A/N: AAAAAAAAARGH!

Ahem.

It has been absolutely horrendous few months, ladies and gentlemen, as I'm sure you know now. Focussing on this story became almost impossible during the time of crisis and universal brouhaha, and recent tragic events in my vicinity have not helped; I've had to fall back on lighter stories for the last few months... but I'm back now. I've finished all this lighter stories and I have no more excuses left.

I'm back.

I'm back.

I'm urrrrrrgh (collapses).

Now continuing this story! Feel free to furnish me with your theories; read, review, and above all, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Wicked is still not mine.

Commander Thaonn eyed the gathering dubiously.

He was relatively new to his position, but even he knew how to recognize the Deviants and Distortions of the Amorphous League: against all odds, he'd stumbled upon an initiation ceremony for the detestable shapeshifters… and as luck would have it, some of the Mentor's deadliest lieutenants were attending. Not only was the newest initiate a known Deviant witch, but observing this procedure was none other than the Mentor's personal physician… and standing nearby was the dreaded Elphaba herself, the abomination who had slain the Empress's champion and ripped the glorious invasion fleet out of the sky.

Had his squad been despatched on assassination duties, this would have been quite a coup… but unfortunately, Thaonn's men had been equipped for a general-purpose raid on local settlements. Even with two battlemages on hand, they simply weren't equipped to take on an entire crowd of high-profile Deviants at once: Elphaba was one of the most powerful witches on record, Dr Kiln was well-known for using his powers for combat as well as healing, and the members of the Amorphous League gathered here were largely veterans of their degenerate order – the Shapeless, as they called them. Apprentices and journeymen of the order could be brought down with sufficient firepower or at the very least sufficient numbers, but the elders of the League were all but indestructible; fire was one of the few things that could seriously harm these loathsome shapeshifters, and given that they could force their bodies to resist even that for short periods of time, powerful magic was the only reliable means of destroying them altogether. Right now, his unit had only rifles, grenades, some demolition kits, and two decent battlemages that were nonetheless suited more to the role of heavy infantry than artillery.

Nonetheless, honour demanded that Thaonn make an effort despite his disadvantages: he had a moral duty to ensure that these Deviants were exterminated, both to erase this insult to the beauty of Unbridled Radiance and to defend the Empress from any future attacks that they might arrange. However, Thaonn also knew that if he wanted to eliminate as many of them as possible before retreating, he would need to wait until they were at their most inattentive. For now, the Deviants were clearly on edge – something to do with a ritual gone wrong, by the sounds of things. Until they were relaxed, he would allow his men to take up suitable positions around the clearing, just out of sight… then he would cleanse this forest of their ugliness, beginning with Elphaba.

But as he scanned the crowd through his binoculars, he couldn't help noticing the girl standing at the back of the group, looking on as if in concern. He had no idea what a child would be doing attending this blasphemous ritual, unless this was meant to be the Mentor's latest attempt at indoctrination, in which case he could put a stop to it here and now. When the time came, he would do his best to ensure the girl's purity, both by eliminating her guardians and by ensuring her capture; when the Empress finally arrived to free this land from the shackles of Deviance, he would deliver the child to her, and she would learn the truth of existence at the feet of his messiah.

All he had to do until then was wait…

"Look, I know this is weird, but I honestly don't get what everyone's so upset about. I'm fine! I mean, I guess I'm stuck like this for now, but I'm perfectly fine: my magic works, Dr Kiln tells me all my vitals check out, so what's the problem?"

"You haven't returned to your original form, Glinda. I'm pretty sure that we've established that this a very clear and very recognizable problem. See, if you can't return to your original form, then your initial metamorphosis isn't complete; if your initial metamorphosis isn't complete, your powers haven't stabilized yet… and if your powers haven't stabilized yet, you can't shapeshift. And given that you signed up for this so you could demonstrate how safe our potion is, that leaves us in just a bit of a pickle."

"Well, we can get someone else! We can find some popular war hero who can take the potion and be the poster child everyone wants, and I'll stay like this; if it doesn't wear off, then so what? I can be Elphie's body double, protect her in battle, bamboozify the enemy – whatever I have to do."

"It's not as simple as that, remember? I thought Leoverus had explained this to you: the initial period of instability has to end, otherwise it starts causing serious health issues! I mean, it might not be as messy as an overdose of the potion, but-"

"I don't care, Omber. I'm more useful in this form than I've ever been in my entire life, and as far as I'm concerned, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me."

For a moment or so, Omber looked as if s/he was about to argue the point further, only to throw up his/her hands in exasperation and begin the long slow march back to the huddle.

By now, the ritual circle had dissolved into a confused gaggle of people scattered across the clearing: Kiln was interviewing a League member, Dorothy was deep in conversation with Fiyero and the First of the Shapeless, Wolton was busy radioing Greenspectre, and the security detail were now hunkered down and helping themselves to a meagre breakfast of rations. By now, the League had almost given up on discussing things with Glinda, and were now arguing over what could be done to help Glinda complete her metamorphosis; most of them were subtly transforming on instinct even as they spoke, conjuring feathers or fingers or scales across their bodies – the shapeshifting equivalent of tapping their feet in impatience, Elphaba presumed. The First of the Shapeless himself was in the process of turning himself inside-out over and over again, absently restructuring his body in languid flourishes of protean flesh.

