Night Air
It was so cold. What was he to do? A man made of straw could only hope for some sort of miracle.
He sat by her side and offered her all the blankets from the surrounding villages that he'd taken.
"Don't make yourself into a criminal, Fiyero," she told him one night. Her voice was soft and weak. "Trust me."
Still, how could he keep her alive? They were somewhere on the border of the country of Oz itself. All main resources lied in the Emerald City which was smack dab in the center of the nation. A trip there to buy blankets would take days. He wasn't sure if he could leave her alone for that long.
Plus, he had no money to buy blankets. He would have to steal them. A scarecrow and a witch had no means to make money.
He knew he would've come down with whatever she had if he were still human. It almost made him feel proud of his straw body but when Elphaba started shivering at night, coughing hysterically, he wished that he, himself, could offer some warmth to her.
She spent most of the day sleeping now. Towards sunset, she would awaken almost as if to just catch a glimpse of her lover.
He thought she looked beautiful in the golden, purple-ish sunset of Oz. She looked eerie but so majestic. She would look out the window of their pitiful little hut and see the green glow of the Emerald City. "We should go back one day," she said, obviously almost completely asleep. She was delirious.
"That we should," Fiyero agreed, playing along. She leaned into his scratchy chest, yearning for a heartbeat. He placed a kiss on her forehead. His lips were stale and always cold.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I did this to you. I didn't mean to, I swear."
He took her hand, hoping to give her some sense of security. "No, Elphaba. Shh, go to sleep."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Elphaba whispered again and again, until she finally exhausted herself with guilt.
One night, she insisted on going back to the Emerald City. Her fever was raging. Even through his cloth fingers, he could feel the splitting heat from her body. "Fiyero," she whined. "We haven't seen Glinda in ages."
"Some other time, Elphaba," he said sternly. She was already by the door with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "Elphaba, go back to sleep."
"Fiyero, my hero. Please, one more time."
"Elphaba, no."
"Aren't you a sour apple."
"Go to sleep."
It was cold.
It was so cold.
He went to go steal another sheet for his lover.
He took the shortcut. She was coughing like a madwoman again. He went a little faster.
Fiyero made sure he went while she was asleep. She didn't approve of his stealing.
He made his way to a small village on the border of Oz. Then, a voice broke the sharp silence. "Hey! You! Stop right there!"
Fiyero turned around to see a man running at him at full speed with a torch. "What do you think you're doing with those blankets?" the man called.
The fire mocked him. Fiyero fumbled with the blankets and made a run for it. His stuffed legs galloped along but it wasn't long before he lost his balance and toppled to the floor. He cursed at himself as the man came closer.
Fiyero could hear the man's heavy footsteps on the ground. When was the last time he, himself, made heavy footsteps? He couldn't remember.
"Don't you try getting up. Don't you try it," the man's voice wavered. Fiyero clumsily rose to his knees. "Not another movement! Hand over the blankets."
No, they had to be delivered to Elphaba! He tried getting up again.
This time, the man swung the torch at him. A flame had caught the edge of his cloth over shirt. His hands flew to his chest but the flames only grew. Fiyero heard the man gasp.
Fiyero could smell the smoke. He could smell burning cloth but he felt nothing. He looked down and saw the flames crawl up his body. He knew it was the end. He tried to yell Elphaba's name but his mouth had already been burned. A rush of failure swept over him.
Only five minute's walk from where Fiyero burned, Elphaba was dying.
Only five days after Fiyero died, so did Elphaba.
The night air was cold. All there was to do was hope for a miracle.