Chapter 11

AN : Some far-fetched (read : unbelievable in Wicked context) magic in this chapter. And hello from Perth! =) Just back from watching Wicked & I really appreciate it as a friendship story this time round (K said that her tears fell when the Elphaba and Glinda said their goodbyes). It's almost 2 am here and I am very tired.

Six weeks, four days and eighteen hours.

Fiyero took a deep breath as he walked out of the Wizard's Palace. He stretched, feeling the tightness that was in his limbs. He felt like a clock nowadays, all wound up, deeply aware of every second that had ticked by; the time that had passed since he last saw her, since she tied him to a tree and made her escape. With every passing second, it felt like his body was wound up even tighter, stifling his breath and squeezing his heart. It seemed that he was taking in water with every breath, drowning in some desperation that he could not see and could not fight no matter how hard he tried.

He knew the reasons behind her actions, her kind intentions, but that did not mean that he agreed with what she had done. He resented it. She should have consulted him before carrying out her plans. She should have sought his opinions and preempted him instead of treating him like a child who was incapable of making his own decisions. There was something in him, almost resembling hatred, for what she had done to him, what she had done for him. And mixed with that feeling was something else he could not ignore – that indescribable ache that that was not love, not sympathy, not desire, not yearning, not want and not even need, but all of these and much, much more.

The doctor had written a lengthy prescription for his injuries and pain – sleeping pills and painkillers, antibiotics and vitamins. He also suggested plenty of rest and some exercise, nothing strenuous. Fiyero threw away the prescription. He slept with the pain. It reminded him of the time they were together. She was supposed to be an accomplice in his recovery, wasn't she? So where was she now? Why was she not there when he woke up in the middle of the night clutching his leg? Why was she not there when the pain kept him awake? Did she know how much he missed her? Did she know how much he wished that she was there on those nights, lying next to him, her hand soothing away the pain when it became unbearable? And how much he wished that she was with him every night, her arms around him? He knew that it bordered on childishness, but a part of him did not want to get better - it was as if another memory of her was taken away when he began to recover and the pain began to fade.

While Elphaba was not around, Glinda was, and the blonde fussed excessively over him. She dropped by his house daily after work, and sent different kinds of Gillikinese health tonics when she was busy. She raised the possibility of a transfer again, and he simply told her that he would go back to work once the doctor had given his clearance. He needed something to keep himself from going crazy. Glinda only kept quiet and bit her lip. He did not dare to look at her in the eye; he was afraid that he would blurt out that he had seen Elphaba. He did not know what he wanted to hear more – if he wanted her to admit that she knew the green girl, or if she, like him, had not remembered her at all. He was glad when her enthusiasm waned and the frequency of her visits decreased.

Avaric dropped by one day with the reason for Glinda's diminishing attention – an admirer of hers had come to the Emerald City, someone whom she had met when she went back to Pertha Hills after their engagement. His name was Chuffrey, a baronet more than twice her age and a close business associate of his father's. Glinda said that he was just a friend, but Fiyero noticed the new jewelries that she wore, and her personal secretary had been so busy arranging the flowers that were delivered to her office every day that he actually looked flustered. He did not comment on the glow on her face nowadays, nor the giggle that had erupted from her when she read the note on the present that was delivered to her office when he dropped by one day.

She deserved someone better.

The report on his captivity was vague. The Captain of the Guards was captured by people unknown and tortured. Fiyero had feigned concussion; he claimed that he could not remember much of his ordeal. The two men who had found him had been decorated for their braverism.

He knew what his men whispered behind his back. He was captured by the Wicked Witch of the West. He was tortured until he was inches from his death. He was very sure they had no idea how close they were to the truth, and how wrong they were.

The City was Elphaba now. Everything about it reminded him of her. The green of the city was her. He found himself staring at dark, long sleeve dresses displayed at shop windows. He whipped around when he heard a sardonic laugh in the crowd, expecting to see her face. There was once when he tailed a woman with long black hair and a wide-brimmed hat for a few streets, desperately wanting to see the face under the hat. He went into countless perfume shop, searching for a scent that was leaves and herbs and came out disappointed. He wrote a letter to Boq, asking subtly for her whereabouts, but the Munchkinlander was as clueless as he was. He wished that he knew where she was, if she was safe, if she was warm and if she had easy access to food and water. He was so deep in thought that he did not notice a black, nondescript carriage approaching him. The carriage stopped in front of him and Fiyero absentmindedly moved to the side. He only looked up when he heard someone called his name. The door to the carriage seemed to open by itself and he saw a familiar face inside, someone whom he did not expect to meet again.

