A/N: I will get back to Teeth soon, but this just popped into my head while listening to the radio. Taylor Swift came on and the lyric inspired this one shot. Set in the Emerald City part of the book.

Disclaimer: I do not own the lyric "Your eyes looking like coming home", I do not own any recognizable characters, events etc.

Your Eyes Looking Like Coming Home.
Every night a phenomenal transformation occurred in the largest city in all of Oz; The Emerald City ceased being an image of radiance and class and descended into hellish depravity. Even the stars were loath to share their beauty with a place so perverted. Culture receded at the battle cry of the minions of the night. The thieves, the beggars and the whores walked the streets where during the day people of the likes of Lady Glinda the Good could be spied. Even the stars would not deign to share their incandescence with the gloom of the world so very far below. Morally and physically.

Among them walked the most feared person in the land, the most depraved. Or so the publicity said. The other minions of the moon cared not, she was just another piece of trash disposed of into the night by a rich person. She was fair game.

Elphaba was swathed in a black darker than the night and as such was invisible bar her movement. The cloak revealed not a speck of a green skin. It wasn't so much that the scum of the city cared about her skin, more so that its vibrancy made her an easier target. And there were several groups who had not yet had their fun with the green woman. Tonight would not be a good night for a fight, she reasoned. Her latest mission had gone horribly wrong. She'd been recognized at the whorehouse where she was targeting one of the Wizard's officials. Now hot blood was seeping through her torn dress and onto the cloak. The problem was not so much the depth of the wounds, though on her skinny frame it was a miracle none had found bone, rather that there was barely a patch of skin on her body not cut. I bet Glinda doesn't have to deal with this, she thought wryly before realizing the thought was pointless and she didn't have energy to waste. She hurried on, thankful she was remaining inconspicuous.

By the time she reached the door to the most recent hole she had crawled into, she could feel that most of her wounds had scabbed. The emotional pain was what she was registering. One last look over her shoulder and she slunk inside, closed the door and leant on it. Immediately she jumped off, for two reasons; one she had forgotten the sores on her back and two, someone was in the room. A whimper escaped her throat as she collapsed to her knees, palms stretched flat on the floor in front of her. Come what may, she thought and closed her eyes.

She felt her cloak being removed from her shoulders, but gently. It was not the movement of someone who wanted to attack her. The floorboards creaked as whoever had taken off the cloak knelt near her. Not daring to open her eyes she simply waited for the person's next move. Hands were in her hair, gently unwinding it and smoothing it out before letting it simply fall around her. The hand stroked gently down her back, paused and was removed. A moment passed in absolute stillness.

"Oh, Fae." Fiyero's baritone voice breathed. It was laced with the concern of someone watching their lover in absolute pain and wanting to take it from them. But utterly helpless. "Stay there, I'll fix it."

Fiyero cursed inwardly as he moved away from the woman he loved, who was too overwhelmed to move. He'd been meant to leave her in peace tonight but had heard the ruckus at the brothel on Fern Street and guessed correctly she'd been involved. He found the appropriate poultice and returned to her side. She hadn't moved at all other than developing a shake. He slowly removed her dress, not wishing to tear any of the scabs on her green skin, her beautiful green skin, he added. They all looked like glancing blows with a knife, as if she's been just a little too quick for them. There was one that ran across her chest and he thanked Lurline she had exceptional reflexes. She may've come home injured, but she was home.

"Fae look at me." He asked of her when he'd finished applying the paste. She complied.

Her eyes were the richest brown flecked with the silver of the moon. They had many layers, and could see through the layers of people to their souls. But now they were hollow, she felt defeated. He stayed in them, trapped, enamoured. He couldn't tear himself away from their beauty, and could find no reason to attempt to do so. Finally the light returned to them and they were complete. He was left breathless staring into their depths and more than happy to suffocate in them. But then a moment later, they once again breathed life back into him. They lit a fire that burned and raged and was beautiful. This was her soul. Complicated and dangerous, but to him perfect. Most amazing of all he saw love, and it was for him. It engulfed him, and coursed through his veins more important than blood to keep him alive.

Looking into his eyes was seeing the sea when wave over wave had crashed in on top of each other. They were flecked with the gold of the desert he had grown up in. The burning sun that illuminated her way, her life. They held her and kept her warm even when the night was so very cold. They were safe, they kept her safe and she could see he loved her just as much as she loved him. They saw things a different way and made the world clearer for her too. In his eyes the sea was calmness and peace. Incredibly, and at this her heart leapt in surprise, she could see herself in them and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she belonged there. The apartment she stayed in was nothing, a dolls house. What she looked deep into now, his eyes and being in them, was truly coming home.