A/N – Firstly, I'm sorry for the delay in updating this; I've been pretty busy lately as I have a show coming up and I was away over Easter, but as I already have most of the next chapter drafted the next part shouldn't be so long coming. Anyway, I'm not altogether happy with this chapter but as I have no idea how to fox that I thought I would post it and carry on. Let me know what you think.
Disclaimer – see previous chapters.
Chapter Eight.
Chuffrey had felt the panic rise in his chest as his eyes scanned the room for the Wizard. Once he was sure the man was nowhere in sight, he'd bolted towards the stairs, only for the Wizard himself to pass him half way.
He was walking slowly, his eyes fixed straight ahead in a dazed stare, and he made no attempt to acknowledge Chuffrey. Few saw him as he made his silent exit, and no-one seemed to recognise him. This didn't surprise Chuffrey, who knew it had been years since the Wizard had shown his true face in public, but he couldn't help but feel relieved all the same; the situation was complicated enough, without having to explain to everyone why their beloved leader was leaving the house in such a state.
By the time he'd ushered the last of his guests out, and joined the others in the living room where they had gathered, it was late; but sleep seemed to be the last thing on anyone's mind.
"I still can't believe he had the cheek to waltz in here unannounced," Glinda said for what must've been the third time.
Chuffrey shook his head, "I should've thought. The party was a stupid idea in the first place. I should've known something like this would happen."
Rogers placed his hand on Chuffrey's leg and gave it a gentle squeeze, "It wasn't your fault," he assured him.
"No, it wasn't," Elphie agreed. "It was my fault."
"What?" Glinda looked at Elphaba as though she'd just grown an extra head. "Don't be silly Elphie. It wasn't your fault at all. It wasn't anyone's fault."
"Glinda's right," Chuffrey agreed. "You shouldn't blame yourself." One look from Rogers forced him to add, "And neither should I."
"If it wasn't for me the Wizard wouldn't have come here tonight. I put you all in danger, and I can't let it happen again."
Glinda felt her heart begin to race in an entirely different way to usual, "Elphie, what are you saying?"
She was almost afraid to hear her answer.
"I should leave." Elphaba turned to face Glinda, but she refused to let their eyes meet, knowing her resolve would weaken should she do so. She could already picture the hurt look that Glinda was wearing, and the image her mind conjured up was painful enough without having to see it for herself. "I don't want to put any of you at risk again."
Though Glinda had expected it, Elphie's words still cut through her like the sharpest of blades, and for a moment she didn't know quite how to respond.
"Elphie," Chuffrey cut in, "you don't have to go, there's really no need."
"Besides," Rogers added, "after what happened tonight it's unlikely the Wizard will come back."
"That's not the point. I already feel awful for imposing on you, without all of this."
"You're not imposing," Glinda insisted, finally able to speak, but she could see from Elphie's determined look that she was having none of it.
"I beg to differ."
Sensing the sudden tension in the room, Rogers picked up his empty champagne glass and stood up. "I'm going to fetch another drink. Would anyone like one?"
The women declined but, seeing Rogers offer as an escape from the awkward conversation Chuffrey agreed. He eagerly followed him to the kitchen to help, leaving Glinda and Elphie alone with the tense silence that hung in the air, hovering between them like an invisible barrier.
Glinda was caught between the unreasonable anger she felt towards Elphie for wanting to leave her again, and a growing desperation to beg her to stay.
Luckily, Elphaba broke the silence before she could dwell on either emotion for too long.
"Glinda, listen. I know you disagree but it's for the best if I go."
"The best for whom?" Glinda asked, but she didn't allow her the time to answer. "Not for me," she said. "And not for you either. I mean where exactly do you plan on going Elphie?"
Elphaba shrugged, "I don't know," she admitted, all too aware that the question had defeated her. "Maybe the resistance would have me back."
"Oh yes, because that would be safe considering."
Elphaba raised an eyebrow, "and I thought I was the sarcastic one."
"Don't make jokes," Glinda snapped. "Now is not the right time for jokes."
With a sigh, Elphie took hold of Glinda's hand, "I know. I'm sorry." She began to stroke it gently, enjoying the feeling of her soft, skin underneath her own. "You're right about the resistance; it would be stupid to go back. But either way, I can't stay here forever."
"I'm not asking you to stay forever," Glinda said, but she knew it was a lie; forever was the only option that could ever make her truly happy. "I'm asking you to stay until you get yourself sorted. I can help you, Elphie. I can help you find a job, and a place of your own if that's what you want, but I can't let you leave like this. I'd never forgive myself."
Glinda's deep blue eyes met with Elphie's, and her gaze pleaded with her long after she'd finished speaking. In the end Elphaba was forced to agree; she never had been able to say no to Glinda.
"I'll stay for now," she compromised, "but I'm not happy about this."
Glinda uttered a soft 'thank you', and decided to drop the subject whilst she still had the upper hand (or whilst she could, at least fool herself that she did) but Elphie's words lingered in her mind, and the more she thought about them, the more they worried her.
I'm not happy about this
Was she unhappy because she felt she was a burden? Or because Glinda had gotten her own way? Or because, for reasons Glinda didn't even want to think about, she actually wanted to leave?
------
"Do you think she'll stay?" Rogers asked, as he and Chuffrey stood in the kitchen.
"If Glinda wants her to stay, she'll stay." He took a sip of his champagne, and leant back against the worktop. "She usually gets what she wants."
"She definitely wants her," he teased.
