Chapter Text
The icy rain pelts against her skin so cold it’s almost scalding. The way it burns as it slices through her clothes, shivers wracking her frame even as the blood boils in her veins. Can almost see the steam lifting off her reflection in the glass balcony doors, the translucent visage of herself lit only by the faint pink glow emanating from inside. A wicked sneer drawn across her face
She briefly wonders if they’ll be locked— but the thought is foolish if she knows anything about Glinda. Though Elphaba suddenly can’t find herself certain of anything anymore.
She’s only been surveilling the blonde for a day or so now, at most. (Although there is a certain voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously familiar that teases how “it’s approaching more like light stalking at this point, isn’t it, Elphie?”)
Elphaba is not meant to miss her so much. So she clings desperately tight to her fury as she rounds on the doors.
-
The first week of being a fugitive had been, bar none, one of the worst weeks of Elphaba Thropp’s life.
Truthfully, there had always been a kind of rakish wonderment to the few outlaw stories she’d managed to find tucked away in the dusty corners of their home library. Tales of hopping on trains and going wherever the wind takes you. Sleeping under vast, open skies filled with stars twinkling in the night and an endless expanse of possibility. The roads lined with wild blackberry bushes and orange trees, cut with clear freshwater streams that sparkled in the warm sunlight. Remembers hiding away, dreaming of running off on her own to find her own way. Stories of adventure. Stories of freedom.
The reality was far from her childhood fantasies.
The reality was sweat and bugs. Curling up in any mostly dry patch of dirt she could find, hidden underneath damp, rotting tree roots. Drifting into fits of half-sleep only to jerk awake at the crack of a nearby tree branch, heart racing, sure she was about to be found at any moment and dragged back to the Palace kicking and screaming.
On one starless night she snuck into town, a sleepy little farm village tucked right into the edge of the forest. Quaint little stone houses with ivy crawling up the sides, a yellowish-red moss clinging to the roofs. All crowded in close together like a pack seeking shelter, surrounded by acres and acres of fields.
It had been days and she was scared. And desperate. She’d meant to stick to the shadows, pick a few overripe crops that wouldn’t be missed. Maybe snag an extra outfit off a laundry line if she could find one. The thought of stealing left a pit in her stomach, but this was no time to be precious.
She hadn’t expected for all the windows to be boarded up. For a general sense of fear to be hanging thick in the air on the empty streets.
Only, they weren’t entirely empty.
A man, lanky and young, clothes stained with sweat and dirt, who nearly dropped his lantern at the sight of her. He almost looked like one of the students who sat four chairs to her left in Professor Nandra’s Alchemy 101, all freckles and long limbs. There was a gun slung loosely over his shoulder. His other hand was gripping the strap in an uncomfortable way, like he wasn’t used to the extra weight.
They stood, frozen across the cracked cobblestone road. She wanted to say something. Anything. Tell him that it was alright, that he didn’t need to be afraid and this was all just one big misunderstanding. Or one big straight up lie, more like. But Elphaba knew that look.
She held her hands up slowly, broom clutched tight in one, the other open in what she hoped was an unthreatening manner, “Now just wait, please—”
Then the lantern went clattering to the ground, a low noise of fear in his throat as he went scrambling for the rifle.
Elphaba was gone before he could even get the gun properly in his hands. Pushed straight into the air, tearing through the fields back towards the safety of the treeline. The shot rang out much too far behind her, but the crack of it still rattled about in her skull, turning her bones to jelly the moment she crashed through the trees, scraping along the ground.
She pressed herself up against a tree, trembling even with the danger far behind her. A hand clenching and unclenching against her chest as she tried to pull in ragged gulps of air, the world tilting in and out of focus, black on the edges of her vision. He’d shot at her. He’d tried to shoot her. All of a sudden everything was too real and couldn’t be real at the same time. One of the imaginary worlds from her books come to life.
Tears tracked hot lines down her cheeks as her head began to go light and fuzzy as she just tried to breathe.
What had she done? What was she doing? What could she possibly do now?
People screamed when they caught sight of her.
She blamed the near constant hunger on the wave of homesickness that began to eat away at her fortitude.
On the particularly bitter mornings, before the sun could make the air humid and rank, she yearned for Colwen Grounds. The way the soft rays of sun would peek into her childhood bedroom, always waking her a clock-tick or two just before Dulcibear would poke her head in. The air so balmy and thick Elphaba would find her wool blanket on the floor, kicked off sometime in her sleep in a fit of sweaty dreams. The flowers in the garden and the way they would erupt at springtime, where she could hide and blend in amongst the swatches of color for a moment or two of peace.
And just once, in the damp night after what was no doubt one of Morrible’s horrible storms that had finally found her: she missed her Mother. Huddled tight in her cape under a small rock overhang somewhere deep in a forest, trembling against the vicious wind which was making sure to reach her no matter how small she tried to make herself.