As for Elphaba, she stood to one side, not knowing what to do. Glinda clearly hadn't wanted to talk to her, and more to the point, Elphaba's total knowledge of shapeshifting as a magical art was comparatively limited, so there wasn't much use for her skills in this situation. Surely the League would be better equipped to deal with this problem than her. And yet, the longer this little contretemps went on, the fuse on Elphaba's temper burned progressively lower. One of the many things liable to provoke her rage was helplessness, especially if it meant being forced to watch friends and loved ones suffer… and the more she heard of the conversation, the worse it seemed to her.

Glinda herself stood in the middle of the clearing, marvelling at her new body: though she'd been given another robe for the sake of her dignity, she was still completely identical to Elphaba. And as if being face-to-face with an identical copy of herself wasn't unusual enough, the sight of Glinda's usual idiosyncrasies and expressions played out on a perfect replica of Elphaba's face was nothing short of bewildering. Her face simply wasn't supposed to emote like that; coquettish giggles were not supposed to be conveyed by her lips or her voice, and exuberant smiles were alien concepts to the facial muscles. With the threat of a potential danger to Glinda's health reported, Elphaba continuously studied her for any signs of sickness or infirmity, but though she hadn't seen anything as of yet, that didn't stop her from worrying.

"What's going on?" she asked, as Omber lurched up.

"It's not looking good," Omber replied grimly. "If that little bit of grumbling was any evidence, the problem was nothing to do with the potion and everything to do with Glinda's own mind. Has anything like this happened before, First?"

Leoverus sighed, his shapeless body rippling with hundreds of faces oozing in and out of his flesh. "Yes, unfortunately. I feared that something like this might very well be the case. This has only happened once or twice in the history of our order, and it's never been easy to resolve."

"What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Well, I imagine you were eavesdropping just as carefully as I was, Elphaba, so perhaps you heard how easily Glinda accepted the idea of being trapped in that form, yes? She wanted this to happen, though granted, she didn't know it at the time: during the initial period of instability following the first dose of the potion, the body is sculpted by the unconscious fears and desires of the initiate. On the rare occasion someone gets stuck in one form during this period, it's because they'd become fixated on it for one reason or another – though only the deepest and unhealthiest obsessions can override the natural course of metamorphosis."

Elphaba's brow wrinkled. "You're saying she wanted to be me? Why? What exactly would Glinda find desirable about my form in particular? Come to think of it, why would anyone want to be me?"

"You'll have to ask her that yourself – the key word being "have" to: I think you might be the only one who can resolve this."

"Why me? You're the expert."

"And you're her best friend."

"Why not me?" Fiyero asked, leaning in from the sidelines. "I'm her friend too, and we've had just as much history together."

"But she isn't in your form, is she? No, I'm afraid it'll have to be Elphaba."

"Again," Elphaba demanded, "why?"

"Well, I can lay out the facts as plain as day, Dr Kiln can give her the skinny on the medical angle, but you're the only one of us who might be able to get her to listen. She won't respond to official advice now, Elphaba, and she won't respond to orders even from the highest possible authority; I've seen this happen before, and we've only been able to fix the problem by confronting the root of the anxieties and passions that caused this stasis in the first place… and for that, we need someone who knows how to talk to her – and someone who knows the form she's become fixated upon."

"But the problem's supposed to be subconscious! How am I supposed to solve an issue that's entirely in her own mind?"

"Well, you are the source of her preoccupation, don't forget: if you can force her to confront the matter head-on, you might be able to undo this psychological knot in her brain – not permanently, but just long enough to sort out this initial catastrophe."

"And if I can't do that?"

"She'll die."

"What?"

"The metamorphosis must come to an end, Elphaba," said Leoverus, solemnly. This isn't just a case of her not being able to shapeshift: this is the case of her clinging to a form that doesn't belong to her until her body starts to reject it. If she can't complete her initial transformation or let go of this shape before she finally metabolizes the potion, her true form will eventually try to reassert itself… and with the potion wearing off, her body won't be able to take the strain. It'll either trigger a cardiac arrest or cause her organs to warp so badly that she dies of internal bleeding. That is what you've got to save her from, Elphaba."

He smiled mirthlessly, fangs appearing in every mouth on his body. "No pressure."

There was a horrified pause.

The decision was made almost immediately: after all, it wasn't as if Elphaba could accept any alternatives. So, taking deep breath, she straightened her hat, squared her shoulders, and began the long, slow march towards Glinda.

As she approached, her doppelganger looked up from her reveries, and a distinctly Glinda-ish smile exploding across her face as she saw who was striding towards her. "Isn't this great?" she giggled, stretching her arms wide. "Isn't this just the best? Being you is so much better than anything I could've imagined!"

Elphaba, who'd been opening her mouth to ask a question, was so blindsided by Glinda's remark that she immediately forgot what she was going to say. For the next few seconds, she was left blinking in confusion, her mouth flapping helplessly in midair as Glinda plunged onwards. Once again, her mind briefly fell back on doubt and refused to accept that what she'd just heard was real – just as it had when she'd heard the people of Greenspectre cheering for her.

