Here we are. Several of you on Tumblr asked for a follow-up to Elevation and I finally got around to writing it. It's a little more…steamy than Elevation, but I've tried to keep it at a high T.
RavenCurls, it seems you've gotten your wish for a stairwell. I hope it doesn't give too much away. Enjoy and please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
They ran.
Out of the throne room, through the door, and down numerous, never ending hallways. Elphaba's heart hammered against her ribcage as her mind struggled to process what exactly had just happened. The moments came in layers, flickering and flashing through her memory.
Snaeaking into the Wizard's throne room.
His tantalizing offer for a new start.
Finding Dillamond…Fiyero…Glinda
Fiyero.
Her brief moment of hope had shattered in the blink of an eye when Fiyero snatched her hand and pulled her away. Away from the Wizard, away from Glinda, and away from any chance she had left for redemption. She wanted to be angry with him, wanted to hate him.
But all she felt from the moment his fingers had laced through hers had been pure and utter delight.
It annoyed her to no end.
Now they were running, quite literally, for their lives. There would be time for questions later; answers father off still. All that mattered now was making it out of the palace, out of the Emerald City, alive.
In front of her, Fiyero skidded to a stop, pushing her behind him as he peered around the sharp corner of a Southern hallway. Seemingly satisfied, he whispered, "Follow me" and pulled her around the corner, up a flight of stairs, and through a doorway.
He let go of her hand to lock the door behind them and tuned away, busying himself across the room. He hadn't bothered to light the lamp, presumably out of caution for their safety, and Elphaba used the opportunity to catch her breath and collect her thoughts.
They were in what appeared to be his office, she realized, one her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and the green witch was mildly surprised at how tidy Oz's Captain of the Guard seemed to be. Bookshelves lined the entirety of one wall, adjacent to a large picture window that offered a spectacular view of the city. In the opposite corner, a large desk was placed, papers scatted in an organized fashion across it's surface. Several framed photos sat top and she was surprised to find herself included among the various pictures placed there.
She started when she heard his voice a moment later. "That's one of my favorites."
Lifting the photograph from the desk, she quipped, "A little traitorous to have a picture of Oz's most wanted, don't you think?"
He shrugged, moving to stand over her shoulder. "It reminded me of happier times. Besides, it's not as if Morrible and the Wizard ever came here. My men know better than to disturb me in my private study. And Glinda…" he paused, before adding, "Well, like I said. A happier time."
She placed the picture back on his desk with a sigh. "What are you doing, Fiyero?"
He glanced at her, blinking. "Trying to get us out of here alive. What does it look like I'm doing?"
She frowned, in no mood for his games. "Why are you doing this? This isn't a game or some wild stunt to pull before you walk down the aisle. In case you've forgotten, I'm a wanted fugitive." Allowing her eyes to travel to the window, she mused. "In all reality, you probably are too, by now."
"I'm aware," he remarked, stuffing a few more papers into a satchel he had found somewhere. Nodding toward the broom she still clutched in her hand, he asked, "Does that thing carry two?"
"I've never tried."
"Then I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" He asked, slinging the satchel over his shoulder and returning to her side. "No time like the present then, eh?"
Despite the practical side telling her to mount the broom now and leave immediately, she found herself only staring incredulously at the man beside her.
To her chagrin, he stared right back.
She blinked. "You're not serious."
So did he. "Quite, actually."
She scoffed. "You're insane."
He shrugged. "Perhaps. But I couldn't live a lie any longer."
Afraid to know where this conversation was headed, maybe it was better to stop it all together. "Fiyero, I don't-"
"Shh!" He clamped a hand over her mouth, effectively stopping whatever protests she was about to give. Her annoyance spiked, quickly replaced by dread as she heard the voices approaching the office door.
Faintly, she felt Fiyero's lips at the shell of her ear, whispering, "Don't make a sound." She nodded and allowed herself to be lead silently across the room. Fiyero released her, then felt along the far wall until part of it swung inward.
Turning to face her, he grinned and for the first time that night, Elphaba saw a hint of the boy she had known at Shiz. "Being Captain does come with certain perks."
"Impressive," she murmured, following him through the door, leading to an internal staircase. "Now what?" she whispered as he shut the secret door behind him.
"Now," he answered, taking seat on one of the stairs, "we do what any good fugitives in our situation would do: we wait."
He hated waiting.
not that he hadn't been accustomed to it. After all, he had waited nearly five years for the chance to see her again and his patience had been rewarded. While this certainly had not been the scenario he had envisioned their reunion being, he did suppose he had no right to be picky, after all. She was here, sitting a few steps down, eyes twitching from one point to anther, her senses undoubtably on high alert for the first opportunity to bolt. She had said they needed to disappear and do it sooner rather than alter.
