Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Wicked, book or musical, nor do I own anything pertaining to The Wizard of Oz. I am making no money whatsoever off of this story. The title is taken from from Diana Krall's "The Girl in the Other Room", a wonderfully poetic song I felt described Glinda's later situation. I am not Diana Krall, nor do I take credit for any of her songs.

Note: I just got back yesterday from NYC where my dad suprised me with tickets (!); however, I hadn't seen the musical yet when I wrote this, so I attempted to choose subject matter that wouldn't contradict what happens later. I'm sorry for anything that may be wrong - please don't hesitate to correct me. Glinda might be slightly out of character here, but I firmly believe there is so much more to Glinda than she lets on. Underneath that "blissful blonde brain" she's incredibly complex. Misspelled words (probably) are in accordance with Ozian-speak. Immediately post "Defying Gravity".


For a long moment, all anyone could do was stare at the place she'd been.

The Gale Force soldiers recovered first. The woman, still unsure of what had just happened, didn't protest when they took hold of her arms and marched her along. The soldiers looked at each other in confusion, trying to decide between their fear of hurting a woman – a girl, actually – and their fear of Madame Morrible and Oz the Great and Terrible if said girl happened to escape.

They were already in enough trouble as it was for letting one of them go.

"Don't try anything, miss," the Captain warned her, trying to inject some semblance of sternness into his voice. He found it hard to keep up when the girl turned her innocent, confused, and – by Oz - beautiful blue eyes on him. He swallowed, and motioned to the guards to tighten their grip on her.

They entered the throne room to find Madame Morrible and the Wonderful Wizard still pacing inside. The Captain indicated to the others to let go of the girl. As they did, she staggered, but stood upright. One guard hit the back of her knees, and finally she made a sound of protest and pain as she went down on her knees. She turned around and glared. The Captain could see the look of sudden shame on his guard's face even as he stood his ground, refusing to meet the girl's eyes.

"Only one?" asked Morrible, sparing the girl a sharp glance. "Where is the other? The regrettable Wicked Witch?"

The Captain hesitated. "She escaped, Madame." He hurried on, "Believe me, it was beyond the abilities of even my men to bring her down."

"Then perhaps your wondrous regiment is not so great as you thought! Fools!" Morrible yelled, enraged. The Captain flinched. "She should have been your main focus! If you had to let one of them go, it should well have been the one you managed, in your ineptibility, to capture!" She sneered at them. "Pray tell, just how did you manage to bring back this one?"

The guards looked at each other, hesitant. Finally the Captain spoke up again. "She came without protest, Madame."

Her cold gaze lingered on him a moment longer. "I see. At a more appropriate time, we shall discuss your worth." Her eyes swept them all. "You are dismissed."

The Gale Force bowed, then scurried, making unintelligible noises of respect. The Captain dared only one glance behind as he left, and he silently wished the girl luck.

The girl needed the luck, and she wasn't afraid to admit it. No, Glinda had much more serious things to be afraid of now. She bit her lip.

"What of the girl?" The Wizard broke in. "She knows too much, and she can't very well go along, spreading rumors."

"Lies, you mean." Glinda's voice surprised even her, and she squashed it down. Not now, you idiot! You've been around Elphie too long. "Or the truth?" She winced internally as she heard herself speak again. Though she'd never gotten into any religious or spiritual or mythological mumbo-jumbo, she started to be afraid that Elphie had fallen off that stupid broomstick and cracked open her head. What other explanation did she have for suddenly channeling Elphie?

"Miss Upland, you are really in no position to be making such remarks," Madame Morrible told her lazily. "His Wonderful Wizardness brings up a valid point: what to do with you?"

Glinda, for the first time in her life, knew real fear. Not that Fiyero wouldn't take her to the first dance of the year, or that she wouldn't get the newest dress styles from home, or that Elphie wouldn't help her study, or that Momsie wouldn't have her favorite dish cooked.

She was terrified. Terrified of power – Elphie's, Madame Morrible's, the Wizard's, and the lack of her own – terrified of place she'd gotten herself stuck in, terrified of whatever she was feeling inside that was making her act in such a stupid way. While a different Glinda would have pleaded to go back to Shiz and finished her schooling, this Glinda felt stronger.

That, and she knew it would be shot down in an instant.

"In his gracious meritoriality, the Wizard will accommodate you in the Palace Towers," her former head of school told her. "You will be sent for once we have reached a conclusion. Are you in agreement, my dear?"

