Archive of Our Own ^beta

i.

The days that follow Elphaba’s –

The days after the Wicked Witch –

It’s silent. 

ii.

It should be noted that Glinda has never quite enjoyed silence. 

It is why those horrid book places, with their strange smelling pages and their quiet, awful little dwellers, have always offended her senses. She can count on one perfectly manicured hand how many times she has entered such a dreadful place and she can count on less than that the amount of times she’s been into one alone.

The only time that Glinda can truly remember ever enjoying herself in one was when Fiyero had arrived; magnificent and fun and beautiful. He made it so that the horrendible place came alive; so much so she was even willing to go back again if she ever needed to. 

(Perhaps if he went with her, of course. They were still dreadfully dull places when someone wasn’t joyously singing.)

In truth, however, she tends to disregard that particular memory. It links too heavily into the next memory and then the next.

(Their first date at the Ozdust, where she was sure he should have proposed, which then only reminds her of staying up all night making plans of popularity with Elphaba and then and then and then –)

Each moment in her mind links to another, each memory gripping onto the following memory and repeating the same thing over and over like one of those shows that they have on the stage in Emerald City. Once they start they’re like a funny, terrible, little chain of events behind Glinda’s eyes; though it’s less of the funny and only the terrible. 

It’s why Glinda isn’t rushing to sit in silence. In the quiet she swears that she can hear the chains linking and snapping together– clink, clink, clink– and, honestly, she always ends up at the same memory anyway. She’s seen it enough times in her dreams. Frankly, it no longer needs to be rehashed and Glinda is all too willing to forget that horrible time ever happened to her.

(She can’t forget. But she tries.)

Instead she fills her days with music and meetings and parties and social engagements. She holds time to listen to the citizens of Oz, one after another after another, and invites all people from North, South, East and West to the Emerald City; she lets them air their grievances and she nods and she sympathises and she never, ever, promises to fix anything. Only that she will try. 

There is only one promise she has ever kept.

She fills her home with people; beautiful women who get her ready for her days and men in handsome uniforms who open doors and nod their heads and tell her she’s wonderful. Each day she wakes and greets her maidens and starts her day, exhausting herself to the brink of collapse so that when she gets to her bedroom quarters, when she’s washed the day off and she’s finally alone – she can simply sleep. 

If she’s asleep she can’t hear the connecting chains leading to when –

She can’t hear them. 

—

It’s tiring but Glinda is proud of her work. She’s come a long way from the girl who was willing to argue with a Goat Professor about the pronucification of her name and she brings in laws to reintegrate Animals back into society. Her Popsicle wasn’t entirely pleased with the move and it certainly wasn’t met with satisfaction with her advisors or even leaders of the other lands; but the Wizard is gone, hopefully rotted and empty like all of his desolate lies, and Morrible is locked away somewhere that Glinda doesn’t want to know.

She rids Oz of the Gale Force, trying to show it was possible to be peaceful, and jails those responsible for killing Fiyero because she can’t stand to even look at them knowing they heard his final screams. He was a handsome, gentle, thoughtful man and though his heart was never Glinda’s (a fact she very much knew ) she misses him terribly because despite it all, despite him leaving, despite everything – he was her friend. 

She replaces them with the Emerald Guard, there to protect the citizens and the Animals of Oz. She sends them across counties and asks the Head Guard to report back any strange or unusual sightings.

(He has yet to report anything strange or unusual.)

(She always hides her disappointment.)

In truth it takes years for her to pass enough laws to bring in more Animal rights and, yes, there are riots and outright denial to start with. Business owners blame her for their dying sales and landowners blame her for their dying crops, claiming loudly that they were far better off when Animals were banished. She perseveres throughout because she’s Glinda The Good; because she made a promise and she knows what happened the last time she let someone down. 

Eventually, over time, there is a gentle harmony. Fractious and fragile though it is, it is still a harmony that she had promised to bring. It will take the same amount of years for Oz to become completely peaceful, she knows that, but–for now–it is enough. 

—

“Good evening, Your Goodness,” greets her as she enters her suite. “How has the day been to you?”

Glinda smiles softly at the young girl, no older than that silly little thing who brought a house to Munchkinland and landed it on top of Nessarose. She recognises her as the daughter of her head housekeeper and she smiles at the gentleness of her cheeks, of the kind light in her eyes, and she wonders if she had any of that at her age. She supposes she did. 

“Oh, simply wonderful,” Glinda replies because, in truth, it’s the only answer any of her help prefers to hear. What else could she say? That she spent her day listening to people complain about the rains in Quadling Country and how mudslides were causing damage to property and fields? How that made her sad, and how she wished she could help? But she couldn't because she had locked the most powerful of weather sorceresses somewhere that she requested to never know just in case the clink, clink of the chains of her memory became too much? No. Instead. “I had the most delightful lunch with the youngest son of the Yackle family and his betrothed. Perfect weather to graciously bless them with my company, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes, Lady Glinda. Of course,” she rightly agrees and Glinda smiles at that, enjoying how it sounds. The conversation ends, as it always does, and the girl tilts her head towards the dining room. “Shall I get Sister Cook to start on your evening supper or are you well?”

“I will have evening supper tonight, thank you. And, please, all of you must join me tonight. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Yes, Your Goodness”

Glinda wonders if anyone in her palace has ever had a conversation with her deeper than the superficial.

She wonders if they actually care about what she has to say or how she feels or what her thoughts are. She wonders if they’d correct her if she said she ‘couldn’t care less’ about something or if they’d simply nod and nod and nod along with her. 

She decides to get ready for supper. 

iii.

Music plays from the streets below as Glinda settles for the evening. Her window faces the West and she had requested, years earlier, that the musicians move from the centre of the town to the Western bank so she could hear the music clearly as she worked. 

It fills the room with a joyous beat because they know Glinda isn’t one to listen to a sorrowful note. 

“The happiest Witch there ever was,” the children would say, because she never let a sad note play out loud, and Glinda would smile because that’s what they always expect of her.

There are letters on her desk, ones telling her how wonderful she is and how good she is–those she will reply back to with kind words, signing it with a little heart–and others begging for the Wizard back and telling her how awful her laws are. She’ll reply to those too, but with a smaller heart, because she might be good but she isn’t to be trifled with.

(The ones where they thank her for helping to kill the Witch help to build the fire that keeps her warm.) 

For now though she just wants to rest.

Each little area of Oz has their own problems, trivial little things sometimes, but they also have their own leaders who Glinda helped to appoint herself and she is sure that there is nothing so important that it can’t be solved in the light of day. She is simply a figurehead these days, the face of who they want to blame or rejocify in, and she elects to keep the evenings her own. And for strangers too. If she so desires. 

The arch of her feet ache from traipsing about in her heels all day and she curls her legs under her where she sits on the loveseat in front of her fire. A cup of freshly brewed rose petal tea sits between her hands and she sips at it slowly, savouring the heat as she swallows. It warms her as she looks out of the open window, looking towards the sky, and scrutinises each cloud. 

In truth she isn't even sure what she is looking for. What does she think she’ll find in the darkened skies of Oz? 

Does she truly believe that Elphaba died that day? She isn’t sure. 

But even if she didn’t, that odious, terrible woman still left Glinda behind without a word of where she was to go and the request that she never, ever, speak the truth. Which, honestly, was a cruel and dark punishment to ask of Glinda. People celebrated and sang and danced the news away that she had died and Glinda had been the one to lead the beat because it was asked of her. 

And if she did die, if that really was her final breath, well she had to do it in front of Glinda and make her watch. 

Wicked, she was, of which there was no doubt. 