"I mean look at this!" Glinda exclaimed, stretching herself to her full height. "Look how tall I am now! I mean, I didn't think you were that much taller than me back when I was in my own body – I mean, it can't be much more than a couple of inches – but now I feel like a giant! I mean, I don't have your magic, but still, this is amazing! I mean, I didn't realize just how in shape you are: I go to the gym and everything, but you've actually been living the life, if you know what I mean-"

"We need to talk," interjected Elphaba. It had taken a while to square Glinda's overexcited gabbling with her own self-image, but now she was ready to make this work: she had to be even less compromising than usual in this case – kid gloves off, knuckledusters on.

Glinda took a few seconds to wind down, and when she finally stopped talking, she merely blinked innocently and remained smiling in a remarkably un-Elphaba-like way.

"This can't go on, Glinda. You've got to continue the metamorphosis."

"Well, that's just too bad: I don't know how to go on with it. But why would I want to? I'm perfect like this."

Thankfully, Elphaba had been ready this time, so she wasn't completely overwhelmed by incredulity. "First of all, no you're not. You are not even remotely perfect like this, Glinda."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I'm not perfect. Even if you had my powers, turning into me wouldn't make you into some magical paragon of humanity… but you seem to think that's the case, and that's the problem: the First says that the most likely reason why you've gotten stuck like this is because you want to be me. On some level, you want to be just like me, and now that you've ended up in my form, you don't want to let go of it."

Glinda affected a look of doe-eyed innocence. "Don't look at me, Elphie: this was an accident, and the fact that it was a really happy accident doesn't change the fact that I didn't plan any of this. It just happened." She smiled blissfully. "Maybe this was just what was meant to be? We're perfect together, after all."

"…I'm sorry, what."

"Me and this form: we're perfect together. This was destined to be, Elphaba: we belong together."

"And why's that, exactly?"

"Because I'm so much more useful this way! I can be your body double now; I can protect you in battle; I can be a decoy if you're ever hurt; we can even play pranks! Can you imagine what it's gonna be like when we get back to Greenspectre? I can pretend to be you and sit on all the really boring briefings while you spend time with Fiyero! We're going to be just like sisters, Elphaba!"

Elphaba took a very deep breath. "I thought we already were," she said quietly. "Was being like sisters not enough? Was being best friends not enough?

"Well, we can be even more like that!" Glinda babbled excitedly, too enthused to notice the look of hurt on Elphaba's face. "I mean, we can be as good as sisters: we look just alike now! Now we don't have to be different!"

"Was that really a barrier to our friendship beforehand?"

A tiny note of uncertainty flickered across Glinda's mirror-like features. "No, but-"

"And you don't think it was hard enough to cope with what happened to Nessa without you trying to replace her? I mean, I don't want to look at this in the worst possible light, but it's hard not to, Glinda: it's starting to sound like you think that being my friend wasn't enough, that becoming my sister was the only way I could give a damn about you. Is that why you ended up in this form?"

"But I wasn't- I mean, I didn't mean it like that, Elphie-"

"Then how did you mean it? More to the point, what do you want from this new body of yours? What about this form is so desirable, Glinda?"

There was a dreadful silence as Glinda tried and failed to make eye contact; every time she tried to meet Elphaba's questioning stare, she faltered, her gaze slowly drifting back down to the ground. For almost ten seconds, she stood there, staring at the dirt like a shamefaced child, unable to answer or even speak.

"You're going to die," Elphaba continued. "Do you understand that? Omber kept trying to tell you that, but you just keep shrugging it off. So, if you won't listen to… them… listen to me: Leoverus says that if you don't complete the metamorphosis, it'll kill you. This process wasn't meant to go on forever, and you're clinging to this form so desperately that when the potion finally wears off, your body won't be able to take it. Is that what you want, Glinda? Do you actually want to die hanging on to this form?"

There was a subtle glint of fear in Glinda's eyes now, but it was just as quickly replaced by anger and shame. "I'd be more useful that way," she said, almost under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, I heard what you said, Glinda! 'I'd be more useful that way.' You think you'd be more useful to me dead than alive, is that it? Or do you think you're actually going to somehow carry out this weird fantasy of being my body double, dying romantically in battle by my side? You know war doesn't work that way, Glinda; you were there at the Battle of Mourner's Lake, and you saw how the fighting went there: messy, complicated, terrifying and very, very unromantic. It's not like those silly pulp novels where you can just throw yourself in front of a bullet or something."

"That's not the point," Glinda snapped irritably, and for the first time since her transformation, the expression on her face looked as if it belonged there.

"Then what is the point? Why do you want to be me? And don't give me this happy accident nonsense, Glinda: you wanted this. On some level, getting stuck like this is exactly what you wanted, even if you weren't consciously aware of it… so I have to ask, is this why you accepted the League's recruitment offer in the first place? Did you want to become a shapeshifter just so you could become me?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then why did you take the offer? Why did you want to join the Amorphous League?"

"It's not important!"