"Quite, Madame," Glinda bit out. She smiled her sweetest smile and hit herself mentally.

Madame Morrible sent her a withering look, while the Wizard only looked on, bemused.


The shock had finally begun to wear off, and the reality had begun to set in.

Green, green, green, Glinda thought irritably. So much green. Too much green! Any more and she thought she might go crazy. The bedsheets, the walls, doors, ceiling, curtain, carpet, cabinets, counters, and furniture – all green. Of course, looking in the mirror wasn't safe, because she'd just see all that greenness reflected back at her. Great Oz, even the window wasn't safe, because she'd just look out and see more green.

I can't imagine how all of these people live, she thought. She smoothed the skirt of her sundress, suddenly glad that she'd worn something to stand out against the City.

She was all alone now. Well, alone if you didn't count the guard posted outside her door. She sighed and reclined on the impossibly green bed. So much green

She'd go mad. She was certain.

Elphie wouldn't. Elphie would enchant the night table or the bed or the Gillikenese matted rug to fly and escape out the window. Or at least, knot the bed sheets, wait until there was no one below, and climb down.

Glinda wouldn't, because she wasn't brave enough.

Elphie would think of a brilliant solution to satisfy the Wizard and get out of here at the same time.

But Glinda couldn't, because she wasn't smart enough.

Elphie would have protested against the Wizard so loudly the whole City would hear.

And Glinda hadn't, because she knew it was the stupidest idea she'd ever had.

She sat up again. Strengths and weaknesses, she realized. That's what they've all been playing off of. Well, it would have been a fine thing if Elphaba had found the time to clue her in… but then, Elphaba had known that she wasn't smart enough to understand. Glinda had told her, after all, that this particular mission was all her own.

But Glinda suddenly had more confidence in her thinking abilities. She'd come to this conclusion on her own, right?

Together we'll be the greatest team there's ever been…

Well… what made a team work but their strengths and weaknesses? It was how Morrible and the Wizard worked. And it had been how her and Elphie's friendship had been – so, Glinda concluded with growing excitement, all she had to do was figure out what her strengths were that Elphie didn't have.

An hour later, she'd come to a frustrated conclusion. She might be able to be a dumb socialite and sweep everyone off their feet with her beauty and charm, but Elphie had far more strengths in this particular team than she had. She rolled over, shut her eyes to the overwhelming green, and tried to sleep.


Around noon the next day, when she was buried far into her own despair and anger, a knock came at the door. The guard outside, different from the one placed at her door the day before, came in almost immediately without her invitation. Glinda rolled her eyes. Didn't anyone in this Palace know etiquette?

"You've been summoned to the presence of Oz the Great and Terrible. You'd best hurry along," he added, eyeing her strangely when she didn't jump up immediately.

Glinda rolled her eyes again, wondering where she'd picked up that particular habit, before she got up and allowed herself to be marched to the throne room again. The guard left her at the door, and she went in alone.

"I am Oz, the Great and Terrible!" The head she'd seen yesterday bellowed at her. "Who are you?"

She sighed. She was really in no mood for this. "I'm Glinda Upland of the Upper Uplands, and you can come out from behind that hideous thing."

The Wizard's small grey head poked out from behind, before he came out fully. "Sorry, my dear. I had to be sure, you understand."

"Yes, I'm sure I do," she responded testily. Careful, Glinda. "Is my former head of school joining us?"

"I am here, Miss Upland, and I'm touched by your wish for my presence." Madame Morrible strode up behind her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. Glinda tensed. "We have a proposition for you."


Glinda had never not liked herself before. Everybody liked Glinda, Glinda included.

This was the closest she had ever come to truly not liking herself. She felt as if there were two different minds in her, which was quite something - two minds with different morals and values arguing inside her. Each one hated the other.

So, there was really no escape, and Glinda was really growing quite sick of it. She wanted to shut out the voices still speaking in her head.

"Just tell me what this is all about!"

"Hopefully, my dear, it should appeal even to your attention-loving ears."

It had. Well, partly, anyway.

"It was never said that you weren't allowed to finish your schooling career. I always think of my students first, and it would be a tragedy to deprive Shiz University of your charm, Miss Upland. Would you like to graduate?"

She'd gone this far - she didn't want all that studying and learning to be for nothing.

"What about what I know now?"