She tried to conjure just a single memory. But no matter how hard she tried, it passed through her mind like smoke, slipping through her fingers before she could grasp anything real. Leaving only the vague sensation behind, like lilac and something underneath that was herby and spicy. Warm arms and gentle lips on her forehead.
Mostly though, her traitorous mind turned to Shiz.
Longed for the bliss of her dorm room and its standard issue bed with its dry cotton sheets. The sweet smell of Galinda’s perfume still faintly lingering in the air. The pitter-patter of the blonde’s heels much too early in the morning as she flitted about the room, putting on makeup, trying on outfits, and humming to herself in that way she didn’t realize she was doing it.
How at every meal, Galinda would slide in next to her and no one else. Much too close and solid and warm and real. Her laugh, crisp and bright, in Elphaba’s ears as she’d always pretend not to notice the blonde sneaking bites off her plate. How she was only too happy to let her, because it was her plate she was reaching for.
There were brief moments she wondered if Glinda was missing her also. If their room felt too big and empty without her. Somehow she knew the answer was yes and was surprised to find it didn’t make her feel any better.
(A lie. It did make her feel better, which only managed to make her feel worse in the end).
When she decided to break into the old dorm room, it was only to see if she could grab a couple extra pairs of clothes, get her mother’s green bottle, and maybe her hair oil if there was time to spare. Perhaps a book or two.
Certainly not because she wanted to see Glinda again. No. Definitely not.
The moon was a lidded eye casting the University in a dim solemn light as it regarded her ride across the sky. It was odd to see the commons so empty, the pathways clear of late revelers and early risers, not a soul in sight other than a few patrolling guards who looked too scared of their own shadows.
Briefly, she wondered if the school had instituted a curfew. It was the only reason she could think of to make the place look so abandoned. Keep the students inside and safe, lest the Wicked Witch of the West descend upon them and do…what exactly?
Her boots touched down softly on their balcony, a forlorn ache clenching against her ribs as she hesitated at the doors, hands outstretched and hovering in the air. Would Glinda be upset? Would she even want to see her? But she couldn’t resist the pull to go inside, the pull to know for certain. So she followed the urge before she could talk herself out of it, gripped the handles and pulled and they shuttered against the frame.
Locked.
In what world did Glinda remember to latch the doors before going to sleep?
Elphaba had always needed to remind her. Even when they’d loathed each other. When Glinda would sweep back in from her nightly bout of fresh air, an essential practice for her beauty sleep, Elphaba snapping at her to lock the doors. At which point Glinda would whirl around and mock, ‘what did she expect, someone to scale up the trellis to the balcony to break in that way?’ Elphaba had just taken to latching the doors herself after that.
A sour feeling began to fester in Elphaba’s stomach. She cupped her hands against the glass, holding her breath as she strained to peer inside, but it was far too dark, the reflection from the half-moon too bright against the glass. Something didn’t feel right, a wrongness that made her itch in her skin, take a step back and lift her hand before she could think of any other solution.
Her magic was clumsy and awkward, reaching for the hook on the inside. She could feel it shivering in its place before it popped out with a clatter, the door swinging out with a force she hadn’t intended.
She couldn’t comprehend the empty room.
Her trunks, her clothes, her books, her essay on King Pastoria’s reign she’d left half-finished on her desk, even her bed. Gone. All gone.
Perhaps it was silly the way the sorrow rippled through her. She’d already lost so much, what more were a few dresses and textbooks. Her mother’s bottle. She’d always fancied herself above material possessions. Had witnessed first hand the way Father doted upon Nessa and what it had done to her with endless gifts on gifts, gowns, shoes, jewelry. Anything to fill in the place of what Nessa had actually wanted.
Elphaba had convinced herself she needed none of it, that she was content with the things she had.
But they had still been her things, carefully curated over a lifetime, the last things she had that still connected her to Elphaba. With nothing except a broomstick, a pointed hat, a cape, and a spellbook. No more than the Wicked Witch, who stood alone in a barren dorm room.
It must have been that her brain was slow and addled from hunger and shock, but something sparked as she twisted around the room once more, broom clutched firm in her fist as she took in the nothingness.
The room was empty. No vanity littered with perfume bottles and lipstick tubes, no pink valises stuffed into every corner, not even the yellow dress the girl had laid out on the bed that morning to change into after seeing Elphaba off to the station. “The perfect lunch date outfit to not miss your roommate too terribly in as she’s off to fulfill her destiny.” She had explained to Elphaba with a weak laugh as she’d smoothed out invisible wrinkles, unable to meet her eyes.
Where was Glinda?
Fear, hot and fast, replaced the unease as she gripped tight at the fabric over her stomach, a deep pit forming. Had Glinda not returned to Shiz?
The vision of Glinda surrounded by guards on that tower came to her unbidden. Their hands digging into her arms hard enough to leave indents behind, jerking off her feet as she thrashed about, calling out Elphaba’s name.
There is a long moment of frozen terror where what she had assumed happened and what could’ve possibly happened can’t fit together in her mind. There is no world in which she’d thought that Glinda was not safely back at school where she belonged.