Chuffrey smiled, but he knew Rogers joke was the kind that harboured the truth. Glinda did want Elphaba. She wanted her more than she'd ever want him, and he'd known it from the start.
"I might be married to you," Glinda had told him on their wedding night, "but my heart belongs to someone else."
Chuffrey had accepted that as willingly as Glinda had accepted his other, less conventional relationships, and somehow, the alliance they forged seem to work; they loved each other, but they were not in love, yet it never seemed to matter.
It was only after Chuffrey met Elphaba that he began to realise how difficult it must've been for Glinda to live with him and his plethora of different lovers ("I don't think you were meant to love just one person," she had said to him once, and he'd agreed. Before Rogers, he'd neither expected, nor particularly wanted to.) Seeing first hand that Glinda harboured feelings for another – albeit someone he had grown quite fond of – reminded Chuffrey that, if real marriage was more than a piece of paper, they would never truly be man and wife. And he couldn't help but feel a little saddened by that.
"She may be my wife," he would tell Elphie later. "But she is by no means mine."
Still, he wanted her to be happy. She deserved that much.
"I don't mind," he said finally. "As long as it works out for them."
Rogers slipped his hand into Chuffrey's. "If Glinda wants it to work," he said with a grin, "it will work."
And they both knew that much was true.
------
Glinda didn't share her husband's positivity. The possibility of rejection hung over like a rain cloud, threatening to burst, and no matter where she looked she seemed unable to find cover.
Far from providing their usual comfort, even the shelter of Elphie's arms seemed only to heighten the danger she faced. Their close proximity as they huddled together in bed that night, a reminder of everything she might never have.
She wanted to raise the matter of their earlier kiss, but she didn't know how; so much had happened in such a short space of time that she was barely even sure it had been real, and not just a trick of the mind, taking advantage of her vulnerable state.
The more Glinda thought about things, the more overwhelming her emotions became until, without realising it she began to cry.
Elphie flinched as a hot tear landed on her arm, "Glinda," she said softly, "are you crying?"
Glinda swallowed hard, "I'm sorry."
"There's no need to apologise," Propping herself up on one elbow, Elphie cupped Glinda's face in her hand, encouraging her to turn around. "What's wrong?"
Glinda hesitated. She was about to make up an excuse when she saw the worry dancing in Elphaba's eyes, and she realised it would be unfair to keep quiet. Maybe, she thought, in order to find shelter from the storm, you must first be willing to face it.
"I'm scared, Elphie." Her voice was little more than a whisper. "I'm scared of losing you again."
Elphaba felt as though her heart might break. It wasn't Glinda's admission of fear that bothered her as much as her use of the word 'again'; a word that reminded Elphie how she had left Glinda before.
She had always known that particular subject would have to be addressed sooner or later, but she'd been hoping for the latter, if only so she would have more time to think of the right words.
How could she explain her reasons for leaving Glinda in the Emerald City without hurting her? How could she make her understand?
Elphie didn't know, but she knew she had to at least try; she owed her that much.
"Glinda, when I left you, it was only because I had to." Her eyes locked with Glindas, and she took one of her hands in her own. "I wanted to help, to try and make a difference, and I knew I couldn't do that if I went back to Shiz. I couldn't see Morrible everyday and pretend that nothing had happened. I had to do it," she said. "And I couldn't take you with me."
"You didn't want to," Glinda said.
It was a statement and not a question, but Elphie answered anyway.
"No. No, I didn't, but only because I knew if you came with me you'd end up hating me for it."
Glinda's tears began to flow again. As they slid down her pale cheeks, Elphie began to gently wipe them away with her thumb, ignoring the sting she felt as she did so.
"I spent the first few weeks on the streets," she explained, relaying her story to Glinda as though it had happened to someone else. "I never knew when I would eat again, or where I would sleep. Even after I joined the resistance it wasn't easy. They moved us around every few months, and the money was scarce to say the least. But we didn't do it for the money, or the room. We did it because we wanted to help."
You couldn't have lived like that, she wanted to say. It wasn't your fight. But she didn't need to; Glinda understood.
She would never be able to forget, but she could understand, and that was good enough for them both.
"Would you do it again?" she asked. Her arm had found its way to Elphie's waist, and she clung to her as though she would never let go. "Now, I mean. If you felt you had to, would you leave again?"
That word, again. It stung Elphie's heart as Glinda's tears had stung her thumb, and she knew Glinda was really asking if she would leave her again.
"I might leave, but I would never disappear," she said truthfully. "Not from you."
Glinda gazed at Elphaba through teary eyes, and Elphie leant closer to her so their lips were almost brushing.
"Not from you," she whispered, and she kissed Glinda slowly, tenderly.
Glinda smiled when Elphie pulled back, "You kissed me," she said, as much to herself as to Elphaba. "You kissed me."
The words somehow made it all the more real.
"You remember all those times at Shiz when I told you there was a brain hiding under those pretty, golden curls of yours?" Elphie asked, and Glinda gave a nod. "Well, do you think it might be too late to take it back?"
She grinned and Glinda gave her a playful tap on the arm, a look of mock irritation settling on her face.
"You're mean Miss Elphaba," she said. "Mean and unfair." But she was smiling, how could she not?
Elphie was smiling too. "Then let me make it up to you," she said softly, and she pulled Glinda closer to her, kissing her again.
There was still so much to talk about, so much that had been left unspoken, but Glinda realised, it could wait; for that night, at least, actions spoke louder than words ever could.
