AN:

Hello, hello! Welcome to the second out of the three ending chapters!

NOTE: This is Chapter Fourteen of the B ENDING-The ending that isn't quite as terrible as version A. If that's too vanilla for you, don't read. If this is not the chapter version you are looking for, jump backward one chapter to Chapter Fourteen A. Thanks.

Anyways, thanks for reading, everyone! Take care and happy reading!

xoxo MLE

(=^_^=)


Chapter Fourteen B

Her heart had never felt lonelier than the moment it separated from Elphaba's. The feeling of loss was so overwhelming that it made her cry out and sob, tears cascading down der cheeks. It was near impossible to bear, and remembering the cliff they had earlier surveyed their surroundings from, Glinda at once made the decision to throw herself from that same abyss in order to curtail her suffering. The instant her unseeing eyes opened, she jerked, ready to scramble to her feet and make a run for the close-by ledge.

"Hey! Hey!"

Something or someone held her down, held her back from doing what she was so desperate to do. Why would they? Did they not understand? Could they not see how wretched she was?

"Wait! Glinda! What are you—"

Suddenly, she froze, sucking in a sharp breath. That voice. That voice. She knew that voice, and somehow it was more convincing than any attempts to pin her down. Her heart pounding, she listened for the voice to speak again.

"Glinda? Do you hear me?"

Her eyes widened in shock, as though she'd just witnessed someone else jump off that cliff, and her breath hitched. Comprehension set in, though still rather slowly. She was squeezed firmly against an angular, yet pleasantly warm body, and a gasp escaped her lips at the exuberant pressure of the tightening hug.

"Oh Glinda, are you all right? Please. I don't know what I'd do if you came to any sort of harm on my account."

Elphie?

Fully recognising the woman before her at last, Glinda released a strangled squeak and pressed herself into her as if she could get any closer than Elphaba was already holding her. This new state of closeness came woefully short in comparison to the amalgamation of their hearts, yet she revelled in it regardless, taking in all the comfort Elphaba's presence had to offer. She felt so real, and so alive. Whyever that surprised her, she could not quite tell at this point.

For the longest time, they sat in silence, reassuring each other not with words, but with their mere proximity and warmth. From the dark sky that thus far had remained suspiciously quiet, the first, fine drizzle trickled down upon them and the dusty sand. The resulting earthy smell was pleasant, soothing even, but otherwise they ignored the rain. Holding on to each other, convinced that nothing else truly mattered, they let it intensify, wash away any sweat or stray tears.

Before long, the clouds deluged them with an outright downpour, and they still would't budge. Nestled securely in Elphaba's arms, Glinda might have shivered a little, sniffled every now and then, though she was too exhausted and too relieved to care.

She felt drowsy, and her head was heavy and throbbing. Whatever excursion they were on must have taken a toll on her. They probably should be heading back, just to be safe. But where were they exactly, and which way was home? She considered asking, but for some reason, her tongue was too numb to cooperate.

Well, it wasn't all that important. After all, she could rely on Elphaba to know and do what was right. Feeling somewhat under the weather, it wasn't wrong for her to take a step back and allow her trusted partner to take the lead. Elphaba was sure not to mind; quite the contrary, she reckoned. So she would take it easy and rest, huddled up and tucked away in her embrace until Elphaba gave the sign to depart.

The next thing she knew was the sensation of long, gentle fingers combing through her messy, wet curls with extended, even strokes. When she stirred, she believed to hear the soft sound of a smile.

"Have you recovered, my love?" came Elphaba's voice, unusually mellow and strangely uncertain.

Feeling stiff in her shoulders and her back, Glinda stretched first one arm, then the other, wondering if she'd fallen asleep. That the rain had ceased in the meantime and without her notice was another clue, and then there was that blinding brightness. She peeked up at the sky and squinted her sore eyes before burying her face against Elphaba's chest again, hoping that she may seek refuge there for a moment longer.

"You did it," Elphaba whispered somewhere close to her ear before proceeding to kiss her cheek. "You did it." She kissed the corner of her mouth. "You saved me."

But what had she done? Glinda didn't understand. Frowning, she stayed put, trying to riddle this out before re-emerging and facing her love. However, even after several clock-ticks, she came up empty, with only more questions bubbling up from inside of her. Where were they, and what was Elphaba talking about? Last, but not least, how had she saved her?

Elphaba's nose nudged her gently, prompting her to look up, though still distracted. Swiftly, grey-green lips moved in to brush against hers, and Glinda's mouth opened ever so slightly, subconsciously inviting Elphaba in, despite of her confusion. Uttering a shuddering sigh, she trembled as their tongues made tentative contact. At that, Elphaba drew back at once, concerned. She removed one arm from Glinda's back to bring it up to her face, stroking across her cheekbone with her thumb.

"Was that not a good idea?" she rasped, her words riddled with guilt. "Too soon?"

Their gazes locked, and immediately, Glinda thought she was drowning in the depth of those deep, dark eyes. No, not drowning; she was falling. Falling, falling, upwards and towards the sun. Then, the strangest sensation rushed through her like a burst of warmth, a collision with cottony clouds.

And then, she remembered.