"The hell it isn't! You've been keeping your reasons secret from the moment you accepted Leoverus' offer: you didn't give me a word of explanation for why you wanted this apart from 'this is the only way we're going to get through the deal,' and you still can't bring yourself to speak to me even now that you've gotten trapped in one form. We're supposed to be friends, Glinda, and you seem to think being identical to me makes us as good as sisters, but you still won't tell me the truth: why does this form hold so much attraction for you? What is it about this deal that's so important to you? Why do you want to be a shapeshifter?"

"Because it's the only way I'll ever be useful!" Glinda screamed.

Suddenly, the clearing was completely silent. The muffled hubbub of conversation instantly shuddered to a halt, leaving them with nothing but the whispering of the breeze and the faint rustle of leaves overhead... and from somewhere nearby, an almost imperceptible whirring sound. But all of it was slowly drowned out by what Glinda said next:

"I'm useless, Elphaba; always have been, always will be. For a while, I thought I could actually make a difference out here, but the longer I stay on the battlefield, it only becomes more obvious that I can't help anyone, least of all myself. The only reason why I got this far was because other people were looking out for me: Omber broke me out of captivity in Exemplar, the Mentor gave me the sink so I could pretend to be a hero, and you gave me the stalactite wand just so I could get through the rest of the battle without getting killed-"

"Stalagmite," Elphaba corrected absently.

"-and the worst part is that all this has been happening since the day I was born and it's only been getting worse the longer it goes on! I mean, I've coasted through life on my looks or someone else's hard work: I wouldn't have gotten that job with the Wizard if he hadn't thought I might be pretty enough to sway public opinion – because Lurline only knows he wouldn't have settled for second-best otherwise. I never would have been allowed into Shiz if my parents hadn't called in a few favours. And let's not forget that the only reason I got into magic class in the first place was because you vouched for me… and I couldn't even get any of that right! I've been out of university for years, and I'm still having trouble with the most basic forms of magic! After all the training you and the Mentor have given me, all the time and effort you spent just trying get me to the acceptable side of mediocre, I'm being outdone by a child!"

Dorothy looked up in confusion. "I'm not outdoing anyone," she muttered. "I'm still learning-"

"And just look at how stupid and vapid and useless I've been since we've got here: I've been captured, I've had to be rescued, I've had to be rescued from my own escape attempt, I've stayed behind while you were out on the front lines risking death, and when I did join up, I was only slightly useful because because the Mentor arranged things in advance. And after that? Right back to being a millstone around everyone's necks! I could barely keep up with you in the battle, I stayed back in Greenspectre during the whole Lobster Pot busines – while Dorothy got captured and you nearly got killed – and I might as well not have been there when we tried to stop the Hellion! I'm worthless, Elphaba!"

Elphaba took a deep breath, and tried valiantly to process everything she'd just been told; she wasn't exactly an expert in counselling, least of all when it came to self-loathing on this scale – after all, she still grappled with her own recurring case of self-reproach – but she had to try. She had to get Glinda to look at the situation realistically.

"Glinda," she said firmly, "you're taking this way out of proportion: the reason why you're struggling with magic is because you've only been training seriously for a short period of time; up until you arrived in this world, you'd never used magic for combat and you never had a teacher that was interested in actually teaching you, so it makes perfect sense that you're having trouble adjusting to it. Believe me, it's nothing to do with any deficiency of character: for a novice, you're doing a fantastic job – and don't you dare say it's because someone else was helping you cheat. I mean, do you think I just miraculously transformed into a one-woman resistance movement the moment I flew out of Emerald City for the first time? I had to deal with all kinds of mistakes and accidents and near-death experiences before I could get anywhere near effective, and I still ended up fighting a losing battle because I was acting alone. "

"Because I refused to help you," Glinda added bitterly.

"Oh sweet Lurline, you can't realistically blame my failures on yourself, Glinda! There's no way of knowing if you'd have made even the slightest difference if you'd joined me that day. I was up against all of Oz, remember? Maybe you could have turned the tide, or maybe you would have ended up dead as Nessa – there's no way of knowing what would have happened. The point is that those mistakes are all in the past, and you can't expect to turn into some kind of magic prodigy the first time you pick up a wand. This takes time, Glinda."

"Time we don't have! I need to be useful to you now, Elphaba, not in the next few months."

"And that's why you agreed to become a shapeshifter," Elphaba concluded. "You thought you'd instantly blossom into the perfect soldier. I'm sorry, Glinda, reality doesn't work like that: Omber and Leoverus both tell me that it still takes a little work before you can start changing shape at will. I mean, just because you've gotten stuck in this shape-"

"I don't mind being stuck in this shape!" Glinda shrilled. "I'm fine like this! I'm useful like this: I can at least be used as a bullet sponge. If you take that away from me, I'm stuck learning the ropes, which I'll probably never learn because I'm an idiot. If you won't let me stay this way, I'll be useless, and if I'm useless, then what good am I in this war? What good am I to you? Why am I even here?! Why am I even alive?"

"Glinda, you can be a bit of a bubblehead from time to time, but that doesn't make you stupid every minute of the day; and believe me, you are not useless-"

But Elphaba never got to finish her sentence: the sheer volume of Glinda's next exclamation instantly silenced her – but even if she'd whispered them, the words spoken would have floored her anyway.