A knock on the door takes her by surprise and she rises from the seat slowly, making sure to replace her warm tea for the wand she keeps close to her–(not the showy one for everyone else)--before she slips on her house heels and clears her throat. While she trusts in her Emerald Guards to protect her, she also knows how traitors can steal away from the inside and it is always pertinent to be prepared.

“Yes, please enter.”

“Good evening, Miss Glinda,” echoes through the door as it opens and Glinda fixes a smile onto her face as Miss Murth enters. She’s an older woman, ruddy and wonderful in the face in a way that Glinda admires. She addresses Glinda by name always and rarely, if ever, by Goodness, and for that Glinda is thankful. She feels like herself when she hears her name. Miss Murth has been part of this building since long before Glinda’s arrival and she sees to it the place is kept in orderly condition, Glinda included. “I see you are ready for the last hours of today.”

“Yes, yes. I’m just enjoying the music and the fire. I think I am ready to retire soon.”

“Would you like me to request them to stop?”

“Stop what?”

“The music, Miss Glinda.”

“No,” she says quickly, surely startling both of them from the mundane conversation. Miss Murth blinks at her twice before shaking her head lightly and smiling. “I apologise but no. I rather enjoy the sounds. I so often have to listen to the spoken word of politicians, I would much rather hear the libations and enjoyment of those we are making plans about.”

She says it with a smirk, as though she is letting Miss Murth in on a scandalocious secret, and it works. Miss Murth giggles a little and nods before setting about the bedroom, making sure the bed is comfortable and items are cleared away. 

“If that is all, Miss Glinda, I wonder if I can request that we can also retire for the evening? Unless there is something you might need.” 

Glinda starts for a moment, swallowing against her worry. It happens each night. The staff retire to their quarters, or even back to their own homes, and soon enough the large palace becomes quiet. Silent. Only the shuffle of the guards is really present and even then they are keen to stay quiet, lest they wake her or disturb her peace.

“Oh. I - Yes. Of course. Unless…Would you like to stay for a cup of tea? It would be no trouble.”

Miss Murth tilts her head to the side, as she so often does when Glinda tries to stretch the evenings out, and her lips downturn ever so slightly. Glinda knows that look. She’s given that look.

“I would surely love to stay, Miss Glinda, but tomorrow is the twelfth year of my daughter's birth. We are to celebrate in the morning and I still have much to do. Goodness knows those pastries won’t bake themselves.” 

Glinda knew that. Of course she knew that.

“My apologies. My days are all confusified,” she says, but her voice cracks and she has to clear her throat. Miss Murth looks like she wants to say something but elects not to. “Send her my well wishes and I will have flowers delivered first light.” 

“You don’t have to,” Miss Murth starts to say but it’s useless, Glinda has already set herself the plan and very rarely do people interfere with that. She rushes to her desk to grab a piece of paper and scribbles down exactly what she wants delivering to Miss Murth and her family. At her words, Glinda looks up with a bright smile.

“I know,” she says. “That’s what makes me so nice.” 

—

Rain calls off the music outside and Glinda sends a quick burst of light from the window as thanks to the band. They cheer and call her name and Glinda basks in the sounds of their laughter and the bumps and scrapes of their equipment as they pack it up. 

And then it’s quiet. 

She could request for music to be played inside the palace but some of the staff live within the walls and she doesn’t want tired, grumpy staff serving her in the morning. She had enough of that years ago when, before she stopped it, her staff would come in with headaches and sour breath after celebrating early into the morning as another year passed of the Witches demise. 

People had only celebrated for four years before she had announced an immediate dissolution of the annual celebrations of the Witches death. The first one had almost killed her but by the third she was so used to it that she was already lifting her hand to burn the effigy of the witch, whether the torch was there or not. 

Each country wanted to celebrate with her, Glinda The Good, standing at the top of the celebration table. Each time Glinda felt a little piece of her fall away. 

A cruel, dark punishment indeed.

The fourth year she had made her decision. 

The fifth year, five years after that awful, terrible, stupid little girl had taken away her best friend, Glinda stopped celebrating and told everyone else to stop too.

It’s amusifying just how eager people are to be told what to do, how to act, who to mourn. She tells the people of Oz to simply stop rejocifying in the death of the witch, to let her memory wash away like the water washed her evilness away, and to stop giving her power. And just like that, because Glinda the Good said so, they stop.

Sickening how easy it all is really. 

iv.

Books, Glinda finds, are tedious little things. 

She isn’t sure of the time but it has grown unbearably dark outside of her window and she has paced her bedroom floor for what feels like a thousand clock-ticks. Sleep evades her and she can only tidy her spotless room so much, not that she was willing to really put herself through something like housework to entertain her mind.

There has been one singular attempt to read what can only be described as a scandalocious piece of written word, brought to her by a suitor of a forgotten name. For a moment heat had flushed in her cheeks at the text but then it became altogether quite bothersome trying to keep up with the limbs and positions and honestly is this what people thought to be entertaining? No wonder she rarely stepped foot into those horrendible places where people shared them with each other.

She puts the book down and pushes it away with her finger, before twisting her leg up enough that she can push it away with her toes too, and sighs. Elphaba would have a word or two to say about her disregard for literature if they were back in their room at Shiz. 

Clink.

She stands with a huff at the memories of Elphaba calmly tidying up the books that had failed to keep Glinda’s interest and walks to the doors of her balcony. The fresh air could only help, she decides, and both unlocks and pushes the door outward with a twist of her finger. While she knows she could turn the key herself, and even push the door open quite majestically if she felt like it, it’s a lot more fun to use magic now that she is able. 

Dark clouds rumble in the distance and further up the road she can see people changing the flags from green to red at the waterside, indicating a storm brewing. She has tried herself to manipulate the weather herself but so far all she has really managed to do is make her bath water cold and flowers sneeze.

(Which not only scared her but the gardeners too.)

Rain from earlier has caused puddles on her balcony and it chills her feet, soothing the ache from her shoes, and she flattens them as much as she can against the cold surface with a relieved sigh. She leans against the railings and she breathes in the electricity. As much as she hates them at the time, wet and irksome as they are, she enjoys the aftermath of a rain shower. 

Electing to try again at sleep, Glinda turns back to her bedroom but leaves the balcony doors open. The wind blows a cool breeze throughout the room and it’s just loud enough with the rumble in the distance, and those last few people heading home from the bars, that it quiets her mind just a little. She goes over to her vanity and looks at her reflection, pulling at the sides of her eyes a little and stretching the skin up. When she lets go it barely moves.

“Perfection,” she says, tapping herself on the cheeks twice. The only flaw she sees is that the mirror's reflection has a smudge and she frowns, using a small dab of tissue to clear it. Once done she sits back and admires herself once more. “You are a true gift to Oz, Galinda Upland.” 

Nobody replies and the room stays silent.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

She hears Elphaba’s voice in her head or, well, the voice she thinks she remembers is Elphaba’s. It’s been so long that she isn’t sure if that was ever Elphaba’s voice or if it was something that she had conjured up herself in the minutes, hours, years since she left. Glinda hears the words, hears Elphaba’s sarcastic commentary behind her as she styles her hair for bed, asking why she is styling it and laughing at Glinda’s reasonable and responsible answer ‘in case of fire.’ She wasn’t willing to be seen with a bed-head of all things if something awful should happen. But Elphaba only laughed and told her she was ludicrous and tapped her fingers against the top of Glinda’s shoulder as they looked at each other in the vanity. 

Ludicrous indeed! 

Beauty wasn’t something that was accessible to everyone and, truly, Glinda was blessed. It was rightful and kindly of her to share it with the world and sometimes that meant putting in a little more effort than others might in the evening. 