"Hello, Captain," old Yackle smiled at him, revealing two rows of croaked, yellow teeth. "Care to help an old, helpless woman?"

"I refuse to participate in this!"

The old woman sat on the settee, looking at the woman in front of her as she paced from one end of the room to the other, her arms flailing. She would have found it amusing if it was not a matter of life and death. And she would not have asked her for help if she could help it - Yackle always preferred to work with Animals; she found them more sensible than humans.

"Why? I thought that you like her?"

The woman stopped and glowered at her. "Didn't you tell me never to let emotions rule my head?"

"Rules are meant to be broken, dearie," she replied indulgently.

The green girl snorted.

"I'll go alone," she counter-offered.

"It will arouse suspicions if you turn up alone. They always escort prisoners in pairs."

"Then find someone else."

"I can't, not at such short notice. A little bird told me that they will take her out of Southstairs before dawn. Something about not stirring up public sentiments. You know what they usually do to the Animals that they have arrested."

Elphaba's shoulders dropped. Of course she knew. There was a small field west of Southstairs, bare except for a pole erected in the center. Many Animals had died there, hung on the pole and left to die under the sun. It was an unofficial execution venue for Animals, and the Ozians knew better than to rescue any Animal hung on the pole.

"And we need him," Yackle added. "He has been to Southstairs; he knows the place well."

"Well enough to set a trap for me," she scoffed.

Yackle let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I didn't tell him who he will be working with. He won't know who you are. I will get someone to cast a camouflaging spell on you. You will look just like an ordinary man, so ordinary no one will remember how you look like once you are gone."

"What about him?"

"What do you mean what about him? Are you asking me if he will recognise you or if he will be changed too?"

The green girl wrapped her hands around her arms and rubbed the goosebumps that suddenly erupted all over her skin.

"Both."

"Don't worry about him, dearie. He will look different. It is not my intention to get him into trouble."

"But will he recognise me?"

Yackled chuckled. Such a stubborn girl.

"The face that he sees will be the face of a stranger."

The green girl glared at her. "You are not telling me something." Yackle had to laugh out loud.

"I am always not telling you something. But don't worry, my plan does not include either of you being caught."

Elphaba walked to the nearest window and peeled back the curtain slightly. The sun was setting, turning the sky fiery red. Fiyero's namesake. How appropriate, the way he came blazing into everyone's lives, even if he was not aware of it.

"Is it possible for a person to lose part of his memory?" she asked, her eyes looking at the scenery outside, her voice softer.

"Of course," the old woman answered. "Take me for example. Do you know that they used to call me 'The Belle of the balls'? I was the life of every party. None of the men could resist me. But looked at us now. I bet none of their foggy old brains could remember how I looked like and how they had made fools of themselves then." The old woman's shoulders shook with mirth as she recalled her past. She stopped when she noticed the green witch's menacing glare.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She pretended to be affronted, and turned serious a tick tock later. "Who are you thinking of doing that to? Don't mess with a man's brain, dearie. You can never reverse a spell and give back what you have taken away."

Elphaba did not answer, but turned back and looked at the crimson sky. It was going to be a long night.

Fiyero went early.

The low-rent warehouse district was the most run-down part of the City. Many of the buildings were on the verge of collapse. The place was not devoid of life though. It was filled with a myriad of characters – homeless drunks, jobless families, men with dubious backgrounds. As he made his way to his destination, Fiyero could not help but noticed the faint glow coming out from numerous windows, a flicker of a shadow as something, or someone, darted across the street ahead. Somewhere, a soft moan could be heard, the wail of a baby, or someone in agonizing pain. He quickened his pace and kept his eyes open. He had come without any weapon, and he suspected that there could be a few men in those buildings who would not hesitate to put a dagger between his shoulders if they knew that the man travelling alone in the dark was the Captain of the Guards.

The directions given by Yackle were pretty accurate and he managed to spot the building easily. It was a condemned two-storey building, an abandoned corn exchange from what he could see from the outside. Fiyero knew this area well. It was a short distance to Southstairs. The entrance to the stairway was boarded up once, but the pieces now lay broken on the ground. The remnants of what was once a door swung on its hinges, welcoming him with its squeaking sounds.

He wondered if that was how it happened to other people - an unintentional deed, a debt that needed to be paid, followed by another deed, and one fine day, you would wake up and found yourself on the other side of the line. He wondered if that was what happened to Elphaba, one deed at a time, until she could no longer extradite herself from the cobwebs of strife. Until it became her life.