The energy they had shared, their unified spirits and hearts. The quiet, the rain. Elphaba's words. It must have worked, she realised, for the storm seemed to be gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

It had worked.

Glinda was she had every reason to be ecstatic, the blonde felt only dazed instead, sitting in silence and finding it difficult to wrap her head around their success.

"Oz, Glinda!"

Her face etched with worry, Elphaba shuffled away from her, restricting their contact to her hands on Glinda's arms.

"What's wrong? Do you not recognise me? Did I do something terrible?"

Her attention still fixed on Elphaba's scared eyes, Glinda finally slowly shook her head.

"N—no. I'm fine. I think." She swallowed and cleared her throat, willing her lips to twitch into a smile. "There was nothing wrong with anything you did. I'm just… a bit shaken up from the whole ordeal, I guess."

Elphaba exhaled, nodding meekly.

"Good," she breathed. "Good. Though it bugs me to no end that I'll never know what you went through on my behalf," she admitted, dropping her gaze to the ground. "Even just from the outside, it looked pretty intense. I'm not sure what I expected, but surely not this."

This melted Glinda's heart a little. Shifting closer again, she bridged the distance between them and kissed Elphaba soundly to make up for the previous kiss she'd spoilt in her bewilderment.

"Maybe I'll try and describe it to you," she said, reaching out with her hand to pick up a lock of raven hair and coil it around her forefinger.

Biting her lip, she blushed, memories of their touches and kisses resurfacing with dizzying intensity. Somewhat awkwardly, she bestowed another peck upon her lover's mouth, then observed her closely, listening out for any thunder noise. Fascinated by the lack of repercussions, she gave a slight scoff.

"Not today though," she amended. "Later. Once I managed to distance myself somewhat from this bizarre experience."

"You'll forget," Elphaba countered, but grinned.

"No! By Lurline, no!" laughed Glinda, amazed at the natural, light sound that tumbled from her own lips. "I seriously doubt that. It was quite something, and certainly not something I'll ever forget."

Gradually fading, the laughter gave way to quiet as she felt her exhaustion deepen. Rubbing her eyes, she groaned softly, promptly reviving Elphaba's concerns.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Glinda chuckled and grimaced at the same time. "I'm tired to my bones. I thought I was getting over it, but it just hit me like a train."

"Suppose we shouldn't be surprised. I'll get you back to the hut in an instant."

Watching Elphaba stagger to her feet, the shorter woman decided to wait for a helping hand to be offered, so her current lack of grace may be a tad less obvious. Instead of a mere hand, she soon found herself encircled by two arms, ready to scoop her up from the ground.

"Elphie! What in Goodness' name do you think you're doing!" she squeaked, mortified, charmed, and flustered all at once.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm carrying you to safety."

"I may be weary, but I'm not completely invalid," grumbled Glinda, and with a mildly exasperated sigh, Elphaba released her.

"As you wish, Your Goodness," she said, supporting rather than carrying her as they both got up.

Already as she unfolded her legs, Glinda realised that they were not at all as steady as she would have liked them to be. Once she stood, they buckled, and Elphaba had to pull her firmly into her arms to prevent her from sinking back down. Her head flushed in embarrassment. She should't have scolded Elphaba for simply being considerate. Mercifully, her love neither teased, nor reprimanded her. With a flick of her wrist, she called for the broom, which promptly swished over to them.

"You sit in front like you did on the way here," he she ordered. "But sideways, so you can hold on to my waist while I wrap my arms around you and hold the handle."

Going by the decisive tone in her voice, it was clear that Elphaba would tolerate no objections this time. Luckily, Glinda had none. Had she had a choice, she would very much have preferred not to fly back to the village, especially not on the broom. But walking was not an option, and she doubted that she was in any state to summon her bubble. Overall, Elphaba's plan did seem the soundest, and so she quietly acquiesced.

"Ready?" asked Elphaba once more when they both were properly positioned and balanced on the thin broomstick.

"Not like there are any alternatives."

Cackling quietly, Elphaba pressed another kiss against her mouth.

"It's amazing, isn't it?"

Glinda blinked, her heart fluttering from the delightful sensation.

"What—what is?"

"That I can do this as much as I like, without any ill effects."

The tentative smile on Glinda's face turned into a wide grin.

"I never thought you'd be this keen."

"Are you kidding? After all this time—" Elphaba stopped herself there and swallowed hard. "Never mind. We really should get going."

They took off, shooting past the steep cliff. It didn't escape Glinda's notice how much more carefully they flew compared to earlier, though whether it was entirely Elphaba's doing, or whether the broom insisted was hard to tell. They were both as stubborn as each other, and neither could compel the other completely, it seemed. It occurred to her then, that she still hadn't enquired about the nature of the broom's personality.

"I don't exactly know," answered Elphaba when she asked at last. "The replacement I magicked had no personality to speak of, no agency, or initiative. To be perfectly honest, I'm glad you, too, feel that this one has a few sentient traits. I was almost doubting my sanity when I started talking to it."

