No One Mourns the Wicked - But What About the Good?
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Glinda sags in Elphaba's embrace, nearly becoming a deadweight. Feelings wash through her, emotions she has buried for so long that she can't even begin to sort them out. A tiny bit of fear, almost swallowed by a rush of relief. A hint of anger tempered with something she hasn't felt for the longest time... hope.
The feelings swirl inside her, turning into a muddled mess that she has to shut out. It is too much to process, too many feelings for one person to have at once. So Glinda hides behind the scars that guilt left behind, and the feelings wash through her, and away.
Her mind focuses on a single thought. Elphaba is alive. She turns it over in her head a few times, trying to absorb the implications of it. She thinks about detatching herself from the embrace - it, too is a new sensation. She hasn't experienced this much human contact since Elphaba died.
No, Elphaba didn't die. Elphaba is alive.
Finally, Elphaba pulls back and ends the embrace. Glinda returns her gaze to her lap, clasping her hands so that they are holding on to something. After a moment, her eyes dart up to find Elphaba staring at her. Glinda glances around the room, rising with surprising speed. She straightens the bedspread, closes the cupboard door, checks for dust. She attempts to smooth out her loose cotton robe.
"I'm ever so sorry about the mess." She says, in a falsely cheerful tone. "Shall I get you a cup of tea?"
"You don't have to be Glinda the Good for me, Glinda." Elphaba says softly.
Glinda stops short, the manic light fading from her eyes. She seems to shrink a little as the weight of how much things have changed settles between them, stretching the silence into a vast wasteland of 'could have been'.
Glinda settles herself on the edge of the bed, folding her arms around herself. Having Elphaba here, in her bedroom, was making the echoes come back. The voices, old conversations replaying themselves. She often spent many hours with the ghosts in her head. She longed to be able to return to those times, to do things differently. To keep things from turning out the way they did.
Elphaba watches from the chair as Glinda's gaze turns inward. She rises and softly moves to sit down on the other edge of the bed. Reaching out an emerald hand, she touches Glinda's thin shoulder. "Glinda..." she starts, but at the touch, Glinda's head snaps up.
"Oh, Elphie!" Glinda says, a strange look in her eye. "What have you done to your hair? It's a good thing we have no class tomorrow, I'm going to need to fix that." Her voice is high and girlish, with a bit of a strain to it.
Elphaba blanches at the nickname, but holds herself together. "Glinda, it's late. The attendant will be back on his rounds soon. You should get in bed."
It wouldn't have been odd for the attendant to find Glinda out of bed all night, but Glinda, still watching Elphaba like a schoolgirl, obediently slips under the blankets. Elphaba stands over her, smoothing the top cover. "Go to sleep, now." Even tired and heartbroken, Elphaba has strength to spare.
She moves to the corner she had hidden in earlier, there is just enough room for her to curl up between the cupboard and the corner wall. It is dim, and she is against the same wall as the entrance. To see her, the attendant would have to come all the way into the room, and look straight at her.
As Elphaba settles herself, she hears Glinda call across the room. "Elphaba, don't you wish you could go back? Do it over again?"
"You can't change the past, Glinda." Elphaba replies, her voice heavy with fatigue. It still takes her a long time to fall asleep.
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AN: I do not own Wicked, Glinda or Elphaba. I do, however, love the story and the characters, and this creative outlet. :-) Just a reminder that this is based on the musical, since I mentioned a few things that definitely don't happen in the book.
Sorry it's been a while without an update. I actually saw the July 18th show, and I'm blaming my writers block on that. I couldn't even listen to the CD for a few days afterward, and the finale still makes me cry when I listen to it... If anyone wants to offer ideas for the story, or even discuss Wicked in general, feel free to send me an e-mail.
Thank you to my sister Heather, for putting up with me messaging her every two minutes, and to my reviewers, and everyone that e-mailed me/messaged me. You all rock!
Thanks for reading!
Love,
B