Author's Note: There's just a short epilogue left after this. I'm in total shock. Yeah...umm...that's really all I have to say. Don't kill me yet please...you need me alive to post the epilogue.


Chapter 37

It took nearly a week of preparation to assemble the materials necessary for the bomb; many of them were smuggled out of the Emerald Palace itself by the Tin Woodman on one of his supposed patrols for the tiktoks. His post with their security force helped greatly in the problem of the placement of the bomb as well, though Nor designated herself as the one to actually activate it, as she was much quicker and more experienced in methods of escape. Even Igitur pitched in, hobbling around the bomb in circles, chanting in some unknown language, claiming that he was blessing it. Finally, as a last boost of their chances, Elphaba used the Grimmerie to set an energy increasing spell on it.

The morning of Lurlinemas Eve dawned crisp, cold, and perfectly blue. Elphaba, who no longer cared if she was caught, and indeed might have preferred it if she was, climbed the spiral staircase out of the Resistance tunnels and stood in the doorway of the rotting flower shop. The perfect clarity of the sky offended her, the festive crispness of the air made her sick. Somehow the event which she viewed as the end of her purpose in life would have felt more appropriate if the weather was gray, or even dark and stormy. A light breeze blew and Elphaba shuddered. She wore only a threadbare black frock, her long hair loose and tangled around her shoulders. She had not eaten in nearly a week and a half and she was certain that she was being kept alive only by the power of Yackle's cruel magic.

"Why?" she whispered to the perfect blue sky and the powdery blue morning. "Why must I live? What is it that I'm meant to do?"

Funny, she thought, all my life I've been a failure.

For years she'd fought a losing battle to stay alive, now she couldn't end it.

Unable to bear the sight of the beautiful blue sky anymore, Elphaba studied the decaying skyline of the city that had once been the treasure of Oz. A few blocks away she could barely make out the looming shape of her old loft above the abandoned corn exchange. She had a sudden longing to go there, to subject herself to that torture. Even pain would feel better than this bleak white numbness, she decided. But she was too tired suddenly, much too tired, barely even able to stand up, and she held onto the door frame, leaning heavily on it, inhaling the pungent scent of decaying wood. The snow was sticking, covering up the older, brownish layers with fresh white and partially obscuring the buildings almost as if nature was trying to efface the damage humanity had done upon it.

The sound of movement behind her made her jump. Elphaba turned around to see Nor standing behind her.

"It's beautiful, isn't it," said the girl, looking not at the sky but at the city.

Elphaba shrugged noncommittally. Nor sighed and for a moment it seemed as if she wanted to say something, but then she changed her mind.

"Do you still believe in magic?" Elphaba asked suddenly.

Nor looked taken aback.

"Well, it's a proven fact, isn't it? I mean your book—"

Elphaba waved her silent impatiently.

"No, no, not that kind of magic. Not the textbook magic that can be read off a page to giggling teenage girls by some graying moron fifty years past her prime. The kind of magic that babies see everywhere in the world, the kind that gets lost as you get older and the world hardens you. The kind that let you fly my old broom."

Now's eyes went wide as though she was seeing something far away, something she hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Oh. Oh, I don't know about that. Seeing all this evil in the world, it-it makes it hard to believe. Maybe if we're successful tonight, maybe then—I don't know what then."

Elphaba nodded. She knew there was no plan beyond the bombing, no plan for a new government or a new civilization. She had not cared that there was not a plan, because she would not be part of it. Perhaps if she helped them succeed, perhaps then Yackle would finally let her go.

"We should get back inside," said Elphaba suddenly, purely as an excuse to stop talking to the girl. She was exhausted. She would go back to her room and sleep until dusk. Then the operation would begin.


The temperature had dropped still more by the time the Resistance gathered in the shadows out in front of the flower shop. The Tin Woodman had reported back that afternoon saying that he had successfully placed the bomb. Elphaba, Nor, and Glinda were going to perform the actual detonation. Nor was to go into the building by a back door while the others stood guard.

They arrived at the large building just after dark, slipping in a back servant entry with a set of keys the Tin Woodman had procured. Elphaba and Glinda took posts on either side of the door and nodded for Nor to go in. As the girl disappeared inside, Elphaba leaned back against the wall and wondered what good they could actually do were there to be a problem.

"Elphie?" said Glinda hesitantly.

"Shh," hissed Elphaba, more fiercely than she'd meant to. Glinda looked as thought she'd just been slapped. Elphaba immediately felt guilty.

There must be something in the air, she thought, some hint of magic left over from a world of long ago, or perhaps from some future world about to come into being, for she was feeling everything more acutely than usual. There was a sense of anticipation in the cold, dry air, as thought the entire world was just waiting for some secret signal.

"I didn't mean don't talk to me," whispered Elphaba after a moment. "Just don't talk so loud."

Glinda nodded tentatively, but remained silent. Elphaba glanced sideways at her. Glinda was shifting and fidgeting anxiously and it suddenly occurred to Elphaba how strange this all must seem to her. She was used to being in control of things. That was one thing they'd always had in common, thought Elphaba a little sadly.

"What were you going to say?" prompted Elphaba gently.

Glinda shook her head, her blonde locks brushing her shoulders and making a slight rustling noise against the torn silk of her cloak.

"Nothing. It's just…you never talk to me anymore. I hardly know who you are. I always just assumed that this would all end and we'd go back to being friends like we were before but lately—lately I've been realizing that maybe—"

"Maybe it won't," Elphaba finished for her. She nodded. "I-I don't think…it's not possible to relive the past. Even magic can't do that. So no, no, things won't go back to the way they were before."

Glinda nodded again, slowly this time, her eyes distant. A wave of guilt washed over Elphaba. She hadn't thought of how the others would react. It had never occurred to her that anyone card. But no, no, that wasn't right, she amended. She had always known that they cared. That was what she had always feared the most. She was being selfish again.

"I'm sorry, Glinda," murmured Elphaba, though she wasn't sure why.

Glinda gave her a questioning look, but Elphaba never got the chance to answer. Nor came sprinting back out the door, eyes wild, gasping for breath.

"What?" snapped Elphaba, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I-I know why Yackle—she said—a question of morals—"

Elphaba grabbed Nor's shoulders and shook her roughly.

"What is it, girl? Tell me! Did you set the bomb?"

Nor nodded, her shoulders heaving.

"On the way out I saw-I saw—there are prisoners in there! Hundreds of them!"

"Damn," Elphaba breathed. "How much time?"

"Five minutes. It's not enough."

"It'll have to be," said Elphaba resolutely, and opened the door.

"Elphie, no!" Glinda screamed behind her, but Elphaba had no time to listen. She could not fail this now.

"It's suicide!" Glinda shouted.

Elphaba began to run.

It was dark and clammy inside the palace, not like before. This was almost like being in a crypt. Elphaba stumbled blindly forward oblivious to everything but her goal. She knew somehow instinctively where she was going. The Grand Throne Room.

And suddenly there it was. She could barely see through the little Gatekeeper's peephole. There were hundreds of people, many of them children, huddled together inside the room. The door was locked. Elphaba paused for a moment, then placed her hands on the handle and squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating all her thoughts on her one objective. If only this time…it would make up for so much…this time she could not fail

The lock popped open and the door swung out on its hinges.

Elphaba plunged into the room, pushing people out.

"This building is bombed," she shouted, "Get out while you can! Get out, get out, get out!"

She pushed through to the back wall and sat down on what had once been the Wizard's Throne.

All around her feet were shuffling, people were crying out. It was a glorious commotion of life and faith and fear.

And then the blinding white light.


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