A/N: And thus we reach the end of the road of good intentions. A massive thanks to all my reviewers. LillyFae who has been absolutely wonderful. Elphieispopular whose loyalty to my work is admirable. Doglover645 who has stuck with me from the beginning and UndefeatedAura who is proving to be a very worthwhile human being. If all the other chapters have been to the tune of No Good Deed, this is to the few bars of music in No One Mourns the Wicked just before Frex says take it away.

Road of Good Intentions: Epilogue

No one mourned the wicked. There was joy and celebration all across the land. People hailed Dorothy and a Saint for her deed. The Ozians believed that, with the Witch dead, life would be full and blissful. They were wrong and, most of them didn't even notice. Instead there was a profound emptiness that took the hearts of the Ozians in a vice-like grip.

Two points seemed emptier than most. This despite one being surrounded by yards of material long enough to travel the entire length of the Yellow Brick Road and the other being in the biggest city in the country.

The Good Witch smiled at her fellow Ozians, but it came out more of a grimace. She gives them words of life and encouragement, but they feel dead and hollow. If she had been a brighter woman she'd have known the lack she was feeling was the absence of thought the woman she had long ago known as Elphaba. The green woman had been the moral compass of her ship that was so often stranded at sea. But she was not a smarter woman and, the one who might have told her was dead. So she continued spouting words she was loathe to choke out that meant nothing.

The boy was no one. Half-dead already and barely a day had gone by. He knew what he lacked, aside from food. She was gone. His mother, his protector, his teacher, his keeper. He had learned alright. He had learned the harshness of the world because it had taken her. Now for her lack, it's edges were sharper and the cloaks to hold the knives that much denser. She was the oncoming storm that swept around those who could not stand it, preparing to tear down the structures that put down the Ozians. She was gone. And so was Oz's hope, for she was the one to pull them from under the Wizards thumb. He was nothing without her.

At last she was dead and gone. Without her to hold it at bay, the emptiness spread through the land. Every day the terror grew in the nothingness. The carapace was filled with her reputation for malice. So, though true wickedness spread, Oz kept on dancing through because the Wicked was gone. Not so much as a lily on her grave. It was all for nothing.

No one mourned the wicked.

A/N: And we're done with this For Good! I promise to work on Bones tomorrow. I also have a crossover idea that you might see soonish.