Summary: This is as much an experiment in prose writing for me as it is a(slightly angsty) fiyeraba fluff fic sothere isn't much in the way of spoken dialogue. Oh and I own nothing, not so much as a funny word this time sob Basically my Fiyeraba muse was biting REALLY hard and my friends did nothing to discourage me so...
Elphaba was scurrying back from a late study session at the college library when it happened. She had been concentrating so hard on her work to take her mind off of her bubbly blonde bimbo of a roommate that she'd lost track of time, and the weather. When she'd looked up it was dark and what light there was showed up only the gathering storm clouds overhead. She'd grabbed her books and papers and hurried out, trying to get back to her quarters through the howling wind and slight drizzle before the lashing rain started in earnest. It was dark, and she was distracted, so she didn't see the four-ox cart until it was far too late.
Fiyero was wandering along, slightly lost when it happened. His cart losing a wheel in the middle of nowhere had made him several hours late in getting to his next new school. This meant that everywhere was shut and he had no idea nor means of finding out where he was meant to go, cursing his luck he wandered the streets trying to find a pub or inn still open or even just a passing student who could tell him where to go. Right now he'd settle for a covered doorway to shelter in from the rain.
He had just turned off out of an alley when he saw someone start to cross the road, hunched over against the wind and rain with a heavy satchel on their back, completely oblivious to the oncoming cart. They were clothed from head to foot in black clothes, so the driver hadn't seen them yet; Fiyero himself would have missed them if his eyes hadn't been honed by a hunter's upbringing. Forgetting his previous plight, he dived forward into the road. Landing on one shoulder, he rolled, leapt up and grabbed the (on closer inspection) woman with both arms and threw them both sideways to the safety of the pavement.
When it happened, Elphaba only had time enough to look up and blink in the light of the cart lanterns before something very heavy flew out of the darkness and bore her to the ground. They rolled over and over as a ton of ox and cart thundered within feet of them, throwing up a spray of muddy water from a puddle over them to add insult to injury as it trundled on into the night.
"Are you alright Miss?" Came a somewhat muffled but distinctly male voice from somewhere above her spinning head. Her eyes focusing, she saw the worried face of a man about her own age right in front of her eyes. At this intimate distance she could see a hint of stubble on the silhouette of his chin but make nothing out from his features in the near complete darkness. She could smell the slight musk of sweat and wet clothes mixed with the noxious fumes from the mud that covered them both, and both hear and feel his heavy breathing on her neck after his mad rush across the road. She became conscious that one of his hands was cradled protectively around her head, and the other bent beneath her, holding her close to him as they had flown sideways through the air. She felt hot despite the cold water that drenched her to the skin.
Looking down at the woman cradled in his arms, Fiyero ran over the last few moments in his mind. He had acted on pure instinct before his brain had kicked in to tell him to do what he was already doing anyway. He had been conscious only of the sensation of wind in his hair and nothing supporting him as he had flown through the air; twisting so as to land on the ground first and not crush the lady he had rescued. The breath was pushed out of his chest as he had hit the ground hard, rolling over and over in order to carry his charge as far from danger as possible, stopping with her on the bottom as a wave of gutter slime washed over them both.
It was, he considered as his mind mulled its actions over, a somewhat graceful and incredibly refined rescue that he would like to have seen from a less personal angle. He would definitely like to have passed on the personal angle on the pain in his shoulder where he had hit the road and the back of his head where he'd hit the pavement. Lying there he could feel both his and her heartbeats fluttering, her arms clasped around his back in nervous response to the sudden situation, her quick breath rustling the hair above his ear in an almost sensual manner.