She presses moisture into the sides of her eyes and covers her face with a cream, letting it set for a few ticks before rubbing it in, before she starts to curl her hair away from her face. Behind her the room remains silent, lonely, and Glinda hums a soft tune in the back of her throat. She ignores the heavy feeling in her chest and focuses on the curl, the candlelight bouncing from it as it flexes against her cheek, before she moves to the next one. 

“Perfection,” she says again, trusting herself to believe it. “You are good, Glinda.” 

That part doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

—

She should have known the chains of her memories would eventually take over. When Glinda does eventually fall into sleep, her dreams are eclipsed in green skin, bright smiles and a hurt so deep that her bones creak and her blood chills inside of her. She would be lying if she said she didn’t dream of Elphaba before, that she didn’t dream of her at all, but it’s been a long time since they’ve been so vivid. 

She dreams of broken glass falling from windows and molten skies, of a woman soaring high into the clouds and releasing a war-cry that shakes Glinda to her toes. Faces are nothing but watercolour blues and yellows and peaches but the wind whips at her face and the spray of the rain blinds her momentarily. Her mouth opens to cry out back but nothing happens –

She wakes. 

—

The balcony doors to her room bang against the wall outside and the curtains billow. One of the first things that Glinda notices is a broken ornament on the floor and she curses at herself for being so silly. The windows being open are a fine addition to the room, they barely open enough for even  a small breeze to get through, but the balcony doors left like that are careless. While she is worshiped and while people do love her, these people are the ones that put her into power, there are still factions who believe she murdered the Wizard and The Wicked Witch just to gain all of…this. A few people, those handful of delinquents who loved the Wizard? Well…Climbing a wall to reach an open door of her bedroom is a simple task if it means de-crowning Glinda. 

She rolls her eyes as she gets out of bed, frustrated and annoyed with herself, and tiptoes across the floor; making sure to only step on the plush rugs rather than the cherry-wood floor. The item has fallen directly down but the fragments have gone beneath a chair, irritatingly out of reach from where Glinda is refusing to move from the warm shag of the rug. She stretches out, the largest piece in one palm, and scrambles for the other. The hand holding the larger piece clamps down in her effort and the sharpened edge bites into her skin causing her to flinch back with a hiss. 

“Son of a –” she curses, dropping the glass back to the floor where it shatters further. The frustration boils over and Glinda falls onto her hip, one leg curled beneath her as she clutches her sore hand. The glass shimmers at her from the floor. “Oh. Get fu –” 

“Are you okay?”

And that is the voice she remembers. 

v.

When Glinda was six years old, her Momsie and Popsicle surprised her with the most fabulous birthday party. Everything was pink–even the flowers outside that they had planted in the dead of night–and they imported tiny little baked goods from the Emerald City to line the tables. There was a band playing all of the songs she loved and even a funny little man who threw several balls in the air and kept them there in a dizzying spin. 

Glinda cried so hard that she almost fainted.

Surprises were not fun. 

—

“Glinda, are you okay? 

“I - don’t,” she looks at the figure in the window, shrouded by darkness and backlit only when lightning crashes through the sky. Her clothes are soaked, the black an even deeper shade, and her hair sticks unattractively to her head and jawline. She presses against the cut on her palm harder and shudders at the pain that shoots through her arm, blood spilling over her thumb and fingers. “I –” 

“Glinda,” the cloaked figure tries again and takes a step forward, freezing when Glinda shoots up from her spot on the ground.

“You won’t take one more step into this room,” Glinda snaps, ignoring the swell of the storm behind the woman in the doorway. Clouds rumble together, dissatisfied and demanding, and the rain slices across the stonework. “You won’t.” 

The woman in front of her sighs, her lips and eyes downturned in a way only Glinda ever seems to witness, and she reaches out one hand. The other grips her broom and Glinda snarls at the wretched branch.

“Please. You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re supposed to be dead. It seems we’ll both survive.”

Elphaba stops at that and Glinda takes the opportunity to walk away from the harsh winds. There’s a large bathroom attached to her bedroom and she goes in to wash the blood away from her hands, her lip curling as it washes down the drain, and she takes a shaky breath. There is a generic healing spell, somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, but she is sure that if she was asked her own name at the moment she’d barely be able to remember the first syllable. 

Elphaba, in all of her green glory and awful ways, stands in her bedroom.

There used to be days, back when it first happened and Glinda had cried herself hoarse, that she would have done anything for Elphaba to return to her. Battered and bruised or perfectly Elphaba, she’d have taken any version of her best friend as long as it meant she could see her. 

But it’s been five, almost six, years since Glinda has seen her.

She’s worked her tiny behind off to move past it all.

And what? Elphaba thinks she can swoop in on a storm, with her pretty eyes and her soft words, and just be allowed to stand there? 

No.

That absolutely, positively, won’t do. 

She takes a white napkin from the top of the sink and presses it against the cut, the blood-flow barely noticeable now, and she straightens her back. It takes one determined look at herself in the mirror–(and a quick pep talk to not throw up)-and she leaves the bathroom to move back into the bedroom. 

Elphaba has closed the doors to the balcony and she startles a little when Glinda walks back in, placing the shards of broken glass on top of her vanity gently and using her foot to move any lingering pieces away. She says nothing as Glinda walks in, instead letting her walk around the room and ensuring there is more than enough space between them, before she leans her broom against the wall.

“I suppose you’re going to need that for when you leave,” Glinda says, staring at the broom and determinedly not at Elphaba. “You shouldn’t let it get comfortable.” 

“You want me to go?”

She could lie, Glinda thinks. She’s good at that. 

But it’s been so long since she has seen Elphaba that she can’t quite tell her yes; can’t quite yell and scream and cry at her to get out of her bedroom and die again. She wouldn’t mean it anyway–though she often says a lot of things that she doesn’t mean–and Elphaba would probably leave without ever knowing that. 

“Where –” Glinda stops, runs her tongue over her top teeth and inhales deeply. Her room, normally filled with the scent of firewood and tea, smells like cold rain and the night sky and how she loathes the change. She wants to tell Elphaba that, she wants to say how badly this is making her feel, but she can’t because when she looks at Elphaba all that she can see is just how badly she feels. And that hurts. 

There’s something to be said when faced with the literal physical form of your own guilt and it’s far too late into the evening for Glinda to even begin to unpack that. 

“There’s a lot to explain, I know,” Elphaba tries again and Glinda clenches her jaw tightly, once, before releasing it with a long exhale. “We have time.”

“How much time do you think we have, Elphaba? There are guards right at the bottom of my stairs who would be here in two clock ticks if I so much as raised my voice. I am meeting with a Lion professor tomorrow to discuss a new syllabus in Shiz with the Headmistress. I think they may notice if you’re still here when they come to wake and dress me.” 

“We have time.”

“How are you – How are you so calm right now? Who even are you?” 

Elphaba shudders out a quiet breath and Glinda wonders if she has ruined the green woman’s plans; if she hasn’t acted the way she’s supposed to and it isn’t going the right way.

Good, she sniffs. She was never one to be predictable. 

(Yes she was.) 

“I suppose death gave me a new perspective?” She tries with a smile but Glinda barely twitches a lip and Elphaba shakes her head, trying again. “I just needed to see you. I’m sorry.” 

“Why now? Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?”

Elphaba drops her gaze at that, her chin falling down to her chest, and Glinda is very much reminded of the Elphaba she knew at University. The one who had so much confidence inside of herself, and stood upright, but let her guard down in front of Glinda. 

“I wanted to be selfish for once. To stop doing things for others, I suppose,” she whispers back and Glinda frowns at that. When has Elphaba not been selfish? When she was running away with Glinda’s fiance? When she was leaving Glinda behind to deal with the mess of having a best friend as a terrorist? When she decided she just didn’t want to do it anymore? When she chose herself over their friendship? “I couldn’t stay away, Glinda. I just couldn’t. Not for one more day.” 

