Disclaimer: Not mine
Wasting Away
Glinda the Good was wasting away. The loss of her best friend… and love interest had affected her greatly. A hand rested on her flat stomach. For a moment, she wished it was hers but one glance at the pale hand shocked her back into reality. The pain in her abdomen was so intense, and she knew it wasn't the time of the month, or an illness. It was grief, manifesting itself into physical pain. One transparent tear rolled down Glinda's face, dropping onto her pillow, joining an ever-increasing damp patch on the fabric.
Her face was gaunt, her eyes hollow. Her fingers were long and skeletal. She knew that Elphaba would tell her that she shouldn't be mourning for her; she should be living her life, carrying on. She shouldn't be grieving the 'Wickedest Witch there ever was.' But she couldn't. She wanted to join Elphaba in the Realm of the Dead. That great place where all could rest and be with their loved ones. For we all greet death at one time or another, and Glinda was ready to embrace death, to see Elphaba again.
Just to see her eyes again. Those eyes that hid no soul, according to the owner. The eyes that one could drown in; melt in almost. Glinda slapped herself mentally. Elphie… Elphie had melted. Just the memory was enough to force Glinda to stay put for days.
But when could she not think of it. Her servants rushed around her, convinced that she was ill, dying. Glinda knew, regretfully, that she wasn't dying. Dying would be much less painful then living a broken life. Yet she couldn't bring herself to kill herself. She would not allow the Wizard to prevail. She couldn't let him wear her down. Although he was gone, she couldn't let him win, even if he didn't know he had.
No one understood how she felt. No one had known Elphaba like she had. Pfannee had attempted to comfort her but even she couldn't understand. Exasperated, Pfannee had told her: 'No one mourns the Wicked.' Glinda knew this was true, but she mourned Elphaba. Elphaba wasn't wicked. The Wizard was. So was Madame Morrible. Elphaba was simply… misunderstood.
Glinda sighed. So much in this world would be simpler if we understood each other. 'Perhaps,' she thought. 'Perhaps we are all wicked in one way or another. We all have good and evil in us, and it's what we choose to act on that makes us who we are.' That was what Elphaba had once said to Glinda, one night at Shiz. 'We all have wickedness in us. It's just other people's perceptions of you. They assume you're wicked, without even knowing us. People assume, Glinda, and you should never let assumptions affect you.'
The blue eyes gazed out of the window, searching for a sign, the hope that Elphaba was alive. But hope wasn't brought to Glinda. Neither was luck. They came to people who didn't lie or pretend. To people who weren't 'encouraging'.
Perhaps Elphaba was right. Perhaps everyone did have wickedness in them, they simply had to find it.
The blonde closed her eyes and felt another tear join the others on her pillow. Everyone commented on how thin she was, how she must be ill. But she wasn't.
Glinda the Good was wasting away.
A/N: Please r and r :D