"I'm. Alright; I suppose." Elphaba gasped, still taken in by the suddenness of the whole event. A moment ago she'd been crossing the road completely oblivious to this strange man who now lay on top of her, or the cart she could still hear in the distance that had nearly flattened her; all for want of a little attention, either to the time, the weather or just the world more than three inches from the end of her nose. "Would you mind? Awfully. If you were to let go of me?" She continued, her normal abhorrence of being touched returning from its brief sojourn into the back of her terrified mind. She started to panic slightly in the arms of this complete stranger who, although he had just saved her life, had no right to hold her so close to himself. Pushing the urge to kick and struggle back down into the depths of her subconscious, she allowed him to let go of her and roll over onto his feet. She still lay, panting slightly, where he'd left her on the ground, eventually allowing herself to be helped up into a sitting position by the man's rough but gentle hands.
He ran his hands expertly over her arms and legs as he helped her sit up, checking her for injuries from the fall or by his landing on her when they rolled over each other on the ground. He hesitated and pulled his hands back slightly as she recoiled from his touching her, feeling suddenly embarrassed, guilty even at what must seem to be his unlooked for familiarity. Realising she was still slightly shocked by her ordeal he though it best to try and calm her down and alarm her as little as possible.
"What's your name?" Fiyero asked her, holding her much more gingerly than before. Just enough to support her if her legs should give out, as they nearly did when she got up.
"Elphaba." She said breathlessly. She felt useless, putty in the gentle hands of this man whom she'd never met before in her life. She knew she'd never met him before because if she had then he'd never have looked at her twice as the cart ploughed over her. She silently thanked the darkness that covered her; for once in her life someone was treating her as a person, not judging her by the colour of her skin and she enjoyed the guilty pleasure of her deception. She longed for this moment to go on forever, but also for it to end as swiftly as possible. She hated being beholden to anybody, least of all a stranger. And in the end he'd turn out to be just like everyone else. A shallow, pig headed chauvinist who would take one look at her skin before throwing her straight back into the gutter to rot, and then head straight off to find the cart and get it to come back and finish what it had started.
"Beautiful." He muttered, taking in the curve of her chin in the dim light. The strong set of her jaw and the prominent cheekbones that, with more light and more impolite company, would be called skeletal. But he would go so far as to say they were regal, if not royal or majestic. You could see that profile on your coins without much stretch of the imagination and you'd welcome the sight of such a face whenever you had occasion to pass it over, though you may envy the storekeeper his possession. "I mean." He stuttered, realising what he had said, feeling his face start to twinge with an unaccustomed blush of deep crimson hue. "It's a beautiful name, Elphaba." He felt truly stupid. He had just pulled back from her so as not to frighten her in her state of shock, and here he was practically hitting on her? He felt disgusted at himself, full of self-loathing at his mistreatment of this woman.
"Th - thank you." She mumbled, also feeling a deep blush forming on her face. But hers was not of crimson, far from it. She felt a wave of nauseous vitriol rise within her as her normal thought processes reasserted themselves within her, spurred by the memory of peoples' cruelty and prejudice toward her. She pushed him away from her weakly and stumbled equally weakly against a wall, it seemed her mind was recovering faster than her body. Fiyero lurched forward to help her but she held up a hand. He truly had no idea who or what she was. She was wearing her usual ankle length black skirt with a black overcoat covering a black sweater and a black hat. She'd even gone as far as to add a scarf (black) to her outfit for the day to keep out the bitter cold. The only skin showing through would be between her chin and her eyes; and on her hands. She quickly thrust the hand she had held up behind her, as if to steady her against the wall. But really it was to hide her skin and prolong his anonymous ignorance, which truly was bliss, if only to her.
At that moment a shaft of moonlight pierced the murky cloud that rained down upon them, lighting on Elphaba. Fiyero gasped in wonder at the splendour of what little he could see of her face. Her chiselled features were like a china dolls. Her shapely nose with dark chocolate eyes set above them made his knees go slightly weak at the knees. His eyes swept her entire form. The light not showing up much new except that she was slim and very tall, just slumped as she was against the wall she seemed a lot smaller. Standing straight she would probably be as tall as him, an impressive height for a lady. Only after he had taken in her features, crafted lovingly by the Unnamed God and sent direct to his heart on that dark night, did he notice her peculiarity. It must have been a trick of the light, he thought. No one could be that violent a shade of green. He blinked, but it was still there, a shade of green so bright that it had to be there.