She stumbled in her haste to get back to the balcony, tripping over the end of her cape and slamming hard into the door frame, teeth rattling in her skull. Elphaba had left her behind, again. She’d promised. There were still hours until dawn, and she was off like a black streak against an otherwise clear night sky.
The cold air burned through her lungs, the early summer heat never reached this far up, the altitude thin and thready and Elphaba’s head swam with it. Fingers frozen and stiff against the broom handle as she dipped down to skate just a little lower, the Emerald City approaching on the horizon.
The city looked odd to her though, and she couldn’t place it until she got a bit closer, but it looked smaller somehow. Large swathes of the city sat dark like a patchwork of light with the palace lit up like a jeweled beacon at its center, beckoning people in from the shadows. It seemed most of the inner ring had their lights back, while the outer neighborhoods sat forgotten. Figures.
She landed in one of patches of black closer to the east side of the palace but still with a good enough view of the front gate. The rooftop was unsurprisingly dingy, scraps of newspapers and empty liquor bottles littered the ground, but the place looked like it’d gone untouched for a while and a small rundown shed stood nestled near the edge.
Elphaba swept her gaze over the towers and spires she could see, lit up brightly against the night, but it was useless. She wouldn’t even know what to look for if she had spotted anything.
Unless that thing was Glinda, and from this distance there would be no way to spy her with anything less than her waving her arms up and down with a giant sign attached to her that said ‘I’m Here Elphie! I’m Here!’. And it’s not like she had a plan, anyhow, other than to fly in and scoop her up like a vulture.
For the first time since she’d leapt from the attic, she felt the book burn through the bag at her hip. Like it was trying to tell her something, or simply to remind her that it was still there. It unnerved her, and as she curled up to sleep tucked around her broom in that dusty shed surrounded by boxes and rusty tools, she laid her bag a couple feet from her.
Panic still gnawed at her chest, pulled her into a fitful sleep of semi-incomprehensible dreams filled with glass rods and rotten meat.
The morning had arrived oppressive and humid, Elphaba startled awake covered in a thin sheen of sweat, baking in the small space. She didn’t dare venture out until she was sure the sun had dipped behind a spire, bathing the rooftop in shade and safe enough for her to remain unseen if she kept low. The noise of the city rumbled up at her, too far to really hear any of the chatter going on, but she could hear the carriages roll by, the bustle of voices, the smell of fried dough lifting up on the hot air.
Elphaba grabbed at her stomach as it seized, crumpling in on itself like a used napkin. She couldn’t go on like this, she knew that. And it was times like these where a small risk was worth it. An alley slotted between her building and the next, the smell of mildew and trash burning her nostrils as she floated down into its shadows. She crouched behind a pile of boxes, wet and crumbling, with faded ‘Wonderful Whiskey’ labels on its sides.
She could just barely make out a food cart between a few broken slats, people in emerald green finery, milling about and chattering down past Elphaba’s hiding place as the sidewalks filled with folks on their lunch breaks. The cart flashed in her vision as people walked by, but it was enough.
She lifted a hand, fingers curling in, as she focused on the dark green blocks at the base keeping the cart steady. She would only get one chance. A bead of sweat lazily tracked its way down her temple as she watched the plump man shake a small sieve of powdered sugar over two buns wrapped in yellow paper before handing them off to the two girls waiting.
Just as their hands were outstretched, she reached with her magic and yanked one of the blocks out from underneath. The cart jerked to one side, tipping and slamming a corner into the ground, sending a variety of buns and a cloud of sugar into the air. Gasps and cries of surprise from the crowd around as the vendor desperately grabbed onto what he could save.
One of the buns no one would miss flew through the air in the pandemonium towards Elphaba’s dark spot. She misjudged the speed and the aim, it bounced off one of the crates and hit the ground near her feet, she cursed and scooped it up. Only a little grime, easily wiped off as her stomach churned, the sickly sweet smell almost making her nauseous as she savored her first bite.
She hunched down deeper against the wall as a small group helped the man right his cart, the poor man’s face beet red as he stammered out his ‘how could that have happened’ and his ‘thank you, thank you’ and ‘that’s very kind of you’ as the block was replaced and ruined buns discarded.
One of the two girls from the line helped right the umbrella that had gone a little askew in the chaos, “No thanks necessary sir, of course.” She twisted her head to look at her companion, other hand coming up to rest delicately over her heart, “It’s what Glinda would do, after all.”
Elphaba froze, bite halfway to her mouth.
She couldn’t have heard that right.
“Oh, so true of you.” Her friend pulled her in by the elbow over to the side, out of the way as the crowds began to disperse. “Did you simply see her in that outfit for the Quadling Prime Minister’s 2nd Annual Charity Frivolity Ball last night? I just about died!”
“I know, I know! I saw it and went right out and bought this ascot— it was the closest shade of pink I could find on such short notice —it really just ties everything together, don’t you think?”