“You’ve managed for so many days. You could have managed another.”

“No. I couldn’t. Stop that. Stop putting words into my mouth and making them your own,” she snaps back and Glinda quietens, if only for a second. “You don’t know what my words mean.” 

The blonde girl moves over to the fire and stokes it a little, just to do something with her hands, and she places another piece of wood in to get the flame large again. Elphaba is still wet, from what she can see, and Glinda wasn’t sure she’d ever stop trembling. 

“I’m sorry,” she returns the apology and watches as the flame grows. “This is just a lot, Elphaba. I’ve grieved you.”

“You’ve celebrated my death.”

This time it’s Glinda who splinters and whips around to face Elphaba, the fire from the fireplace now ablaze in her eyes. “Don’t think to tell me for even a clock-tick that I have enjoyed or taken pleasure in any of that, Elphaba Thropp. You died and I had to listen to the cheers because you made me promise. Don’t ever take away how much that hurt me.” 

Elphaba nods at that, just once, and Glinda knows that she believes her. That she doesn’t hold it against her. Which is good, really, because Glinda has been holding it against herself for so long that she isn’t sure she can share that burden. She takes the moment to really look at Elphaba; how sharp her cheekbones have become, how storied her eyes. She looks thinner than Glinda has ever remembered but also stronger. There’s a hate that grows inside of her at how different Elphaba seems, how Glinda isn’t a part of that story and never got to see it. She pushes it down. 

With a brave inhale Glinda steps forward and she ignores how Elphaba gasps gently when Glinda reaches for her. She moves slowly and unties the black cape, letting it fall from Elphaba’s shoulders.

“Please. Warm yourself,” she tells her, watching as green eyes relax a little. She places the damp material close to the fire and ignores the shake of her hands. “I’ll make tea and we can dry these out. Surely you know a drying spell, don’t you? It would certainly be quicker than waiting for the fire.”

“I know one,” is all Elphaba says, taking a seat close to the fire. 

Glinda doesn’t push.

—

The tea sits cooling on a wooden table in front of the fire and Glinda sits on the loveseat, watching as Elphaba settles in front of the fire to stay warm. She wonders how many nights Elphaba has done that; uncomfortably curled onto a hard floor, as close as she dares to a fire so she doesn’t freeze, and she wonders how lonely that must have been. 

Elphaba doesn’t set out to start explaining and Glinda is sure it’s because she is waiting for her to start. There are more questions in her mind than there are stars in the sky and Glinda isn’t sure which one to start with. 

“Are you warmer now?” She asks, because it’s safer than asking if it hurt her to die as much as it hurt Glinda to watch. She swallows that particular one down and nods when Elphaba does, mirroring the awkward smile. “Good. Wonderful. There’s more firewood if you –”

“Ask me.”

“I can’t,” Glinda says back just as quickly as Elphaba had shot out her request. “I don’t think I want to know.” 

Moonlight shines through the small windows and casts a blue light against Elphaba’s skin, fighting against the warm orange glow of the fire. She finds she likes how Elphaba looks like that. Not the worry creasing her forehead or the tight lines around her mouth, but the soft way that the light hugs around the sharp edges of her body. 

“Okay. I suppose I can start,” Elphaba says, her voice quiet enough that the crack of the firewood almost drowns it out. “I’ve missed you, Glinda, and I needed to see that you were okay. As soon as I saw the storm heading in tonight I knew I could come in without being noticed. We’ve heard good things about the things you have been –”

“We.”

“I –”

“ We’ve heard good things. Who is ‘we’, Elphaba?”

Elphaba presses her lips together and her eyes drop down in guilt. Glinda almost throws the woman out of the window on principle. Of course. Of course. Why should only one of her friends fake their death and tear Glinda’s heart from her body? Why not both?

Of course. 

“He is okay. Fiyero, he’s well and he’s happy. He’s safe,” Elphaba reassures but she shrinks away from the bright betrayal in Glinda’s eyes. “He…Well, he doesn’t know I’m here tonight. He thinks I’m helping a leap of Leopards with their housing issues. He’s worried it might, well, he worries this could be a step too far.”

Glinda snorts, amused at the words. “Pretending to die is okay, then? But coming back to explain yourself is simply a step too far? I can see his reasoning. What an intelligent man he is.”

“Don’t speak like you know him.”

“Oh, of course not,” a saccharine smile spreads across Glinda’s lips, sarcasm dripping from her mouth. “Because it’s you who has been able to know him, right? I’m sure you got to know him very well, Elphaba.”

“Do not speak ill of Fiyero, Glinda. He has done nothing wrong.”

“To you.”

“--What?” Elphaba pauses at that, just for a moment, and Glinda sits up straighter on the loveseat to look at her former friend. 

“He did nothing wrong, to you. He left me. He knew what we were trying to do here, from the inside, and he still left me to go with you. Because, what? Things weren’t happening quickly enough? Because it’s scary to be brave like you are? Like he is? I might never have loved him the way I should have done or the way that you do, Elphaba, but he pointed that gun at me and he chose you like I was nothing but an inconvenience in your stupid little game. You both knowingly broke my heart by leaving and then intentionally broke it again by dying together.” 

Elphaba trembles out a soft breath. “Glinda.”

“I may have done some terrible things, Elphaba, some awful, terrible, unforgivable things. But I was always your friend. I always wanted to make sure you were safe, and I never intended to ever hurt your heart. Not ever. Not on purpose. Can you say the same?”

“I thought we had forgiven each other for those things? The night that I –”

“We did,” Glinda interrupts and she waves her hand in the air, like all of those words didn’t just spill out of her in such an ugly way. “I just felt the need to release it from my chest.”

Elphaba almost smiles at that and Glinda huffs a little at the thought.

“I understand. I do. I really do and I know Fiyero would like you to know how sorry he is for his part in all of this. He said we couldn’t tell you about any of this. It was for all of our safety, yours included. Glinda, if you knew we were alive it would have clouded your judgement and you had so much to do. Imagine what they would have done to you if they thought you knew about us? They would have killed you, Glinda.” 

“I still would have liked to have known that my two dearest friends were safe,” she says bitterly but the malice in her voice has melted into understanding. She really does get it. In fact it sounds like a plan she probably would have prepared herself but that doesn’t stop the warm, painful hurt in her stomach. She probably wouldn’t have trusted herself with that information either; not back then. “Where is he?”

“Safe. Back in our small home just past the Badlands,” Elphaba replies and Glinda presses her hands together at the image of them living together, cosy and warm and in love. Her hand stings from the pressure. She doesn’t want to hate it because they are her friends and they deserve happiness; but, well, she really kind of hates it and she turns her eyes down so Elphaba can’t see. “Though right now I believe he is probably at his new lover's house.” 

That captures Glinda’s attention and Elphaba can’t stop herself from laughing at how quickly Glinda took note of her wording. A flush rises over Glinda’s neck and ears at being caught. 

“So, you two..?”

“We lasted some years. Some wonderful years,” Elphaba explains and while it hurts to hear, Glinda is glad that Fiyero was able to find happiness in a loving, honest, true relationship that he genuinely wanted. She knew she was never able to give that to him; she knew she’d never be able to match him or satisfy him, not really, and that shamed her. He deserved a lot more than Glinda’s weak attempts at a relationship. “We outgrew one another, I think. He sacrificed so much for me but a relationship cannot be built on a debt. As soon as I felt like I owed it to him to be with him I ended it. He is still my most important friend, of course, and I am his. He’s a wonderful man. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

Jealousy bubbles quickly in Glinda but she pushes it away.

