Nope, I don't own wicked. Or I wouldn't be posting this on fanfiction.
Originally a bed-ridden boredom induced drabble, I decided to go the whole ten yards and experiment with a plot. That's in the next chap. Meanwhile, here's what's probably the world's shortest chapter.
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Pale morning light filtered through the window, falling across her face. Even in sleep there was a slight frown to her expression, eyebrows knit together while the corners of her mouth turned down so slightly. Still, she was beautiful. Waves of her hair cascaded off the side of the bed, a tumultuous fall of ebony. One arm was flung haphazardly across the sheets, while the other supported her head, nestled in the crook of its elbow.
He had the sudden urge to kiss her cheek, to lightly brush a strand of hair into place, to pull her close to him and wrap her in his arms. But he suppressed them, knowing Elphaba wouldn't stand for it.
She sighed sadly in her sleep, turning her face away from the light. Fiyero tightened his arm around her waist and closed his eyes, burying his face in the hollow of her shoulder. How badly he longed to share her pain, how much he wished she would let him. She was so strong, but that was only because she had to be. He knew somewhere under her antagonist façade she was lonely, frightened even. If only she knew how differently he saw the world now.
Still, Fiyero understood her need for an individual identity, knew that she needed to feel separate from him. It was her way of trying to protect him. If Elphaba knew how he wanted to help her, she might drift away.
"I love you, Fae," he murmured softly, searching her face for any sign of reply.
But she was asleep, lost to all save herself, and there was none.