Of course, these thoughts had also been accompanied by a large amount of mumbling about the increased difficulty he would bring, how foolish and stupid it had been for him to run off with her, how me must be fooling himself and so on. Then again, he really hadn't been listening.
What he had been doing was watching her from across the small tower. She had changed, he realized; but then again, so had he. Her hair was longer, fuller, blacker, if such a thing were possible. She was still tall and slender, but the years had given her subtle curves that hadn't been there at Shiz. Her face was sharper, eyes the same deep brown that could lose a man completely or shoot daggers through his heart. She seemed more...sophisticated in a sense. Older, wiser, and worldy.
Still fiercely independent.
Still stunningly beautiful.
Vaguely, he wondered if she ever thought about him as much as he thought about her. Did he consume her thoughts during the day and haunt her dreams at night as she had for the last half decade? Part of him dared to hope that he did, but no doubt he was not the first thing on her mind. No, that had always been the Animals. Probably always would be.
She glanced in his direction briefly and he sat at attention.
Perhaps not.
It was there. Cautious hope. Hesitant longing. Well-veiled, but unmistakable at the same time.
Was it possible she came back... for him?
Well, this was already an uncomfortable situation. Why not amp it up a bit?
Rising, he came and plopped down next to her. "Does it ever occur to you how we manage to get ourselves into these situations?"
Her brown eyes narrowed, not quite understanding his playful grin. "Well, if you would use the half a brain the Unnamed God gave you, we wouldn't be in this situation right now, would we?" She snapped.
"That's not what I mean," he remarked, casually leaning back on his elbows. "We seem to often find ourselves stuck in a small, enclosed space together with no way of escape."
He felt her immediately stiffen beside him. "You're the one who brought us here. We could have just flown away. I could have just flown away and avoided this whole mess."
Fiyero shook his head. "No, if anything, that would have hurt our chances. Flying away is exactly what they expect of you. We would have been caught immediately. Knowing my men, they're already combing every inch of the City and surrounding areas as we speak." He hedged closer to her side. "Believe it or not, we're much safer here for the time being."
"In a secret staircase?"
"We'll need to leave eventually, of course, " he conceded, "but not until their convinced we're long gone from the Emerald City."
Next to him, Elphaba snorted. "So, we're sitting ducks."
"We're safe," he corrected. "And together." Taking her hand, weaving their fingers together, he brought it to his lips for a kiss. "That's all that matters."
She pulled her hand from his grasp. "Fiyero...please. Not now."
"Not now what?" he dared, taking her hand again. "Elphaba, I'm not going to pretend what happened back there was an accident. I meant every word I said, whether you choose to believe me or not. I've had a long time to think about me, about you, and about whatever this is that seems to exist between us. Don't you remember the elevator?"
He knew she did and she turned away. "That was a mistake."
"No," he countered again, pulling her to her feet, stepping away to give her some space, but kept their hands joined. "The timing may have been a mistake, but what happened was real. Oz, it was real," he muttered, more to himself than to her as the memories came flooding back.
Her lips under his, soft and full
His arms wrapping around her slim frame, holding her close as she seemed to melt against him
Her fingers trailing smoothly over his chest as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders
His delighted surprise when she took the lead, her long leg curling round his hip.
Her brown eyes dark with passion, soulful and trusting.
A thousand times, his mind had gone beyond that moment and imagined what might have been. A thousand nights he had awoken in a cold sweat to an empty bed and an unfulfilled fantasy. A thousand moments he swore over and over to find her again.
Now that he had, if she would have him, hell would freeze over before he was stupid enough to lose her again.
Closing his eyes, Fiyero swallowed hard, forcing the memories away for the moment. He opened them seconds later to find Elphaba watching him closely, no doubt trying to gauge his sincerity in all of this. He sighed, knowing how difficult it must be for her to sort through a myriad of emotions. He didn't want to scare her, but neither would he placate her by minimizing his feelings. He owed them both more than that.
Instead, he focused on his heart and the woman in front of him, wanting her to know how long he had waited for her, how glad he was she was here and safe and most of all, how much she meant to him.
"Fiyero?" her voice snapped him back to attention, her expression guarded, but still allowing him to hold her hands in his.
The duplicity in her actions annoyed him, he realized, and he was suddenly very tired of the idea of having to defend his earnestness to anyone.
"You think I'm lying." It wasn't a question
Did she? She wasn't sure, she realized. She didn't think she was lying to her outright; more like he was unsure of what he was feeling or was mistaking the excitement of the moment and whatever crazy attraction existed between them for more than it was.
