Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Wicked.

--

"Hazzah!" the cry echoed through all of Oz. Today was the 20th year of the Wicked Witch of the West's death. And like every year, the Ozians would gather in the main square of the Enerald City to hear the speech of Glinda the Good before breaking in to joyous chorus of No One Mourns the Wicked and begin the festival. The people cheered and began to crank up the tune of The Wicked Old Witch is dead. Glinda smiled on them and then retreated out of sight into the castle. Hours went by and the festival had only just begun. There was cheering and singing and games going on. The hustle and bustle went on, making the Emerald City seem so "ozmopolitain." In the castle however, there was a formal party going on. There all the aristocrats gathered and jittered away at aimless things. In the amist of things, there stood a tall young man, who looked around the age of eighteen. He stood tall and proud, wearing a green uniform with a hint of gold. He had brown hair and beautiful, beautiful blue eyes. He stood there, eyes shifting around the room looking for his father. Then, in the middle of the crowd, he spotted him. A tall mid-age man, but still looked rather good after all these years. His short brown hair combed down and straight comlimented his redddish skin. His bronze-ish eyes looked anxiously around the room, looking for a way to escape this madness. He was bombarded by all these people, and was desperate to get out of it. The boy chuckled to himself slightly and walked over to his father. He patted him slightly on the shoulder, causing the man to turn around. The mans facial expression changed from fear to relief when he saw the boy.

"Sorry to break up the party," the boy said."But mom was looking for you, dad. Said it was something important." The man smiled and turned to apologize to the other people before following the boy out of the room.

"Thanks m'boy. That was torture for me. I don't understand how your mother can do this for a living." the man said, wipping his brow. The boy smiled sheepishly at this father's praise.

"Speaking of which, where is mom? I haven't seen her all night." the boy said, peaking out into the room to see if he could spot her. Before the man could answer, there was an angry yell that echoed through the room. "JACOB!!" the voice sounded annoyed and pissed. The man shook his head slightly his hair flowing from side to side and began to walk back into the room. Before leaving, Jacob turned his head slightly torwards the worried boy.

"Don't stress yourself about your mother, Trace. Your mother always gets like this this time of year. Its an emotional time for her." Jacob gave his son a reassuring smile before walking into the room of which he dereaded. Trace shook his head lightly, wondering what his father ment. His mother, was a happy-go-lucky person. The only emotions she possesed, or showed, were happiness or anger. So why would today of all days be emotional? He walked down the empty halls of the castle, his childhood repalying before him. He smiled inwardly as he reminiced the times he and his childhood friends would run up and down the halls, while his mother chased them angrily waving her wand around. He was lost in his memories when he thought he heard something. He looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. Thinking he was imaginating things, he began to walk down the hall again. Then he heard it again. It was like a sob being muffled. It came from inside the library. Curious, Trace looked inside and squinted. There was no light in the room, it was absolutely pitch black. Trace strained his ears to try and decypher what the words were.

"Oh Elphie," Trace shivered at the sound of the voice that made his hair stand. The voice sounded horce and tired, with a mix of utter dispair. He strained his eyes to see an outline of a person, hunched over, their shoulders shaking beacuse they were crying. There was another sob, and a mix of words that he could not understand. He was, however able to catch a few words. He heard the words, "Why?", "fault", "help", and the name "Elphie" used constantly. Trace scrunched up his brow trying to find out who it was without giving away that he was listening. He took a guess that the person was a female, but who in Oz's name was it? Suddenly there was a loud "BOOM" tthat echoed throughout the city. Trace jumped a little as the colors of blue, green, and yellow filled the room. But it was thanks to that sudden burst of light that he was able to see who that person was. But, wait. It couldn't be.

