Thank you for all the reviews and the waiting around for me and my incapability to update as much as I'd like to. If any of you've read my bio, you'd understand the situation in which I have to write... tragic, but true and I am doing my best to update as much as possible.
And even though this may seem like the last chapter, it's not. I promise.
Also, I need ideas if anyone feels like messaging me and giving me some more things to work off of :) I work wonderfully when I can elaborate on someone else's view on things.
Again, thank you for reading... Enjoy... R&R if you feel like it!

She just sits there, pretending she doesn't know I'm looking at her. But whenever we have a few moments backstage at the same time I steal little looks at her.

It always baffles me how anyone could look so beautiful even covered in green. All of her skin that's showing and then some, and she still looks like a goddess. Of course the stage makeup brings out her pointed features slightly, yet she'd still be completely visible otherwise; she's the star. She shines more than anyone else on that stage for more than just the colour she's painted.

She glances at me just for a moment before she makes her entrance onto her stage again, but doesn't hold it for long. Well, she doesn't hold it at all - just a flash of her eyes in my direction, and then she's off. She counts on how professional I am, that I won't break character on stage because of it, or for any reason, and neither will she.

Well, tonight is an exception.

People came tonight expecting to see me break at the very least, but I think everyone was surprised to see her break as much as she did. I thought she'd play the stone woman like she always does, but she'd been surprisingly weak tonight.

I'm not sure if it's because it's my last night playing her opposite, or if it's because everyone heard she and her husband in a screaming match in her dressing room earlier about something or other. I expect it to be about her spending so many nights away from home; he must know something's going on by now. She's spent more and more time at my apartment since I told her I was leaving. She's only hurting us more. Instead of weening herself off of me she's just creating more of a habit. Lately she's been the one chasing me; when do I have free time? Am I doing anything over the weekend? Do I mind if she stays the night? I even turned her down once or twice because I could hear Taye in the background, along with others of course. She liked to call in the middle of events he drags her to and see if I'm doing anything. When I let her, she'd leave them early all dolled up and just catch a cab over as fast as she can. It's actually a funny sight.

I think I see her more than he does now, but I'm still not happy. She refuses to talk about after I'm done with the show. I don't even know if I really meant to end things when I told her, but that's the way she took it, and I suppose that's the way I made it sound, and we needed the change. Or I did at the very least...

But I still don't think she really cares about me all that much. I feel as though she's just taking advantage of the time we have left, then when I'm gone she has more to look back on. She still doesn't need me. And she's only tricked herself into loving me.

I hear her sing from backstage and my heart twists a little;

I'll never have this again.
I'll never be backstage with her again.

I cannot believe how many times she broke.

She cried during 'Popular'.

She smiled, as Idina, NOT as Elphaba on stage.

She hugged me as Idina on stage.

She messed up so many of her lines.

She even made me cry.

She held me for almost a minute after 'For Good' was done, and never has that song held so much meaning for the two of us. She whispered how much she loved me, making me sob near uncontrollably, and I didn't stop for the rest of the show.

She held me tight to her after the bows, in front of the whole audience, before we walked off stage hand-in-hand.

We weren't even all the way back to the dressing rooms when she pulled me into her and kissed me - like we were all alone. I'm sure people saw; most of the cast and some of the crew and no one did anything or seemed to act any differently.

She pulled away crying and holding me, people still milling around us, and rested her forehead against mine.

"People can see us, Dee." I whispered, tears spilling down my face.

She just shook her head and held me closer. "Everyone knows."

I sort of expected it, but a tiny shock fluttered through me anyway. We'd spent so much time together, I suppose people were bound to notice. Still, I didn't care. At least we weren't completely hidden anymore, and she didn't seem to care either.

We swayed with each other while the band played the audience out. Even after they'd stopped, she still held onto me. After a few minutes I felt her shoulders wrack with sobs. I stroked the back of her neck with my thumb, trying to make sense of her - and failing as I always do.

"Baby, we should get ready.." I said as I pulled back to look at her tear streaked face. The green was wearing off just underneath of her eyes. "We still have the after party to go to."