Fiyero stepped through the door frame, his hands stretched out to feel the wall as he made his way up. The wooden steps were old and creaky, and every step he took announced to the whole world that he was coming. And so he was not surprised when he reached the second floor and saw two women in the room, their eyes fixed on him.

Yackle was seated on a wooden crate, smiling her toothy smile. Next to her was an ancient crone with a hunchback. Her eyes were milky, as if there was a film across her eyes, and it sent a shiver down his spine. There was a candle, burning a low flame that barely lit up the room, but it flared when the old woman gestured with her gnarled fingers. She gave a brief nod, as if he had passed some scrutiny of hers.

Fiyero heard shuffling at the back of the room, and it was only then that he realised there was a fourth party in the room. Next to the only window in the room, its glass panel surprising still intact but so coated with dust and grime that it filtered out most light, was a tall, lean figure, his arms folded. The figure approached the sitting area, the light gradually illuminating his features. It was a man, dressed in a uniform that identified him as a member of the Emerald City's Prison Guard. The face was ordinary, the result of inter-marriages between many races, the face of someone who could claim his ancestry anywhere. He had a lined forehead with receding hairline and small eyes, but Fiyero thought that he could see intelligence behind those eyes.

"Buck," the man introduced himself. A name that could be Munchkinlander or Quadling by origin. Fiyero stretched out his hand for a handshake, and then retract it back sheepishly.

Yackled passed him the set of clothing that was on her lap, identical to the ones wore by Buck.

"Your uniform," she said. "The release forms for the prisoner are in the right pocket. You can leave your clothes here. Buck will handle everything once you have brought her out. Come back here and change back to your own clothing. We will get rid of the uniform after that."

Fiyero nodded. He sat on one of the crates and removed his boots before he took off his shirt and pants. Before him, Yackle whistled appreciatively while Buck turned around, his face turning red. He put on the uniform quickly, unaccustomed to being stared at by someone as old as Yackle. The hunchback crone stood up when he was done and touched her fingers to his face, her lips moving. Her skin was cold and papery, and the chill from her indexes penetrated his skin. When that was done, she picked up a shard of broken glass from the floor and showed him his face. Looking back at him was an ordinary-looking face. He looked a few years older, with slightly tanned skin and dark brown hair and eyes. There was nothing remotely Vinkun about the face looking back at him.

"This will only last for two hours," Yackle told him.

"It will be enough," he replied with his own voice. He touched his face, feeling his own skin.

Buck led the way. There was something about the way the man carried himself, the ease of someone who was more accustomed to a lithe frame, and Fiyero found himself glancing at his companion several times. There was a black carriage behind the corn exchange that was hitched to a horse, looking almost ordinary if not for the words stenciled on the doors.

Buck climbed up the front, and Fiyero sat next to him, and he suddenly caught a whiff of something, something that reminded him of herbs and forests.

"Is this borrowed or another spell?" the Arjiki asked. The man next to him did not answer, but shook the reins and they started on their journey.

Fiyero knew of two ways in and out of Southstairs. The first way was via a plain door within the Wizard's Palace. The other was via a cage which could be hoisted up and down, transporting both prisoners and guards. No prisoner had ever left the underground prison via the secret entrance within the palace, which left the other way.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to Southstairs and the two got off. Fiyero shoved the papers to one of the guards who read it speedily and returned them to him before he led the way to the cage. Without a word, he walked into the cage that was waiting for them. Calling it a cage was a compliment. It was made of thick metal that had rusted after being exposed to the elements for years. The cage had a square wired base with two wired walls. The back and the front of the cage were open and there was no ceiling; the safety of the prisoners was never a priority. Fiyero had heard of stories where the prisoners had fallen to their deaths even before the cage had reached the bottom.

The guard gave a nod to the man manning the mechanism of the cage the moment Buck and Fiyero were in and the operator pulled on a lever, lowering the cage into the pit with a loud rattling that echoed in the night. The cage jerked as it made its descent and Buck clenched his hands nervously. Without thinking, Fiyero reached for him, but Buck pulled back instantly and Fiyero was rewarded with a scowl and a squaring of his shoulders.

The guards at the bottom checked the papers again when the cage reached the bottom. They were only allowed to disembark when the papers had passed their scrutiny. As Fiyero led the way to the Under-mayor, he could hear the guards hollered at the operator on top. The mechanism started again, bringing the cage to the surface. It was standard procedure; to ensure that no one from the pit could escape by climbing up the chains if the cage was left at the bottom.

