She walked into the night, briskly, numb. She had failed. Morrible was still living. Elphaba could not murder. She could not do her task, not for the good of Oz. She death would have been a triumph for the resistence. Elphaba even had the perfect alibi! She was the old student of Morrible, with a grudge. No one would think anything subversive of the death.
But she had failed. She had frozen. She was distracted. Ah, hell, she had good reason to be distracted. She had suspected it. But, of course, she was now sure. She decided to ignore it, until afterwards, after Morrible was gone. But Morrible wasn't gone.
She had to tell him. She had two options. 1) Tell him he would have another child soon. or 2) Not tell him, and let herself fade into obscurity, as his old college friend and mistress.
Yes, that could work. He would be leaving soon. He had to, wheater he wanted to or not. And she would disapear. She would move, perhaps back to the Quadling... Life was simple there, and it wasn't so odd to see an unwed mother. Yes. She could raise his child there.
Or not. he would want to know. Fiyero, being Fiyero, would insist on doing something. Move Elphaba and the baby closer to the Vinkus... No matter what disgrace befell the Crown Prince of the Arjiki.
And, on some petty level, she selfish wanted him to leave his wife, his land, and run away with her, and start a family of their own, and forget the politics of Oz. He wouldn't be the royal in love with the rebel. There would just be love.
She practiced dialogues in her mind. Fiyero, darling, you don't need to do anything, but I'm with child. Your child... Or Fiyero, I'm pregnant. I don't expect you to stay with me, but I thought you should know... Maybe saying nothing would be easiest.
She reached her building. Instantly, she knew something was off. The door to her flat was ajar. "Yero? Are you here? I told you not to come!" She yelled, fighting off a panic when he didn't answer. She pushed the door open, and was sick.
Blood. Gore. So much blood. Pain. Death. Horror.
She collapsed on the floor, herself covered in the fluid. The blood stung, though not as much as pure water. But it still brought pain. Just in another way. A way that hurts so much more.