“No, it’s positiveily divine! And did you see her dress for the recent press address she did in Oz Weekly?” There was the rustle of pages and Elphaba scrambled to one side to find a gap to give her a better look. “I wish I could look that good in taffeta.”
She slouched down, left eye pressed to a decent crack through one of the crates, her hand fell in something sticky and wet that she refused to look down at.
“She’s supposed to be at some fancy delegate dinner tonight with some Winkie officials over at that restaurant in the Enclave—you know the one—they serve those caramelized poached pears everyone was raving about weeks ago, Oak and something?” Elphaba could just spy two pairs of arms, one of them flipping through some kind of magazine or editorial. “Anyway, I can’t wait to see what she wears. It’s practically unfair how good she looks after everything she’s been through.”
She twisted her neck down to try and catch a glimpse of the cover but jabbed her cheek with a rotten splinter in the process.
“You know I heard that the Witch was actually there when Glinda got her invitation from the Wizard. She went, like, crazed with jealousy, or something,” Her friend gave her a dramatic gasp in the deliberate pause, Elphaba’s single bite of food in days sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach, “Yeah—I know! You know that’s probably why she blew all the power out in the city, to try and stop Glinda from getting to meet with him.”
“I didn’t have power for two whole days after that mess. I had to go and stay with Mother up in Royal Hill, and you know how much I hate the way her place reeks of patchouli and gin. Ugh, poor Glinda...”
Poor Glinda.
It couldn’t be true. Something was— something had to be wrong. Elphaba tightened her grip on the broom, the bun half forgotten in her lap as she sucked in a ragged gasp of air, too busy to realize she’d been holding her breath. That couldn’t be what they were telling people. Couldn’t be what people were believing. It’s a ploy. A trick. A scheme of some kind to get her off her guard somehow. Well it wouldn’t work.
A clock chime sounded off somewhere in the distance. She heard the girls laugh as they began to shuffle off, crinkling their papers into the trash as they bustled past the mouth of the alley.
“Larmana from the Emerald Variety says that she’s probably not even fully human, that she’s actually all covered in scales and that’s why she’s green!”
“Ew! Oh Oz— do you think she molts?”
Elphaba squeezed her eyes shut as their chittering disappeared around the corner. Gnashed down on her teeth against the embarrassing prick of tears. Why should she care? It’s not any different to all the things she’d heard whispered behind closed doors all her life. And that’s not even to count for the even worse things people would say straight to her face.
Still, she afforded herself a small moment, head tilted back against the wall behind her, eyes closed against the world. It was a luxury she didn’t often give herself these days until the burn of exhaustion was too much and her body shut itself down.
But for just a moment, she hadn’t cared.
And then she got up. Wiped her hand against the side of her skirt, grabbed her meager excuse for a meal she would have to stomach at some point, and flew back up to the solace of the rooftop. The sun was stark and crisp up in the sky, beating down on the rooftop now and she knew she had hours before it would dip down far enough for her to feel any semblance of safety to fly.
But she’d needed to see it for herself.
The restaurant had been easier to find than she’d initially worried, what with the small crowd formed out front. An amalgamation of people waiting for the horse drawn carriage that pulled up in its gleaming gold finery. A spectacle Elphaba watched tucked down on another darkened rooftop, pressed up against the base of a spire like a gargoyle gazing down at the real people below.
She didn’t believe it until Glinda stepped out.
One of the footmen took her hand as she descended. A vision in a sheer purple dress with a deep orange slip underneath that made her look like a fading sunset. It wasn’t a dress Elphaba recognized.
She could hear Morrible's voice shouting above the rabble as Glinda took her first step on the cobblestone, the words echoey and hollow. “Your Glinda the Good!”
The flash of camera bulbs sparkled like stars on the ground as Morrible guided her with a soft hand on her back, the press of the horde kept back by thin rails of velvet ropes as they made their way down the center aisle.
Elphaba had seen Glinda work a crowd before, the girl essentially revered as royalty back at Shiz. But this was something different. Complete in her element, Elphaba observed her mouth moving, though Elphaba was far too high up to make out anything other than the general din of the (no doubt) asinine questions Glinda answered with a laugh and a practiced toss of her hair.
Elphaba watched as they entered the building. Could not look away. Eyes unblinking pulled to Glinda like a magnet, the camera lights burned like spots in her vision. All those times she’d envisioned Glinda alone in their room, heartbroken perhaps. The idea that Glinda was supposed to be nearly as miserable as she was. Missing her.
Rotten, comforting, and selfish thoughts. And not even true.
Grief lodged in her throat like the single bite from that sweet bun, stuck with nowhere to go that she kept trying to swallow around. Elphaba slid down the wall, no longer deigned to keep herself up. She was hungry. She was tired. And oh, how she ached. Worn down like sediment slowly piled up in a river. Too heavy.
How could she?
There was a rumble of thunder off in the distance, storm clouds forming just at the edge of the evening sky. A couple of glass bottles rattled on the rooftop, rolling in a nonexistent breeze as the air grew colder.