This elicited another laugh from Glinda, even when faced with the staggering height they were travelling at. Her arms securely wrapped around Elphaba, and Elphaba's firmly pressed to either side of her, she felt brave enough to peer down as they flew over the peculiar rock formations they had seen earlier. To her surprise, Elphaba was not satisfied with merely passing them. Instead of making the wide swerve she'd expected, bringing the broom back on the right course for the village, she kept going round and round in circles. The meaning of this escaped her, no matter how hard she mulled over it.

"Elphie?"

Tilting her head up, she saw Elphaba's eyes trained on the ground below. They had taken on a sad, wistful quality that puzzled her all the more.

"Elphie," she repeated and squeezed her waist a little tighter.

Elphaba first frowned, then blinked.

"Oh. Yes. I'm sorry, my sweet. Let's keep moving."

"No!" Glinda's own brow furrowed. "Elphie. You need to tell me if something is the matter."

"It's nothing," said Elphaba, but her thick voice belied that statement.

"I'm not going to argue over this mid-air. Tell me what troubles you, or land the broom this instant."

"You're overreacting," Elphaba retorted, rolling her eyes. Setting her jaw, she pulled their mount around, trying to avoid any further discussions.

"This was not one of the options," groused Glinda.

"It is now."

And with that, the issue was settled for the green witch.

Of course, Glinda would have continued to protest had she been in a better shape, had they not been hovering over one hundred feet above the desert. But with things as they were, and that pigheaded woman in charge of the broom, she had to grudgingly concede defeat for the moment.

Later, she had to admit that perhaps it was a good thing that they hadn't stopped for some lengthy dispute. Already, the sky was turning a golden pink, and before they knew it, night began to fall. They reached the village just as the last rays of the sun cast long, stark shadows across the endless sands. They had reached their home, or at least the closest thing to a home they currently possessed. However, all that was about to change once again, and Glinda found that she was almost afraid of this new uncertainty.

When the broom touched down a couple of yards away from the only mud hut with lights in the windows, Elphaba dismounted quickly, followed by a more reluctant Glinda. After a few steps towards the house, the blonde paused, fiddling with her fingers and lowering her gaze to the ground.

"Elphie?"

Despite the faltering softness of her voice, Elphaba heard her and wheeled around, her face reflecting the same concern as before.

"It's nothing," she immediately felt obliged to clarify, making sure she wouldn't be fretting for long. "It's just… I was wondering if we could hide away for the night."

"Hide? What do you mean?"

The worry wouldn't vanish from Elphaba's eyes, regardless of Glinda's efforts, and Glinda felt guilty for that. She fidgeted, wondering if she was being silly and came very close do dismissing her instincts. Yet she couldn't deny that she'd braved enough adversity for one day, and that she deserved this small concession at least.

"I don't know, but I've got a sense that I'm not quite ready to mingle with everyone else just yet. Would that be so bad to leave them wondering for tonight? To pretend that we are still away? We could sleep in your study instead?"

Elphaba cocked her head, not entirely understanding.

"My study? That won't be very cosy."

"I don't care!" Glinda's loss of patience startled them both. "I mean"—she coughed slightly to clear her throat—"I'd prefer solitude over luxury tonight, is all. Please?"

She watched Elphaba throw a glance over her shoulder at the hut and consider the proposal, her brows pinched.

"Sure," she said eventually, giving a noncommittal half-shrug. "Whatever you need, I suppose."

They got as comfortable as they could in the small space that the half-ruin offered. As per usual, the candle flickered to life upon their entry, but Elphaba did nothing to amplify its light. Her hands flew up to her neck, where she fussed with the clasp of her cape. After pulling it off her shoulders, she spread it out in a corner of the room; it hardly did anything to improve the hard floor's appeal, of course.

She was the first to plop down there, opening her arms to invite Glinda. The shorter woman, however, was not ready to settle.

"This has been bothering me," she confessed sheepishly, twisting her forefingers together.

"What has?" Elphaba probed, and they both knew that her calm was affected, not at all genuine.

"Your behaviour when we left… You know what I mean. That… place. And perhaps not only when we left."

She fell silent for a moment, thinking back, gnawing at the inside of her lip as she did so. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw Elphaba abandoning her pretence, shifting uneasily in her seat. Their eyes met, and Glinda drew a shaky breath.

"You—you said you wouldn't have chosen the location if not for its practical advantages. It's quite apparent that the place holds meaning to you. Maybe I even have an inkling why."

"I won't have you guess around and make it worse," Elphaba was swift to cut in. "I'd rather tell you myself if I absolutely have to."

Glinda clamped her lips shut to make sure no unnecessary assumptions could cross them. With a minute nod, she prompted her to go on.

"Remember that tall, twisted rock with the hole in the middle?" Elphaba's own memories of said place cast a shadow over her sharp features, making them look even more tense than usual.

"Yes." Glinda's voice was barely above a thin breath, out of fear that Elphaba might implode if she intervened too much.

"Well, it used to be there. Our house. Our yard. Everything."

Seeing her like this, Glinda's heart clenched painfully in her chest, and she almost wished she hadn't asked. She'd already known, if not specifically, then at least well enough to guess the consequences her potentially misplaced curiosity could have. Why had she not thoroughly considered this? Why had she insisted on Elphaba's candour? What had been her point?