"YES I AM!" Glinda howled. "I'VE BEEN USELESS ALL MY LIFE AND I'M SICK OF IT! I DON'T WANT TO BE ME ANYMORE! I DON'T WANT TO BE GLINDA! I DON'T WANT TO BE STUPID, USELESS AND SELFISH ANYMORE! I WANT TO BE SOMEONE ELSE, AND I DON'T CARE IF IT KILLS ME! YOU HEAR? I DON'T CARE!"

Some distance away, Commander Thaonn instinctively ducked back into the undergrowth as the tirade echoed across the clearing.

They were close, now: his men were almost in position and ready to strike. All they'd need to do was eliminate the green girl and the mage-surgeon, secure the child, and maybe throw a few incendiary grenades into the midst of the League members, then retreat as swiftly as possible; with the advantage of surprise and speed, they would be able to vanish back into the forest as swiftly as they'd arrived, easily outpacing the mundane troops. The League members wouldn't give chase; they would be too busy dealing with the flames that were due to ignite – or trying to get their squalling little apprentice to safety.

With this done, their mission could continue unabated so long as they moved swiftly, assaulting the Deviant settlements and destroying potential assets in the region before reinforcements arrived… but regardless of how much damage they inflicted on these minor targets, they would already have achieved a much greater victory by far: in a single blow, they would have eliminated a swathe of Amorphous League veterans, the Mentor's personal physician, and the greatest champion the Deviant Nations had produced. With a little luck, they would even be able to preserve the purity of a child who had yet to be corrupted by Deviancy and Distortion. One way or the other, they would return to Unbridled Radiance as heroes.

He already had his transmission mirror active and ready to broadcast his success back to Greenspectre; every moment of their victory would be sent straight to the Empress. All he needed to do was wait for the atmosphere to settle and calm to prevail.

Then they would strike.

There was a pause, as the echoes slowly died away.

"So you did want to be me," whispered Elphaba. "On some level, you really did want to be me – because you couldn't stand being yourself anymore."

Glinda nodded, shamefaced.

Elphaba thought for a moment, considering the situation: looking closely at the facts so far, it actually made a lot of sense. After all, the initial metamorphosis responded to the innermost thoughts of the shapeshifter, so it made sense that Glinda's self-esteem problem had stalled the process; perhaps she had simply believed herself a failure for so long that it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy. But how long had this really been going on for? How long had it had taken for her doubt to overflow into self-loathing? Had it been only in the last few days… or had been in action since before they'd left Oz? She'd seen hints of Glinda's anxieties from time to time, most notably during that brief stint of drunkenness at the party, but it had never been this bad.

In the end, she could only sigh and ask, "Why didn't you tell me something was troubling you, Glinda? You know I would have listened."

"How the hell would I have told you that I was starting to hate myself? It's not exactly the sort of thing you can just include in a sentence, in case you hadn't noticed. Besides, you'd have thought it was stupid-"

"No I wouldn't!"

"-because it is!"

"Do you remember all the times I shut you out of my life because I didn't want to burden you with my problems? Do you remember what happened back in the caverns – that massive speech you gave me about how we were all in this together? You think after all that fuss, I wouldn't give you the time of day? Do you really think that little of me?"

Again, the look of shame and embarrassment was plainly obvious. "…No."

"Look, I'm glad we're talking about this now, but I still don't understand why you seem to think my life is so desirable."

Glinda laughed mirthlessly. "How can you not know?! How are you still in denial? You're a hero! You're a champion of the Deviant Nations! You're the Wicked Witch of the West! Back in Oz, any Animals left alive and sane are still singing your praises, and everyone else is jumping at your shadow! You're one of the most powerful witches in history, one of the best and brightest students of in all of Oz! And best of all, you achieved all that without having to be propped up by someone else, without having to receive endless support from one gang of manipulative bastards after another."

Elphaba took a deep breath, briefly considering her approach. "Flattered as I am," she said carefully, "I think you might be deliberately overlooking the points in my life where I did have to be propped up by someone else."

"Like who, exactly?"

"Well, you for a start."

This clearly threw Glinda for a loop; this time, she had no retort on hand, allowing Elphaba to continue onwards before she could think of a rejoinder.

"You saved my life back at Mourner's Lake, remember? And the fact that you were given the best equipment for the job doesn't change the fact that you saved me. What about all the times when you were there to listen when I thought things were too much for me to bear? You were there to listen as far back as Shiz, Glinda, and you helped every single time. You were the one propping me up. And if you think being groomed by the Wizard or the Mentor or whoever else somehow makes you unworthy of respect, I'm in the same boat as you, remember? I've been the Mentor's prize pawn ever since I proved I was trustworthy. And do you think I'd have gotten anywhere in life if Morrible hadn't decided to use me as a meal ticket?"

"That's different," Glinda snapped, but without conviction.

"How exactly is that even remotely dissimilar? What really is the difference between you and me, when you get right down to it?"

"For a start, I'm a failure-"

"Again, that makes two of us. Do you really think my time trying to free the Animals of Oz was some never-ending parade of victories? Come on, Glinda, you were there: you saw how I was on the run for half the time, and you witnessed the moment where it went downhill from there. Where's the success in that?"

Once again, Glinda had nothing to say.