How dare she.
A single frosted drop of rain slid off the brim of her hat.
-
And now here she stands. On Glinda’s balcony. In an unnatural summer sleet storm.
Elphaba’s hands reach out to grip the ornate golden handles and pull. Unlocked— she can’t even feign surprise as she stands in the door frame. The warm pink light bathing a corner of the room doesn’t even begin to fill a quarter of the space.
The bedroom itself is larger than most of the houses back in Munchkinland. A sitting area with some of the most garish and uncomfortable looking couches and chairs Elphaba has ever seen, paired with an all glass table right in its center filled with empty teacups and a half finished meal. A four poster bed with hand carved etchings casts a vicious shadow against the far wall. No doubt the behemoth could easily sleep six, but the emerald green and gold bedding draped across its top looks untouched. A vanity with a million lights, covered in familiar makeup cases and perfume bottles.
Half unpacked pink suitcases Elphaba had been desperate to lay eyes on are strewn about the room in mismatched piles with no rhyme or reason. Blouses, skirts, jackets, camisoles, culottes, shawls and shoes of all varieties spilling out to take over the floor around them. The overflowing dress racks, the hat boxes, the trunks. They’re all here.
And a large, dark wood desk across the room with a warm pink light where a familiar blonde sleeps with her head resting on top of piles of papers.
Lightning flashes across the sky but Elphaba wants to beat it to the punch. She slams the balcony doors closed just before the thunder booms, letting the glass rattle in its frame. Glinda doesn’t shriek like Elphaba had hoped, but she does jerk awake at the desk, a few pages sliding to the floor as frightened eyes widen further as they land on her.
“Elphie—”
“Some private suite.” Her tone is not quite as cold and collected as she would like it to be, but she sees it travel across the room all the same.
Glinda’s mouth snaps closed and a furrow appears between her brows. She’s still in her dress from the dinner, the fabric now wrinkled around the middle from where she’d slept in it. There’s a crease along her cheek from where it was resting against her arm. An ink smear along her jaw.
Elphaba turns to take in the room instead. Can only imagine the state of herself, dripping onto the polished marble floor as she moves, leaving puddles behind in her wake.
“No, really. I can see why you traded up, this most certainly suits you more than that dorm room back at Shiz.” Elphaba wishes she could stop shivering from sheer force of will alone as it’s ruining the image she’s trying to project.
Now Glinda stands, her chair screeching against the floor as she pushes it back, “That’s not—”
“What?” Elphaba cuts in again, her hand curling around the back of one of the closest unfortunate looking chairs, nails digging into the fabric, “‘That’s not fair’? I never would have even guessed that fairness was in your vocabulary much less anywhere near whatever kind of moral code you claim to have.”
She can feel all of the uncomfortable nights sleeping curled up in the dirt or on filthy rooftops of broken down buildings catching up to her all at once.
“You can cut whatever act you’ve got drummed up for me, Glinda the Good. It may work on the rest of Oz, but you and I both know this is what you’ve always wanted.” Her hands gesture to take in the lavish room and what is no doubt the rest of the suite beyond, trying and failing to ignore Glinda’s stricken face, “No creature big or small was ever going to stand in the way of your ambition.” She all but spits the word as she finally sees Glinda’s form breaking.
Good, she’s tired of being the only one angry.
“Elphaba—”
“Well, you’ve always made it abundantly clear what you’re about, so maybe this is more on me for believing that you had any real desires beyond doing what you do best — pretending to be nothing more than a perfect, pretty little package wrapped up all nice in a pink bow.”
“Elphaba Thropp—!”
But that one stings and Elphaba turns on her, an accusatory finger jabbing in her direction, “If you think for even one second that there aren’t real lives on the line while you sit up here playing dress up—”
“Would you let me speak?!” Glinda all but screams at her and the deja vu hits Elphaba so hard she feels lightheaded for a moment. There’s the sudden realization that Glinda’s been trying to keep her voice down. Probably in case there are guards within hearing range, which sobers her a bit.
But Glinda doesn’t say another word. Simply gathers up several pages of the papers she’d been resting on before storming over and shoving them into Elphaba’s chest.
“Here.”
If a word could cut Elphaba knows that one would have drawn blood.
Now it’s Glinda who turns away and Elphaba is frozen in place, stricken. Shivering in her soaking wet clothes as she gathers the papers in her hands and begins to skim its contents. The fight drains out of her in an instant, joining the pools of water gathering around her feet.
“What is this?” Elphaba’s voice is quiet now, eyes finding Glinda’s figure knelt in front of a solid gold fireplace, striking a match in her hand.
The fire catches on the logs almost too fast, pluming up in an arc before settling against the logs, the orange light dancing across Glinda’s face. “Well what does it look like?”