"I'm so sorry, Elphie."

Elphaba shook her head.

"It feels like a lifetime ago. It's foolish to linger on what was, when there's no going back." She ground her teeth, then smirked wryly. "When events have ultimately played out in my favour, whether I want to admit it or not."

"In—in your favour?"

Bearing in mind that Elphaba was talking about the devastation of her former home, the kidnapping of her child and, moreover, the death of her lover—

Fiyero's death. Their dear friend's death.

Glinda's stomach felt like it was about to turn inside out. Even without further elaboration, the mere notion of some benefit amidst so much suffering inevitable sickened her.

"And here I go again, alienating you once more," sighed Elphaba, looking positively devastated. "I'm sorry. But it's only the truth."

Squeezing her eyes shut against the emotional turmoil, she shook her head.

Glinda swallowed, then licked her lips, unsure how to move past these disturbing thoughts.

"W—what is?"

Though she'd purposefully summoned all her courage to pose it, she regretted her question the moment it was out in the open. Why was it that she simply couldn't help herself around Elphaba? Why couldn't she keep her cursed curiosity to herself?

Elphaba's head flicked up to look at her, an odd expression flashing across her face. Whether it was shock or amazement was difficult to tell, but Glinda's remorse remained unchanged either way.

"If none of this would have happened," she replied hesitantly, "then there would have been no storm. And yet… it was the storm that brought you here in the first place, wasn't it? The storm brought you to me. We wouldn't be together now if it wasn't for—"

"That's a wicked thing to say!" Glinda blurted out, furious, offended, and feeling every bit as guilty as Elphaba.

"Can you deny it?"

"I…"

She could not, and she hated that more than anything. For a brief moment, she hated Elphaba, too, for making this truth so painfully obvious. Wrapping her arms around herself and closing her eyes, she counted to ten, taking deep breaths in and out.

… eight… nine… ten.

"He did love you, you know?" was the first thought that came to her mind when she opened her eyes and saw Elphaba.

She swallowed, attempting to rid herself of the bothersome lump in her throat, to no avail.

"For all his recklessness and imprudence, he really did love you. I don't know if it's more comforting to know or not know, but this also is the truth, so I suppose you should face it."

"I did know," murmured Elphaba, lowering her head, still peering up at Glinda through her lashes. "It was hard to miss. He was very devoted. To a fault, perhaps. But saying so would be evil also, wouldn't it?"

Glinda pressed her arms all the tighter to her stomach.

"I—I don't know."

Her thoughts went wandering again, contemplating how wrong exactly it was to enjoy any measure of happiness when it had come about the way her and Elphaba's had. It was terrible to look at the matter from this angle, then from that, ultimately coming to the inevitable conclusion that Fiyero had always been in their way. Whether it had been that night in the throne room, when he'd foolishly and vexingly implicated himself as Elphaba's lover and accomplice, long before he truly deserved either title; or that other fateful night at Kiamo Ko, when his letter had reached Elphaba, urging her to feign her own death. Not to mention all those other instances in between, perhaps even starting long before Glinda could tell.

"Was that… was that all you needed to discuss?" Elphaba asked at length, jolting her out of her grim musings.

Glinda blinked.

"Oh. I…" Biting her lip hard, she shook her head. "No. Not quite."

Elphaba hummed thoughtfully and leaned back, waiting.

"I need to know what happens next. What happens to us. As a pair."

A mild scoff was the first answer she received.

"Already thinking about the future? You've only just returned form battle, so to speak, only just faced the past."

"You can't tell me that you aren't," the blonde countered stubbornly.

Elphaba sighed, her lips twitching. Patting the ground next to her, she reiterated her earlier invitation, which Glinda was still reluctant to accept. That earned her another sigh.

"Of course I am. And from where I stand, the outlook is bleak. You must be thinking the same, or you wouldn't cudgel your pretty, little head over it. On the flip side, Fiyero must have rubbed off on me somewhat, because even if we have to settle for penpals in the long term, all I can think is that at least we have tonight. And maybe tomorrow." Mustering a melancholic smile, she reached out again, beckoning. "What say you? Shall we make the most of it?"

"It's my greatest desire to simply run away with you," replied Glinda, blue eyes misting over, chin quivering.

"And yet you won't, because there's noting simple about it. And I'm proud of you for being so selfless. You're doing the right thing."

"Is it though? The right thing?"

"For millions of Ozians, yes. Without a doubt."

The tears spilt then, and Glinda took two big steps forward before falling to her knees and throwing herself against Elphaba's chest.

"There, there, my sweet. We are not parting ways tonight."

But the torrents of tears wouldn't be stifled so easily. Her body shook as she sobbed, even with Elphaba's arms lovingly wrapped around her shoulders, her hand gently rubbing her arm.

She fell asleep sooner than she could calm herself, and later woke regretting every single second she'd wasted not gazing into Elphaba's eyes, kissing her, or merely drinking in her nearness while she still could. When she stirred, carefully cracking open her eyes, she found the taller woman leaning into her, half draped over her body like in a protective stance. Despite her residual annoyance, Glinda smiled, turning her head so that she could nuzzle into the crook of Elphaba's arm. She let her eyes flutter shut again—not for another helping of sleep, but so that she could better focus on the feeling of her love's warm body enveloping her, and her scent as it wafted all around her.

