AN: Here's another oneshot. Though, this time, I don't know if I want to keep it a oneshot, it's too short in my opinion, plus I'd like to make it a multi-chapter, adding some post-musical Fiyeraba and Gelphie friendship. I like the idea of the story, and I've already started planning how to continue this. But I don't know, let me know if you like the plot, review! I need to know if you want me to make it longer! As always, English is not my native language, so feel more than free to point out eventual mistakes to me, please! Thank you very much anyway :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked, flying bubbles or Fliaan...

Dead and gone

Glinda the Good was standing up high in her beautiful light pink bubble, humming to herself a joyful melody and smiling at the people standing down on the ground. It was one of her first business travels, as after the death of the Wicked Witch of the West, she wanted to travel a lot and see new places, now that peace reigned in Oz. She was high in the sky, up above like a gracious pink cloud, as she smiled sweetly, standing at her full height, though there was no need of that, in her bubbly pink, brand new dress. She was in Fliaan, a foreign country not very far from Oz.

She didn't exactly know where she was, though, mostly because she was tired from a day of traveling, since the trip had been very long, specially by bubble: Fliaan was a very windy country. She was surprised when she discovered people there already knew who she was and already loved her even if they had never seen her before. Probably this was what people meant when they told her she had a gift when coming to popularity. It had always been like this, since her very youth.

And she had never complained about it… well, not until she met that one person that changed her life forever, for good. She had spent the last month auto-commiserating and crying herself to sleep while the whole country had been celebrating for four entire weeks, a record, even for the Wicked Witch. They hadn't celebrated for so long since the Wizard's arrival. Oz knew the irony was killing Glinda. She couldn't keep a soft, hot tear from slowly running down her cheek. She didn't have to think of Elphie, or of Fiyero. They were both dead and gone and now it was up to her. Elphie had told her this herself.

It was her turn to fix things now, or, better, not to. Her green friend had asked Glinda to not try to clear her name or Fiyero's. The blonde couldn't actually say why, but she was very determined to keep her promise to her only, best and dead friend. She had always had other people doing things for her and being brave instead of her: first Elphie, then Fiyero… now it was her turn to prove everybody wrong. That perky insignificant blonde that used to attend Shiz and squeal in delight every time she heard something about scandalicious reputations was now dead and gone. At her place was a grown up, strong woman. Who was going to make Elphie proud. Elphie would be proud. She would be… if she could see her

This thought generated a companion to the lonely tear that had run on Glinda's face a few minutes before. Another hot, painful drop slowly found its way down her face, until it finally stopped on the apple of her cheek. And Glinda was glad nobody could see her face now. She sighed and the cold, windy breath was painful in her chest and she tried to swallow that lump that was tormenting her throat. She bit her lower lip, determined to not screw up things again. Like Elphie had done. Yes, like Elphie; for Elphie. She put her pretty, perfect, happy façade back to its place and faked another shadow of a smile.

People were still cheering, although it had been half an hour since she had stopped just above their heads. She stared at the crowd. She didn't exactly know what she was looking for in that human carpet of a square, where all citizens were staring up at her, smiling, screaming and squealing in delight. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at that. But that was too Elphie-like, so she just denied her that pleasure, to keep herself from falling in auto-commiseration again. And in front of all Fliaan nonetheless. What had she really done to deserve that, by the way? She was just standing there, being pretty. Everybody could do that! Well, probably not everybody… She wouldn't. No, she wouldn't just stand there like Glinda was, smiling and giggling for nothing. She would have spoken. Said something, anything… But, Glinda thought, truth was Elphaba wouldn't have to look for something to say or to do, because she wouldn't have found herself in that situation in the first place. She would have done things in a different way. In a better way. But she wasn't here now, was she? Of course not. Now it was just Glinda and her bubble, above Fliaan, in the wind and among the happy white clouds.

She kept on scanning the crowd, examining every smiling face, every joyful voice. Until… She didn't know what she had seen. It was a shadow. It really looked like it came form another world. No, it wasn't a shadow. It was a person. They had a black cloak on, so Glinda couldn't see them. But, finally, she caught a glimpse of them and she gently brought a soft pink hand to her mouth to prevent her from screaming. It was there, she had seen it, she couldn't deny it. She had seen a hand. A hand that the person couldn't menage to keep hidden under the cloak because of the cold wind that was still blowing. Yes, she saw it and now she didn't know what to do.

It was a hand… and it was green.