It looks like information. Like names, dates, and locations of Animals suspected as part of the resistance. She’s horror-stricken to find names she recognizes —names that Dillamond had whispered to her in confidence and secrecy— and the icy clench of fear in her chest chases any last remnants of warmth the storm hadn’t yet eradicated.
“Why do you have this? How do you have this?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Does it —? Yes, Glinda, it matters. If this is some kind of trick—” The pages tremble frustratingly in her hands and she watches Glinda wage a small war against the urge to do something about it and lose.
“Oh, it’s not a trick, you mean green thing!” Glinda’s fingers come up to yank a bit too roughly at the knot that holds the soaking wet cape clinging to her body, “Oz, how fast you lost your faith in me is truly dizzifying.” Elphaba lets herself be shoved over closer to the now blazing fire and relishes the heat beginning to soak into her bones.
“You didn’t come with me.” Elphaba says lamely, obviously.
With a delicateness that belays the way Glinda manhandled her, the blonde drapes the cloak over the arm of the chaise closest to the fire, thumbing one of the new rips in the fabric, “I was never going to be of any use to you out there.”
The scoff Elphaba lets out is too airy, “Please, you were scared.”
Glinda whips around at that, hand on one hip as she stares hard at her, “And you’re not?”
“No.”
It’s out too quick and they both know it.
It’s Glinda’s turn to scoff, but she lets the pause settle in the stillness of the room in place of a reply for a moment longer.
“Whether you like it or not, Elphaba, there is some merit to me working with the Wizard instead of against him. This, for example,” As she reaches over and snatches one of the notes from Elphaba’s hands and shakes it in her face, “Tell me this isn’t useful to you and your cause.”
“This,” Elphaba holds up the remaining, now crinkled and damp, papers, “Is dangerous, Glinda.”
“And what you’re doing isn’t? I would’ve been in danger if I had gone with you, too, had you thought of that?” Pushing away from her, Glinda storms across to throw herself down at her vanity, tossing her head to the side to reach up and yank at her earrings, “At least here I can help you by doing what I do best, pretending, isn’t that right?”
Elphaba winces at the sharp hurt carefully disguised as anger in Glinda’s tone, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
An earring slips from Glinda’s grasp mid move and it clatters to the desk, sending a couple brushes skittering in its wake. There is a tension that loosens in her shoulders, her back no longer so stiff and Elphaba watches Glinda carefully in the mirror. An expression flits across her face too fast for Elphaba to catch, but then Glinda’s eyes lift from the table to find hers in the mirror.
“No, I’m sorry. Of course I was scared. I am scared.” A muscle ticks in her jaw, but her gaze never leaves Elphaba’s, the same determined yet fearful look she used to get in sorcery seminar. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re right.”
The papers in Elphaba’s grip wrinkle as she holds them too tight. “Don’t do this for me.” It’s out before Elphaba can catch it and Glinda instinctively recoils, indignation appearing between her brows.
“I’m not doing this for you.” Then she finds one of the bottles in front of her suddenly fascinating as she mutters, “Not just for you, anyway.”
Gently, almost like she’s not trying to startle a wild animal, she approaches up behind Glinda, trying to keep some semblance of distance, who has now shifted her focus to wiping her face clean, her bare face revealed in skillful swipes. Elphaba is struck by a bit of surprise at the vulnerability. Had always likened being the one to witness it during the late nights in their dorm room like seeing a knight remove their armor.
She attempts to tamp down the fluttering in her stomach and the relief that she still seems to have the privilege.
“What changed?”
Glinda looks down into the cloth in her hand, smears of pink blush and peach concealer, like it might contain the answer. She lets out a laugh that doesn’t quite sound like a laugh at all, “Those first couple of days, I was already regretting it. Not going with you. And missing you something terrible.” Glinda’s voice breaks a little, a slight sheen in her eyes.
“Too bad you didn’t have your yellow dress.” Elphaba’s tone is light and teasing now. The small smirk on her face grows into a full blown grin as Glinda lets out a real laugh, fast and unsuspecting, before looking up at her again.
Then, Glinda hesitates. A brief thing, but she presses on, aimlessly shifting items about, “I took to wandering, trying to get my mind off of everything. It’s not like they would let me leave anyways, not without an escort. Especially after they officially branded me as their ‘Glinda the Good’, the Wizard’s most esteemed guest.” Her hands come up in a mockery as she watches herself in the mirror and Elphaba is too far from her now.
She presses in closer and moves to stand behind her until they are both taking up the mirror frame as Glinda begins to talk softer. “And Oz, I— I don’t know how I ended up down there. I didn’t even know this place went that deep, it’s like the world’s worst, most terrible maze. But, there was this big room —”
There’s a choked intake of air that almost seems to catch somewhere in her throat, her words forced out, harsh and fast, like she just wants them out of her, “— and it was just full of—of empty cages, Elphaba. And I couldn’t bare the thought of—”
She cuts herself off and drags her gaze up, eyes flitting back and forth over Elphaba’s face like she’s taking her in, like she’s seeing her here for the first time. “I couldn’t let you do this alone.” There is fear hidden under a thick layer of resolve in her voice, Elphaba hears it, and can’t stop the way it makes her stomach lurch.
