A/N: for the last year or so I was writing Rent fics mostly, so this is my first Wicked fic in a while. I saw it in London couple of weeks ago and fell for it all over again- it was impossible not to, believe me. This one is really short, there's another one on which I'm still working, but it should be on pretty soon too, so stay tuned.
Reviews will make me super-happy!
Disclaimer- Gregory Maguire and Stephan Schwartz own 'em. I'm just playing!
A Promise Kept
"Elphaba, you can't go on like this," said Glinda. Her tone, soft and pleading, caught Elphaba off-guard, yet at the same time it had the power to increase her fury in a way that even the silly farm girl's crying couldn't.
"I can do anything I want!" she interjected, somewhat more aggressively than she initially intended. Glinda moved slightly back, looking somewhat intimidated by this outburst. "I am the Wicked Witch of the West!"
There was a soft sound of rustling wings, followed by a gust of wind from the open window. Elphaba huffed in discontent, knowing that this sudden interruption ruined the effect her statement was supposed to have, but then quickly pulled herself together as practicality took over. There were more pressing issues to consider at the moment. She knew who it was, and she turned to face it as it flew into the attic. "At last! What took you so long?"
The winged Monkey handed her something in response. She took it a bit hesitantly, one eyebrow raised in silent question. She wasn't expecting any letters.
"What's this? Why are you bothering me with this?" she murmured, half to the Monkey, half to herself, as she broke the seal. Not waiting for the Monkey's reply, she straightened the paper. She held back a gasp of surprise as she recognized the familiar hand-writing. Impossible… he was supposed to be…
She took a deep breath, doing the best she could to keep a straight face, even though her heart was beating so fast, she was sure it would give her away. She turned her back on Glinda, ignoring her inquiring looks, and let her eyes wander over the hastily scribbled lines.
Dear Elphaba,
Being the brighter among the two of us, I guess you figured it all out by recognizing my hand-writing, but just to assure you that your eyes are not playing tricks on you- I'm not dead. I'm very much alive, although not so much so, but I will get to that in a moment.
I'm also assuming that if this letter gets to you while you're in someone else's presence, you will be careful enough as for keeping what I had just told you in complete secret. If someone else is there while this letter finds you, pretend you had just gotten a confirmation of my death. I can almost picture you rolling your eyes, wrinkling your forehead, thinking how ridiculous this is, and maybe it is, but if you want us to see each other again, you must play along. No one must ever know. Do as I tell you, as repulsive as following orders may seem to you.
I'll try to be short in telling you everything that happened since the guards took me away. Short, mostly as I don't remember much of it. As I struggled with them in an attempt to free myself, I accidentally hit my head. I must have lost consciousness, for the next thing I remember is waking up feeling no solid ground beneath my feet. Several moments later I figured it was because I was hung on a pole in a middle of a corn field, located in practically nowhere. I also found it quite odd that although I probably should have, I felt no pain or discomfort. Absolutely nothing. And this got me to an even more striking realization, that I wasn't quite myself anymore. I mean that literally, dear. To be even more precise, it is possible to say that I'm not… quite… human… anymore.
Don't gasp. Don't start. Not even if you're alone while reading this. Remember your promise. No one must ever know.
As a matter of fact, I'm beginning to get used to my being a scarecrow. Yes, a scarecrow. It's not as bad as it sounds, really. It actually has some benefits. I feel no pain, only this constant light-headedness. And I can dance or walk or run for hours without getting tired. There is no reason for you to be alarmed, or panicked. I'm alright. Also, as I'm sure this is your doing, there is no reason for you to blame yourself for the way things turned out. I'm certain that once the initial shock will subside, blaming yourself will be just the thing you will do.
Well, don't.
You have nothing to blame yourself for. I don't blame you. If anything, I should be grateful. You saved my life. I'm sure it was the best you could do. We'll find a way to fix that, once we're together again and away from here.
Which brings me to the main purpose of this letter- our escape. We must leave Oz as soon as we can, or we won't be able to leave at all. They're coming for you, and they're angry. They won't let go until they are sure you're dead and gone. Well, let them have their wish. Make them believe that they killed you off. Unfortunately, the spell you cast on me took not only my human form but my creativity as well, so you'll have to think of the details yourself. I'm sure you'll manage.
I'll come for you at midnight. The secret tunnel in the castle's main bedroom (which I'm sure you know by now) will lead you to the castle's gardens. Wait for me at the end of that tunnel, but keep the door shut until I'll make sure no one is following us. I'll knock on it when it is safe for you to come out. Take only what you find necessary, but remember that we have a long journey ahead of us.
I know you think this is crazy, but there is no other way. We can't stay here, it's too dangerous. We must escape, tonight, as long as we have the chance. All I ask of you is to trust me. We are going to make it. We are going to be together again, for always, just as I promised you. I'll be able to keep my promise, only if you'll be able to keep yours.
I'm running out of time, and we're on our way again. I'll try to detain them for as long as I can, to buy you some time. Be careful, Elphaba. It will all be behind us soon; everything will be better again.
I love you,
Fiyero.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
Elphaba blinked, startled. Glinda's voice seemed to come out of a great distance. She raised her arm and quickly wiped some unwelcome tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath, slowly regaining her composure, before she turned to face Glinda.
"It's Fiyero, isn't it? Is he…" Glinda's voice trailed off in silent question. Her expression was one of horror and grief, as if she knew the answer without yet hearing it.
As she glanced at the letter, Elphaba realized she was clutching the paper in her hand, close to her heart. For a moment, she wasn't sure how she was going to respond. She could keep the truth away from anyone else, but could she possibly keep it away from Glinda?
Remember your promise. No one must ever know. Including Glinda, she knew. It was for her own safety, as much as it was for hers and Fiyero's. Glinda was better off that way. It was time for them to go their separate ways.
Glinda was still waiting for her reply, she then realized. Time was running out. It would all be over soon, she told herself. Soon she'd see Fiyero again. Everything would be alright again; better, perhaps, and undoubtedly different. She closed her eyes, trying to resist this wave of emotion that suddenly hit her full force. Then she opened her eyes again, and looked straight at the woman who was her best friend, her only friend. She tried to keep her voice from quivering as she eventually replied, "We have seen his face for the last time."
