Disclaimer: What a world the Ozians would live in if I owned it.
A/N: That last statement may even spawn a fic itself. This follows on from 'Oxymoron' but you don't have to have read it.
"You'll…um…permit me?"
Fiyero wasn't sure whether it was her dark eyes that enhanced her murderous glare or the glow of her exotic green skin. Whichever it was, he was loathe to admit it, but he was frightened. He, Fiyero Tiggular, was absolutely petrified. He could barely speak.
"I…um…I need to t-talk to you."
He closed his eyes and mentally slapped himself. He had just stuttered. He had stuttered when talking to a girl. There went his scandalacious reputation. This was social suicide.
"Elphie?"
That did it. He knew it would provoke a response.
"Don't you dare!" she snapped, almost hissing at him and forcing him to recoil, taking a step back. "What can you possibly have to say to me? I think you made your thoughts quite clear."
Fiyero took a shaky breath. "I was just…afraid."
"I am thoroughly bored with your moodswings. If I may be frank, I don't care what you have to say to me because I know it may be difficult for you to understand, but I don't actually want to hear it."
"But I need to say it."
His tone was so desperate that Elphaba turned, sighing. "What then?"
He bit his lip and glanced around him. "Not here," he murmured.
Elphaba raised her eyebrows so high that they practically merged into her hairline. "Oh, I'm sorry. Where would be good for you? Is the lighting wrong? Does it not make your hair shine in the manner to which you have become accustomed? Perhaps the temperature affects your performance."
Fiyero's eyes widened. "What do you think I'm going to do to you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, nothing; unless we're including wasting my time. Certainly, unlike most of the girls in what appears to be all of Oz, I don't believe that you have any intention of whisking me away to ravish me."
Privately, Fiyero thought she could do with a good ravishing. It might mellow her a little. These fits of temper had to be the results of hormonal imbalance; though he would be damned before he said it aloud.
"Elphaba, I have no idea what I have done to you. I know that I didn't handle the…situation as I should have. I know that I shouldn't have tried to pretend you didn't exist but I'm sorry. I told you I was sorry. That's all I can say to you."
"You did not tell me you were sorry. You made an ambiguous statement that I haven't been able to make sense of for the past week and stormed out in a temper. At what point do you recognise an apology there?"
Her eyes were beautiful when they blazed. It was a shame said anger was aimed at him. He bit back his smile, it wouldn't do to be caught grinning. She had thought about him and his words for a week? His eyes shone, but elation soon became mystification. "I did say sorry. We had an argument about it."
"Yes, because you didn't mean it. You said yourself that you had no idea why you apologised. Remember?"
Her words began to sink in and, like venom, seemed to travel through his veins. His head swam. Ambiguous statement.
"Ambiguous?" He repeated. "I suppose you've never been vague, have you?"
Her eyes narrowed and flashed dangerously. "I have never pretended to be something I'm not. My actions could never be associated with the words publicity stunt or practical joke or-"
"All right," he snapped, "you can stop now."
Elphaba scoffed. "You think that you can tell me when I have finished making my point? Who the hell do you think you are?"
He took a deep breath through his nose and leaned in closer, hissing. "I know what I'm not. I'm not a rebellious cabbage who just wants to be noticed." His eyes widened and he immediately retreated, apologetic.
"No," she said, her voice trembling, "you're just a silly little boy who wants to break hearts."
And honestly, he felt that she had broken his as her bottom lip trembled and she said, "I thought you actually had some substance, you know." Her gaze held no traces of anger but worse, disappointment, as though she had had great hopes for him. "I was stupid enough to think you wanted to be more than everyone thinks you can be."
He trailed through the field they ran through, the smell of poppies assaulting his senses and their seeds catching in his clothes. He fell amongst them, breathing in their heady barely-there scent. It was a flower so beautiful that it needed nothing else to attract admirers. Its lack of strong scent also put many of them off. Fiyero laughed bitterly. If ever there was anything to compare with Elphaba Thropp, it was a poppy.
He plucked one from the ground and held it up to the light. An easy, charming smile danced slowly across his lips. He would pick her poppies. After all, it wouldn't do to see a girl off without a bunch of flowers and somehow, he couldn't imagine that Elphaba would appreciate the somewhat extravagant bouquets Galinda so admired.
"Fiyero, over here dearest!"
Fiyero's heart stopped and he froze. He hadn't planned for Galinda's presence. He couldn't remember ever being taught how to apologise to a girl he loved in front of his girlfriend. It was bad enough that this was his first sincere apology without having absolutely no precedent whatsoever. He took a deep breath and somehow managed to place one foot in front of the other.
"Elphaba." His mouth was dry and no amount of licking his lips helped. In fact, it would have been extremely unhelpful. His breath was shaky. The only script he had been working began with her name and an expression of love and with Galinda here, it would only end in tears - all of them his as he lay bleeding to death in an alleyway, battered by a handbag. "I'm happy for you." He couldn't help but grin goofily. That had sounded pretty good if he said so himself.
Elphaba accepted his flowers with raised eyebrows and a stony expression. She held them at her side, paying them no attention. She did not even offer her thanks.
Vaguely, he listened to Galinda prattling beside him. "I've been thinking," he said, knowing it was very rude to interrupt but also that he had little time.
"Yes," replied Elphaba, her eyes shining. "I've heard." Her tone was sarcastic. He wasn't sure if this was 'get away from me, bastard' sarcasm or the sarcasm she used as a twisted form of affection. His instincts told him it was the former.
He cleared his throat and decided to press on. "About that Lion Cub and…" he raised his eyebrows pointedly, "everything." He looked into her eyes, begging her to forgive him, to understand. "I think about that day a lot."
Finally, she glanced down at her poppies, read the 'So very sorry x' attached to them and bit back her smile. "Really? So do I."
He would look back and think that in that moment, for the first time, they really and truly connected beyond even the events of that day. For the time being, all he really knew was that she had forgiven him and knew that he had forgiven her. That was good enough.
He hurriedly made his excuses before Galinda could follow him, vowing that when Elphaba returned, he would tell her the truth. He would tell her why he cared that she hadn't used her abilities on him. He would tell her why he had reacted so violently in the corridor, using the only weapon he knew would wound her. He would tell her that he loved her…when she came home.