AN:
Hi there!
So this is my last one-shot for a little while…
At first I thought that this one was very, VERY depressing (well, I actually wrote the most depressing part first), but after working on it for a while I now feel that the gloominess is certainly manageable. But please don't expect a trip to Disneyland or a Happily Ever After – in that case you're reading the wrong story!
This is the first time I used first person narrative and also the first time that I wrote a story, at least partially, in present tense. I'm usually not a big fan of either, but I just thought that it was fitting for this particular piece.
Alright, I'd say 'happy reading', as usual, but that might not be quite suitable here lol But I hope you can still enjoy this fic anyway :)
xoxo MLE
Forever and a Day
My stomach is churning as we walk along the platform, anxiously waiting for the train to arrive. Well, it's me that's being anxious, not her. In fact, she seems to be the very embodiment of serenity.
I pause and turn to face her, taking her gentle hands in my rough ones.
"Are you sure you packed everything you need? I mean, I can always send you a parcel in case you forgot something, it will just take a little time…"
Her soft laughter sounds like little silver bells, so pure and melodious. I'll miss her. A lot. She is all I've got left in this world, but holding her back just out of pure selfishness would be a crime. Sometimes to love means to let go.
Her green hand softly cups my burlap cheek. This is one of these many moments in the past couple of years when I truly wish that I could feel something, anything. Maybe the body memory of her loving touch would help me cope while she is gone, but I can sense none of it; no pressure, no warmth.
"You can always come and visit me," she offers with a smile, but I shake my head.
"No. I can't. You might be underestimating the struggles that lie ahead of you. I'm not saying that you shouldn't go, because you really should. It will be well worth it, believe me, but it surely won't be a walk in the park. Things will be difficult enough without me turning up and bringing in additional fodder for the gossip factory."
She nods silently, her raven curls falling into her face.
"You will be doing great," I assure her, but I think in truth I'm the one who is more desperate to hear these words.
She knows she will be fine. She will be doing her thing, no matter what, and of course she will be doing good. She always has.
I gaze up into her dark brown, almost black eyes and for a moment I'm lost in them; in their depth and in the memories of a time long gone by that inevitably resurface at the sight of them.
"Papa?"
Her sweet voice brings me back from my reveries.
"I'm sorry, my darling. I just wish you could go to a university that is somewhat closer to home. The Emerald City is so awfully far away."
"I feel the same, papa."
I let out a deep sigh.
"I know. But your talents would surely be wasted if you were to go to the Royal Academy of Ugabu. Despite its name there is nothing grand about it."
"Yes, we have discussed this a number of times."
"Of course."
For a moment we stand in silence. Not knowing what to do with myself, I shove my hands in my pockets and uninterestedly watch the people coming and going.
Something in my pocket makes a rustling noise. A little confused, I pull out a piece of paper. An envelope. Ah, yes, of course. How could I have forgotten? After spending the whole night writing this damn letter. Luckily, it's not too late to give it to her.
"Here, sweat pea."
She accepts the envelope with a questioning look on her face.
"Do you remember what I told you about Miss Glinda?"
A solemn nod.
"Mama's friend."
"Yes. I'm sure it won't take her long to find you once you arrive in the city. News always travels fast and you are bound to cause a bit of a stir."
Although that's not necessarily a good thing, she chuckles softly.
"When you meet her, don't try to explain everything yourself – dear Glinda has a very short attention span and will most likely not even let you finish speaking. I think it would be best if you don't talk to her at all until she has read the letter."
Another nod.
I know that Glinda will be upset, devastated; even after all those years. I only hope that the account I gave in my letter is written comprehensively, but at the same time delicately enough. The things that had transpired seventeen, eighteen years ago were so life changing that I still sometimes find myself at a loss when trying to explain it all.
We were running at first, then we took her broom and then it was running again. Only once the city and its emerald glow were completely out of sight, we dared to rest a little. I leaned against the trunk of an old tree, trying to catch my breath. No wonder we had never been able to catch her – even if we had found her, she probably could have outrun every single one of our men.
