Now I know what people mean by a story "writing itself". I was singing "No One Mourns The Wicked" in the shower and suddenly the idea just hit me like a ton of yellow bricks. It was initially going to go a completely different direction but when I started typing it out, plot bunnies had another idea. So please enjoy some Fiyeraba, my gift to you!

~Mindy

Fiyero groaned and turned over on his side, reaching towards the other side of the bed to find it empty. He squinted and sat up, ruffling his hair a little bit. Where was that woman? He yawned and trekked through the house in a drowsy haze, stopping when he heard a sound coming from the outside of the house. Stepping out onto the front porch and squinting under the harsh morning light, Fiyero found her.

"Fae, what are you doing?" he asked in a confused tone of voice. She was kneeling in the grass, digging a small hole in the ground with a rusty trowel.

After their escape from Oz, they had found a place to settle down. It was a small, quiet village where people kept to themselves. They owned a modest village on the outskirts of town and only ventured into it when they needed supplies. The villagers were at first alarmed and curious at the green skinned citizen, but eventually nobody really seemed to mind. That was the beauty of this place, everyone went about their own business. Nobody really cared what anyone else was up to. Most importantly, it was far enough away that nobody had ever heard stories of the Wicked Witch of the West.

It had been a struggle, but after a long time of searching, through all of the obstacles, they had found an answer to their biggest problem. Fiyero as a scarecrow. Elphaba had come across a strange woman in their journeys, learned in magic, who referred to herself as Yackle. The mysterious woman had been able to direct them to the solution they had been praying for. When the transformation was complete, it had been one of the few times Fiyero had seen Elphaba cry. Tears of joy, of course.

They quietly got married in a chapel sometime between then and settling down in their current spot. They both said they didn't care so much, that they felt married to each other and didn't need it to be binding, but they were both secretly glad they were able to have a ceremony. No matter how small.

"I'm gardening, what does it look like?" Elphaba responded, not looking up from her work. She busied her hands, digging through the rough dirt. Fiyero frowned sleepily.

"Gardening? But you've never gardened," he muttered.

"How hard can it be?" she answered distractedly. Fiyero noticed she had a packet of seeds and a watering can beside her. When had she gone into town?

"Yeah, but haven't you heard that old saying?" Fiyero said with a smirk. "Silly Elphaba! Nothing grows for the wicked. Everyone knows that."

Elphaba stilled her motions and glared up at him. "Can't a woman just pick up a new hobby without interrogations? How hard can this be? It's just a new challenge is all it is…" she said defensively.

"Alright, Fae. Alright. Look, it's early and I'm not even sure I'm awake right now. I'll be in bed if you need me. Or want me," he winked.

"Get out of here," Elphaba complained with a dramatic eye roll, throwing a wad of dirt at him. "Leave me alone."

Over the next few days, Elphaba would diligently tend to the garden. Fiyero would tease her, asking her was she was growing, and she was just mumble 'this and that'.

"Well I hope it's food, because we need some," he joked over dinner one night. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving," Elphaba muttered, taking a bite from her own plate.

"Yes but maybe those magic seeds you're planting will grow into a never ending supply of food and we'll never have to shop again—or maybe a beanstalk will-"

"You exhaust me," Elphaba said wearily, putting her hands over her face.

"You love me."

"Eat your food."

The next morning Fiyero found her out in the garden again. This time she was just staring at it, arms crossed. It looked like she had already watered it. Fiyero snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Wow…it's um…it's really coming along, huh?" he teased her.

She sighed sharply and glared down at the patch of dirt.

"It will…" she mumbled to herself. "It has to. I mean—anyone can garden. So why shouldn't I be able to?"

Fiyero laughed once. "Because you're you," he argued, releasing his hold on her. "And like I said, nothing grows for the wick-"

"Stop saying that," she said harshly, whipping around and glaring at him icily. Fiyero was a little taken aback.

"I was just kidding, Fae."

"Yeah well cut it out. Stop telling me it'll never grow. Stop telling me what I can and can't do. There's no reason that I shouldn't be a fantastic—gardener!" she practically spat, dashing into the house and slamming the door.

