Author's Note:

Not my characters or places. Old, found deep in bowels of computer, quickly jotted down fic, not beta-ed.

I have tweaked facts just the slightest bit. Or rather, I have tweaked assumptions, such as the assumption that Elphaba and Co. returned from Caprice-in-the-Pines by carriage, which would make sense, but was never stated, and so: train. We'll pretend they left their carriage for Avaric and the ladies to use. And Grommetik? Well, we'll assume he got shunted into the baggage car.

Part 1: Six Hours on a Train

His legs dangling uncomfortably off the edge of the seat, Boq was sure that the train mustn't have been designed by Munchkins; this train, with its large cushioned benches, with its doors that hissed open and chomped closed as one passed through them, tearing from Elphaba both a corner of her dress and what Boq reasoned to be an oath.

"Tik tok devilry," she had griped with a sour face, tasting the flavor of her own unionist roots thick in her curse.

While Elphaba looked about to spit, Galinda gracefully took advantage of Boq's chivalry and wafted by him to seat herself by the compartment window. Coming out of his bow, Boq felt a rush of warm gratitude for both tradition and Elphie's defiance of it, Galinda's puff of displaced air bringing with it tales of her sweet perfume. Boq was glad that Elphaba had marched forward first, for he might have squealed had the door tried for a nibble of his rear end, with Galinda there to witness, and Elphaba there to comment.

By the window sat Galinda and Elphaba. For the first hour, Galinda gazed pointedly out the window, back straight and ears pink, contemplating the rain with a seriousness that made Boq question whether she had noticed it to be raining at all. She eventually gave up contemplation in favor of perusing a very glossy, very colorful magazine. Propped crookedly across from her, Elphaba read, alternately scratching her nose and squinting down at her text, occasionally jerking back from it with an incredulous snort, startling the rest of the compartment's inhabitants but for Ama Clutch, who had installed herself beside Galinda, had nestled into herself like a great hoopskirted hen, and had been asleep before the train left the station. Boq, whose suspended legs were beginning to ache and who was left sitting next to Elphie, found himself feeling intensely jealous of her.

Two hours into her nap, Ama Clutch began to mumble. Two hours into her book, Elphaba followed suit. The train passed a vine-draped castle, and Galinda's head swiveled violently, devouring it with her eyes. Boq felt very alone, and swung his legs. Then Boq felt childish, too.

When a dining car passed by to serve a light dinner, Galinda laid claim to her oblivious Ama's portion as well as her own, picking the grapes from her spring salad and folding them in her napkin. "I don't know why something so very tart isn't allowed to ripen," she said. Elphaba rolled her eyes, her long fingers absently peeling the membranous skin from one of her own grapes, gouging eyes and a frown in its unprotected flesh with the nail of her little finger. Boq silently agreed with them both; sour grapes are much better for ignoring or picking apart than for eating.

The third hour was very long. Ama Clutch began to snore. Elphaba's breathing was audibly deep and her breath visibly wet on her parted lips, her eyes seemingly closed. Her forehead was smooth and beautiful, raindrops on the window staining her skin with their shadows. Elphaba seemed to be reading, though neither Boq nor Galinda were sure as to Elphaba's exact level of consciousness. Every few minutes, she would drag a bony hand across the open face of the book and turn a page. To her curious onlookers, for some unfathomable reason this proved nothing.

Boq awoke to a hushed titter, followed by a low asthmatic drone. Through the sandy screen of lowered eyelashes, he saw bare feet, Galinda's, pudgy and pink and up on the seat cushion. His mind sputtered sleepily, trying to make sense of what his eyes were being offered. Galinda leaned across the divide to peer at something, her magazine crumpling in her lap. Ama Clutch let out another sighing, wheezing snore. Elphaba shoved her book closer to Galinda, her finger stabbing at the page. "'Bombinate'," she whispered. Galinda giggled, "how awful!" Boq let himself slide back into unconsciousness.

Watching them sleep made his stomach dance with guilt. They were nearly symmetrical, heads on arms, slumped, legs extended, leaning their weight into the window. A compromised daylight struggled through the rain, sucking away all color and casting the compartment into a sharp relief of shadows and lights, nooks and crannies.

He followed the shadow of Elphaba, from her arm down to where it lay on her leg, flowing long and lean under it's shroud of skirting. She disappeared abruptly into boot. Laces, leather, black as tar down to the toe, which was worn and gray with scuff marks. His brow knit in confusion. Against that rough, black, coarseness was a round and delicate lightness. That dainty foot was pressed sole to sole, flush against Elphie's wretched old boot. Those perfect toes wriggled, gently tracing tiny circular patterns on the beaten leather. Boq raised his head and started, startled to see Galinda's eyes wide open. Galinda was gazing down at her own foot conversing with Elphie's, which rested inert on the floor. Galinda was smiling. Her big toe dislodged a clump of dirt. Nose wrinkling, she bit her lip, and Boq went back to observing through his eyelashes, for Galinda's sake.

They arrived at Caprice.

Avaric had wonderful stories about lace and perfectly done-up satin bows and even more perfectly un-done satin bows, and so very many girls all in the same small carriage, with few seats and many laps. Boq had sore legs and Elphaba's incoherent mumblings about "abstract enthusiasts of the empirical system", and strange frolicking images of boots and toes.

At Caprice, Avaric went to bed with a hard-on.

At Caprice, Boq curled up on a proper-sized chair with a book and munched on a napkinful of sour grapes.