Elphaba took deliberate, deep breaths, trying to quickly regain control over her body rather than standing there wheezing and coughing like me.
Even before turning around, I could feel her intense gaze as she was gauging me. She seemed a little confused and I could see the uncertainty in her dark eyes.
"Thank you for your help back there," she finally said after a while, obviously avoiding betraying what she was actually thinking about this situation. Or about me.
She took a few steps away from me, uneasily playing with her hands.
"Only you shouldn't have come along. You don't know in what danger you put yourself by following me."
I could only arch an eyebrow at that. Of course I knew. She knew I knew. After all, I was one of the men charged with the task of capturing her, killing her if needed be.
My breathing had returned to normal. Slowly I approached her, holding up my hands in a placating gesture as she shied away a little.
"I know coming with you is dangerous," I said solemnly, "but letting you disappear on me again would slowly, but surely have killed me."
Despite my confession she was still wary of my every movement. When I leaned in to plant gentle kisses on her forehead and her nose, eventually lightly brushing my lips against hers, it took some time until she responded and even then she was still guarded, not quite easing into the kiss.
My lips wandered sideways.
"I missed you so much," I whispered into her ear. "I love you Elphaba."
She shivered slightly at these words and in a way of reassuring her, I left another soft kiss on her flushed cheek.
This short moment of intimacy was cut short when we both heard voices.
"This can't be my men already," I all but stammered, caught somewhat off-guard and feeling disordered like a headless chicken.
"No," she agreed, "they're my people."
I was about to relax, when she insisted we move on.
"We can't be seen together. Not before I had a chance to put things straight."
For another hour or so we dragged our tired bodies through the woods. Not knowing where we were headed, I simply followed her steps. Quietly. It seemed like she did not really feel like talking.
"There," she said at last, pointing at an empty hut. "It's a safe house. We don't use it for ourselves, but to hide people under our protection. You committed treason, so in a way you are my charge now. I think that should be a reasonable excuse for us to stay here for a little while."
She allowed me to step in first and when she entered after me, she quickly shut the door and pinned me against the wall, pressing not only her lips, but her whole body against mine. Apparently she had been thinking things over on our way here.
Her delicate hands ruffled through my hair while mine roamed up and down her back. As we grew more accustomed to each other's bodies, we started to move about, finally ending up on a creaking makeshift cot.
She was the first to start undressing me by getting rid of my jacket and the shirt beneath. When I began to fumble with the buttons of her dress, she very abruptly shrunk back.
"What is it?" I asked worriedly, thinking that she might be afraid of me hurting her, but she shook her head.
"It's nothing. It's just that… for the first time…"
Struggling with the words and with the turmoil within her, she bit her lip and wrung her hands.
"For the first time, I feel… wicked!"
With that she lunged forward and captured my lips again. And oh, sweet Oz, that kiss truly was wicked; as was everything else that followed.
Maybe I should have felt guilty about how easily I forgot everything and everyone I had left behind. Especially the woman I had almost married – Glinda surely deserved better. But what can I say; I was madly in love. So much so that my entire world shrunk until it was all contained in that little, old hut in the wood. As long as she was with me this was all I'd ever need.
We stayed there for another few days until our newfound bliss was no longer enough to distract her from the restlessness that seethed deep within her. One evening she apportioned our rations, packing some for herself and leaving the rest out for me. In the morning she would set off to see the leader of the resistance, she said, to advise him of our situation.
However, that same night she had some kind of vision and when she woke, screaming and crying for her sister, terror was etched on her beautiful face. By daybreak she left for Munchkinland.
We had agreed to rendezvous at Kiamo Ko as soon as she had finished her business in Munchkinland, but as I watched her taking off on her broom, my heart ached and I knew almost instantly that I would not be able to keep my promise.
Finding my way out of the forest took longer than I had imagined and the frustration dampened my spirits, making my legs feel heavy and my feet stumble. However, once I reached the open plain, it felt like I was almost flying.