When Elphaba regained consciousness at last, Glinda immediately turned around in her arms, snaked her own arms around her neck and pulled herself up to press a lingering kiss to her mouth.

Chuckling, Elphaba silently studied her face for a few clock ticks before turning her lips inwards, savouring the memory of their connection.

"I could get used to this sort of morning greeting," she muttered, then leaned in to initiate a second round.

But Glinda shied away from her, averting her face.

"But we can't get used to it. This might already be our last morning together."

Exhaling deeply, Elphaba abandoned her initial plan and faltered. Her head lowered, forehead touching against forehead.

"Please don't cry again. It's not going to make this any easier."

Sniffling a bit, Glinda agreed.

"I know. I won't. I won't waste any more time."

Spotting her chance, Elphaba craned her neck slightly to deliver the kiss she'd meant to bestow on her earlier, opting for her cheek this time to avoid another rejection.

"So? How do you imagine our best case scenario to play out?" she wanted to know.

The blonde chewed the inside of her cheek, not because she needed more time to think about it, but because it was so incredibly difficult to say the words out loud.

"For me to know that you are safe," she replied after a while, quiet and tentative, wondering how her Elphie might react. "With the vague and distant possibility of a visit, perhaps."

There was no immediate response, other than the tightening of arms and Elphaba's head resting atop of hers, silken strands of spun coffee spilling all around like a curtain that could conceal and hide her away from the world that sought to tear them apart over and over and over again.

"Your vision is a different one?" Glinda asked eventually.

"You already have a detailed plan, don't you?" Elphaba said instead, ignoring her question.

"I… yes. If you find it agreeable enough."

"I agree to listen to it at least."

Glinda smiled faintly.

"Good."


Chistery was the one who opened the door when Elphaba knocked. His face lit up at the sight of them, and he flashed them a wide grin.

"Was wondering where you two were the past twenty-four hours. Went for a honeymoon or something?"

He began to laugh about his own joke, but the wind was swiftly knocked out of him by Elphaba's fierce embrace. Sputtering, he coughed out the last few sounds, then moved his hand to pat her shoulder, either to console her, or in hope she might let off at the signal. Eventually, she did, holding the Monkey by his upper arms and giving him a critical once-over as though it had been him who'd gone missing.

Clearly puzzled, Chistery cast a quizzical glance at Glinda who stood two steps away, watching on with equal bafflement. Unable to explain Elphaba's unusual exuberance of feelings towards her familiar when the witch had always treated him so gruffly, all she could do was to shrug and nod her encouragement. After all, she was glad for the Monkey who'd also become a friend to her, and she hoped a wee bit of appreciation here and there might actually help see him through the rougher tides of their relationship.

The remaining two inhabitants of the humble house barely spared them any attention until Elphaba ordered them all to the table with her much more characteristic drill-sergeant tone. Even so, Glinda caught those brief looks Elphaba cast Liir, and those rarer instances when he returned her gaze, appearing shy, yet curious, and almost longing. It would seem then, that his disinterest in her was not at all authentic, and the boy continued to harbour some residual hope that his mother might one day acknowledge him the way he undoubtedly deserved.

"The pleasant weather we are currently experiencing is not a coincidence," Elphaba began before delving into whatever details she was able to divulge in terms of how Glinda and her had managed to tame the longstanding storm that had governed all their lives for months on end. Every now and then, she paused, flicking Glinda fleeting looks. But the other witch in the room had told her beforehand that she would prefer not to speak to the others on the matter, and her mind hadn't changed.

Delighted, Chistery first congratulated, then thanked them profusely. Quaesee—though she certainly shared his sentiments—could not quite muster the same enthusiasm, and appeared rather thoughtful than joyous in the aftermath of Elphaba's account.

"Now that we are free to go wherever we like, without fear of exceptional danger," Glinda said, speaking up at last, "the question is what each of us is going to do with that freedom."

Safe for Liir who didn't understand, they all squirmed in their chairs, keenly feeling the unease that came with the uncertainty of choice, especially when one had grown disused to having one. Neither of them was eager to start, so Glinda took the initiative as she was the only one among them who hardly had any choice at all in her future—not if she stayed true to herself and her true calling.

"I will return to Oz in the morrow. If either of you would like to join me, you are very welcome to do so. I have learnt a few things about magick during the time I spent here, and I believe I could easily take on a number of passengers when I travel by bubble. What do you think? Chistery?"

The Monkey smiled apologetically, then turned to focus on Elphaba.

"I think it's fairly obvious where I shall go," he said, hope and a certain lust for adventure ringing through his voice.

"Not entirely obvious," countered the green woman. "My destination is not a good place for Liir. He will accompany Glinda instead. You may wish to go with them rather than me, and I would not hold it against you. No, I'd rather welcome that, actually. Although I won't command you one way or the other."

His surprise over this decision was obvious but passed quickly. His conflicted expression remained.