Elphaba took a slightly deeper breath and continued: "I'm not a paragon of virtue, Glinda, and I'm definitely not a role model. I'm not someone you should aspire to be. I'm a bitter, sarcastic, irritable, easily angered grump who can barely remember her manners at the best of times. I've let my temper get the better of me, I've blundered into one disaster after another, and even after all this time, I keep making the same impulsive mistakes. I've never tried to talk things out, not really; I've never tried to really change anyone's mind eloquently or intelligently. I just… shout at people. If it can't be shouted down or blown up, I don't know what to do with it. Maybe I've been successful enough in the last few weeks to be seen as a hero, but I definitely wouldn't want anyone trying to model themselves on me. I understand books better than I understand people, and when I do manage to really comprehend how someone thinks and acts, I'm too busy losing my temper to put that knowledge to any use. I mean, you've seen all this for yourself: you actually asked me why I couldn't just stay calm for once instead of flying off the handle. In fact, the only reason why I've managed to keep the conversation on track for this long is because we're friends. So why do you think I'm better than you?"

Glinda's reply was inaudible.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Because I'm weak. Because I'm weak, I'm stupid, I'm spoiled and I'm selfish. I told you back in the caverns that I was sick of being porcelain doll, and I meant it, but I just can't get away from it: I'm still the same idiot you met at university, no matter how people try to dress it up. I'm still falling back on the same stupid stuff I was interested in back in college, for Lurline's sake! Makeovers and fashion and all the other pointless crap I should have given up on back when I left Shiz: I mean, a few days ago, I was recommending a hairdresser to you instead of focusing on training! And all that talk about Morrible never bothered to teach me anything worthwhile? That's only because I never bothered to learn anything! I was a waste of space at Shiz and I still am: I'm still the same stupid bitch that I always was. No wonder Fiyero couldn't bring himself to stay with me: he was growing up while I was content to be the same popularity-seeking bimbo I always was!"

"Glinda-"

"Nothing's changed, Elphaba! I've tried to be better; I've tried to change, like I did that night at the Ozdust. I've tried to be stronger and smarter and all those other things, but I'm the same dumb blonde you met on your first day at Shiz! I'm still lagging behind in class, still being a dimwit, still obsessing over the same crap… except this time, I don't even have the benefit of being popular. I'm stuck in your shadow, Elphaba, and that's how I know what I'm really worth: nothing. I'm just… baggage."

This time, the echoing silence that followed was nothing short of funereal.

"You know," said Elphaba. "You were there for me when I gave up on myself as person, after the Other Fiyero died. I often wondered if – while I was busy raking myself across the coals – if you ever thought "how could she be so wrong about herself?" I didn't expect our positions to be exchanged, but here we are. How can you be so wrong about yourself, Glinda?"

"What?"

"That night at the Ozdust, that wasn't just you becoming a better person: that was you showing your true self. The moment when you realized how deeply you'd hurt me and tried to make amends – even though it meant risking humiliation – that was when I knew you had a good heart. That was the real you, underneath all the silly affectations: brave, compassionate, and just a little bit more perceptive than you looked. I didn't want you to suffer for being yourself, I didn't want you to tone down your personality, and I definitely didn't want you to become a carbon copy of me. All I wanted was for us to be friends. You might have made some bad decisions along the way, but so have I. And you know what? You're still a good person, and you're still a good friend."

Glinda blinked, eyes suddenly shining with tears; under the robe, her body shifted ever-so-subtly, as if ready to begin changing again – but just as quickly, the tremor subsided.

"And while we're on the subject," Elphaba plunged on, "There was absolutely nothing wrong with your hobbies and interests, Glinda; they annoyed the hell out of me, but there's nothing objectively terrible about your personal tastes. Makeovers and fashion tips didn't make you stupid or selfish or weak, and they didn't make you a bad person… you know, unless you decided somewhere along the line that they were more important than innocent lives and I know for a fact that you didn't, but that's beside the point: the point is, you don't have to feel bad for being yourself."

"But-"

"And frankly, if you insist on it… well, taking my form isn't going to change that. Do you think Leoverus or Shenshen/Pfannee managed to reinvent themselves overnight with a single drop of the potion? Only time can change who you are at heart, and if your heart's not in it, you'll know very quickly. If you want this power because you want greater responsibilities, that's absolutely fine; if you want it so you can help me, I'm all in; if you want it because you honestly want to try something new in life, that's wonderful; If you want become a shapeshifter because you feel this is who you were always meant to be, then I'll support you every step of the way. But if you want this because you hate yourself, then it won't work: I know from experience that hating yourself doesn't help anyone – and that no matter how many times you change yourself, that self-loathing will follow you to the bitter end."

There was a pause; Glinda looked away, suddenly unable to meet Elphaba's gaze. Under the robe, her body shifted again; once again, it subsided, but this time not for almost thirty seconds.

"Are you going to tell me I need to believe in myself now?" she asked quietly. "That's what all those picture books I read when I was little used to say. What am I supposed to believe in, Elphie? Why should I believe in myself when I keep falling short?"

But Elphaba could tell that her heart wasn't in it. She had never been much of a people person, but years spent in Glinda's company had taught her more than enough about how her friend thought and acted, and when she was this upset, her state of mind was written plainly on her face: Glinda wanted to accept everything she was being told. She just needed one tiny push just to make sure she finally took it to heart. And as always, the best answer possible was the truth:

"Because you would have succeeded where I failed," she said simply.