“This is dangerous.”
Glinda offers her a watery smile, “You said that already.”
The storm is beginning to break outside, only a light drizzle now rapping at the glass, no more sleet. They both turn to look at the windows, watching the droplets trickle down as the dark sky hides the rest of the Emerald City from their view. For the time being, it’s just the two of them again, together in a room.
There is the unmistakable sensation of a familiar hand slipping into her own and Elphaba releases an exhale she had trapped in her body. Wishes she could hold this moment in time like she can hold her breath.
“You really want to do this?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to come visit me in the dark of night for almost a week, Elphie.” Her thumb grazes across Elphaba’s knuckles and she can’t quite suppress the shiver at the gentle touch. “I didn’t think it would take you so long though. I was beginning to worry you were too upset with me.”
The use of the nickname again settles something in Elphaba, “To be honest, I’ve been missing you something terribly, too.”
They share a smile, a soft moment they know is coming to a close as the storm continues to ebb outside. Elphaba will need to go soon, feels the sun rising up behind her like a specter.
“Yes, to answer your question, by the way. I am sure I want to do this.” Glinda skates a hand down Elphaba’s arm as she pushes herself up from the vanity, her hands trying to gesture and gather her papers at the same time making for a funny sort of dance, “You know the Wizard’s office isn’t even that heavily guarded. It’s just through a single door in the room behind that head of his, with only a single guard stationed when the Wizard isn’t back there. I mean, it wasn’t hard to get that man to leave his post. Honestly I don’t even remember what I made up to get him to leave, that I’d seen a rat in my room or the chef was refusing me a snack between meals. A meager thing of a pout, really, not even my finest work, and then I just slipped right in, easy as cake.”
“Glinda, that was —”
“I swear to Lurline, Elphie, if you say ‘dangerous’ one more time, I’m going to—” There’s a laugh in her voice though that sets Elphaba ablaze.
“Well you’re obviously not really thinking about it! I mean, breaking into the Wizard’s office,” And then as if the thought has just struck her now that she’s gotten going, “You fell asleep at your desk with all the evidence right underneath you! What if I hadn’t come tonight? What if it was someone else who had come in to wake you?”
Glinda scowls but looks down at the pages in her hands like the thought hadn’t occurred to her at all which sends Elphaba’s heart shivering in her ribcage, “You need to be more careful, Galinda.”
Brown eyes snap up, and then slide off too quickly to look somewhere deeper in the room, “It’s just been — it’s hard to be sleeping alone again.” The admission comes out like it costs her something to say.
The presence of an unmade bed haunts the both of them for a moment, for different reasons better left unsaid.
Glinda gingerly steps back over to her, reentering the warm glow of the fireplace as she gently presses the notes into Elphaba’s waiting hands, “I promise, I’ll be more careful.” She doesn’t let go of the papers immediately, both of them hanging on to them together and Elphaba tries not to think of a broom up in a tower and a different choice made. “Now you promise me, too.”
“What?”
“To be careful.”
“Oh,” A beat stretches between them, Elphaba thinks about what awaits her again once she leaves this room, “Yes, I’ll be careful.”
Glinda nods like that’s sufficient for now and releases her grip, then makes the exact same face she used to make when Elphaba would pair the wrong pair of boots with her outfit. “Sweet Oz, what are you eating out there? Where are you sleeping? You must be starving, oh!” Her eyes dart to the windows where the rain only softly patters against the glass now and a desperation seems to overcome her.
She's out of the room faster than Elphaba can blink, much less open her mouth to respond, not even knowing what she would say anyways. She is hungry. So she plops down in front of the fire, soaking up the last remnants of its warmth, rings out the end of her skirt into one of the bigger puddles she’d already made and waits.
Low frustrated murmurings come from somewhere beyond the door frame, followed by what sounds like cabinet doors urgently opening and closing, the crinkling of bags, and one curse that is loud enough for Elphaba to chuckle at.
Before she can even consider going after Glinda, to tell her not to worry about it or try to quell whatever whirlwind she’s on, she appears back in the doorway. Her arms are laden with a bag of sliced brown bread, red and green apples, what looks like a pouch of nuts, and one orange that seems determined to roll out of her grip.
The line of her is stiff and contrite as she walks over, almost like she fears Elphaba will accuse her of being a poor host. Instead her mouth is watering at the sight of the bread she almost swears she can taste through the cellophane, but she works to keep a neutral expression lest Glinda really make a fuss.
“I’m sorry I don’t have more. They make me dine with the Wizard most nights and I didn’t think—” She cuts herself off as she kneels to help Elphaba pack her bag, being extra mindful of the papers carefully folded inside.