She shook her head again. "I don't want this to be over." Her sobs make 'over' a four-syllable word, causing a sad smile to form on my lips. "As soon as we're out of costume, that's it; it's done, and I don't know if I can handle that, Kris. I don't know if I can get through tonight - and even if I can, how am I supposed to live without seeing you everyday, and being able to look at you when I want and hold you and touch you?" She had trouble speaking through her crying.

I just wiped the saline away and stroked up and down her arms, trying to sooth her as much as I was capable. "You'll cope, honey. You have Taye.."

She scoffed. "I want you." She looked into my eyes daringly, though I'm not sure what she was daring me to do.

I smiled sadly, tucking a piece of her wig behind her ear. "You have me. You've had me for almost four years... but you chose him over me every time."

I saw the hurt in her eyes almost immediately, before she just nodded. "You're right." A new round of tears overwhelmed her, "I did this to myself - to us." She covered her face in her hands and bended to bury them into my shoulder.

Then it was my turn to hold her. I didn't even care about the after party anymore. I hated myself for doing this to us. Even though she said it was her, I know I could have stayed. I could kill myself a little more each day, and I could live as the woman on the side, and I chose not to. I chose to slowly die living without her rather than aching each time I'm with her knowing she's not mine.

But who am I kidding? I'd be miserable either way. I love her. With her I can't get past the fact she's committed to someone else, and without her, well... I'm just that; without her.

Her head raised, taking shaky unconvincing breaths, she calmed herself. "The party." she said. Then she took steps back, probably a coping mechanism - one that only further broke my heart to watch. "Let's get ready and I'll meet you in your dressing room?"

I nodded, not knowing what to do with my hands since I wasn't holding her anymore.

But she disappeared into her dressing room, and I did the same.

I took my hair piece out, dulled my makeup from the harshness of it's intended quality for the stage. I changed into my dress that someone else picked out for me to wear, and then there's the waiting.

That's where I am now. Looking at myself in the mirror and waiting for the woman I'm too deeply in love with to see straight.

I look so different now. It seems like yesterday when I was young and full of life, and everything was so bright and full of promise. I had so much hope for what things could be for me. I dreamed of this; the Broadway life, and being able to do what I loved everyday and getting paid for it. I wanted to get married and have children, be a mother and have a family as loving and caring as my own was. Maybe adopt a few children and whatnot. I wanted to be able to experience it all, but no man ever stuck around long enough or wanted to stay with me long enough to give that a try. I don't think I really would have been happy with any of them anyway.

Now I look worn-out. Disappointed. Used-up. I look like the light's just been drained out of me. All the years of wanting nothing but a woman I can't have has made my view of the world flip around. I don't think I could be happy in the kind of life I wanted way back then with anyone other than her. And if it's not her, it won't be anyone else. I'm doomed to a life of loving someone from afar that I never really have a chance with anyway.

Just as I am about to let myself cry again, she walks in. Her eyes aren't as red anymore, and she looks like she feels better.

I don't know how long I've been waiting.. I don't really care.

Her face is unassuming, and without words she offers me her hand. "I called a cab for us." she smiles, a hint of sadness deep in her voice I know she doesn't want to show. Like I don't know how to see things she doesn't want to show; like I haven't been with her long enough to know how she is.

I take her hand, willing that look to go away, and she pulls me out the door shutting the light off for me. I like when she does little things like that... when she did little things like that... Oh, God. This really is it.

She keeps holding my hand, all the way out to the limo and doesn't hesitate a bit. She doesn't let go even when we're settled and comfortable in the limo; she just pulls me closer and we ride to the club in silence, her just holding me and me letting her. I snuggle into the confines of her neck and breath in that unmistakeable scent that is all her. I try to remember all the times I was able to smell that, and have her close to me without a care in the world, if only for seconds at a time.

The limo pulls up to the club, and she lets go of my hand. I've already realized that she doesn't want people knowing. The cast and crew are one thing; we know them, have made friends with them, been with them for years - she doesn't care if they know because she knows that they're the only ones who'll know. Here there are photographers and people who could actually record us being close. I think it scares her. I know it wounds me a little more every time she takes that second look over her shoulder and moves just a little farther from me.