The Under-mayor was pale as always. Like everyone else who worked in Southstairs, they worked, ate and slept in Southstairs and were only allowed to go up to the surface once every few months, and only for two days. It was a difficult job, hard on the family, but the pay was attractive. He looked at Fiyero and Buck.

"I have not seen you before," he commented as he shuffled through the papers. "First time here?"

"Of course not, Chyde," Fiyero replied, addressing the Under-mayor by his name. "But this is his first time." He jerked a thumb at Buck.

The use of his name seemed to put the Under-mayor at ease. The old man looked through the register, his finger tracing the words as he read.

"Ah yes, the Tigress. She is being held at the Animal District. Oh look." He tapped his finger on something scribbled at the last column. "Here's a special mention: do not use metal locks on her; she can unlock them."

Chyde led the way to the Animal District. He did not seem to be familiar with the way to their destination and got lost twice. Fiyero pointed out the correct corridor when the Under-mayor took a wrong turn for the third time; he did not want the spell to wear off when they were still in Southstairs. A strong stench reached their noses even before they reached the Animal district.

"Please forgive the stench. Hygiene isn't their strongest suit, as you know."

The living conditions there were deplorable. Fiyero had visited some of the other districts before, but those were nothing compared to what he saw in the Animal District. The cells here were made of metal bars and there was no privacy. Each cage housed an Animal, but it was so small some of the Animals had no space to turn. The Animal prisoners were all naked; their clothes, like their dignity, were taken away from them. Their food was distributed in rusty metal buckets which had not been washed for a long time. They were treated like cattle, perhaps even worse.

Fiyero stole a glance at Buck. His jaw was clenched and his hands were in fists. Fiyero hoped that he would be able to contain his anger.

They came to the end of a row, and there she was, a Tigress. She crouched in a corner, her arms covering her nakedness. But her bearing and the look in her eyes were defiant. Instead of metal locks, the metal chain wrapped around her wrists and ankles, the rings soldered in place of a lock. There were burn marks around her wrists where the hot metal chains had met her fur. But at least she was alive.

Fiyero heard a soft sigh of relief from his companion.

Buck went in the moment the door was opened. He held the Tigress by her arm and tried to pull her up. Fiyero followed and jerked at the chains.

"Get up!" he barked and he gave Buck a cautionary look that he hoped he caught. The Tigress stood up and snarled at him, and, chains or not, Fiyero suddenly felt less brave.

The two of them pulled the Tigress out of the cell and took the shortest route to the exit. Fiyero took out the baton at his waist and hit the Animal once in a while for good effect. At the drop off point, the guards checked the papers again before they got the operator above to lower the cage. The three of them stepped into the cage, and the journey to the surface seemed to take an eternity.

Fiyero shoved the Tigress into the carriage, making a show of locking the door and ensuring that the doors were secure before he got on in front. Buck shook the reins and the horse cantered. They turned a corner, putting the distance between Southstairs and themselves. Fiyero looked at his companion, his hands holding onto the reins, his back straight.

"So," Fiyero spoke with utmost casualness as he drummed his fingers on his thigh, "How have you been, Elphaba?" He was looking at the person introduced as Buck, and so he was able to observe the way his fingers tightened over the reins. The other party showed no reaction to his question otherwise.

"Elphaba – "

The sound of running footsteps on the cobblestones alerted them that they were not alone.

They turned their heads. There were three soldiers, one with a rifle. Something was wrong. Someone could have realised that the paperwork was forged, or the real prison transport had come early and found their cargo missing. All those time wasted in maneuvering the labyrinth that was Southstairs. Damnit.

Buck shook the reins, urging the horse to go faster.

"Stop!" One of the soldiers shouted, as another knelt down and tried to aim at the moving target.

The horse's canter broke into a gallop, the staccato clops giving hope.

Two shots whizzed by, far too wide to cause any damage. The soldiers shouted as they tried to catch up with the carriage.

They turned another corner just as the report of a third shot was heard, and the horse suddenly reared, twisting its body as an agonizing neigh pierced the air. The carriage was still harnessed to the animal, and it tilted precariously with the horse before it crashed sideways onto the ground. Fiyero and Buck were thrown to the ground, the air knocked out from them.

Buck was on his feet again in an instant, sprinting towards the carriage as another shot was heard. He ignored the bleeding animal and climbed onto the overturned carriage. Fiyero was there a moment later, and they pulled the Tigress out of the splintered door.

They fled on foot, the soldiers not far behind.