"…what."

"Back at Kiamo Ko, around the time I was considering handing myself over to the mob, I was going to have you carry on in my stead. You know how to work the system, Glinda: you understand the politics, you understand people, and you know how to make them think the way you want them to think. Seriously, Glinda, did anyone think less of you for dancing with me at the Ozdust? No, because as you made abundantly clear, you understand the mechanics of popularity. That's why you'd have been the only living person in all of Oz who could carry on the work in my stead… and that's why you'd be perfect as a representative of the Amorphous League – not because they need another dumb poster child, but because they need someone who knows how to sell the organization to the public. They need someone clever, charismatic and captivating. They need an ambassador."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. You've always had the potential to do great things, Glinda. All you've got to do is stop changing yourself to fit everyone else's idea of what's powerful or successful and do something your own way. No more Morrible, no more Wizard, no more Mentor, nor more me: just you."

For a moment, Glinda was lost for words. She reached out to hug Elphaba, arms briefly brushing her shoulders as her eyes filled with tears...

...Then the change swept across her – and this time it didn't stop. Her flesh began to warp and flow like molten wax, her bones twisting in a million different directions, her hair changing colour and consistency so swiftly that for a moment it seemed to possess all the colours of the rainbow at once, and the hue of her skin was quickly lost in the kaleidoscopic blur of transformations that overpowered her in that moment. Before long, there was no trace of humanity left in Glinda, and she was sprouting eyeballs at a phenomenal rate – owl eyes, crow eyes, falcon eyes, bird eyes of every imaginable kind.

And just as Elphaba was starting to congratulate herself on a job well done, Glinda let out a shriek of "Elphie, look out!" from perhaps a dozen mouths at once.

Next thing she knew, a solid geyser of flesh exploded from Glinda's shapeshifting body, shooting past Elphaba and slamming headlong into a uniformed figure lurking amidst the bushes perhaps twenty feet behind them. Elphaba had just enough time to realize that the figure had been aiming a rifle at her, before the tendril thundered over him like a runaway train, crushing the assassin into the soil.

Then, everything seemed to happen at once…

As the man on his left exploded into searing emerald-green flame and the man on his right slumped to the ground with a bone quill through his skull, Commander Thaonn absently reflected that the situation had gone ever-so-slightly wrong.

Somehow, the shapeshifting whelp had spotted the sniper he'd assigned to eliminate Elphaba, and now they'd lost the element of surprise: the Deviant troops were now shredding the undergrowth with suppressing fire, tumour bombs and bone quills from Kiln cut down anyone who made the mistake of getting up to return fire, and Elphaba's magic tore through the forest in a lethal arc of incandescent thaumaturgical might, annihilating anyone in its path.

But even against these odds, there might have still been hope: half of Thaonn's platoon was dead, but they had only been the ones within range of the clearing; the rest might yet have survived by remaining out of range and in cover just long enough to make use of their camouflage charms… if it hadn't been for the Amorphous League. The shapeshifters could go where sniper scopes and binoculars couldn't see, and the moment they found Thaonn's men, they immediately began tearing them apart. Most of it, Thaonn couldn't even see, what with the action being concealed beneath the undergrowth, but every now and again he would catch split-second glimpses of daggerlike talons or scorpion tails erupting from the shrubbery, lancing downwards into the screaming men below. Nobody had a chance to fight back: the attacks always came too swift and too suddenly; detonating an incendiary grenade would have revealed their location to Elphaba and the other Deviants, so the troops could only struggle to destroy an entire crowd of monsters moving too quickly to be targeted and too elusive to be grasped. Before long, the squad broke ranks and fled in all directions, only to be cut down in mid-step, either by Elphaba, Kiln, the soldiers, or the pursuing shapeshifters.

In desperation, two of his men turned and took aim at the distant figure of the initiate, who was still uncontrollably transforming at the centre of the clearing and in no fit state to defend herself; a third man quickly joined them, managing to recover enough of his senses to ready a grenade. But then a shadow fell over them, and a whirling dervish of tendrils swatted their rifles from their hands and swept the grenade into a roiling protean mass of flesh. The shape that now hovered above them looked more like some vast jellyfish sculpted of glistening black oil drifting across the sky, a hideous tendrilled bulk made entirely from writhing protoplasm, featureless except for the snarling leonine face at its centre.

"No-one harms my initiates," hissed the First of the Shapeless.

One set of tendrils wrenched the third soldier's jaws open with a sickening crack, plucked the pin from his grenade and stuffed the bomb down his throat.

Pausing only to fling the unfortunate soldier to one side, the First of the Shapeless moved on the two remaining men, and here his tentacles flowed like water across their bodies, oozing up and down their writhing limbs in a torrent of protoplasm. In slow motion, Thaonn watched in horror as the First of the Shapeless poured his substance into their mouths, up their nostrils, into their ears, around their eyeballs and into their sockets, even into their pores. It couldn't have taken much longer than a second or so, but it felt like an hour to watch the First permeating their bodies.

Then the protean liquid flexed inside them.

