You've got to understand, Glinda. There was no other way Fiyero and I could have survived.
I wish you could know...
"Elphaba?" Fiyero handed Elphaba an apple.
Fiyero is the best I could have wished for. I know with all of my green heart that we are meant for each other.
Good news....
She's dead....
Of course, I know that they must be celebrating. Idiots. You can have them, Glinda. They worship you, anyway.
They always have.
If, by some weird twist of fate, you know that we aren't dead... try not to worry about us. We're getting by alright.
*Groan* even in an unsendable letter, I couldn't possibly tell you where we are.
Sorry, Fiyero's calling. We can never return to Oz. I know that. And maybe that's a good thing. I mean, it's not like I had a good, happy-go-lucky life in Oz... but it's still my home. It's the one place that I understand, even if they will never understand me. I'm trying not to write a self-pitying "woe-is-me!" speech... but it's kind of hard.
The Witch of the West is Dead.
So she is. The witch is dead. Elphaba can start anew.
(there's a sequel, named after Glinda's best quote: In The Name Of Goodness, STOP! if you want a continuation go to my profile and check it out:)