I've been working on this story for quite some time, and am very proud of it, I hope you like it too!

Disclaimer: If I owned Wicked, Madam Morrible would die a slow, painful death at the end (or just thrown off the Wizard's Balloon. I'm flexible). Unfortunately, I don't own it so they decided to make Galinda uncreative and chuck Horrible Morrible in jail.

Had it been up to Meij, he would have never joined the Gale Force. Not in a million years.

He had seen what they were capable of, how they tortured the innocent Animals out of pure spite, beat the defenseless Quadlings for reasons so outrageously insignificant that it was sickening, and, worst of all, sat around laughing at the end of the day about the evil deeds that were done, expecting him to join in.

Unfortunately, he had to be in the army whether he liked it or not. At the age of 16, his father died in a freak accident, leaving Meij to care for his Mother, little brother, and terribly sick younger sister. They had little money, and a great need for food and medication. So, he did the only thing he could; he dropped out of school and went in search for a job.

It hadn't been easy to find one. Most jobs didn't pay enough or didn't take people with unfinished education. He just needed one that could pay the bills and medication cost. The only choice left was the Gale Force. At the time, it didn't seem too bad. Sure, he would be away for weeks at a time, but it certainly paid enough and was easy enough to do. He now regretted ever even considering it.

He supposed though, that their new Caption of the Guard, Fiyero Tigular, wasn't that bad, even if he was a bit fanatical about finding the Wicked Witch of the West, but who wasn't? Besides, he seemed to discourage the slaughter of Animals, which was fine by Meij. They never seemed to be able to find her though, it was as if the whole thing was just a great goose-chase across Oz, searching for a person that was a master of hiding.

One day, however, they all looked up from their dinners to see a black, cloaked figure flying low on a broomstick. The men rushed for their guns, Fiyero trying to yell something about keeping her alive for interrogation and not aiming for kill. The men did not listen, they pointed their guns skyward and, with a noise that was louder than a cannon, all shot at once.

The figure tumbled towards the ground, cloak whipping around her. Meij looked around to see Caption Tiggular's reaction, expecting to see him happy or excited. Instead, his face was contorted in anger, and fear. "You fools!" he shouted, "Did you not hear me say to keep her alive?" All the men shuffled their feet nervously, Fiyero shook his head. "We'll start a search party for her, if she is found, do not harm her, but bring her back here."

He told them to divide into pairs and, as always, Meij was left alone. Fiyero just sighed and instructed him to go by himself. Since no one saw where the witch landed, they were all sent in different directions, each to search a separate part of the forest.

Meij leaned against the tree thinking about where he would search first. If he was an injured, old, green hag, where would he hide? Probably not in a cave or tree, but a tiny, unnoticeable clearing that nobody would take a second glance at. Perfect, now he just had to find it.

Suddenly, there was a sound of pained footsteps, along with huffing to his left. Trusting his gut instinct, he followed the noise into a clearing that was almost exactly like the one he pictured. How terribly, ironically easy. Almost way too easy.

Just as he expected, the figure of his, and the rest of Oz's nightmares stepped out into the clearing. He was frozen, unable to move or call for help, so he just watched he. She opened up her bag (which was popularly rumored to carry her victim's souls in) and took out some bandage and a pair of tweezers. She lowered them to her ankle, which was bleeding immensely from a gunshot wound. He stupidly gasped at the realization of what she was going to do, and was heard.

The Witch jumped up and spun around, then fell back from the pain in her ankle. Her hat hid her face and yet he could feel her eyes directly on his. "Go on," she said in a voice that was somehow familiar. "Shoot me, or drag me back to the camp to be shot, I obviously can't fight back." Now was the time to run, call for aid, or point a gun, but something in that voice made him not, instead he stepped out into the open so she could see him.

He felt her scan him, analyzing whether he was trustworthy or not. The Witch sighed, "I swear, you soldiers get younger every day. How old are you?"

He answered her, scared of what she might do if he didn't. "I'm 18."

"Not very old at all, are you? Of course, I can't exactingly talk." He was confused, why would she make a reference to her being young? Suddenly, he remembered who the voice belonged to. The Wicked Witch of the West sounded like his younger sister.

The one who was sick and dying at home, desperately clinging to life. He felt a pain shoot through his chest at the thought and slumped to the ground, now at eye level with the Witch. So much for appearing strong.

The voice, though, suggested someone of youth and possible beauty, like his sister's, not a Wicked Witch. Exactly how old was the Witch? "Can...I mean, would you mind taking off your hat? Please?"