Her silence cost her when he dropped her hands with a disgusted sigh. She tried, too little too late, to mollify him. "Fiyero..."
"No." The word was sharp, pointed, and angry. He meant it to be.
She tried again. "What do you expect me to believe?"
Fiyero leaned against the opposite wall, brow raised and arms crossed defiantly over his broad chest. "Me," he said simply, a note of reproach in his voice.
Her eyes fell to the stairs beneath her feet, taking a moment to follow the downward winding pattern.
When she said nothing, he continued, "Have I ever lied to you, Elphaba?" She knew the answer before he even spoke a moment later. "No. Even in my most brainless moments, and I fully admit to there being plenty of them, I was always truthful. Maybe not to Glinda and maybe I owe her more than anyone else, but you are the one person I have always be truthful with."
"And furthermore, there are a lot of thing I may not know much about, but I know this" He reached forward suddenly, grabbing for her hand and placing it over his heart. "I trust this because it is the one thing in my life that has never steered me wrong. I don't understand logic and reason and I probably never will. That's always been your strong point, not mine."
Her head snapped up, seeing her chance. "Logic and reason are backed by facts, Fiyero. Cold, hard data and common sense that has never steered me wrong. So forgive me if I have a little trouble believing that someone like you could actually want someone like me."
"That's where faith comes in," he countered. "I can't speak for you, but all I know is that even though we're standing here hiding for our lives and arguing about stupid things, I'm ridiculously happy. When I hold your hand and have you beside me, I feel like I'm the luckiest man alive and when I do this," Puling her into his arms, he kissed her, thoroughly, his lips tasting hers with a barely suppressed urgency that very nearly erased any doubt from her mind.
He pulled away with a sigh, still holding her in his arms. "When I kiss you, Elphaba, I know I would do anything in the world to keep you safe. So please, please, know that when I tell you I love you and I have for a long time, I mean it. Don't stand there and tell me that I'm not sure when I tell you I love you. Because I do. So much. And I've waited far too long to be able to tell you."
A small part of her wanted to remind him that he hadn't technically told her that he loved her until now, but something told her he was in no mood for word games.
Instead, she repeated dumbly. "You love me?"
He nodded. "I do. Ever since you screamed at me in a field over a Lion Cub, though I don't think I began to realize it until we were stuck in that damn elevator." Smoothing a piece of hair out of her face, he mused. "If I were smart, I would have told you before you left for the Emerald City and we would have finished what we started in that elevator years ago."
His voice had grown low, gruff, heavy with desire. Swallowing hard, she voiced what had been bothering her this entire time. "Be that as it may, you weren't mine to have, as much as I wished you were."
Though spoken barley above a whisper, her quiet confession was all the confirmation he needed to know how she felt about him and he leaned down to kiss her again. She drank him in, slowly allowing the realization that he wasn't lying, he wasn't unsure and that somehow he knew beneath her highly erected walls, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
His lips left hers momentarily to press a slow line of kisses down her jaw. "The difference is," he murmured, "now, I am." His mouth moved to her cheek. "Completely and utterly yours, Elphaba. As long as you're mine."
I've always been yours. The thought flitted across her memory as her eyes slid close, chin lifting as he pressed soft, gentle kisses to her temple, forehead, then down to her eyelids. As much as she wanted him to continue (and quite frankly never stop), the guilt of what they were about to do washed over her like a wave and she pulled away from his embrace with a regretful groan. "Fiyero, stop. I- we can't do this. It's wrong."
"So you don't love me," he replied flatly.
"No!"
"The what is it? Elphaba…I can't do this back and both anymore. I've lived with the guilt of leading Glinda on for five years. Do I feel like a first class sod for doing so? Absolutely. I'm sorry about the way it happened, but I don't regret it. Out time ended long ago." Sighing, he fisted a hand through his sandy hair, attempting to work some of the frustration out of his system. She couldn't look at him. Those blue eyes would be the end of her resolve and then there would be no going back. She had to find a way out of this blasted chamber.
Now.
Her hand was half raised and ready to cast a spell when she heard his voice again. "Just… be honest with me. Please. I'm yours if you'll have me."
Mine. He's mine. She turned away, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. The words hammered in her head, ricocheting through her senses as her mind grappled with the reality of it all. He's mine. He loves me. He wants me. Me...
"The question is," He paused, "What do you want, Elphaba?"
He's mine if I want him. Do I want him?
"Elphaba?"
Fiyero
He loves me; he said so.
What do I want?
I want him.
I love him.