In the first village I reached, I bought a decent mount. Only wearing a torn cape to disguise myself it had been as risky move, but chances are these poor farmers have not heard the latest news from the city yet. At any rate, they seemed delighted when I paid them a handsome prize for the young horse and did not bother asking any questions.
The memories of everything that transpired once I arrived at my destination are a bit of a blur now. I only remember hanging on a pole in the middle of a cornfield, wondering whether it would have been for the better if I had been delayed, whether she would have been better off without my interference.
I was left to think my dismal thoughts until that girl, Dorothy, came along and the rest is Ozian history. At least up to the part where she 'killed' the Wicked Witch and we received our 'rewards' from the 'wonderful' Wizard.
My heart was racing the entire way back to the castle. The first part of our plan had worked perfectly, but I was still anxious about what might await me.
Carefully I opened the trapdoor and looked down. Two big, brown eyes looked back at me and a wave of relief washed over me. I helped her out of that dark, moist hole and worriedly checked her from head to toe. She seemed well enough.
I enfolded her in my arms and held her as tightly as my straw body would allow. This was the first time that I became painfully aware of the loss of my tactile sense. After all that we'd been through, I longed for nothing more than to feel the warmth and softness of her skin beneath my fingertips, but there was simply nothing.
The lack of sensation messed with my mind, for a brief moment making me wonder whether my eyes were deceiving me, because for my body it was as if I was touching thing air. Of course I tried my best not to show my disappointment, to not let her know how deprived I felt; she had done the best she could. I think she never found out about my affliction. I devoutly hope she didn't.
We knew that we could no longer stay in Oz, but for that one night we remained at Kiamo Ko, to rest and to prepare. I noticed how awfully quiet she was, but I simply attributed her passiveness to the events of the past weeks and our plans to leave behind everything and everyone we had ever known and loved. Around midnight, however, she suddenly spoke up and revealed her little secret.
To find out that Elphaba was expecting was one of the last things I had expected. Although it shouldn't have been – after all, we were neither young, nor stupid enough to make any excuses, saying we had not been aware of the possible consequences of our passionate nights in the woods.
I was certainly floored, but the more I thought about the wee creature growing inside her womb, the more excited I became. She resented my enthusiasm, relentlessly blaming herself for letting this happen. I don't think that she was generally opposed to the idea of having children, she only hated herself for bringing a child into the world when our future was so uncertain.
I had to admit that the timing could barely have been any worse. The only way out of Oz led us right through the Deadly Desert. Once there had been a tunnel underneath the sand, sheltering travellers from sandstorms and the baking sun. Unfortunately, one of the last Ozmas had sealed it. We travelled north, from Kiamo Ko to the kingdom of Ugabu. This was where the passageway through the dessert was the shortest.
Elphaba fell sick long before we reached the dessert, but insisted that we should press on. It started with an annoying, but seemingly harmless cough. Once we had reached the dessert, the dramatic shift between extremely hot temperatures during the day and rather cold climate at night, seemed to have an adverse effect on her health and her condition worsened rapidly.
Finally reaching the Land of Ev, we settled for the first village we could find. The people there were welcoming enough and offered plenty of help to Elphaba, who was now unmistakeably pregnant. But despite all the attention and care she received, she grew weaker by the day and no-one had so much as an inkling at to what was ailing her.
When concerns were raised that she and her unborn child would most likely not make it, the village eldest recommended that we would seek the help of a witch who, as he understood, possessed mysterious healing powers. The villagers feared the witch, which was why they had never mentioned her before. But by now the situation was desperate enough for such suggestions and I for my part was ready to try about anything.
I took Elphaba to see the old woman, but I had little hope, for we had neither coin, nor anything else of value to offer her in return. She took a brief look at Elphaba and asked me for but one thing in exchange for her services: a lock of my love's raven hair.
I still do not know what she wanted with that, but naturally I agreed and of course I didn't complain when she took her payment upfront. She made a big deal out of it, using strange words that sounded like incantations and some kind of ritual dagger to cut off the strand of hair, but all I cared about was whether she could indeed save the woman I loved.