"Why?" the voice sounded suspicious.

"Just please? I need to see something." To his great surprise, the Witch lifted her hands to her head and slowly removed her hat.

Meji caught his breath at the sight of her.

She was green as Oz said, an apple-green that was so unnatural and disconcerting that it took a while to get over the initial shock. The next thing he noticed was how young she was. The Witch was barley a day over 20, looking as though she should be studying for a collage exam, not terrorizing Oz's people. Her face was sharp and angular, but still carried a look of youth, not unlike himself. The hair that was normally tied up and out of sight had fallen out and cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, and was not an ugly brown as most said, but rather a dark ebony black.

He couldn't believe this was the Witch of the West, hated and feared by everyone, including himself, and thought to be so hideous that just looking at her would melt you. Yet, here she was, sitting across from him with a wounded ankle, no older than young Caption Fiyero and Lady Glinda themselves, only two years older than himself. She looked fierce, determined, passionate, terrifying all in one. There was another emotion in her eyes though.... Fear maybe? Or perhaps sadness?

"Is there something in my teeth?" the Witch snapped. It took a while to realize he had been staring.

"Oh, no, I'm terribly sorry. It's just...you're younger than I thought you would be."

"Yes, well, I haven't exactingly been 'The Wicked Witch of the West' long enough to be an ugly old hag, now have I?"

"It's just that everyone always said...." he trailed off, fearing the result if he was to offend her.

"It's time you learned to not believe what everyone says to you."she frowned.

"I'm sorry...." he hung his head in shame and she sighed.

"What's you're name?"

"Meji. Meji Allim." He looked back up at her.

She nodded. smiling slightly, "Good family. My name is Elphaba Thropp, and it's a pleasure to meet you." He must have looked startled, for she rolled her eyes, "Do you really think my name from birth was 'The Wicked Witch of the West'?" He didn't really know what to think, as he always just thought that the Witch had sprung into the World as she was, ugly and green. Obviously he was very wrong.

They sat like that for a minute, considering each other, Finally, the Witch, or Elphaba as she called herself, stood up by supporting her weight on her broom. "Well Meji, if you don't mind, I need to get going before another soldier happens to stumble upon us. Unless, of course, you're taking me back to your camp." It was almost a challenge, but a halfhearted one if that. Elphaba obviously was in no fit state to go anywhere, captured or not. Meji sighed, he supposed that just talking to her in a non-abusive way was against the law. What would a little bit of help do?

"Let me see your ankle." She looked at him for a long time. Long enough to make him doubt she would accept, but Elphaba surprised him again by sitting again, sticking out her leg, then handing him the materials she held.

He winched at the sight of the ankle, but could see that the cut was probably painful, but not deep. He doubted the bullet was even there. "This may hurt a bit." he warned. She just nodded and clenched her teeth, expecting his to have to dig for it, but instead he took out of his bag some gel. Gently, he rubbed it over the wound and heard her gasp at the pain of it.

Once the wound was wrapped, he saw her relax as the pain subsided. "You OK?" he asked, worried.

She stood up and gingerly tested her weight on the ankle, then grinned wildly, "I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, I've been through worse. Of course I'm alright."

Elphaba looked off into space, as if analyzing an idea. She must have eventually figured out something, for The Witch started to dig through her bag. Out of the depths came an old quill, a tiny bottle of ink and a scrap of parchment.

She scribbled something on it then tore it in half and gave both pieces to him. "I trust you not to read this, please give both to your Captain Tiggular. Tell him in private, when there's no extra ears around, what really happened. Then say that The Witch of the West sends her cheerful greetings along with the warning to not think about finding her too hard, it'll waste the precious few braincells he has. Also tell him that she misses him and Glinda very much, but doesn't regret her choice. Then make up some excuse about me capturing you and forcing you to deliver these notes for him to tell the public."

He wrinkled his brow in confusion, "The Cation of the Guards? But how do you kno-"

She shook her head, "You've been kind to me, kinder than any other human I've seen in a year and you deserve to know. Unfortunately, there is no time for the story, and too many lives would be risked by the telling."

He nodded, understanding. She smiled again, "This is goodbye then Meji, you hopefully won't be seeing me again." She placed a green hand on his shoulder, "Always remember, there are two sides to every story, no matter who the villain is," and with that, she was gone. They never did see one another again, but Meji remembered her parting words for the rest of his life.

She was right, there certainly was two sides to every story, and sometimes the side you first didn't look at was the better choice.

No "Grand Finale" ending, but I'm happy with it. Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think.