Note: An idea struck me, as they normally do, when I watched Wicked for the first time last night. This little drabble popped into my head just as "No good deed" started. I've only seen the musical so but please, correct me if anything is wrong. This was written at 1am in a flurry of spazztastic excitement :)
The World Spins Madly On is a wonderful song by the Weepies that fits this drabble to a T.
He's protected her. He's died for her. He's been stabbed, clubbed, maimed, all for her.
Because his flesh cannot be torn, his blood will never stain the ground, and he will never die.
But in their passion-filled flight he's noticed the gradual slow of her walk, the rasp that sneaks into her voice, the frailty that's crept into her entire being.
His beloved Elphaba is dying and there's nothing he can do to stop it.
She's always had a spark in her, that spark he'd fallen in love with that fateful day in the courtyard of Shiz so, so, so many years ago.
He can barely remember anything of his years in Oz. The time has blurred his memory and everything is a confusing haze.
But that's alright because he's never dwelled on the if's and maybe's of life anyway. All that matters is the present. All that he feels is her.
So what's a man to do when the only spark that's kept him alive is starting to sputter?
He is frantic and desperate as he sits by what he knows is her deathbed. A bout of coughing wracks her body and it clenches at his heart of straw. One of her hands rests in his, the now sickly green so pale against his gloved palm. It jerks and jolts as the coughing intensifies. All he can do is hold her. All he can do is stand helpless.
Their humble little room is still as the coughing quiets to an unnerving silence. Her breath is so soft that Fiyero can barely hear it over the pitter patter of the rain outside. It's almost as if the heavens above want to drown her.
She utters something. It's more of a wheeze than anything else but Fiyero knows that she is calling for him. He always knows when she needs him, whether it be fighting the royal guard or holding her close when the weight of the world has crushed her down.
He leans closer and sees the spark in her eyes. Relief flutters in him until and he realizes how much the dread has consumed him. His voice is full of tenderness and trembles with emotion as he breathes, "yes, Elphaba?"
No words escape her lips but she doesn't need to speak. Her eyes speak to him. They tell him that there are no regrets, nothing unfinished; there is just contentment.
And just like that, she is gone and he is alone.
The grief crashes down on him like a tidal wave. Even though he doesn't need to breathe, he feels himself suffocating in it.
He stays like that, crouched over her with her hand in his. Because he can no longer feel through his cotton filled hands, he imagines her warmth leaving her, draining her of the magic that had always coursed through her entire being.
And no one would know. No one would care but him.
Maybe it's because her magic had kept him alive. Maybe it's because he can't bear to live without her. But Fiyero's music had stopped with the final beat of her heart and finally, he can stop dancing through life.
And the world spins madly on.