'I must be halucantating. That can't be who I think it is.' Trace thought. But it was. The light showned and outlined the one and only Glinda the Good. Trace staggered back a bit at they very sight. There sat Oz's greatest leader, Glinda the Good. The woman who had no fear, showed no signs of weakness, who he never seen cry tears of sadness. Trace's mouth hang open, not beliving his eyes. This was too much for him to take in. What the heck was going on? As soon as he recoved from his shock, he noticed that his mother was holding on to something. He squinted to make out a black pointy hat in the clutches of his mother. Trace frowned, for he had only seen that kind of hat twice. Once when he was in the outskirts of the Emerald City. He was 12 years old, walking around, trying to explore the part of the City he never been in. He was about to turn back, when he spotted a young girl, skipping around. She was wearing a hand-me-down blue frock(a bit big for her, you mind), and was wearing the same style of hat: tall, black, and very pointy. The second time was in his mother's study 2 years ago. He was walking around in there, when he "accidently" found a box on the top shelf of the book case. Inside this box, he found a little green bottle and a dusty black pointed hat. Next them, he found old aticles from newspapers back in his mother's time. He grabbed one that read: 'The Wicked Witch Strikes Again!' in the article, there was a picture of a rather tall and lanky woman, about in her early twenties. And she was wearing that hat. Lost in his memories, he accedently pushed the door hard, causing it to squeek. A gasp was heard from within.

"Whose there?" called a voice, making Trace jump. The voice came from inside the library. Trace began to panic: what was he going to do? The only thing running through his head was, 'Crap!' Quickly recovering his self, he pretended to just reach the door before knocking.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" he asked. He heard a shuffling of fabric, sniffles and the clicking of high heels on the tile floor. Slowly, the door squeeked open, revealing a rather flustered Glinda the Good.

"Trace, darling. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the party?" Glinda inquired. Trace smirked for he knew what game his mother was playing at. She had done this to him before many times. Fortunetly, he knew how to counter this.

"You're one to talk mother dearest. Aren't you 'Glinda the Good' Oz's greatest and stylish leader? Popular and all? Shouldn't you be out festating or whatever you call it? Not dad, Jacob unsocial Quadling?" he replied smugly. The grin on Glinda's face faded into a frustrated frown.

"Alright, what do you want, Trace? And this had better be good." Glinda replied, arms folded on her chest. Trace smiled widely, for he knew he had won this round.

"Just wondering why you're in here; all alone; crying; on the celebration of the Death of the Wicked Witch of the West?" Trace said, shrugging innocently. He took note that Glinda shivered as he mentioned the Wicked Witch of the West. Fresh tears began to form in her eyes; he could tell.

"Come on, mom. Tell me. What's wrong?" Trace asked with a winsome smile he has used as a child to get what he wanted. Glinda who had been choaking back tears, let out what sounded like a sob slash laugh as the new tears streaked down her face. Glinda let out a sigh, before opening the door for Trace to enter. He stepped into the library to find the old box he had found and the black pointy hat sitting on the desk. He turn his head to his mother waiting for her to begin. She sat hunched over with her face in her hands.

"I don't know where to begin." she admitted though her hands. Trace reached over to the extra chair by the desk and sat down.

"How 'bout the beginning?" Trace said, smirking. His mother could be so...BLONDE sometimes. Glinda looked up at her son with glaring eyes. Trace's smirk evaporated into a submissive look.

"I've never told anyone what I'm about to tell you; this is a sore spot for me. So if you're going to be a smart ass and let me waste my breath, then I suggest that you leave now." Glinda wispered. Trace swollowed hard and nodded. He was one to know not to mess with Glinda when she was serious, no matter how good she was.

"As you know, today is the celebration of the 20th year of the Wicked Witch of the West. All we know is little Dorathy's side of the story. No one really knows what really happened." Glinda took a deep breath and told him everything. From meeting Elphaba at Shiz, the unexpected rooming, the loathing, the appearance of Fiyero, to becoming friends, to their trip to the Emerald City, to their parting of ways, to Fiyero leaving her for Elphaba, to their fight at Nessa's grave, to their final meeting, and finally, Elphaba's death. At the end of the story, Glinda was in tears...again, and Trace was left in shock to say anything. After a few moments, Trace managed to find his voice.

"I can't believe it." Trace croacked. His throat had become dry from lack of spit. Glinda looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

"Its true. My best friend was the Wicked Witch of the West." Glinda sighed. Trace shook his head, why couldn't she see it?

"No, not that mom." Trace replied. He shook his head vigorously. Glinda gave her son a confused look.