"Oh my Oz, you're…"
Here it came, Elphaba thought to herself. Her secret was out now. Goodbye ignorance, goodbye bliss. Hello distaste, disaster; disgust. Unconsciously, she backed into the wall. Her shoulders grinding into it, her feet finding purchase to spring, ready to claw, to hit, to scratch his eyes out. Her pulse quickened, her muscles tensed, her lungs filled to scream and shout abuse at her attacker.
"You're shivering." He finished; shrugging off his damp jacket and trying to put it round her, hampered by her trying so hard to back into the wall that it looked like she hoped it might swallow her. Of course she knows she's bright green you damned idiot, he reprimanded himself. It must be hard to miss when you look in the mirror and your face (as beautiful as it may be) is the colour of pea soup. But not the texture, he mused; in passing the texture had felt like finest Gilikinese silk. And her hair had felt like the sun shining on the Thousand Year Grasslands, almost ethereal in its brilliance on his skin.
Elphaba was disarmed by this sudden change in events and she collapsed both physically and mentally. No one had ever been this good to her since her mother died. And even she had only loved her because there was no one else. Since she had died practically no one had made physical contact with her except to trip or push her over if she couldn't get away fast enough; if they even worked up enough courage to get that close and didn't just resort to throwing stones at the weird green girl from a safe distance. She slid down the wall as Fiyero tried to put his coat around her, her legs giving way she just folded up into a heap of black rags at his feet. This wasn't happening, she thought. He mustn't have seen her properly, or he was colour blind, or short sighted. No one liked her; she had no good trait, nothing at all endearing about her. She knew that, everyone told her so every day of her life, even her father. If her own father couldn't love her then no one could.
Cursing quietly, Fiyero stooped to help her. He felt a sudden wave of pity for this girl who was obviously hurt, if not in body then in mind. Her fear was almost palpable and he could feel her shaking and shivering on the ground as he put and arm around her to help her up. It was like holding up a scarecrow, whenever he pulled one way she just lolled over the other way. Like a rag doll, he thought to himself. There was practically no substance to her at all. She was tall and sinewy, but she was a twig. Beautiful blossom not withstanding she felt like she would snap if he let her go. His pity turned to an overwhelming sympathy for her. What had turned her into this cringing half-creature?
He picked up her sodden form, heavy satchel and all, in both arms and carried her down the street to a shop doorway, which would provide some shelter from the rain and wind. Cradling her in his arms he sheltered her from the wind and wrapped her up in his jacket, wishing he had a blanket in his satchel which was now lying on the other side of the road, but all it had in was a few books and pens. His entire luggage had been taken on to wherever he was meant to be now. But now where he was meant to be, was here, protecting this Elphaba from whatever would harm her, person, weather or whatever. If it wanted to hurt her, it would have to go through him first.
Elphaba was barely conscious of being lifted and carried; this was only a dream or nightmare anyway. Why pay attention? She felt herself being put down and held tightly by someone. It was strange, she felt warm and safe in his arms. She didn't even know his name, but she felt like nothing could touch her whilst he was watching over her, even if he didn't know what she was yet. The torrential rain appeared to have stopped, but she could still hear its frantic pitter patter on the pavement so they must be under cover. Under the cover of an angel's wings, she thought. That was Father she thought, always talking of God and angels, and demons. Nearly always the talks about demons were aimed at her, his soulless daughter. Wicked through and through. This man felt like a father should feel: strong and warm and kind. Like nothing she'd ever felt before in her miserable life. She nuzzled up to him, her head over his heart. She could feel its steady beat. Dub dub, dub dub, dub dub. It lulled her into a feeling of safety, like a foetus in its mother's womb before it's birth.
"My name's Fiyero, Elphaba." Fiyero whispered into her ear as he held her tight. "And I'm going to look after you."
"Yero..." She mumbled in her near comatose state. "My hero…"