"What about you, Quaesee?" Glinda probed quietly. "My offer extends to you as well."

The Vixen looked almost as undecided as Chistery, if for different reasons.

"I grew up here. I'm not keen on leaving. Admittedly, being the last of my kind in the area is not an easy fate, but I can't say yet whether I'm ready to trust Ozians enough to mingle with them. Or the Ozian government for that matter," she added pointedly, casting a side glance at Glinda.

The woman formally in charge of the country sucked in a sharp breath and averted her eyes in order to maintain her composure. She couldn't help it if some individuals thought like this, especially someone like Quaesee, who'd never set foot into Oz. This was not an attest to her failures. It was not. At least she didn't think it was.


She was all choked up when they stood outside the simple mud hut, getting ready to say their goodbyes. They both were, though Elphaba was much less inclined to admit or show it. Yet Glinda had sworn to herself that she wouldn't cry. After spilling such an abundance of tears recently, she might even succeed in that.

"Here," she said and pulled an envelope out from under the bodice of her dress. "This should be enough to help you set up your new life. I explained everything in great detail. And besides, your supposed transgressions in Oz should be of no consequence to people of other nations, especially when you've been absolved of nearly all of them."

"You are so sure about that," Elphaba muttered, sounding anything but.

"I told you about the favour they owe me. This is the least I can ask in return."

With a snort, Elphaba shook her head.

"If only they knew."

Glinda's expression immediately darkened in response, and she lunged forward to grasp both of her love's hands with her own, squeezing firmly.

"You are never to speak of the storm, do you hear? To no one! Those people may not care much about the Wizard of Oz and his dissidents, but being the cause of a magickal storm that killed some of their own would amount to a crime they could not possibly overlook. Promise me you won't be so stupid. Promise!"

Beautiful, brown eyes wide and dark with something between awe and perplexity, the smug look had vanished from Elphaba's face. She cleared her throat, then gave a flustered cough as she tried to find her voice again.

"I—I promise," she answered, dropping her gaze to their joint hands. "I won't tell anyone. I will never mention anything. I'll keep my head low and not kick up any fuss."

Glinda herself took in a calming breath.

"Well, I don't exactly believe that, but I'm glad that you're willing to—"

Eager lips claimed hers before she could finish the sentence, and a second later, she had already forgotten all about what she'd meant to say. Painfully aware of the fact that this would be their last kiss for a very, very long while, perhaps their final kiss in this lifetime, Glinda summoned a wisp of magick, imaging herself as a painter, and painted into her memory pictures that may later aid in recalling the invigorating rush that she felt when Elphaba kissed her, when warm breath caressed her skin, when careful teeth grazed her lips just so, and when Elphaba's skilled mouth pressed against her pulse point with perfect pressure.

When the urgency had passed, they stood still for a time, foreheads touching, eyes half closed as they appreciated their final moments of togetherness in silent contemplation. Eventually, Elphaba shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and Glinda knew that she was itching to leave.

"Oz speed, Elphie," she whispered, though the words came out more like a croak. Tears got the better of her at last, and she ducked her head to hide them from the taller woman—badly.

Green fingers under her chin tenderly lifted it up again.

"And safe travels to you, my sweet. Don't let anyone pop your bubble."

"Don't fall off that filthy, old broom of yours," Glinda sniffled, and they kissed one final time.

She didn't watch her love mount said broom and take off. She couldn't, not without being entirely overwhelmed by stupid tears. Her eyes stayed trained on her feet instead, until she was certain that Elphaba was well and truly out of sight. Turning her back, she returned inside where the others were waiting.

"Are you ready?" she demanded of Chistery and Liir. Giving Quaesee a sad look and a rueful smile, she asked, "And you are absolutely sure that you don't want to tag along?"

"Positive," the Vixen replied firmly. Then, for the first time in ages, the corners of her mouth quirked upwards. "Good luck, cupcake. May your plans for Oz and the Animals come to fruition. Who knows; maybe one day I will come and visit. If you're not above receiving a lowly Fox that is."

"The palace doors are open to anyone who bothers to make an appointment during business hours. My personal parlour is always open to friends. Don't hesitate to drop by and namedrop. You will find yourself on the guest list for sure."

Quaesee nodded mutely, and Chistery herded the boy to the door.

Back outside, Glinda summoned her bubble, imagining a ball of steel as she collected the energy in her palm. The magick sizzled in her hand, a strange and unusual current mixing with her energy. She gasped and closed her palm into a fist, breath coming in short bursts. She recognised this signature. Elphaba.

A shiver ran down her spine, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Had their connection left a long-lasting effect? She didn't even know whether she was glad or dismayed to discover this. Perhaps it would become a constant reminder of their adventure and their love. Or maybe a persistent headache, goading her with dreams of something she could not have.

Exhaling briskly, she tightened her fist before forcing it open once more. There was no way that she could forsake her powers henceforth; she had to get over this and start anew.

