Author's Note: Wow it's been a long time. Just so everyone knows…my show SOLD OUT and was completely AWESOME! So yeah…I'm back now…and I'm playing catch-up for a while so expect a RENT update sometime in the next few days.
Chapter 7:
"I won't let you go out there!" squawked Glinda, "You know it's not safe!"
Boq looked back and forth between her and Gerema, confused. It was nearly night and the previous day's rain had brought with it a spell of alarmingly cold weather. Gerema had proposed that she and Boq should go out and gather firewood, despite the fact that the party of beings they'd seen before had set up camp on a ridge close enough that their campfires could be seen from the tower.
"Glinda…" said Boq tentatively, "we need some way of heating this place or we're all going to freeze. We need a lot more than heat for that matter but…" he shrugged helplessly.
Gerema tugged impatiently on Boq's arm.
"Come. Before we lose all of the light."
Boq shrugged one last time at Glinda and stumbled out the door behind Gerema who was now pulling him by his shirtsleeve.
Glinda sighed and sat down on one of the hard, straight-backed chairs, smoothed her enormous skirt, and picked up the large spell book from the floor beside her. She'd been working to decipher it for nearly four days and had still made no progress. Glinda squinted at the strange looking characters written on the old, yellowed pages until they blurred before her eyes, but they made no more sense than they had before.
"Don't bother. You won't be able to read it."
Glinda jumped, then took a deep breath and ran one hand over her short blonde curls.
"Elphie, you've got to stop sneaking up on people like that. It really isn't healthy."
"Neither is ruining your eyes trying to wrap that pretty little mind of yours around what's in that book," retorted Elphaba, walking around to stand just over Glinda's shoulder.
Glinda snorted daintily and attempted to look as though she was gaining valuable knowledge from the volume on her lap. Elphaba glared at the side of her head as though attempting to set it on fire. Finally, Glinda gave up and shut the book, ignoring Elphaba's triumphant laugh.
Glinda sighed.
"Fine. I know why you're here. You want to continue your verbal abuse where you left off."
Elphaba took a long breath and ran a hand over her long hair in an uncharacteristically self-conscious gesture.
"I don't…know what to say."
"You could start by saying you're sorry," said Glinda in her most condescending voice.
"Me?" asked Elphaba incredulously, "I have nothing to apologize for."
Glinda set the book down and stood up, drawing herself up to her full height. She took a deep breath, preparing a sharp retort, but none came.
"Fine," said Glinda again, "just fine. You want an apology over those shoes? I'm sorry. All right? Happy? It's not enough for me to come all the way out here for you, you just have to bring up the past again."
Elphaba looked slightly taken aback at the outburst. She pressed a hand to her temples and leaned against the wall, and Glinda noticed suddenly how weak she still looked.
"Elphie…I'm sorry," she repeated, a hint of tears in her voice. She went over and embraced Elphaba, but she pushed Glinda away.
"What?" Glinda asked, hurt. "Was that not enough for you?"
Elphaba shook her head, a look of sheer exhaustion coming over her.
"No…no, it was. It's just…I don't deserve you…any of you. I—"
She stopped herself and went over to sit on the couch. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her arms. Glinda stood staring for a moment in awkward silence, not daring to do anything to worsen the situation. At last she turned and walked away, miserable.
It was dark outside when Fiyero stole back down the steps into the tunnels, weak from crying. Boq and Gerema had managed to gather enough wood to start a fire in the ancient stone fireplace they'd found in the main room. The bone-dry timber had ignited immediately and the flames were still roaring, casting a strange glow across the room. Fiyero picked up a package of very stale wheat crackers, all that remained of their food supply. He bit into one half-heartedly, coughed, and put the package aside. He was halfway across the room before he noticed Elphaba sitting on the couch, staring intently into the flames. She was so still that for a moment he thought he'd imagined her there, but he dismissed the notion as ridiculous. He hesitated to approach her, was already too exhausted to face another conflict, but he wasn't ready to go to bed and there was nowhere else to go.
"May I sit?" he asked softly. For a moment he thought she hadn't heard, but then she turned, her eyes shimmering in the firelight, and nodded almost imperceptibly.
Fiyero sat, but far away from her on the couch, still stinging with guilt. He was surprised when Elphaba moved closer to him. She touched his shoulder and he pulled away, torn.
"You disappeared today," said Elphaba softly. "you still haven't come back. Not really."
"I…had something I needed to take care of."
Elphaba nodded.
"I know. I don't like it when you disappear."
She met his gaze full on for the first time since she'd been awake, and Fiyero felt his heart skip a beat. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek in his hand, amazed, as always, at how soft and fragile her skin felt beneath the hard calluses on his fingers. Elphaba leaned in so that her shoulder was pressed against his. He slid his hand down her neck, her shoulder, her arm, finally taking her hand.
"Talk," prompted Fiyero, still fighting a pang of guilt that made his stomach churn. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, and yet it seemed wrong, even after eight years, not to mourn properly, especially after being back in his home for the first time in over a decade.
"Words are the deadliest weapon of them all," Elphaba said enigmatically. She laced her fingers through his and pulled his hand to her lips, kissing it gently.
"I've also heard it said that words can be the most empowering ally," said Fiyero, pulling his hand back, still torn.
Elphaba leaned down and brushed her lips against his, lightly at first, then harder, desperate, leaving them both reeling. Fiyero wrenched away from her and stood up, overwhelmed with warring emotions. He wanted more than anything just to be happy, but Sarima's ghost would not stop haunting him. Her image swam before his eyes and he gagged, suddenly nauseous, dizzy.
Elphaba stood also, her hands on her hips, bitterness descending on her face like a curtain dropping at the end of a play.
"Elphaba…" Fiyero gasped, grappling with the words swirling in his head, trying to make sense of them, to find something to say. "I'm sorry, I…"
He tried to look her in the eye, but she would not meet his gaze, her attention fixed once again on the fire, which was slowly beginning to die.
"Nevermind," she said softly, her voice like a knife in his heart.
"Elphie, please…you have to understand-"
"I understand enough," said Elphaba firmly, and turned away from him.
Fiyero pressed his lips together, willing himself to maintain control. He was sure he'd seen tears in her eyes, glittering in the firelight, the moment before she'd turned away.
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