One turn, followed by another. The shouts were getting closer, and Fiyero ducked into the next alley that they came upon. The alley twisted and turned, and then there was a high wall that seemed to materialise out of nowhere. A dead end. They retraced their steps, their pace quickening, and were almost out of the alley when the shouts alerted them that the soldiers had caught up with them. Fiyero turned around and crashed onto the person who was right behind, and nearly gasped in surprise. He spun back into the shadows, pulling Buck with him, only it was no longer Buck, no longer a tall, lean man, but a girl who stiffened at his touch, whose protest was silenced by the fierceness of his grip.

Fiyero pulled her to him, feeling her thin frame in his arms. She was changed before him, and so naturally the spell had worn off earlier. There was no more camouflage, nothing to stop her from being identified as the Wicked Witch of the West. The soldiers would shoot her the moment they saw her, no question asked. It was no longer a matter of getting an Animal out of Southstairs. The stakes were now much higher. He stole a moment as they tried to catch their breaths, his hand touching the bare skin where the uniform had slipped off her thin shoulder as he pulled her deeper into the shadows. He inched closer to her as they waited, trying to concentrate on the sounds outside as her hair tickled his skin, her breath warm on his neck.

The soldiers ran past, oblivious to the trio that was hiding so close to them. But Fiyero knew that they would soon realise that they had lost sight of their target and would turned back. They could not hide here forever.

He would never put her life in jeopardy.

He pushed her to the Animal.

"Bring her to safety," he whispered. He had no idea if he was speaking to the girl or the Tigress.

He picked up a plank on the ground and was out of the alley before his companions could react. He followed the soldiers from a safe distance before he let the plank dropped onto the ground with a loud clatter. The soldiers turned collectively at the sound and chased after him the moment he bolted. Simpletons.

No one noticed when a green girl and an Animal came out of hiding and ran in the opposite direction. They had just turned a corner when the green girl thought she heard a faint raucous cheer went up in the distance.

She froze.

Fiyero.

She turned, as if she had the powers to see what had taken place a few streets away. She only saw the faint outline of the Tigress a few steps behind, her tawny eyes shining bright in the dark.

Never let emotions rule your head, Yackle's voice came from years ago.

She could not abandon the Animal. Not here. Not when she was shackled and defenceless. She placed a hand under the Animal's elbow and pulled her along. Her job was to rescue the Tigress, and she would not fail.

For once, luck was on their side, and the two girls managed to reach their destination safely. They went into the designated safe house and locked the door behind them.

The green girl leaned against the door and closed her eyes.

"Long night?" the Animal teased. The few days spent in Southstairs did not seem to diminish her spirits.

Elphaba ignored the jab and inspected the chains around the Tigress' wrists. "We'll need to get you out of Emerald City before we can find someone who can remove this. But it will definitely hurt."

"The least of my worries," was the Animal's reply. Elphaba moved to a corner where her dress and broom were. She stripped out of the uniform, not wanting to stay in that awful clothing a minute longer, as if the clothes alone could taint her soul with every passing tick tock, turning her into one of the Wizard's underlings. She paused when the clothes had pooled on the floor and looked at her hands, taking in her verdigris. Her skin colour might be shunned by everyone, but it was her skin, and she would never change it for anything else. Her mind wandered for a brief moment. Her hands wiping away the blood on the blue diamond tattoos.

Fiyero.

She put on her dress, tugging furiously at the sleeves.

An image of him, lying in his own blood, a group of soldiers standing over him.

Sweet Lurline, please let him be unharmed.

"So who is the other guard?" Tigress asked.

Elphaba looked at the Animal.

"That was the Captain of the Guards," she replied wearily. "The Wizard's man." They would kill him even though he was the Wizard's man, simply because he was the Wizard's man. The Wizard had ever shown mercy to a traitor.

Tigress chuckled.

"Not everything is black, white and green, my dear."

"What do you mean? He is the Captain of the Gale Force, there's nothing clearer than that. Yackle may have some kind of a hold on him, but that does not mean that we can trust him." She turned her head away, trying to hide her expression from the Animal.

"I don't think it's Yackle who has a hold on him," the Tigress replied.

That remark brought her up short.

"What do you mean?"

The Tigress faced the girl, her predator-sharp eyes not missing a single thing.

"I guess no one has told you what happened a few months ago. I was told to go into the Wizard's Palace and rescue a Goat. It was the Captain who approached Yackle, and it was him who brought me to the Throne Room where the Goat was. Yackle may be one of the greatest women I have ever met, but I don't think respect for the elderly is the reason why he made those reckless, insane decisions."

A/N some of the description of Southstairs and the Under-mayor is copied from GM's Son Of A Witch, when Liir went to Southstairs in search of Nor. The others came from my imagination.