Once she finished her thorough examination, the ancient woman told me that Elphaba was indeed sick, but that above all, it was the child that was killing her. She should never have fallen pregnant in the first place, she said, for the powers of this little girl growing inside her womb - or any female offspring of hers for that matter – were far too strong and absolutely incompatible with her own. The situation was more than dire, the old crone told me and, since Elphaba was already too weak to weak up at this point, it was my call as to whom she was supposed to try and save: the mother, or the child.
How could I possibly have decided on the fate of either of them? Maybe I would have chosen Elphaba, hoping that time would heal the emotional wounds losing our child would have caused her, but of course I knew that she would never have found it in her heart to forgive me. So I postponed the decision and several days went by. There wasn't much I could do for her, so I sat by her bedside, day and night; sometimes talking to her, sometimes singing for her and sometimes simply crying until I had no more tears and restless sleep took me.
After a week or so had passed, a little miracle occurred. All of a sudden Elphaba's eyes fluttered open and she was wide awake. I sent for the healer and she examined her, but my hopes were soon shattered. Although awake at last, Elphaba's condition had only worsened.
Tired of my indecisiveness, the old crone told Elphaba about the choice she had given me and Elphaba took it with such calmness that it almost seemed as if the question had been as mundane as me asking her whether she would rather have tea or coffee for breakfast. In fact, I do remember occasions when she had made more of a fuss about even that insignificant decision.
And so we did never even speak the words out loud, but the decision was made. Almost immediately the old hag went to prepare what was necessary for whatever she was going to do. I wanted to be there, but Elphaba forbade it. Our last words of farewell were few, but more meaningful than any we had ever uttered before in our lives.
Once the procedure was completed, the witch stepped out of her hut and firmly pressed a bundle in my arms. The bundle was moving, so the child was indeed alive. After supplying me with a few bottles of some tonic for the slightly prematurely born babe, the old woman wanted to get rid of me, but I could not leave without seeing my love's face at least one last time. After some arguing, the old crone conceded and asked me to wait just a few more moments so she could tidy up a little.
When I was allowed back into the hut, I found her in the bed she had been occupying for the last week. A black blanket was covering her entire body, safe for the face. I did not dare to pull it back any further, afraid to see whatever marks the procedure could have possibly left.
I leaned down to kiss her lips. I wasn't quite sure what to make of my emotions, but in a way I might for once have been glad that I could not feel anything when burlap grazed lacklustre green skin. If her face had been as cold as it was pale, the memory of the ghostly touch would perhaps have haunted my dreams for the rest of my life in this now empty world.
Eventually the old woman had had enough of me and in a way it was good to leave. There was nothing else left for me to do.
Back in the village, I sat down on my own bed and stared at the bundle in my arms. I had felt it move every now and then, but even hours after she'd been born, she'd not aspirated as much as the tiniest whimper. For the first time I removed the thin piece of cloth that hid her face to behold my daughter.
An announcement through the speakers and a loud hoot herald the train's arrival. I take one last look at my little girl; now all grown up and more than ready to leave the nest.
She truly is a spitting image of her late mother – minus the hot-headed temperament and the anguish. Most significantly, she has the same soulful, dark eyes with the little specs of gold in them. It is so incredibly difficult to look into these magnificent eyes and not to see Elphaba. It can be painful at times.
I watch her boarding the train. I feebly try to help her with the heavy luggage, but she assures me that there is no need and that she can handle it. Of course she can.
As the engine sets into motion, she waves at me. She is smiling; I, on the other hand, feel like crying, but luckily my eyes can't produce tears. This way at least I can pretend to be strong for her. I'm thinking of all the wonderful opportunities that are awaiting her in the city, the experiences she will have.
And soon she will meet Glinda. I truly wonder what our old friend will say to all of this. All I can be certain of is that it won't be easy for her. In all of Oz she is the one person who had loved Elphaba about as much as I had. No, let me rephrase that: I still love her and I always will. Forever and a day.