The light hits her face when she opens the door. Her cheek bones bounding out from her face, sharp and dangerous. But she is dangerous.

Flashes from cameras puke light everywhere, and I hear lots of people talking loudly; laughing screaming. It's all too much. I wish that we were a smaller show sometimes because of how crazy people got over it. I just want a little privacy here and there, if only to spend a small amount of time more with her.

Then I see him. He's hansom I suppose. His smile is bright and he has honest eyes, but I don't know him. Only what she tells me of him. I've only met him a few times out of the years we've been doing the play and the years his wife has been sleeping with me, and I have very little knowledge of him. Yet I hate him. I just hate him for having her. I hate the fact they share a bed with one another and that she wears his ring.

I have no moral reason to be against him. I haven't exchanged many words with him at all, and my skin crawls every time he's in the general vicinity, or if I even hear of him.

Another thought places itself within my mind; he's the reason she's not holding my hand anymore.

My heart sinks lower than it has been all night. 'I don't want this kind of life' is what I keep trying to tell myself. And I don't. I hate living in some kind of awful hiding where the only thing good is what's hidden. I don't want to degrade myself to the secret.

I step out after her, smiling for everyone, and putting on that sad but happy face of the star who's leaving her stage. I am sad to leave the show; but it's time. I know when I've stayed my welcome, and now it's time for me to move on to something else. But they still love her... She can stay as long as she wants and they'll always love her.

She reaches him and says something quietly. He's not happy. I would have guessed as much from earlier, I don't know about what, but they've been fighting. She doesn't tell me, but I can sense it from her, and just about everyone heard it.

Then it happens.

That look I know I give him whenever I see him because I know what happens between them; that's the exact same look he gives me. Nostrils flared, eyes half-shut, chin going up in more than a hint of condecent.

He knows.

He walks away, toward a parking lot across the street and my eyes follow him until he's out of sight, my mind spinning the whole while.

I look to her, wondering; wanting validation. And she just nods and mouths the same thing I was thinking. 'He knows.'

Nothing else is said as we walk into the club. We see people we know, and people who know us that we're not completely familiar with. Sometimes I find it a little unnerving that people all over know who we are. And that hurts too; every one knows us.. but they don't know that there even is an 'us.'

People are everywhere. It's all a little hazy really; blurs of random people running through the club with their less than expensive dresses, cheap sequins, imitation satin... it's all too much.

Hours go by. I don't even know what I've been saying or doing or who I've been talking to - all I know is that she's been beside me the whole time. Even if we're doing two different things, she's always right there. Our arms discretely rubbing against one another, or bumping into me gently on "accident" - she's never left my side.

I can't take anymore now. No more unfamiliar faces telling me how much they loved the show, or even the familiar faces telling me how much they'll miss me in the show. All I want to see for the next matter of hours is her face, and that freckled hip, and the birthmark she hides on her back.

All I want is her.

I go to say goodbye to everyone else before I look at the brunette with sad, knowing eyes, yet never letting my smile falter.

I kiss her on the cheek, letting all the cameras flash and get the picture they'll all want to sell as soon as possible, while she leans into it slightly, just laughed - letting it all unfold.

"I'll be waiting in the limo." I whisper as I hug her tightly.

She gives me her actress 'sorrowful smile' as she nods.

She's acting for all of them.

She's still ashamed of me - of us.

It hurts. But now I'm sure what I'm doing is right: she couldn't really love me. To see me hurt like this, and if she really hurts as much as she says she does, there's no way she could do that to me. There's no way she could continue on like that and love me.

But here I am - still waiting on her to follow me to my limo, and come home with me, and use me and my body again, because no matter how many times I convince myself she doesn't love me, I can't fight the fact that I've let myself fall in love with her.

I realize I'm stupid for it, and I'm aware of the fact that I've dug myself a hole I could only dig my way out of with some honest, divine intervention. And I still make the choice to wait for her in a limo I paid for, the one I got just for the two of us.