“Yes. Well that’s just wonderful,” she tries but it’s weak and Elphaba sees right through it. “I suppose with his looks he can charm any woman he wants, right?”

“Oh. Yes. About that.”

—

(“A scarecrow? ”

“Yes.”

“A scarecrow?”

“Yes, Glinda.”

“Is he…Does he…How..?”

“All very good questions that I am more than happy to answer but first, Glinda, please sit down. There are guards.”) 

vi.

The night bends further towards the dawn and Elphaba has made a little nest next to the fire, accepting a blanket from Glinda when offered and taking some small bites of the pastries the blonde had in her cupboards. 

“You really have done wonderful things, Glinda. Amazing things. Good things.”

Glinda smiles at that, appreciative of the praise and accepting of it from Elphaba. She has moved in front of the fire with Elphaba but stays a small distance away, worried that she’ll fall into the familiar and intoxicating orbit that she found herself unknowingly in at Shiz. It had taken her years to understand why her best friend affected her so much but only a sip of her tea to accept it. 

Strange. 

“Thank you. It’s because of you.”

“Glin -”

“No. Hush and stop that. Do you think I could have thought of all of this myself, Elphaba? I am fantastic at a lot of things but sometimes I forget to notice the extras. This is for you. The Animals, making it safe, building a world where you –” she cuts herself off because even if she did build a world where Elphaba could come back, she probably wouldn’t. She’s made a life and she’s experienced her own love. She doesn’t need it from Glinda anymore. “Although you never told me how much talking there was in politics, Elphaba. Sweet Oz.”

“Yes,” Elphaba laughs, genuinely amused. “Talking is one of the main pillars of communication.”

“Ridiculous,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand and Elphaba smiles. She thinks she can be brave, especially when Elphaba is smiling like that, and so she tries. “Elphie, do you think you would ever come back? Once it is safe. Once I’ve made it right. Would you come back home?”

For a long time Elphaba doesn’t say anything. She stares and she looks but she doesn’t speak. Glinda almost splashes a little tea on her, just to get her to move, but she has only just dried out and –

“You called me Elphie.”

“Well…That is your name, isn’t it?”

“No. It hasn’t been. Not for a long time.”

Glinda almost cries at that. She feels it in her throat at first and it spreads all throughout her chest in an ugly kind of way. “Oh.” 

“I just. I haven’t heard my name said like that in a long time,” she coughs out and Glinda feels that ugly, horrible, terrible feeling build and her eyes blur with tears. “Oh. Glinda. No, I didn’t mean -”

“This is so…horrible!” Glinda declares and if she wasn’t sitting on them she would stamp her feet. Her sudden tantrum has Elphaba sitting upright, her hands outstretched just a little as though to help calm her.  “Elphaba, this is simply horrible. Why couldn’t this all be so simple?”

“I think if it was simple then it wouldn’t be quite as worth it. Would it?”

“Yes,” Glinda pouts, tears on her eyelashes and a pout on her lips. She knows she’s being childish but she can’t find it in herself to care. She’s tired and emotional and someone she thought was dead is sitting in front of her as beautiful as ever and it’s not fair . “A simple thing is just as worth it as a difficult thing and I absolutely know which one I would prefer. Not everything has to be a fight. Sometimes things can just be.”

Elphaba finally finishes reaching out for Glinda at her words, her cool hands coming to lay on top of Glinda’s. “Nothing in our lives has ever been simple, Glinda. I happen to think this moment is worth all of the moments before it.”

“This moment could have happened five years ago. Why did we have to have all of the bad moments in between?”

“Because each one led us here. And, Glinda, I am so, so, happy that we are here and that you know the truth. I’m not happy that I hurt you but I wouldn’t give this moment up. I simply couldn’t.”

Glinda huffs at that, a tear rolling over her cheek and onto her lip, but she doesn’t argue. 

She is also so, so, happy. 

—

“To answer your question, Glinda, I’m not entirely sure where my home is. I thought it was with Fiyero, for a long time, stop that –” she halts the glare Glinda gives her, affectionately shaking her head. “But now I’m not sure. Fiyero…He wants a simple life. He wants a home to go back to each evening and a woman he loves in his bed and vegetables in the garden…”

“He’ll be able to protect them at least.”

“Glinda!”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“I’m…I’m not sure what I want. I just know that I have been given the chance to relax and to not be hunted for years now and I’m still not satisfied. I think a part of me is missing. That's why I came here tonight. To see if it was the guilt I had about you, to see if it was something you could solve for me. I wish I could tell you what that part is but as soon as I know, I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, you’ll tell me,” Glinda teases, just a little, because Elphaba’s sentence is heavy with opportunity and sometimes Glinda is just as scared as she’s ever been. “Me? Not your most important friend?”

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. You want to find more. Elphie, we are still friends aren’t we?”

“Yes. We’re friends.”

“Okay, wonderful. Now continue, please, tell me what you’re looking for,” Glinda smiles charmingly, the lightening of the sky making room for their old behaviours. For how she used to be able to be around Elphaba, all those years ago in a pink room in Shiz. “I so want to help you.”

Elphaba shrugs but she shuffles closer to Glinda, bringing the blanket and the warmth of the fire with her. Their thighs touch and Glinda leans in a little, remembering how it used to feel all those years ago. 

“It wouldn’t be safe for me here. You know that.” 

“Not right now, no,” Glinda agrees because there are still people who hate the witch and there are still people who believe Glinda killed the Wizard. But she also knows she holds their attention in the palm of her hand and she can make them listen on command. It just needs to be the right time, the right words. “But soon. They love me.”

“Not surprising. You’re very easy to love.”

“I know. It’s a great weight that I must bear,” she replies with a solemn nod. It’s true; people have fallen in love with her for as long as she can remember. People fall over themselves just to be around here. Not everyone, not the ones she wants to fall in love with her, but enough. “I can tell them the truth now, Elphaba. I can tell them it was Morrible and The Wizard, that you were only trying to help and were blamed for great crimes that you never committed. I can pardon you.” 

“You could. But you could also be hated for that; cast out and exiled for lying to everyone. They’ll vilify you for hiding the truth from them for so long. They’ll question anything you ever say again.”

“I’ll tell them I only just learnt the truth!”

“And who is your source? Me? Glinda –”

“Let me make it right, Elphie! I cannot stand another day where they think that I hate you. I have never hated you, Elphie, never, ever. I don’t know how to.”

She turns quickly and faces the girl in front of her, her hands going to Elphaba’s thighs and gripping down. There is nothing more important to her than the world to see how exceptional Elphaba is, how kind, how selfish but in a good way she is. 

“I want them to see you how I see you,” Glinda continues and Elphaba laughs but it’s sad, so sad, and it grips at something in Glinda. Her voice quietens, nervous now that she’s heard the hesitation in Elphaba’s voice. She wonders if this is how Elphaba felt all those years ago in that attic; back when Glinda hesitated, back when she said no. Hesitantly, with a touch of self-doubt, she adds. “You don’t have to come back for me, you know? I just want you to feel like you belong somewhere. You can even bring Fiyero; we have a lot of fields that I’m sure he’ll find charming.” 

“Glinda, stop,” Elphaba laughs at the little jibe but then covers it up. The joke worked and Glinda preens; she’s sure Fiyero wouldn’t mind some jest at his expense. And if he did? Well. Glinda was sure she wasn’t deathly afraid of sentient scarecrows. She doesn’t think. “I’m not promising you anything. I won’t tell you something that isn’t true; you’re too important to me.”

“Like an important friend?”

Elphaba sighs, her eyes rolling. “Yes. Glinda.”