Staring at her hand in deep concentration, banishing all other thoughts from her mind, she once again concentrated on the image of a metal ball. It worked this time, and the magick began to form a sphere of the size of a pinhead. The burgeoning bubble had an odd metallic sheen to it as it grew, but otherwise expanded as it should and soon engulfed all of the small group. Chistery could not suppress the anxious screech that rose up his throat in response to the unaccustomed confinement and forced reliance on this levitation device. Liir, on the other hand, took his arm and huddled closer so they could both comfort each other.

The Monkey would complain about their means of transportation every now and again, but otherwise, he was pleasant company, either entertaining Glinda with his anecdotes, or Liir with one of several hand games he knew. The woman watched them when they played, scrutinising the boy's features diligently, finding more and more similarities to his mother each time, reprimanding herself for not recognising their relationship earlier. But that was water under the bridge, and in the end, what difference would it have made then?

Owing to the favourable weather, it took them barely half as long to cross the Ozian border as Glinda had come to expect from her previous experience. Soon thereafter, they reached Kvon Altar, where Glinda had hoped to replenish theirs supplies. Since the Draffe proved as shy as ever, the only supplies they were able to stock up on were their water rations, using the nearby well. But they made do and only went hungry for little over a day, until they reached Yunamata territory. From there, they headed straight for the village that Glinda had travelled through on her first leg of her journey, praying for better fortune.

It was a dramatic entry, seeing as the inhabitants of remote Vinkus may have heard of Glinda the Good and her trademark bubble, but would never have suspected to witness her arrival in their very own, rural domain. Tales of the Fairy Queen Lurline had always been more obscure to the Vinkuns, who tended to revere—as much as fear—Kumbricia instead. In the same vein, it had always seemed fitting, even to them, that they had been saddled with dealing more directly with the rugged Witch of the West, not Glinda the Good Witch, dainty fairytale princess extraordinaire.

When the wonderful bubble popped and rained shimmering, glittering droplets down on its passengers, there were a few of the customary "oohs" and "aaahs", especially from the youngest children who were uninfluenced by the scepticism that came with age. A larger number of Yunamata shrunk back, however, exclaiming their surprise and horror. The confusion was all the greater, when they took note of the winged creature that accompanied her.

"I suppose I should have seen that coming," Glinda told Chistery through her teeth while keeping up her ever so charming smile.

"Your Goodness," Chieftain Yuntanï's voice sounded, and the stupefied onlookers jumped into action, making way for their leader.

The tall, robust man walked through the aisle they had formed, eyes firmly trained on the travellers. Occasionally, he extended a hand to his left or his right to stay his warriors' weapons. Flying Monkey or no, he greeted her with the utmost resect, kneeling in front of her, which she had not quite expected.

"My lady."

It felt strange after such a long time, after such hardships, to be addressed in this manner, especially when her state of dress and style still left so much to be desired, clearly speaking of the adventures she must have had. Yet it was a relief, too, to know that at least one of her noble, influential subjects was still in support of her. Of course, the barons and margreaves of Gillikin were far more significant in that regard, but it was a start; it was a start.

"Thank you, Chief Yuntanee of the Yunamata, for the heartfelt welcome."

"At your service, always. Trone Minister."

His head inclined once more before he rose.

"Am I still? The Throne Minister?"

A crystal laugh fell from her lips, marred by a waver of doubt. The man looked at her, confused.

"Well, I don't know. What are the news? After such an extended absence I wouldn't be shocked at all if they did away with me, or my position, only to make alternative arrangements. Judging by your reaction, you have heard of no such developments?"

"Not a word, my lady. Our tribe live too far away from Oz. Often it is us who learn last of any news from the capital."

"That's quite alright," she assured him. "I'm bound to find out soon enough. At present, all I require is a morsel of food for me and my companions, and a night's rest."

"Dat shall all be yours, and more. Dough your ladyship is lucky to find us here." He waved at the settlement of tents and chuckled. "We're almost ready to break camp and move on."

"Very lucky indeed. And we shan't be in your way. I am very glad, dear Chief, that I still have friends, even if only at the very outskirts of my domain."

Yuntanï sent away his people so they may continue where they had left off, whereas he showed his honoured guests to the main tent and ordered a guard to fetch a plate of snacks.

"We will have big feast tonight," he promised with a wide grin after catching Liir's disappointed expression at the meagre platter that the guard set down before them several minutes later. "But for now I can call for more bread if you're hungry, young one?"

"This will suffice," Glinda decided, cutting the boy a sharp look.

Chistery reached for a dried fig and handed it to him, muttering something meant for his ears only.

"Last time you arrived here alone," Chief Yuntanï noted. "Now you travel in strange company."

Glinda's smile faltered as she was unsure whether her choice of associates concerned the Yunamata.

"Chistery here is an old acquaintance of mine," she explained after resolving to test her supposed ally's patience with her. "Say, have you ever had dealings with the—with Elphaba Thropp? I know some Vinkuns had, and if you did, rest assured, I for one am not condemning anyone who was friendly with her. Though I would appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself. It's delicate information, considering the widespread animosity most Ozians continue to hold agains her. "

"We… uh…"

She sighed.

"I'm sorry if this talk unsettled you, but I thought you had a right to know, because it is true: Chistery is one of Elphaba's, and the boy"—she considered, but ultimately stopped short of actually revealing his identity—"is my charge now."

