Elphaba flew swiftly through the cold desert night, the full moon lighting the sand dunes so that they looked like pearl-colored waves rolling from the jade island of the Emerald City, still just visible in the distance behind her, to the prominent peaks of the Great Kells. Up ahead lay the shimmering, twisting stream of silver that was the Gillikin River.
On the broom behind her, the arms of her lover, near death and unconscious, were bound by magic around her waist so he wouldn't slip off the broom.
It had been six hours since they had left the gates of the Emerald City in the middle of the night. Elphaba had returned from her mission over six hours ago, to find her lover bleeding to death in the room over the corn exchange, the last embers of a fire fading away. She had screamed his name over and over, as she had done so many times in this room before. As he lay dying, she had shrieked with desperation, pain, hopelessness, that the only one who had ever shown her love, compassion, was gone, leaving her. She did not even try to stop the tears falling swiftly, painfully down her emerald face. Let them burn, she thought bitterly, let them kill me. At least I'll be with Fiyero. Then he had moaned, and she had stopped wailing. He groaned again, and she collapsed onto her knees, crawling over to him. She carefully lifted his head in her lap and stroked the hair off his bloodstained face.
"Yero my hero, I need you, don't leave me," she whispered.
His eyelids flew open, and she saw a spark there.
"Never," he breathed. "Wipe your eyes, Fae. You'll burn."
A breath escaped his body and for one terrible moment Elphaba's heart stopped as she feared it was his last. But then she felt a faint pounding of life in his diamond-covered chest, and she had gasped and dropped him. She ran quickly to the cupboard and after searching through various cookbooks that had never been used, she found what she was looking for, bound in green leather: the Grimmerie. She ran swiftly back to Fiyero, unconscious on the floor, and set it down by his head. Her tears still burned her, but with a new resolution, Elphaba flipped hastily through its yellowed pages and finally found a spell to stop bleeding. She murmured the incantation against Fiyero's forehead and kissed him.
She held him for a moment, praying to whichever god would listen, if there was any God to listen, that he would live. She looked down at him and saw that the blood had stopped pouring from his side. She let out a sigh of relief and collapsed against him, instantly picking herself up again and rushing to their bedroll. On the ground next to it were various items of clothing that had been discarded and never picked up during Fiyero's last visit, and Elphaba tore off a large strip of cloth from someone's shirt.
Elphaba tore back across the loft to Fiyero's side and wrapped his injury in the fabric. He groaned softly when her nimble fingers passed over the open wound and she tensed, glancing at his diamond-covered face, but continued binding his bloody torso. When she had finished she leapt from his side and, employing the training she had learned from the Resistance, packed everything of importance in the dingy loft into a cloth bag in no less than thirty seconds.
Elphaba grabbed her broomstick and flipped through the Grimmerie again, finding the incantation.
"Conligatio folliculus atum adonis adamo scopae!" Instantly the bag and Fiyero rose into the air. Elphaba mounted her broom and pointed her finger at the skylight, focusing all her energy on it; with an earsplitting crash, the frosted glass shattered. The bag locked itself onto the underside and back of the broom, held in place by thongs of leather that had appeared out of midair. Fiyero was moved into a seating position behind his lover, and his hands locked themselves around her waist. Still retaining some amount of consciousness, he shifted his head ever so slightly, resting his chin in the crook of her neck.
"Fae…" he breathed as she kicked off from the ground and shot into the air.
The night wind as she flew over the City of Emeralds dried her tears, but stung with a vengeance of its own: this journey would not be an easy one, and she had many miles to travel before she could properly heal Fiyero. She only hoped that their destination was vacant.
A/N: Well…my first Fiyeraba. Hope you like it, I've been working on it for a while. I know it's not very long.
Oh and if you have a copy of Wicked: the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, look in the front and see if you can figure out where they're going from the map.
PLEASE REVIEW!!!
and in the words of Tom Collins... MERRY CHRISTMAS, BITCHES!! yay RENT!