“I’m going to start making comments, you know? About you. About how I don’t believe you to be as Wicked as was foretold. I’ll tell them and I’ll see how it lands. Please let me.”

“They’ll hate you.”

“Let them,” she huffs, her chest puffed out in a display that Elphaba only seems to smile softly at. Glinda knows she doesn’t believe her but they have time, don’t they? That’s what Elphaba said. “I’m Glinda The Good. Hating me is like hating everything good in the world. They’d be fools to do so.”

“You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Now I know you’re alive? Never.”

—

Glinda knows they don’t really have very long until the sun completely rises. She can already hear some of the palace waking, moving about the space to ensure it’s clean and acceptable for Glinda to walk into. It’s silly, really, Glinda rattles around by herself in probably five of the many rooms and sometimes Glinda wonders what they actually do with their days when she isn’t there. 

She has meetings to attend and in the years she has been doing this she has never been sick. Not even a sniffle. If she said anything to anyone about cancelling her day there would be doctors and nurses and all kinds of sympathisers in and out of her bedroom all day. It wouldn’t do, not when she wants–more than anything–for her room to stay occupied with only herself and Elphaba.

“Hey look,” Elphaba says and it’s soft and warm with exhaustion. Glinda turns her attention to the green girl next to her where they sit shoulder to shoulder in front of the embers left in the fire; she takes her in from the lines around her eyes to the way her shoulders are slowly becoming less and less tense. “It’s tomorrow.” 

“Not yet,” Glinda tells her. “It isn’t tomorrow until I say it so.”

“Of course.”

vii.

The night lays heavy on Glinda and with the information that’s been given to her and the new-old smell of Elphaba surrounding her, Glinda finds her body falling hard towards sleep. She doesn’t want to because she doesn’t know the next time she’ll see Elphaba, the next time she’ll hear her voice. There have been too many nights where Glinda has tried so hard to remember everything about the woman in front of her that she isn’t ready to pass it up. 

“You should sleep,” she hears and it’s distant, almost like it’s underwater, and she shifts against the noise. “I should go. The clouds have cleared and I need to go before the sun rises high. The sky is always clearer after a storm.”

“No,” Glinda pouts and she lets her head fall a little, her temple resting against Elphaba’s shoulder. “Don’t leave. Not now.”

“Glinda -”

“No.”

Elphaba goes quiet and for the first time in a very long time, Glinda enjoys the quiet. 

—

There are nails tracing her jaw, she knows that, and she exhales heavily against the feeling. She hasn’t managed to sleep really, despite the heaviness in her eyes, and she lets Elphaba have her own moments of silence. A cheek brushes against the top of her head, nails against her jaw, and Elphaba presses a little closer into Glinda’s heat. 

Later, she’ll tell herself it’s the exhaustion that makes her ask the question. But –

“Was I ever an option?”

The stroking against her jaw stops but the nails press a little harder into her pale skin. “What?”

Glinda shifts a little in her position but she doesn’t move her head, instead choosing to look into the ashes of the worn out fire rather than at Elphaba, and she tilts her head against the hand against her jaw. 

“You kept choosing Fiyero and I get it, I understand, it’s because you love him. You chose him when you took the cub and then you chose him at the end – I’m just curious, Elphie, that’s all. Was I ever a choice?”

Elphaba says nothing for a long time but Glinda can feel how her breathing gets heavier, how her body slumps, and she is sure she isn’t going to get a reply at all. She isn’t sure she even wants to hear Elphaba’s answer. The longer that the silence goes on, the more Glinda is sure of the disappointing answer she’s going to receive. 

There has only ever been two people in the entire world whose opinion she’s really chased after; one she stopped really caring about his opinion and only needed his acceptance and the other – Well. The other was always chasing something else to really give Glinda that chance. 

She knows that. She knows why Elphaba chose to defy the wizard, why she chose Fiyero, why she chose not to tell Glinda she was alive. 

But she doesn’t know why she needs to hear Elphaba explain it and her heart hangs heavy in her chest.

Maybe she doesn’t need to.

“Nevermind,” she continues when the silence goes on too long. She tries to move away from the woman she’s leaning on but the hand against her jaw places a small amount of pressure, holding her in place. “Elphie. Don’t. Not if I don’t want to hear it. Let me go.”

“I asked you to come with me when we were in the attic.”

“Because you were full of adrenaline, you were scared and I was there. If we were in that attic with Fiyero, if it was between the two of us, would I ever have been a choice?”

“That’s unfair.”

“Life is unfair,” Glinda fires back, the words reminding her of a younger, angrier Elphaba. She wriggles against the hold that Elphaba has on her and she pushes herself up, the blanket that was around her shoulders falling around her feet and she steps away just as Elphaba stands too. “You know what? No. I don’t think I want to know. I apologize, I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m not sure where that came from and it was unfair of me to put that on to you. Please forgive me.”

“Glinda, stop,” Elphaba says and Glinda lets her take her hands and she focuses her gaze there rather than on the woman in front of her. Her nails are shorter–probably with living in the wilderness–and her hands have aged but they still feel the same. She can see the differences but Elphaba is still there, under all that change. “Glinda. Can you look at me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Please?”

Glinda does but her eyes linger at Elphaba’s mouth, her nose, her chin. She doesn’t want to look into her eyes and see the rejection; she doesn’t want to see what Elphaba had to see when she looked at her in that attic. 

She isn’t as brave as her.

“Glinda. Look at me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking you to,” she requests quickly. “Please.”

When she finally pulls her gaze from the curve of Elphaba’s mouth, to her eyes, she sees the ache in there. There’s a shine in her eyes that Glinda wishes she never put there and she takes one of her hands from Elphaba’s to lift to her cheek, her thumb rubbing softly below her eye. 

“Don’t.”

“You didn’t want to come with me, Glinda. You chose to stay. You chose the wizard and the adulation and the rest of it,” she says and Glinda can see the hurt that choice caused. The betrayal. Like her outburst earlier, Glinda knows this is something that Elphaba needs to say. Perhaps it’s something she’s always wanted to say. “Fiyero always chose me.”

“Sometimes questions can just remain unanswered,” Glinda trembles and she feels the way Elphaba swallows thickly, her pinky finger pressing against her neck. She doesn’t need to hear about how she stayed behind, how she let Morrible take her into her arms and guide her back inside as Elphaba flew away with nobody by her side. “It’s okay. I know what I did. I wouldn’t choose me either.”

“It was never a matter of choice, Glinda, surely you know that,” Elphaba says and her voice is shaky, quivering under Glinda’s hand.  “It was about survival. Of course I love him, and he loves me, but it was never about choice. You were never going to come with me and even if you did, even if you got on that broom with me and we flew away, you’d have grown resentful. You’d have hated me for it.”

“Yes, yes, okay. I understand,” Glinda whimpers. She doesn’t deny Elphaba’s words because, as painful as it is, they are true and she pulls away from the hand on her jaw, turning away. She feels heavy with the hurt and the guilt and the realization that Elphaba is right. She would have hated it; she’d never have survived being hunted and she knows she eventually would have put all of the blame on Elphaba. She’d have made Elphaba hate her too. Still, the knowledge of it burns. “I think we can be finished with this question now.” 

“I loved you too,” Elphaba whispers but Glinda hears it and she stops breathing to hear it clearer. Just in case Elphaba says it again. “Differently from him, I suppose. Or maybe the same. Maybe at the wrong time but in the same way. I don’t know. But we can’t change the past and I won’t rewrite what we did. I don’t regret a moment of my life with Fiyero, he is a good man Glinda, but I regret the moments I didn’t get with you.” 

“Elphaba –”

“You asked me a question and I answered it truthfully,” Elphaba says softly. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come with you.”