Even if she doesn't love me back, she's still the only one capable of making me feel the things she does. Indescribable things. The kind of things you tell yourself don't exist because you're afraid no one could ever give them to you - that's what she does. And without trying at all. She makes my skin tingle, and my breath hitch with every lingering touch. She makes my toes curl under and my heart pound in my chest like I could have a heart attack at any moment. My soul flies when I'm with her; not in bed with her, just when we can spare a few moments to be next to one another. she gives me all the feelings a man never did, and even when we're an entire room away. Looking across the stage at her gorgeous lips - I feel my heart unhinge a little. And I've never even begun to know what to do about that feeling. All I can do is take what she gives me.

I see her walking out, holding herself, because she's too stubborn to put a damn jacket on, and I unlock the door for her.

It isn't more than a second after she gets in that her mouth is attached to my neck and her arms are around me. I feel her tongue trace my throat, then nip at the soft spot, before wrapping her lips around that same spot and sucking on it, heavily... and I find myself not even caring that it'll leave a mark. Absentmindedly, I hit the button that tells the driver to go without having to roll down the window separating us from him.

All sense of time and direction fades as she keeps taunting me with the amazing things her lips do to me, just from a small area on my neck - and I surrender to it. Because there's nothing else I can do. My whole being; my everything belongs to this woman. And she's taking it with every inch I give. All I have to offer back are moans and gasps.

My world seems to shatter when the loud "ding" goes off, signaling that we've arrived at are destination. I'm jolted and look up, but she almost seems not to have noticed at all. She's still unrelenting on my flesh, like she's trying to remove that part of my neck just for her.

"Idina, good Lord..." I fight my own erratic breathing. "We're here, hon'."

Her lips still and she remains tucked into my shoulder for a moment.

She picks her head up to look at me, and then I see them - the tears she's trying so hard to hide or hold back, though she's doing a miserable job.

I caress her cheek, feeling tears of my own bubble up.

I kiss her as lightly as I can, knowing she could break at any given second. "Honey, let's go up now. I'll put some tea on, and we can this night whatever you want it to be.. we'll make it last." I drawl, unable to hide my accent with the stone imbedding itself in the middle of my throat.

A tear rolls down her cheek, but she nods.

I leave a tip in the compartment designated as I get out, and give her one of my coats, knowing she's cold. But she doesn't care; she thinks those kind of things are all temporary, which I suppose they are. 'Things that only last a moment shouldn't be fussed over..' she says. I think anything that makes you feel a certain way that you disagree with, you should change - no matter if they last a moment or a month.

The walk up to my apartment lasts longer than it should. I keep wanting to grab for her hand, but she doesn't do that when there could be people that could give her away around. She hates when I am close to her in public. She hates when we are in public together period, if it's not for work. So I have to hold myself at bay with all of the intimacies, even though I hate to; even though she's the one who's intimate far beyond what I do when we're alone.

Finally we're at the door. She unlocks it, with the key I gave her so long ago.

We get inside and I hate what I know I have to do.

"I need that back." I say, walking to my kitchen so I don't have to look at her.

"What?"

"My key.." I'm unable to speak whisper.

I see the pain in her features, and it kills me; there's a tightening feeling that constricts my whole upper body. It feels as though my heart is squeezing all the air from my lungs and I can feel it all the way down to my fingertips. And she just drops her gaze from mine and nods, almost apologetically.

Slowly, she takes it off of her key chain and puts it in my hand - her fingers lingering in my palm for a moment. Her eyes stay trained on the tiny metal object between us.

"I can't believe this is happening." her words are quiet; hollow.

I shake my head, turning to cross to the hard-wood from the carpet of my kitchen. "You knew it would happen eventually." I'm not sure of my own tone; I just state the obvious blankly.

"I don't know... I guess I thought you'd wait for me."

"To do what?"

She doesn't say anything. We both know she didn't mean for to leave her husband, and the silence just confirms my suspicions - just like every other time she's proven it. Tonight is no different, aside from this being the last time she'll give me that shred of hope that she might leave him for me.

I make our tea in silence. I think we both know there's nothing left to say. There's only one thing she could do to change things, and it wouldn't start with words or empty promises like all the other times. I would need proof of change, and then the actions that proceeded the change. I would need their signatures on a piece of paper, and all of her... not just stolen moments.