"You mean you're not surprised?" Glinda asked arching her eyebrow in a very Elphaba like way. Trace stood up very quickly and began pacing the room.

"I am surprised mom, but don't you see it?" Trace exclaimed, ugency in his voice. Glinda only gave him the same confued look. Trace sighed.

"Think about it! You said that Elphaba was the smartest person in Shiz right?" Glinda nodded.

"And she was the one who could read from that book of spells right?" he continued, pacing faster now. Glinda nodded once again. "The Grimmerie." she responded. Trace began pacing a bit faster now.

"Don't you see it??" Trace groaned. His hands up in the air out of frustration. Glinda gave him a skeptical look.

"Trace dear, if I knew what you were talking about, we wouldn't be having this conversation." she said slowly as if talking to a really young child. Trace groaned in frustration.

"It just doesn't make any sense!" he exlaimed, causing Glinda to jump in surprise. His mother who had been listening to his rambling keeping a straight face had finally lost her composure. The most intelligent answer she could cme up with a the moment was, "Huh?" Trace took a deep breath before he began to attempt to tell his mother his theroy.

"It just seems like something's missing." he was only greeted with his mother's confused look. He sighed, wondering how his mother became ruler of Oz. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"Mom, think abut it. If Elphaba was the smartest person in Shiz, and if she was able to read that book of spells she must of thought of something anything, to avoid death. She sounded like a pretty strong-willed to me, defying the wizard and all." Trace explained. Glinda who had been listening the whole time, raised her eyebrows after hearing Trace's theory. "Trace, I don't think that's a possiblility." Glinda plainly stated. Trace gave his mother a questioning look. He thought his mother would have like his idea, or at least given it more thought. "Mom, come on! Think about it! It would have been the perfect plan!" Trace exclaimed.

"Stop," Glinda wispered. "I mean, if everyone thought that she died, it would have been much eaiser on her, wouldn't it?" Trace continued.

"Stop," Glinda said a little louder now. "And to use one of the legends they made up abut her, and how she would tricked everyone, including you-"

"STOP!" Glinda screamed. She couldn't take anymore of this. Trace stared at his mother. Glinda took a few deep breaths before speaking in a calm voice.

"There is no possiblility that Elphaba survived that night." Glinda spoke quietly.

"But-" Trace began, but Glinda quickly cut him off.

"No, Trace. You weren't there. She was going insane. She had enough. You didn't see the look of surrender in her eyes, how hard it was for her to actually say she was giving up. You didn't hear her screams, how painful they sounded as she was..." Glinda's voice dropped down to bearly above a whisper. Trace stared at Glinda finally understanding that this subject was hurting his mother.

"Mom, I-" Trace began, but Glinda cut him off again.

"Trace dear, why don't you go check on your father. Ill be out in a bit." Glinda responded in an emotion less voice. Trace was about to argue, but after seeing his mother's face, he decided not to. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving his mother to herself.

--

Once sensing that Trace was gone, Glinda turned her focus onto the hat seated on the table, forgotten during the conversation. Glinda picked it up, and examined it, like if she had just seen it only now. She sighed as she remebered the first time she had given Elphaba this hat. "Its really,uh sharp! Don't you think?... you deserve each other, his hat and you!" It was because of this hat, that she and Elphaba had become best friends that very night.

'Where's my best friend now?' she thought. Glinda's mind was still reeling with the idea that Elphaba was still alive. It was impossible! Wasn't it? What if Trace was right? What if Elphaba fooled everyone to thinking she was dead? What if she really had been alive these twenty years? What if-?

'No.' Glinda shook her head, trying to make the thoughts disburse.

"Don't wish," Glinda wispered to herself. "Don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart." She let one lone tear flow down her face. 'Elphie isn't here anymore. As much as I wish she was, she's gone.' Glinda thought to herself. She took a couple of breaths before finding her public face and heading out to join the rest of Oz.

Hi. Um, this is my first Fanfic, so yeah. Sorry if it's not all that great. But please review! I would really appriciate it! (Sorry if I misspelled anything. Spellings not really my forte...)