“No you’re not. Look at all the good you have done. You never could have done this hiding in caves and living off of berries.”

Glinda pulls a face at that, turning to look at Elphaba who gives her a trembling smile at the disgust pulling at her lips. She watches as her friend steps closer, just once, and sighs in relief as the distance closes. 

“Oh. No. I’m not a fan of berries.”

“You did more good than I ever did. I am so proud of you for that,” Elphaba says, ignoring her deflective sentence, and Glinda knows she’s being honest. Elphaba wanted to do so much good but there was just too much chaos and destruction that followed her, truth or fabrication, and people never could see what she was trying to do. The Wizard– Glinda– made sure of that. But Elphaba paved the way. They both knew that.  “I may have started this but you’re the one who is doing it now. You never would have achieved any of this if you came with me that day.”

“I know,” Glinda shrugs. It doesn’t mean that she likes hearing any of it; it doesn’t mean she likes knowing that everything happened the way it was supposed to even if it broke Glinda’s heart to do it this way. “Elphie, I loved you too.”

“I know.”

“Elphie?”

“Yes, Glinda?”

“I still do. Love you, I mean. Differently. Or maybe the same.”

“I know.”

—

There’s a knock at the door that startles Glinda so much that she physically jumps away from Elphaba. Her hands move towards the wand that she’d discarded earlier in the night–(yesterday?)--and she notes how Elphaba reaches towards Glinda protectively. 

It makes her heart flutter.

Both of them stay quiet but Glinda knows it’s only a matter of moments before –

“Your Goodness?”

A male voice calls through the door but Glinda knows they won’t try and open the door. It’s a rule she has made very clear; her bedroom quarters are hers alone and she isn’t to be disturbed there. Still, her heart races and she glances at Elphaba to see the stricken look on her friend's face. 

“Please,” she whispers to her, one hand coming up to press against Elphaba’s chest and she weakens  at how fast the woman’s heart beats. “It’s okay. It’s alright. I’ll get rid of them,”

“Glinda…”

“I know, Elphie. It’s okay. You’re safe with me,” she promises and there’s a flash in Elphaba’s eyes, a trusting shine that Glinda hasn’t seen for far too long. Her voice is low and quiet but determined. “I promise. You’re safe.”

Elphaba nods and she lets Glinda lead her to the bathroom that sits just off to the side and out of the way. They step inside as Glinda presses her hand against Elphaba’s chest a little harder and she smiles back in a wet, awful, trembling kind of way. Despite everything, despite all their conversations and the promises she made the night before, Glinda knows she can’t let anyone see Elphaba. 

Not yet.

She looks at the woman one last time before turning away and heading to the door. A bright, disgustingly fake smile sits on her lips and she opens the door with a quiet gasp.

“Oh. Goodness,” she says and the young man steps back, his gaze moving immediately away from where Glinda stands still in her nightclothes. “Oh. Is it morning?”

“I - Uh,” he coughs and Glinda only just manages to not roll her eyes at his stuttering. “Yes, Your Goodness. Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, thank you for being so kind as to ask me that,” she praises and satisfies herself at the blush that rises up his neck. “That horrendible storm last night kept me awake all through to dawn. What a sight I must be.”

“No, Your Goodness, you look as wonderful as ever I assure you.”

Glinda wonders if Elphaba can hear any of this nonsense. She wonders what she thinks of it all. 

She probably hates it.

“You’re too kind,” she smiles and presses her fingers to the door, the tips turning white with the pressure she places against them. “As I am running so far behind would you be able to do me the most gracious of tasks?”

“Of course.”

“Would you please head down to the kitchens and bring me some fruit and pastries. Bread too! Tell my ladies I don’t need help getting ready this morning as I will do it myself but I will need them to deliver a message to the professor that I am to meet. Tell him that I am running unforgivably late but I will meet him at lunch. Ensure he gets whatever he needs please.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. But –” he trails off and Glinda sighs at his hesitation, irritation climbing. She shifts on her feet; needy to turn around and make sure the last image she has of Elphaba, if this is her last image, isn’t of her being shoved into a dark bathroom out of secrecy. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can call for a doctor or, well, I can call for someone?”

“Absolutely not. No. I just had a difficult evening sleeping but I will be there,” she nods and how she wishes she could just say no. Just have the day with Elphaba. Be left alone and let herself sink back into her friendship. “Please. Just those things and oh! Before I forget. Make sure there are flowers delivered to Mrs Murth’s house this morning. I sent a letter last night but I’m trusting you to make sure they arrive. They’re for her daughter's birthday.”

“I’ll check it myself. That’s so good of you, Miss Glinda,” he preens and Glinda nods because yes she’s so kind, so lovely. Whatever. “I’ll have food sent up at once.”

“Wonderful. Thank you so much.”

She watches as he leaves, his emerald trousers disappearing around the corner, and she closes the door with a long sigh. Behind her the bathroom door opens and she turns around to see the amused face of Elphaba. Glinda bites back a smile at that and lets herself take in the image of Elphaba in the daylight; her skin glistening in the sun, her hair dark and wild.

“Does it ever get boring? Being so nice to each other.”

“Daily,” Glinda nods and Elphaba actually laughs at that, completely amused and the sound rings graciously in Glinda’s ears. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“No,” Elphaba agrees and she looks out of the windows, a frown between her brows and she presses her teeth into her bottom lip. “Glinda. It’s too dangerous for me to fly. I believe I may have stayed too long.”

Not long enough.

“So stay.”

There’s a heavy hesitation as Elphaba turns to look at her and Glinda feels her heart falter in her chest. She didn’t mean forever–(she did, she really did)--but even Elphaba’s hesitation at staying until the moon rose again digs deep. Disappointment spreads over her and flushes her cheeks, her neck, her chest, and she drops her head down. Each time Elphaba has left her behind it’s left a hole in Glinda so wide and so deep that she isn’t sure she’s ever completely healed. The scab cracks as Elphaba opens it again. 

“I have to go back.”

“I know but –” Glinda swallows and tries to smile. “Leave tonight. Nobody is allowed in this room unless I request it. They don’t come in. Not ever. You can sleep in my bed and I will do my duties. Leave as the sun sets.”

“It’s too dangerous. Someone will find me here.”

“They won’t. I won’t allow anyone to step foot in here, I swear it. Nobody is to even stand close to the door. You can sleep and I promise that you can go as soon as it grows dark. Even if I don’t return before you have to leave, Elphie, you can go the second it is safe for you. I’m not keeping you but I’m not letting you fly out there in the daylight to be hunted again. Not when I can do something about it this time.”

Elphaba smirks, her head tilting down a little. “And is that a decree written by Glinda The Good?”

“You’re damned right it is,” Glinda nods. “Stay, Elphie.”

“Someone is going to find me.”

“They won’t. They won’t. I promise.”

“Okay,” Elphaba finally nods and Glinda feels her entire body exhale. 

She trembles at the thought of Elphaba kicking off from the balcony with the sun of her face; she can already imagine the band setting up on the Western Bank, their eyes on Glinda’s window and seeing a green woman soar into the sky. She can already hear the panic, the sound of the guards feet pounding against the marble floors in their haste to protect Glinda. Imagines how her cries–her pleas– that she’s always felt safe with Elphaba going unheard as they search the skies, crying liar to the clouds. 

She won’t let it happen. She won’t let them lay a single eye on her.

Not until she’s fixed everything.

“Okay,” Glinda nods and she moves closer to Elphaba, her hands reaching out and a small whimper leaving her as Elphaba reaches back. “You will be safe. You can have the food they bring and you can use the bathroom. Please rest. I’ll be back tonight.”