I also think we understand that we only have tonight left. If we talk about everything we'll only be betraying the time we have left - no matter how miniscule it may be. We would just be hurting ourselves more than what we're prepared for if we let ourselves wander back on the past and what I want that she doesn't.

I bring her her cup and stand nest to where she's sitting at the little island in the middle of my kitchen.

She drinks right away, knowing how perfectly I make my tea, but she doesn't look at me yet. I can tell she's hurting - not like I am, but it's pain. With any loss there is pain involved, but I think it's more so losing something she's grown fond of, not losing someone she truly loves, or needs for that matter.

I've realized I'm a treasured convenience. And not just for her.

I play small rolls in other peoples lives. My own story is simply one of a stand-in actress. In the spotlight and in the shadows all at the same time. She's the closest thing to a lead I'll ever have, and it's more of a supporting lead. My name will roll long after the main characters, and no one will remember me.

"I don't know what I'll do without you." she says after a long silence. "I know I'll still be... me, and act and sing like always. And I know I'll be obnoxious and weird and all the things I can't help... but what am I going to do when I need someone to understand all the things that happen in my head that I can't explain? Who's going to make me tea and run their fingers through my hair, and smell like sugar and cinnamon and kiss me an-and-" She trails off into sobs and I don't hesitate to step closer and wrap her in my arms, and I feel her cling to my waist. After a few minutes of tears she calms herself, but doesn't make any attempt to move away. "I told him I wasn't coming home tonight because it was my last night with you, and he just knew. I don't know for how long, but he blew up and we screamed at each other like we never have before about everything, not just you. I was scared; that's how awful it was. And I still didn't care. I still knew I was going home with you. I didn't care what that meant, but I needed you. I need you. I can't live without you in my life, Kristi. I can't do it without you.

I feel my own tears slip. I hate myself.

"But you still told him that you weren't coming home tonight."

She pulls back, looking shocked and confused. "I thought that's what you wanted?... you-"

"No." I cut her off, stroking her cheek with my thumb. "I want you to tell him it's only me. I don't want just tonight. I don't want your husband to be aware of us in our last night together, or aware that this, this thing between us is here - I want you." I can't stop more tears from rolling down my cheeks, but somehow I keep my voice under control, even as my chin starts to quiver. "But we both know that when you told him that you weren't coming home tonight meant that you'd be home in the morning... not that you were staying with me, don't we?" I say resolutely. She knows it's true. I don't need to press it further.

She leans into me again and I accept the contact. I need it. We both cry some more, knowing I'm right. All we can seem to do is hold on to one another like we're helpless in the situation. But she could change everything any time she wanted. This is all up to her. this pain - she could stop it if she wanted, but she'd rather be content with her husband and perfectly Hollywood marriage. She'd rather have her small sense of normalcy.

I'm not worth it.

"I'm going to miss waking up to you singing in the shower." she says, resting her forehead against mine and running her fingers through my hair.

I laugh, with tears still rolling down my face. "I'm going to miss falling asleep to you channel surfing."

I can't do anything more than looking in her eyes, trying to find what's not there. I want this woman. I want what everything we could have together. But I don't want to do this anymore. I can't subject myself to living like this. I love her, but I can't stay while she gives me the back seat.

With a few more whimpers, she closes the space between us and kisses me. One of the sweet innocent kisses that makes me want to cry even harder. It's mixed with tears and quivering lips. I know my heart is going to break (even more than it is now) by the end of the night. I was prepared for it weeks ago. All I want now is to savor the moment; to soak in the feeling of her skin next to mine, and try to retain the sensations only she can give me.

It starts slow, with her cradling my face in her hands, almost protectively, with her kisses growing more desperate my the second. My starts to beat faster as her fingers slide into my hair, pulling me closer. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, welcoming her proximity, wanting everything that we can have, if only for the last time.

She starts first, standing up and walking me backwards down the hallway, never letting her kisses stop.

