphaba could only stand there, consumed with dread.

Why, now that she was finally doing the right thing, why couldn't she shake the feeling that she'd just made things a thousand time worse?