I always have.
Turning, she stepped toward him, slowly, then fully. "You," she admitted softly. "It's always been you."
And then, stepping into his arms, she kissed him.
Sweet Oz, she kissed him.
Her words had caused a thrill to shoot through his body, magnified a thousand times when her lips touched his, shyly, but bravely and with a clear purpose. Her green hands rested on his cheeks, fingertips gently touching his face before she pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. His left arm came to settle around her slim waist, while his right hand gently stroked her face, cupping her cheek as he eagerly returned her fumbling kisses.
He made a noise in the back of his throat as he deepened the kiss. He wasn't sure where it came from and she didn't seem to care very much anyway. The hand on face moved to rest on her back as he pulled her closer, if such a thing were even possible. Her body was flush against his now and he knew that that point of no return was swiftly approaching.
He knew he or she or both of them were still coherent enough to stop this. Testing the waters, he pulled back slowly, nipping her bottom lips a few times to tease her, eyes alight with a strange combination of desire and delight. He studied her flushed face and swollen lips, grinning slightly as she gazed up at him with wide eyes as she took him in, took in their position and he wondered, momentarily if this was where she would pull away. Where she would come to her senses and tell him this was wrong, this couldn't happen, and that she was leaving him behind.
Instead, he saw her eyes cloud over with a hunger he'd only imagined in his dreams, could only watch as she muttered his name and reached for him, sliding his her hands into his hair and pressing her body tightly into his. Parting her lips with his tongue, he explored every inch of her mouth before moving his lips to her neck to sample the flesh there.
With a growl, he spun them, pressing her into the wall of the stairwell, moving his body further into hers. Her head tilted back, giving him better access to the column of her throat. His hands moved quickly, caressing every part of her, knowing there was not time for the exploration he craved and making the best of this blind exploration of her.
Elphaba's fingers were busy working the golden buttons of his Gale Force jacket, freeing them one by one before pushing the offending items from his shoulders in one fluid motion before turning her attention to those linking his shirt.
Her hands were rough, fast, and impatient.
He didn't mind, because his were too, moving to help her as she very nearly tore the short from his body. She moved back, pulling him flush against her body, moaning as he pressed her harder against the wall. He could feel her heart hammering against his chest, fast and irregular, and he stopped for a moment-only a single heartbeat- to meet her eyes, chocolate locking on sapphire and he knew.
Gone was any doubt that she didn't love him, that she didn't want him, and that they weren't about to finish what had begun in an elevator at Shiz. Her lips were on his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat while his face was buried in her ebony hair. Blindly, his fingers managed to undo the top few buttons of her heavy gown, exposing a small amount of soft green skin to his greedy fingers. He caressed her back with his fingers, her lips with his as he reached down to hook one her long legs around his hip. Their breath mingled together, the air heavy with heat and a hunger that longed to be sated.
Elphaba kissed him deeply, arms snaking between them as she reached for his belt. The action stopped Fiyero, stunned him into silence as he watched her work the buckle, then wrap her arms around his neck. They stayed like that, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hand on her thigh, until he reached for her other leg and the moment was gone. He moved quickly and fluidly, pressing her harder against the wall, lifting her skirts, bunching them uncomfortably between them, wrapping her other leg around his waist and what seemed like a millennia later, he was moving with her, her ankles locked around his hips and his forehead pressed to hers.
He waited for her to cry out, but it never came. Instead, she buried her face in his neck, muttered something he couldn't quite understand, probably his name, and tightened her grip on his shoulders. Her hands were moving again and he was powerless against his body as it took control, felt it tense and hers melt against him as they found their rhythm.
Pressing a searing kiss to her lips, he reached for her hands, pushing her arms against the wall over her head, fingers lacing and locking to her own. Her chest heaved against his and her voice was a breathless whisper between fumbling, desperate kisses.
Thoughts disappeared as they moved and he couldn't focus on anything but the woman in his arms. Even in his darkest fantasies, he could never imagine what it would be like to have her in his arms, completely open and vulnerable to him. He was the only one who would ever see her like this, the only one who would ever be allowed to share this with her. The thought brought a rush of male pride as she made a noise he was sure she'd be embarrassed about later and he held her a little tighter.
This was too much. Too much for him to comprehend.
How much she trusted him, loved him enough to give up control.
He kissed her again and whispered her name because he didn't deserve her.
His breath came in hitches, matching hers as he kissed her harder as she shuddered against him and gave up the fight, let his body take over.
They would have to run soon. There would be no time for doubts, fears, or anything else. So, he did the only thing he could think of as they were pulled over the edge.
He held onto her and let go of everything else.