It was like a light had suddenly been switched on. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, as normal as waking from a cat nap.
Except this cat nap had last nearly a year, and she had no idea where she was. She had no idea who she was. She had no rememberance of the previous twenty-three years, of her love, of her pain, of her misguided hopes, or of her flawed dreams. For a moment she was merely a woman waking, staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling.
Then she registered the weight against her chest. Looking down, she recognized a human infant, curled against her breast. She sat up, cradeling him. A flash of green caught her eye, and the begining of her life came back. She could recall an idealistic young woman, a girl really, named Elphaba Thropp. She had no recollection of how Elphaba Thropp had come to be in the sterile white room of what had to either be a mauntery or a hospital, but memory began to bubble up.
She studied the child. He was sound asleep, and didn't wake while she inspected him. She ran a fingertip across his chubby infant cheek, over pink lips. She gently prodded his little hand, his nearly non-existant fingernails.
"Who are you, little one? Who am I, and how did we get here?"
At the sound of her voice, he stirred. He yawned, and slowly opened his eyes.
She nearly dropped him. His eyes were a deep solid blue, already changed from his colorless birth eyes. Blue. Blue.
The more recent events of her life came to mind.
The Emerald City. The Resistance. Fiyero. Love. Acceptance. Fiyero, sweet Fiyero, a walking contradiction, so perfect and good, yet so human. A cause, a will to live. Fiyero, with his piercing blue eyes, the same color as the diamonds tattooed onto his dark skin. Fiyero. Blood, so much blood. And pain. Too much pain. Too much to be able to think about.
This child. This little child was the key, the light that allowed her to see herself again, to know what happened. A little boy with eyes she already knew and loved.
Fiyero. This child... This child had to be Fiyero's with those beautiful, painful eyes. But that would mean she was...
That would mean she was a mother. That would mean she existed. That would mean everything had truly happened.
No! No. No. That couldn't be. This child was a bastard, with a street hag for a mother and a random thief for a father. No... Fiyero didn't exist. This was not his child. This was not her child. This was nothing.
"Liir," she whispered. "Liir, I'm sorry for all the things I am, and all the things I cannnot be. I cannot be your mother, my dear one. I cannot love you, not with what you remind me of."