“If you’re not back by nightfall I will have to leave. Fiyero will be worried and I’ll need to get back before he sends out a search party”

Glinda hums shortly at that, a quick noise that collects in the back of her throat and her jaw tightens a little. She’d forgotten about him.

“I understand.”

Fingers play with her own and she licks at her lips. She isn’t sure if she’s okay with this being the last time she sees Elphaba; the last time–when Elphaba had, well, died –she’d kept startling awake, kept telling herself she didn’t want to see a new sunrise if it meant that it was a sunrise Elphaba couldn’t see. 

But Elphaba did see it.

She did. 

“We’re in a small village past the Badlands. There’s myself and Fiyero and a few Animals. It’s small but it’s safe,” Elphaba says and Glinda listens but her eyes stay on their fingers moving together, watching as her own pale skin runs against green. “You could get there by bubble, I’m sure, even with the winds. You’re an expert with that thing.”

“I don’t –” Glinda trails off and then scolds herself briefly. They don’t have time for her hesitation. Her momentary pause makes Elphaba brave and she gasps as a hand cups at her jaw.  “I don’t want this to be the last time I see you, Elphie. It almost killed me last time. I won’t survive it again.”

“You will see me again.”

“What? If I look to the Western sky? Elphie, I did that every night for the last five years,” she nods towards the glass that illuminates the city and they both smile at the direction it faces. “Don’t promise me something you can’t fulfil.” 

“We will see each other again.”

Glinda believes her. 

vii. 

Her day is long and loud and Glinda kind of hates it. She hates all the conversation and all of the music. She longs for the quiet conversation of her evening prior, longs for the quiet crackle of the fire and the muffled shuffling of clothing and she and Elphaba shifted in their positions. 

The lack of sleep catches up with her as the Dragon Clock ticks over to seven in the evening. Dusk is settling and her cheeks ache from the smile she keeps; greeting every single person as she makes her way back to the Palace. Her entire body aches to get back to her bedroom, to see if Elphaba is still there, to inhale that familiar scent of the night sky and rain and Elphaba.

While the day has been productive, and it has, she still feels like she’s getting nowhere. There’s only one person she wants to impress and she doesn’t even know if she’ll ever see her again, doesn’t know if she ran away out of fear already, doesn’t know if Elphaba has been so maddingly changed from their evening together the way Glinda was. She hopes she has; she hopes Elphaba’s body is calling out for Glinda the same way that hers is tugging her back to her bedroom. 

The truth of it is this though; she doesn’t think Elphaba has really ever been affected by Glinda the way Glinda was completely bulldozed by Elphaba. 

—

“Good evening, Your Goodness,” greets her as she enters her suite. “How has the day been to you?”

It’s the same thing over and over and over.

Glinda glances up the stairs, the ones that lead to her bedroom, and she decides–for the first time in a very, very long time–to be as honest as she can.

“Not very gracious,” she says and she almost laughs at how the girl pauses, completely blindsided by Glinda’s dour reply. “If you don’t mind, I will take my supper in my quarters this evening. Please leave it outside of the door. You and the others can have an early finish tonight. Thank you for the help.”

Before the poor girl can say anything, Glinda leaves.

—

The room is empty when she walks in and she shouldn’t be surprised, she really shouldn’t, but a little piece of her heart snaps off anyway. She feels it echo in her chest and she exhales shakily, her throat tight and sore and her eyes blurring with tears. There is a plate that has been cleaned on the side and, if nothing else, at least Glinda knows Elphaba has eaten. Her bed is made and the windows and balcony are all closed tightly and the room is so, so, painfully silent. 

She wanted the silence–for that very rare moment on her way back home–and now that she has it all she wants to do is scream to fill the rotten air. 

Her shoes clatter as she kicks them off and she pads towards her bathroom, ready to wash her day off, and she ignores the wet breeze against her cheeks. She’s not sure how many more times she’ll let Elphaba break her heart but she’s pretty certain she’s going to let it happen again tonight. She deserves it, she’s hurt Elphaba countless times.

“Glinda,” makes her jump and she looks up, her best friend standing in the doorway to the bathroom. She looks fresh and clean and like she did actually sleep. Her eyes are still dark but they look rested and she’s beautiful. “Hi.”

“You’re still here.”

“It’s not quite nightfall yet,” Elphaba says but she blushes as she does because it’s definitely dark enough that all Elphaba would be is a shadow in the night sky. The honesty underneath the words makes Glinda’s toes curl. “You’re crying?”

“Not anymore.”

“But you were.”

“I thought you were gone. I thought –” Glinda laughs and rolls her eyes at herself, her hand coming up to pat away the tears on her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter.”

Elphaba doesn’t bother to reply, she just nods and moves away from the door to step into Glinda’s space. It takes less than a clock tick for Glinda to reach out and grasp at Elphaba’s hands, pulling her a little closer and shifting so that her toes touch the edge of Elphaba’s black boots. 

“I couldn’t leave without seeing you one more time,” Elphaba admits in a soft whisper and Glinda looks up to see the integrity on her face, to look into her eyes as she speaks. “And now I have.”

“Now you have.”

“So I should go.”

“You probably should.”

“Yes.”

Glinda rolls her eyes again, because Elphaba always brings it out of her, and she presses up on her toes to meet her best friend in a kiss that she feels throughout her entire body. 

Elphaba’s lips angle against her own and she feels long fingers let go of her own for a second before they settle on her hips, pulling Glinda closer and it makes Glinda smile into the kiss. Glinda’s own hands move up to cup at Elphaba’s jaw, move to the back of her head, press against her neck. She can’t stop. Her hands move on their own accord and they only stop when Elphaba’s tongue brushes against  her own, her fingers settling at the back of dark hair and pulling her closer. 

A whimper leaves her throat, swallowed by the girl in front of her, and Glinda’s knees shake as Elphaba hums her approval back into Glinda’s mouth. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Elphaba says against her lips and Glinda refuses to move, pressing one, two, three more kisses against that tempting mouth. “Glinda. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You did it too.”

“I know. I know,” Elphaba sighs into another kiss and Glinda takes her lip between her teeth easily. “Glinda.”

“You have to go,” Glinda acknowledges but she makes no attempt to move, instead she presses her hips closer to Elphaba. The tulle of her dress gets in the way and Glinda is sure, so sure, that if she doesn’t feel the curve of Elphaba’s body against her own at least once then she’s going to lose her mind. “You need to go, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Elphaba lets herself be pressed against the wall next to the bathroom, her hands gripping the fabric covering slim hips, and Glinda smiles as she lets her lips move down a long neck. There is still far too much space between them, the rings of her own dress making it difficult to sink into the woman in front of her, but it’s a blessing too. She knows if she was given the chance she’d melt into Elphaba and she wouldn’t ever come up for air. 

“I’m going to dream about this moment until my last breath,” Glinda promises against damp skin and she feels Elphaba shudder under her mouth. “If you don’t go now, I won’t ever let you leave Elphie.”

“I know,” Elphaba lets out a breathy laugh and it heats Glinda from the bottom up. She captures pink lips once again when Glinda lifts her head to smile back at her. “One more.”

“Yes,” Glinda moans softly. “Yes, yes.” 

—

The moon is at its highest point when Glinda finally lets Elphaba go. She lifts off from the balcony with a confidence that Glinda has come to expect from the other girl, a confidence she knows flows in her veins. It’s a confidence Glinda has had a chance to taste. 

In the time it takes for Glinda to blink, Elphaba is gone and it’s completely silent again.

Tomorrow she will begin her campaign to pardon Elphaba, to make sure that everybody knows the truth, to ensure that Elphaba can one day–hopefully–come home to her. 

She lets the silence of the room settle over her and she begins to plan.