A/N: Hi all!
I'm reposting this one-shot cause I wanted to get some things in this story edited. I hope you will all enjoy this story and reviews, suggestions and concrit is always welcome! I truly appreciate reviews, so please hit the button on your way out and tell me what you thought of this fanfic.
I'll also be starting a multichapter Bessa fanfic that takes place during intermission. I can always use ideas or any thoughts and suggestions so feel free to PM me or leave them in a review!
I hope you will enjoy this fanfic! This one-shot was inspired by another author of many Bessa fics and her username is ElianaMargalit. The story that inspired me is called, "Sleep." I just kind of took that idea a step farther. (Okay, maybe a few steps farther lol...) This story is based on the musical and takes place when Nessa is governor.
Flames will be used to light firewood and candles.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of Wicked.
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"Boq?" Nessa queried as she sat at her dressing table undoing her hair. As she placed down one of the clips in its proper dish, she turned to see him pulling down the covers of her large bed.
"Yes, Madame?"
The young man replied as he straightened from his task and gave Nessa an expectant look.
"I was wondering," she chose her words carefully as she slowly wheeled herself towards her bed, "I was wondering if you have ever had a dream that you swore was real?"
After a moment of silence he answered, "I suppose we all have had dreams that seem-"
"Boq, I asked about you."
The munchkin cleared his throat as he watched Nessa start to untie the laces of her robe. Taking three large steps backwards, Boq's eyes never left the floor as he made for the door.
"Boq," Nessa's voice once again reached his ears along with a chuckle, "I'm not naked under here."
"Yes, I mean no Madame. I do have dreams that feel real. Not all the time mind you, but sometimes I will wake up and question if it really happened. However, as I get more awake and reality comes to me…"
His voice trailed off as his back softly made contact with the doorframe, "Is that all for this evening Madame?"
After a moment of silence Nessarose sighed and nodded, "Yes, you may go."
With out another word Boq left the room, shutting the door with a soft click. The woman sighed again, leaning herself out of her chair and crawling in to the fresh cool sheets. The governor lay on her back, her eyes focused on the white ceiling above her as a small smile graced her pretty face.
"Perhaps I will have the dream again," she whispered in to the night as a soft wind blew outside her window, "Maybe it will become reality."
Sometimes it would be the soft click of her door being shut.
Sometimes it would be a shadow of a person standing at the end of her bed. Other times she could swear she'd smell the nearly imperceptible scent of his cologne wafting through the air. Now and again she could feel a hand on her cheek or a soft featherlike kiss to her lips. The gentle weight of his body as he would hold her in the black of night. The soft weight, a slight pressure of fingertips running through out her hair as she slept. Nessarose, only to herself would insist that she heard Boq's voice, low and soothing whispering in to her ear. Telling her words of love and devotion that he couldn't or wouldn't utter during the day.
It was then she would awaken, only to find the air devoid of his scent, his weight a warm spot on her bed that Nessa often dismissed as being a previous place she had been lying in and the room as silent as a tomb.
It was then reality would come to her as sharp and clear as ever and Nessa would weep. She would lie in her empty cold bed and cry for who she would never completely have and for how cruel fate had treated her.
While in a room down the hall, a certain servant was climbing in to his own bed for he knew that dawn was just a few short hours away. He would rise then and bathe, dress himself for the day and be ready for whenever she would call his name or ring her bell. Why he could not confess his love to her he would never know. The fact that he could be so open and free with her while she was none the wiser he could not say.
Why she could not stop dreaming of what she would never have she would never know. The fact that he haunted her nights with words and actions of a lover only seemed to drive the point in deeper during the day that he was not.
A load of words remained unsaid. Many actions were never brought to the surface. She carried the weight of being unloved as well as feared, and he shouldered the rest.
Until night fell across Munchkinland once more, wrapping the world in a heavy inoperable cloak of darkness.
-..-..-..-..-..-.-…-…End of, "Weight."-….-…-….-