Author's Note: the Voice is an idea from James Patterson's Maximum Ride, but the overlap is not large enough to make this a crossover. I would rather put it in the main archive.

It was most definitely time to go to bed. Elphaba felt like she had downed a bottle of sleeping potion, which had been the subject of Madame Morrible's most recent seminar. Still, she refused to blow out the large, drippy candle until her five-and-a-half page essay was completed. The library was almost empty. It was dark and shadowy with monstrously large bookshelves cloaked in shadow. Elphaba was too practical to be put off by the dark.

Heavy boots approached the little writing desk over which Elphaba was bent, writing with a furious fervor. She didn't bother to look up. Whoever it was, they could wait until she finished this paragraph.

Elphaba paused mid-word, a shiny glob of ink dripping onto her paper. "Oh, perfect," she growled silently.

"Um, Elph—"

"I'm not in the mood to have a witty, unintentionally flirtatious dialogue with you, Fiyero Tiggular. Go to bed."

"Galinda sent me," the Winkie prince yawned. "And do you honestly think I can flirt unintentionally?" It was a serious question, which she ignored. Without turning around, Elphie envisioned his tired eyes and messy hair. She snorted.

"Tell her I'm coming," she said softly, but no less impatient.

"But—"

"Good night, Fiyero."

He sighed heavily, but seemed amused enough by her crankiness. "Fine, I'm leaving," he sighed with a connotation along the lines of "Spoil-sport..."

Elphaba wrote more slowly after his footsteps faded away. She had the odd sensation of burning beneath her skin. What was wrong with Fiyero? Stupid Winkie vibes. They gave her chills. Maybe she was allergic. Oh, that would be the perfect addition to her "Characteristics of a Green Freak" list. "Allergic to scandalacious Winkie princes."

Elphaba realized that she had stopped writing. She truly did not want to work anymore.

"Elllphieee." The green girl's shoulders were being shaken. She whirled around to find Galinda, wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe and slippers.

"Are you sleepwalking again?" Elphaba quickly reached up and slapped her roommate's cheek, intending to wake her up. It wouldn't be the first time. The blond screamed and fell backward, her eyes bugging out like they did when she was getting a good slab of gossip, only this expression was more on the alarmed side. Elphie reached for her hands, but ended up groping in the air as Galinda plopped onto her backside on the cold library floor.

"Physical comedy—there's nothing quite like it on a cold night,"Elphaba's Voice piped up, seeming quite satisfied with itself. Elphaba huffed for it to shut up. She was already dealing with one airhead.

"Hey!" Fully awake, Galinda clambered to her feet and slapped Elphie right back. Elphaba grabbed the pale wrist after she was struck and pinned it down to the back of her chair.

"Feel better now?" Elphie growled, her thudding heart informing her of her own surprise.

"Yes I do," Galinda huffed. "You slapped me first. If you were angry at me, all you had to do was tell me, Elphaba. I am not one to stoop to violence."

"I was not stooping!" Elphaba exclaimed. "You were sleepwalking."

Galinda yanked her trapped hand out of Elphaba's. "I was not. I was coming to get you."

"Well go back. I'm not finished."

"You need sleep," the Voice teased. "You don't usually deny the chance to talk to Fiyero alone."

"SHUT UP!"

"I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!" Galinda roared. "Fine! Stay here. I don't care."

She stormed away, leaving Elphaba with a feeling of deflation.

"This is all your fault," she grumbled at the Voice.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't scream at an innocent girl."

"Forget it." Elphaba refused to acknowledge the oddity of having a detached voice in the back of her head. Frankly, considering the oddity of most of her existence, she was entirely unsurprised to find that she was a schizophrenic. It was another thing that she would just have to deal with.

*runs headfirst into a wall* Ouch. Darned writer's block. This sounds like it was cut short, but I just want to start out slow.