"Geez…" Fiyero muttered, running a hand through his hair. He was just kidding, he didn't know she'd get so touchy. Still, he was feeling guilty so he made her dinner as a peace offering that night and their spat was forgotten.

A few weeks past and still nothing grew in the tiny garden. Fiyero learned his lesson and didn't bother or question her on her pursuits anymore, not wanting her to fly off the handle again. They never said another word about it until one night at dusk. Fiyero was doing the dishes in the kitchen when he heard a muffled but upset voice coming from outside.

He ventured out onto the front porch to see Elphaba kneeling by her little garden, if you could call it that.

"Why aren't you growing!?" she said angrily, gesturing angrily to the barren space. "Why can't you-"

"Fae?" Fiyero announced himself in a concerned voice.

Elphaba turned her head around and stood up quickly.

"You were right, Fiyero. You're right. Nothing grows for the wicked, nothing grows for me. I can't do this. I gave it my best shot, you know? But nothing can grow for me, and do you want to know why? All I can do is destroy! Everything I touch I just-mangle!" She made and angry gesture to the green grass growing along the path in their front yard which automatically turned brown and shriveled to make a point. She made an angry sound and covered her face with her hands.

Fiyero walked down the steps, worried at her odd behavior. "Fae I was just kidding! You know that's not true, you don't destroy everything."

"I screw everything up! I can't cultivate life, I can only damage it. No matter how good my intentions, things just end in disaster."

"Fae, it's alright…" Fiyero said soothingly. He put his hands on the sides of her face and was alarmed to see that her eyes were full of tears, now spilling down her cheeks quickly. She hardly ever cried.

"It's only a garden, it doesn't matter," he told her, wiping her tears away.

"Yes but if I can't even raise a Ozdamned plant how am I supposed to raise a baby?!" she blurted out.

They both froze and both of their eyes widened, Fiyero's hands still framing her teary face.

"What?" he said in a small voice. Elphaba stayed unmoving for a moment, staring him in the eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she finally confessed in a whisper.

Fiyero said nothing for a long moment, too shocked for words, until he pulled her into his arms and hugged her.

"Fae…this is…" he whispered.

"What?"

"This is wonderful news," he assured her. She sniffed and closed her eyes, Fiyero placed a small kiss to her forehead, still completely stunned.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. How long have you known?" he asked gently, wiping the remaining tears off of her face.

"A few weeks," she mumbled. "I'm not sure how far along…but I'm sure."

"Oh Fae…" Fiyero responded, not sure what to say. He kissed her softly for a lingering moment. The sun was setting by now and it was starting to get dark.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he said, already knowing that he was going to watch over her like a hawk from now on. She nodded and they went inside, but not before she looked over her shoulder at the lifeless garden behind her.

The next morning Fiyero awoke early, earlier than Elphaba for a change. He decided that he wanted to make her breakfast in bed to celebrate. While in the kitchen he looked out the window to glance at her "garden". He dropped everything he was doing.

"Fae, Fae wake up!" he said, stirring her gently. She squinted at him in confusion, sitting up a bit. The sun was hardly up yet.

"Yero what is it?" she asked.

"I want you to come look at something."

He took her hand and led her outside, the golden morning sun beating down. He pointed to the ground where a tiny green sprout had appeared, making it's feeble way through the soil.

Elphaba's eyes widened for a moment, surprised at the sight.

"Is that-" she questioned for a moment before breaking into a wide, almost relieved smile. The look on her face melted Fiyero's heart. He wrapped his arms around her middle and rested his chin on her shoulder as he had done many times before, but this time knowing that their unborn child was growing in there, it felt nothing short of miraculous.

"So what are you growing?" he asked her softly. She smiled and gave a small laugh, eyes nearly filling with tears again.

"Poppies. They're supposed to grow into poppies." Fiyero's grin matched hers. She couldn't have picked a more difficult flower to grow, but they both knew the significance. He released his hold from around her and took both of her hands so she would face him.

"You know what Fae?" he said, squeezing her hands.

"What?"

"I think you're going to make a fantastic…gardener," he winked. She just smiled in response. He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her up the stairs.

"Come inside, I'm making you breakfast," he told her.

"Oh…" she said, biting her lip.

"What? What's that face?"

"Let's just say I hope you'll be a better gardener than you are a cook."