It had all been a mindless blur, those moments after her target entered the theatre. Elphaba had darted forward and then stopped, unsure what to do. She stood in the shadows, so many things going through her head: the assassination, the girls' school, the Resistance, and most of all, Fiyero.
A loud, threatening thunderclap grabbed her attention back to the present. Her body reacted before she could think about what she was doing; its natural defense mechanism against the danger of falling rain: she needed shelter. She turned on the spot and bolted down side streets of the Emerald City, dashing towards her home in the room above the corn exchange. Oz, she hoped Fiyero wasn't there; if he hadn't listened to her and gone and gotten himself hurt, she'd kill him…
But her heart skipped a beat as she shoved the door open and slammed it behind her, just as large, fat drops of rain began to fall outside. Every harsh feeling she had ever had toward Fiyero vanished.
He lay on the filthy ground, drenched in blood. A massive gash in side confirmed that it was his own.
"No!" Elphie cried, crouching next to him, "No, it can't be! Yero my hero, no!"
And she shook him and ripped her long black dress from her body and tore off pieces of cloth to tie around his bloody wounds, but he did not stir.
"Fiyero," she breathed at last, defeated.
She draped herself gently around his broken body, desperate to keep him from going cold, desperate not to accept what she knew in her heart was true: her inamorato, her second heart, her beloved dark-skinned, diamond-strewn prince, her Fiyero, was gone.
When at last he felt like ice beneath her trembling warmth, she let the tears fall. She cried and cried, not giving a damn that the tears hurt like hell on earth. Hell, maybe that's where she'd go. She'd never believed in an afterlife, not until now. Fiyero might be there, wherever "there" was…
And so Elphaba, in only the white shift she had worn beneath the dress, had wrenched herself away from the lifeless Fiyero, and stumbled down the steps. She picked herself up from where she had fallen at the bottom and lurched for the door.
She slid back the bolt and without a moment's hesitation, flung herself to the pavement outside, surrendering herself to the sting of the pouring, pounding, burning rain.
It was only later, when part of a platoon of the Gale Force, making their usual rounds through the city, passed near the neighborhood where the corn exchange was located. One of the soldiers had found her body lying out in the rain-soaked street, and called his lieutenant over.
The lieutenant had pondered over the body of the obviously dead pale girl, surely no older than twenty five. Her raven hair contrasted beautifully with her fair white skin. She showed no signs of having been murdered, or raped, or harmed in any way. But he was even more puzzled by the green substance that her body lay in a pool of on the pavement.
For after the scalding downpour had taken Elphaba Thropp's life, fate had showed her its first gesture of kindness: the rain had washed away her green.
Under the rain, she had been purged of what she viewed as her greatest curse, of Fiyero's weakness. Her greatest wish had come true, but Elphaba had not been there to feel it.
Inspired by Under the Rain, by DryEyez on deviantART. Here's the link:
http://dryeyezDOTdeviantartDOTcomSLASHartSLASHUnder-The-Rain-44522241
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