Three slightly damp explosions rippled across the clearing, and the battlefield suddenly blossomed with fresh blood.

Suddenly realizing he was alone, Commander Thaonn began hastily scuttling away as fast as his feet could take him; he'd finally managed to get his camouflage charm working, but it wouldn't mean a thing if a member of the Amorphous League happened to trip over him. He had to stay inconspicuous for this to work; so, he kept his head down as he circled the clearing, making his way to the point where he'd entered this misbegotten stretch of wilderness.

But up ahead, he saw the only possible objective of the mission he could still complete: the child observing this confusion had strayed to the very edge of the clearing, apparently having been drawn away by the strange straw golem watching over her. From what he could tell, the straw man was barely in any condition to stand upright, much less protect the girl… and Thaonn was in desperate need of a victory, even if the only goal he could succeed at was a self-imposed one. He could save this girl from corruption. He could preserve her innocence, hidden away in this wilderness until the invasion brought reinforcements and allowed him to deliver the child to the nurturing embrace of Unbridled Radiance. All he needed to do was reach out and take her.

The straw man was easy to deal with, easily kicked aside like the training dummies he'd sparred against so many years ago. Charging onwards, Thaonn simply grabbed the child around the middle without stopping; she had just enough time to let out a horrified squeak of what sounded like "Fiyero!" before he tucked her under one arm and galloping off into the forest – out of range and beyond the reach of the loathsome shapeshifters.

The girl was screaming for help, of course, but all he needed was another minute for his camouflage charm to charge, acclimatize and active at its highest possible setting; after that, he'd be as good as home free. The child could scream as much as she liked, and nobody would hear her. Then, she would be free as well – would that she knew it here and now. Alas, she wouldn't realize what she'd achieved this day, not until she was given the time and the support needed to wash away the Deviancy that had been forced upon her.

Funny thing, though, she seemed to have gone very quiet all of a sudden. Perhaps-

A white-hot jolt of pain erupted in Thaonn's right hand and ran all the way up his arm and into his shoulder before finally dissipating.

Confused, he looked down and realized that his hand appeared to have changed rather dramatically since last he looked at it: it was now missing the index finger, middle finger and ring finger, all of them inexplicably replaced by roughly-sheared stumps that were already fountaining blood into the cold morning air. All that remained were his pinky and thumb.

And for some reason, the little girl under his arm did seem to have an awful lot of blood around her mouth all of a sudden…

Suddenly dizzy, Thaonn skidded to a halt just in time for the girl to spit out the mangled remains of his three missing fingers. On instinct, he dropped her and staggered drunkenly away, staring in bewilderment at his truncated hand, trying to understand how the little girl could have possibly accomplished this: how could her mouth have opened wide enough to accommodate all three fingers at once? How could human jaws – the jaws of a child no less – have sheared through bone so easily?

Why had she recovered so quickly?

Why was she so calm?

Why were her eyes glowing?

Children couldn't possibly be Distorted this young, even by the most reckless mage-surgeons. But how else could this have happened? How could any of this have gone so wrong? And why could he see the motley of the Hellion's dolls emerging from the trees around him?

"Not possible," he muttered as he stumbled backwards, clutching his shredded hand. "Not possible. Not… not possib-"

And that was when the first of the dolls pounced, grabbing him by the throat and dragging him screaming to the ground. Another pounced on his knees, pummelling his kneecaps with what looked like a rusted claw hammer. A third kicked him viciously in the head. A fourth sliced his remaining fingers off with a hand as sharp as any razor.

Commander Repruc Thaonn was left helpless as the dolls closed in on him.

For the first twenty seconds, he screamed for mercy.

For the remaining fifty, he just screamed.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the troops to find Dorothy, though they were a bit alarmed to find her surrounded by dolls, and even more alarmed to realize that her face was now smeared grotesquely with her captor's blood.

"Please don't tell anyone I bit him," she mumbled shamefacedly as she lurched back over to Elphaba. "Aunt Em always said kids who bite people get sent to reform schools. I just got a little carried away, is all. It won't happen again, promise."

Elphaba patted her soothingly on the shoulder and assured her that Aunt Em would never hear of this incident – and was nearly bowled over by the sheer force of Dorothy's hug.

Meanwhile, Glinda - blonde, pale and outwardly human once more - was being helped to her feet by Leoverus and Omber, a brand-new robe being draped over her naked shoulders as she rose. "Did it work?" she asked blearily. "Am I a shapeshifter now?"

"Is there anyone in the world who could deny it?" Leoverus chuckled. "Well done, Glinda, well done! I can see you've come to the right place: we shall begin your lessons shortly. But first, I think it's time we reconvened at Greenspectre for a thorough debriefing: our good friend the Mentor will no doubt want to know what the soldiers of Unbridled Radiance were doing in the heartlands of the Deviant Nations. And of course, we've got to bring Omber here back into the fold and prepare a very thorough advertising campaign for the Amorphous League. Homeward bound, my friends, homeward bound to Greenspectre! We have great things to accomplish!"

And as the First of the Shapeless boomed with mirth, Elphaba shivered as she felt another shard of crystal beginning to emerge from her back – and another surge of memory ripple across her brain…

A/N: Up next... things get all montage-y!