Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked or any of the characters mentioned in this story.

TW: Character death, suicide, murder.

Say Goodbye
Kirra White Tigress

She sits at her vanity, slowly brushing out her golden locks, watching herself as she does so. It is obvious that she is not focused so much on the task, but on the thoughts that run through her mind—she has a distant look, an expression of infinite sadness and longing. They haunt her even in her dreams every night, yet in the morning she acts as if she has not a care in the world.

Glinda cries in her sleep, though she does not know it. In her dreams she whispers words into the darkness, unaware that she is doing so. More than any other word, the name "Elphie" is uttered. Ask about it when she awakes, and she'll ask what you mean in a heartbeat—her memory is wiped clean the moment her eyes open. What is it about the events of the day, however, that brings her mind into further darkness?

I watch her every night as Guardians do, wondering about this question. I wonder why she feels so much guilt about my "death" three years ago, why she hurts so much. Then I wonder why she hasn't found someone to help her through these hard times, another lover. I recall her telling me that she would always love me and that she'd always belong to me… but I never knew she truly meant it until tonight.

She stands up at long last; I watch her movements carefully. The blonde makes her way to the bed and crawls into it, in no apparent hurry, before reaching to turn down the oil lamp. I almost have the urge to stop her—I was expecting her to prolong the moment, to stay up a little longer—but I stand still. This night must go through like I had planned. Only then would we both be free from this hell we're living.

I can't say I'm proud of all of my decisions, especially this one. But it must be done eventually…. Every night for the past three years, I've been keeping watch over her without her knowledge. And every morning after I return to my home in Kiamo Ko, I fight to keep out thoughts of her. I'm pretty sure had I not the capability to withstand long periods of torture, I would have acted sooner. But now the time had come where I just couldn't stand it anymore. Something needed to be done.

So I decided to put us both out of our misery.

Glinda the Good would have to die.

The light suddenly goes out. Darkness engulfs the room, save for the light of the full moon shining from the open window. I quickly slip into the room through said window, hurrying into the shadows before I am detected. My heart begins to race, my mind screaming for me to stop. But my body refuses to listen. For too many years, we'd both been suffering. Now was the time to end this….

I cross to the bed; from here I can already hear her even breathing. She'd always been a deep sleeper, even in the beginning stages. I wonder if she'd even notice what was happening…. Just to prevent her from waking up—just in case—I gently place my fingertips on her forehead and muttered a soft spell. Her body seems to fall limp before my gaze, a sign that it had worked.

I climb onto the bed and straddle her body—she doesn't even move. My eyes look over her body, knowing that this is the last time I will ever do so. I gently caress her cheek, then bring my fingertips down to her full lips, her jaw, her neck…. The thought of ravishing her in her sleep comes to mind, but I push that temptation aside. It wasn't needed. I just had to finish my task quickly to keep me from going insane….

The sound of a clock striking midnight fills the air, halting my movements. And in that moment, Glinda's eyes snap open with a gasp. I silently curse myself. It was only reasonable that the spell wouldn't last—Glinda was a sorceress, and a talented one at that, so my magic was cancelled out. Her blue eyes met my own, widening in surprise. "Elphie?" she whispers in disbelief.

Now! my inner demon hisses at me, and I comply. My hands encircle her throat and squeeze tightly. The initial sound of her choking reaches my ears, and I squeeze tighter rather than fall back. I hear her attempt to gasp my name pleadingly. Her hands frantically try to pull my own from her throat, but I will not relent. Instead I press harder, hoping to eliminate all chances of her gaining breath.

Glinda's fingers eventually begin to slip as her strength begins to fade. I can see her eyes becoming glossed over as her vision blurs—she can't go on much longer. I am suddenly tempted to let her go, to let her live, but the crazed part of my mind forces me to hold on until—

Her body goes limp. I feel no strangled breaths under my touch; not even a pulse can be detected. My hands slowly loosen their hold. A form of insane satisfaction enters my mind. I finally did it. I've killed Glinda the Good, my torturous lover….

What have I done?

Memories suddenly flood my mind. The sound of her voice echoes in my ears—her voice, her laughter, her moans of pleasure. I can feel her tender kisses as though they had come only recently, her soft skin against my own. I can see her brilliant blue eyes staring at me, a small smile upon her face. It's the same look she gives me before she says, "I love you."

The very words I shall never hear again….

A sickening feeling of bitter remorse claims my body as those three words echo throughout my entire being. The very things about her I had wanted to get rid of are now what I crave. I shakily bring a hand to touch her face in hopes of recapturing the feel of her, but then I recoil—her skin is cooling just moments after her death. I suddenly catch the sight of bruises forming on her pale skin where I had strangled the very breath out of her.

Spells of every kind was pulled from my memories. Summoning, protection, offensive, and so on. The frantic search for a spell continues until dawning horror consumes me. Throughout the entire Grimmerie, there is not one spell that can bring her back to me, or even back at all. As in the law of physics, the Grimmerie stands unmoving in the matter of life and death.

So… there is only one thing I have left to do. It is something I should have done years previous, but never could find the strength to do.

Until now….

Unwaveringly, my hand goes to my belt and withdraws a simple dagger. Its blade glistens in the pale moonlight enticingly, though I have already succumbed to its purposes. I had brought it just in case things went too far with Glinda… and they have. I bring the blade to my throat; I shiver at the coolness of it. I take one last look at my lover's body, wishing that she'd come back to life—or consciousness, if she is just pretending out of fear. But her eyes remain closed, her body remains still….

The blade cuts through my own skin like paper. Pain enters my body—blood springs from the deep wound. Then there is a numbness as my strength begins to fade with every second that passes. And finally….