Somehow we manage to remove all of our clothes without breaking contact for too long. Everything is familiar by now; we know exactly what the other is wanting, and what we should do. We know what we're expecting, and therefore how to surprise one another. She knows the inner workings of my heart, and what to do to make me swoon even further into a bottomless hole of hope, that will never be fulfilled.

Before I can comprehend, she's on top of me, flesh to flesh with the woman I've fallen so far in love with that I can't even see straight. She's looking at me with those big green eyes, that somehow seem so vulnerable now. Her tear streaked face is so honest; maybe the most I've ever seen it.

"I love you." She whispers.

And it's real.

She does love me.

Just not enough.

In my moment of realization, she captures my mouth again, rendering me helpless to her will. I bury myself in the emotion it harbors and tell myself to put this feeling in a little bottle to look back on later - God knows I'll miss it like crazy.

In another instant, she's inside of me. I gasp in our kiss, and move with her. My eyes close by themselves. My heart pumps faster, as she does. My arms go around her neck, desperately holding on for as long as she's in my presence.

I start to cry in early mourning of when I won't have these kinds of beautiful moments anymore.

I lay beside her, tracing little patterns on her tummy below her naval. I can't detach from her; I refuse to stop touching her until she leaves my apartment. I refuse to let this go for as long as I possibly can.

I don't know how long we've just been laying here for. I don't know how long we made love to each other without any other words besides the others name and 'I love you' over and over and over again. All I know is that for an indeterminable amount of time, we've been holding on to one another in silence, letting tears linger in our vision but not having the motivation to let them fall as of yet.

I stay staring at the spot that has become the home for my fingers tracing their little patterns, my head on her chest and hearing the steady beat of her heart under my ear. I don't know where she's looking, and I don't think I want to know. Wherever it is, I'll connect it to something that will make me feel even worse about the situation.

All of the sudden she's running her fingers through my hair. She's humming our song.

There's no way I can stop myself from looking into those big eyes, staring right back at me with just as much tears in them as I'm sure there are in mine. And she kisses me with a touch lighter than a whisper. Not our stage whispers; the ones we use backstage in the quiet of a corner no one notices we've hidden in.

She pulls away, turning her face away from mine so I can't see her crying, but her chest wracking beneath my chin tells me otherwise.

"This is it..." she cries. "You're just done with me? We're never going to have this again?"

Her words break my heart all over again.

I turn her face to mine, holding it in between my hands, forcing her to look at me. "That's not true."

"Yes it is. You're going to leave and never look back. You're going to get married and have babies and forget all about me."

"Shut up!" I yell, surprising myself. I sit up and look at her, almost crying but I still have some resolve left.

She sits up too, looking at me with red eyes and a terrible quivering lip. Her mouth opens but I don't even give her the option of trying to say something.

I shift closer, taking her hands in mine and feel tears fall, but somehow my voice remains steady. "I love you. I can't tell myself I don't. I don't think I'll ever stop, but I can't do this anymore. I can't sit here and watch you pretend not to love me. I can't watch you with your husband and pretend it doesn't kill me." I take a breath, steadying myself. "But I will never forget you. If I ever find anyone else to marry, it'll be someone good enough to distract me from you, but I will never forget us. No one will ever compare to you, do you hear me?"

She breaks down, curling over in my arms and sobs to herself. "Then why are you leaving me?"

I almost hear my mind snap. The realization coming as much to me as to her.

"Because you won't leave him or me. This is unhealthy. One of the three of us need to leave for this to be any sort of right." I'm sobbing now, too. "Taye is too dependent on you to leave you. You're too dependent on the normalcy he gives you. I'm leaving because I love you too much to do this to us; to me and to you."

We cry for a little bit longer, but say nothing else.

Eventually we crawl back under the covers, clinging to each other again. Maybe clinging to all we have left. And before I know it I fall asleep with a head ache from all of our teenage sobbing, murmuring quiet 'I love you's here and there.

I wake up to an empty bed.

There are no more tears to be shed and no more explanations, or anyone to give them to anymore.

She's gone. I feel a small part of me shatter in the realization.

I can't bring myself to do anything other than stare at the wall, wondering what comes next...

Other than that aching loneliness I already feel setting in.

God.. I hate myself.