Glinda’s hands stutter for a moment as she's tucking the stubborn orange into one of the folds, and Elphaba’s not sure why until she sees the edge of the Emerald City brochure peeking from where it’s tucked safely between the two halves of the Grimmerie. The tips of her ears and cheeks must no doubt be turning the most horrendible shade of dark green, but mercifully Glinda chooses not to comment on it and continues softly, “I’ll be better prepared next time.”
“Next time?”
“Mhmm, give it at least three days and then the next storm should be sufficient enough cover, whenever that may be. Morrible certainly isn’t being shy with the weather as of late.” Glinda gently shuts the flap on her bag, smoothes a hand down the front of it. “We can figure out then how this is going to work, how we’ll get in touch with each other. All the finer details, really. We will need to be careful about this.”
The silence stretches between them, which is concerning as it means the rain has dried up to barely a trickle outside now. Neither seems willing to make the first move, both turned with their backs to the fireplace, watching the raindrops race down the glass. One of Glinda’s knuckles brushes against the back of her hand as she shifts and Elphaba feels she must fight against every law of nature not to reach for her.
Glinda is the first one to break, “Where will you go now?”
The question startles Elphaba, blinking as if coming out of a daydream. One where they were still just school girls sitting on the rug in their dorm, exchanging giggles and hushed secrets as the dawn approached. Doesn’t understand how so much and so little has changed in such a short frame of time.
Now, it is almost tomorrow and Elphaba needs to go.
“I don’t really know.” Elphaba can see the question forming on Glinda’s lips already, of where has she been then, so she rushes to continue, “There are some names on those pages I recognize. Animal associates of Dr. Dillamond he’s mentioned before. I need to warn them, and perhaps they’d be willing to put me up, even just for a while.”
“I’m sure they would.” With a hesitation at first, Glinda reaches behind herself to pull Elphaba’s now mostly dry cape down from where she’d draped it next to the fire. Scooching infinitely closer across the floor, giving the fabric a couple of shakes as she does so, just for good measure and to make Elphaba smile. She whips it around Elphaba’s shoulders with a flourish.
Elphaba startles when she looks up, about to make a joke, only to find tears pooling in Glinda’s eyes as she ties a strong and sturdy knot at her collar, though she forces a smile on her face when she sees Elphaba looking.
“I hate this part.” Glinda whispers so softly that if she wasn’t sitting so close, Elphaba might not have heard her at all.
Her heart feels like it might break free of her chest at any moment and leap into the lap of the girl sitting across from her who is looking at her with such gentle and sad eyes as she smooths down the fabric at her shoulders. And then Elphaba can’t quite take it anymore, laws be damned, and she takes Glinda’s hands in her own before they can pull back.
“I know. But it’s different this time,” Ducking her head down to catch Glinda’s eyeline, she smiles something private, something just like a promise, “It’s not goodbye, not really. It’s just farewell.”
Glinda laughs even as a tear finally breaks free to run down her cheek, pooling perfectly in her dimple, “You better go, Elphie. You can’t get caught now.”
Glinda pushes herself up from the floor with perfect poise and a quick toss of her hair before she reaches down to pull Elphaba up after her. They stumble a bit, briefly slipping in one of the many puddles Elphaba’s dress has left behind around the room and they laugh something soft.
The walk back to the balcony doors is over much too fast for either of their liking, their hands squeezing tight around one another. Everything seems a bit more daunting now faced with the glass balcony doors again and the world waiting beyond.
Glinda’s face is cherry red when she turns back to her, breath held tight in her chest, chin wrinkled to try and keep her lip from trembling and the sight catches Elphaba in the chest like a bullet, hands quick to cup the girl’s shoulders. “Hey, we’ll see each other again soon, alright?”
Glinda flings herself into her arms, and Elphaba pulls the girl in so tight against her she can feel the slight tremble in her frame, a fluttering heartbeat pressed against her. They use up a few more precious seconds as the last of the rain drops slowly trek their way down the window panes. She can feel where Glinda is clutching her dress at the back, stretching the fabric taunt at her shoulders and Elphaba doesn’t ever want her to let go.
There is never enough time. The threatening grey-blue light of dawn curls at the very edges of the clouds in an indifferent warning.
Glinda chokes on a sob like she hadn’t meant to let it out, the words muffled against Elphaba’s neck, “Don’t ask me to go again.”
And oh there are a million questions whirling around Elphaba’s mind like a discordant orchestra all playing their notes on top of one another: will this be too much for Glinda? Is she having regrets now, realizing the depths of what she could be getting herself into? The risks and the secrecy and the danger? Or…Elphaba’s mind is traitorous as it turns its ear to a more grievous and hopeful chord.
That Glinda would be too weak to say ‘no’ this time. That being forced to turn away again would surely eviscerate them both, and so this time she would say ‘yes’, if only Elphaba asked again.
Elphaba’s heartbeat thunders in her ears, but there is no point, her thumb slides clumsily against Glinda’s cheek, catching on an errant tear. “I won’t.”
She’s gone before she lets herself have any time to think about it. Doesn’t want to examine too closely the possibility of what would happen if Glinda asked her to stay.