"Part of the agreement, dear. Yes, yes, what agreement? If you were to return to school, the friend of Miss Thropp, you can understand how that would put the government at risk. However, if you were to return, denouncing her name, a public hero…"

Betray Elphaba.

"You would return as Glinda the Good, friend of the Wonderful Wizard. Upon your graduation, you would take up a figuremental position of leadership in the northern county of Oz… Gillikin, your own birthplace, I believe? Your future would be quite assured."

"All this, if I take up your story?"

She hated herself for even considering it. She hated herself for not being stronger.

"What else can we offer you, my dear?"

But it was so much… a public position, an assured future, a degree in sorcery…

"Well? Shall you accept or decline our generosity?"

"I… I need to think."

"Quite alright. You have tonight and tomorrow. You'll be sent for at five o'clock."

I need to think, Glinda reminded herself. Not something she was used to doing much of, but she'd just have to learn, and learn quickly. There hadn't ever been a time when she'd needed to cram so little time with so much thinking.

Impulsively, she grabbed the top bed sheet and ran over to the window. She sighed when she found no place to tie the end around – it wasn't something she would have done anyway, she supposed. In the distance, the Clock chimed six times as the sun went down in a blaze.

Twenty-three hours.


The first thing Glinda became aware of when she woke up was that she was still tired. Staying up all night did tend to do that to her, though, and she brushed it off. It wasn't like her hair wasn't a mess, and her makeup non-existent; what were a few dark circles under her eyes? And who was she going to impress in this Oz-forsaken room?

The light poured in from the window. It had to be at least high noon, which meant she had only five hours left after a rather unproductive night of thinking. If practice really makes perfect, I promise I'll think so much more once I get out of here. Glinda hated both options: either she didn't graduate, was kept under guard of the Wizard, probably never got to leave the Emerald City (and what would Momsie say when she heard that her daughter had been involved in some sort of political uprising?) and was branded as evil along with Elphaba, only without her, since she was gone – or she had all of that and more… but she betrayed Elphaba.

Yes, so she and Elphaba had had a rocky start, and they still could have grown ever so much closer – but Elphie was so close to her now already… and could she really do that to her? What would she think?

On the other hand, her instincts demanded she accept the proposition – think of yourself before anyone else. Isn't that what she'd always done? What did it matter what Elphaba thought if she had nothing while Glinda had a position, a future, power? What could she really do?

Nothing, but you'll feel guilty the rest of your life.

Guilt. Glinda got up and paced restlessly. If it weren't for Elphie, she wouldn't know what guilt was. These morals she'd picked up really were pesky little things. Yet… she wasn't ready to sacrifice them. How could she?

The Time Dragon Clock outside chimed suddenly, and Glinda jumped, startled. She counted. One… two… three… four… five? Her heart started to pound, and she felt almost ready to burst into tears. How could it be so late already? I'm only seventeen! No one makes these kinds of decisions at seventeen!

Elphie did, her other voice accused.

Elphie was different! She cried. She's smart, she's strong, and I'm not! She can do it, I can't.

You can.

The knock came, and the green-uniformed guard entered. "Our Wonderful Wizard has summoned you to the throne room."

Shaking, she got up and walked ahead of him. You can't betray her.


"I hope you're happy…"

The words were more of a prayer than anything else, even though Glinda had never truly prayed to anyone or anything. She only allowed herself to cry when she was sure she was alone that night. It was the only goodbye she gave Elphie, wherever she was, and the only goodbye she gave the part of herself that Elphie had inspired.

I hope you'll be happy…

In years to come, Glinda looked back at that day as a turning point: it was the day she discovered she had defiance and strength and even intelligence hidden in her, but it was also the day she turned her back on it. She supposed she had turned full circle, and sometimes, many times, she almost wished she hadn't. Sweet Oz, she had been so naïve… she hadn't known even part of what she was getting into.

"Well, dear? I trust you've thought it over. We're awaiting your answer."

Her mother had once told her that there was no great loss without some small gain, when she'd ruined her favorite pink dress – she didn't have to have someone lace up the bodice anymore whenever she wanted to wear it, and she couldn't trip over the sash anymore. Sometimes she had wondered if the opposite wasn't true: was there no great gain without some loss?

"Yes… I've thought. I…."

These things didn't come without a cost, after all.

"I think… I accept."

What heavier cost than part of yourself?


(Is it only me that Glinda's "I hope you're happy" strikes so powerfully at the end of "Defying Gravity"?