"I… I did meet her," the Yunamata finally admitted. "Once. De young Arjiki prince was wis her. Didn't seem all dat evil to me. Just a girl."

"Yes," replied Glinda wistfully, her gaze drifting off to the side. "Just a girl."

She spent the rest of the day bathing and grooming herself while Chistery watched over Liir, keeping him out of trouble with the local kids. Her gown, too, was in dire need of not just cleaning, but also mending, and with no expert seamstresses on hand, she had to see what she might be able to achieve with some experimental magick.

At dinner, Liir happily ate and drank his fill: honeyed wine, raisin-stuffed hare, wrapped in mulberry leaves, along with an array of sweet and savoury pastries. Glinda found that her appetite was lacking. After her prolonged fast, the choices were simply too many, and the tastes too strong. She contented herself with a bowl of black rice with a side of stewed fowl, and stuck to discussing politics with their generous host.

"I wish I could say that your hospitality has earned you the Throne's favour, Chief Yuntanee," she said, a note of true despondence accompanying her remark. "But as you're well aware by now, I'm in no position to make such promises, which makes your charity all the more remarkable."

"No need to tank or apologise. We are a hospitable people. Tis is least we can do."

"Nevertheless, I will make sure to make it up to you and repay your kindness one way or another. I could send payment if nothing else. Assuming the government of the day has not resorted to expropriation and confiscated all my personal wealth."

She laughed, but didn't feel quite as flippant as she pretended. In truth, the longer she contemplated the thought, the more likely the scenario seemed to her. Part of her wondered how freeing it would be to have no influence or power left to speak of, no more pawns to play in the game of public affairs. She would have no reasons left to not follow Elphaba and live with her, happily ever after. But who would she be then, and where would Oz be without her? Better not to dwell on it. Better hope she never found such freedom, since it would come at much too high a cost for everyone else. Better not be tempted again, for she didn't know how many more times she would be able to make the right decision.

"Well, rest assured that—should I be allowed to resume my former post—I'll do all I can to represent your interests. First and foremost, I intend to scrap any current schemes for the Vinkun highway and assemble my own committee to convene over new plans. Of course, you or a spokesperson of your choice will receive an invitation to that effect. Beyond that, I hope for your cooperation on various projects, particularly in the Vinkus. Too long we have slept on improving conditions here. I would very much like to change that."

"You are too good, Lady Glinda," the man nodded before raising his ornately carved wooden cup.

They departed the following morning. Liir was put out, as he had begun to make a few friends among the children. Chistery, however, overly protective of him, told Glinda that he wasn't so sure about the rowdy bunch's intentions, and that they might have ended up bullying him had they stayed any longer. Knowing little about children, Glinda smiled faintly and sighed.

"There will be other boys and girls to befriend where we are going," she said, leaving it up tp Chistery to translate or not.

The Yunamata gathered to see them off. The relief was evident in their faces, although any traces of fear seemed to have dissipated in the meantime. In contrast to the average Gillikinese crowd, Glinda couldn't read them quite so well, and it frustrated her. Fortunately, even with her potential future projects in mind, she would have some time to practice this particular skill before her next visit to the inner Vinkus.

"Thank you all plenty, dearest people of the Yunamata," she said in her final address, smiling angelically, slipping into her old habits almost as seamlessly as though she'd never left civilisation at all. "I shall visit you again one day, but until then, may Goodness be with each and every one of you!"

She cast brief glances a her companions, then waved them slightly closer before raising an elegant hand. With practiced ease and a touch more flair and drama than was strictly necessary to complete the spell, she created a new bubble, reinforcing it with the same visceral magick she had used before. Liir, with his arms crossed and his face sullen, allowed his eyes to move to her hand where the bubble began to form and quickly expanded to encompass them all. He did this every time, Glinda had noticed—clandestinely fascinated by the trick, but loath to admit it. Just like Glinda could tell that he had begun to hate and distrust her a little less every day, while attempting to hide any such progress.

"Where to now?" asked Chistery as he looked down, watching the encampment below growing smaller and smaller.

Glinda bit her lip and looked at the Monkey, feeling a pang of guilt.

"If you're asking because you harbour hopes that I may stop over at Kiamo Ko; well, I'm sorry, but I intend to fly non-stop to the Emerald City from here. We lost too much time already, and my conversations with Yuntanee have made me exceedingly anxious."

Incredulous, wide eyes stared at her, then Chistery shook his head.

"But—but—," he stammered, "tha—that's several days. How can you do that?"

"I rested well enough last night, and…" she sucked in a sharp breath, aware of the disquiet the thought brought with it. "And I have unexpected additional powers to draw on. At least for now. Albeit, I don't know if they will persist."

She could clearly see the cogs in Chistery's mind churning, but in the end, he merely nodded and sat down, reluctantly turning away from her and persuading Liir to join him in a game to bridge the time.

Her breath shook when she averted her face as well and exhaled. Traces of Elphaba's energy coursed through her veins as she sustained the bubble. It was such a sweet reminder, but so cruel, too. The best she could hope to do with it would be to make good use of the supplementary strength, and she hoped that was exactly what she was doing.